#i am so grateful to the person who gave me the code

[dailyreine]

uh... by the way...

drops Rie's toyhouse profile and runs

[dumbseee]

bro code. pt3.

part 1. part 2.

carlos sainz jr x reader.

fc: bruna marquezine.

note: sorry for the mistakes this might have, english isn’t my first language and this is the longest fic i’ve ever written :) btw this will be the last part.

liked by landonorris, y/n, charles_leclerc and 1 589 008 others.

carlossainz55: happy birthday to the person who owns my heart. you helped me experience true love, and for that i’ll forever be grateful. your heart is pure and you always want the best for people, i love every little detail about you, like the way you always count to three before jumping into the pool because you were afraid of it when you were younger, or the way you always kiss my forehead before every race because you say it’s my lucky charm. you are my lucky charm, mi cielito. i love you so much y/n, thank you for giving me the chance to show you how you deserved to be loved.

_

y/n: how dare you making me cry on my birthday carlos sainz :( i love you more <3

carlossainz55: @.y/n not possible, i’m bigger than you so i can hold more love for you.

fan1: I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES

fan2: WHEN IS IT MY DAMN TURN

fan3: god it’s me again…

fan4: im going to kms in front of them to change the trajectory of their lives istg

fan5: GOOOOOOSH CARLOS IS ABISDODLLD

landonorris: damn sainz, even i am tearing up

fan6: just get married already

fan7: after n*ymar, y/n deserved a man like that

liked by marquinhosm5, carolcabrino, neymarpai_ and 3 788 082 others.

neymarjr: my heart is empty without you, you’ve blocked me so i can’t wish you a happy birthday privately but please y/n come back to me. you succeeded, that stunt you pulled with that random driver hurt me, you can stop now. i know that you miss me and want to comeback so please y/n be reasonable. i made a huge mistake and i’ll never forgive myself for what i did to us.

_

comments have been restricted.

your day went terribly, it was your birthday and you were excited for it but your day was completely ruined with neymar’s post. because of course, you saw it the second he posted it. your agent called you, panicked and told you to avoid social media, but it was too late. you were home when you saw it and had a huge panic attack. you didn’t tell carlos and you prayed that he didn’t see the post which was very unlikely since neymar mentioned him. you were more mad at the fact that he disrespected carlos because he didn’t deserve it. even if your relationship was fake to the world, carlos was nothing but a sweetheart to you. you even hoped that the moments you shared with him were true.

carlos texted you to come at his house to have a small party with some friends but you almost had a heart attack when you entered the house and saw all those people screaming "happy birthday!" filming you to have your reaction. carlos had a very different definition of « small party ». you saw him walk towards you with a huge smile, he was breathtaking, wearing nude pants and a blue shirt, letting the top buttons open, showing a bit of his torso. you were completely mesmerised by him, that was the effect carlos had on you.

"surprise cielito." he said after kissing your cheek, he wrapped his arm around your waist and gave you a hug. you melted in his touch and smiled at him. "you didn’t need to do all that, carlos." you said. "nonsense, it’s your birthday after all." you smiled at him and kissed his cheek before some friends of yours came to greet you and wish you a happy birthday. carlos’ purpose was to make your birthday special, especially with what happened earlier with your ex. he knew how this whole situation affected you deeply, even if you tried to hide it from him, carlos saw right through you. he could tell if you were upset just by looking at your face.

"umm, carlos?" lando’s voice took him out of his thoughts, he looked at his friend but frowned when he saw the look on his face. "look who showed up." lando whispered as if the whole room didn’t see who came uninvited. you gotta be kidding me. carlos turned around to see where you were and his heart tightened when he saw the look on your face, pure sadness. anger took over him immediately, that son of a bitch made you sad on your special day. carlos wasn’t going to let that slide. the spaniard quickly made his way to neymar who was asking people about where you were. the driver roughly turned the brazilian around so he could face him. neymar was about to say something to the person who just interrupted him but he only rolled his eyes when he saw carlos.

"what do you want sainz? where is my girl?" he asked, looking over carlos’ shoulder. neymar looked very drunk. carlos could feel anger buildup inside of him. how dare he? "you’re in my house so, i’ll ask you once and once only, leave before i make you leave." carlos said through gritted teeth. neymar scoffed before taking a step closer to the spaniard, being almost forehead against forehead. "are you threatening me, hijo da puta?" carlos was about to respond when charles and lando quickly appeared to separate the two of them. "okay, it’s enough now boys." charles said trying to lighten the mood. "move! i’m not done with him!" neymar pushed charles away which made carlos even more mad. "listen here, little boy. first you steal my woman and then you disrespect me in front of all these people. you think i’ll let that slide, coño?" the brazilian added while pushing carlos with his finger. at this point there was nothing charles or lando could do to stop them. "let me clarify one thing, junior, she was never yours to begin with. and trust that now that she has tasted true love, she’s never leaving." carlos said with a smile, which made neymar go crazy. the footballer grabbed carlos’ collar. "you made her cry for weeks, you destroyed her completely, and now you dare to show your face and claiming her as your woman? how dare you call yourself a man and make the woman you’re supposed to love and cherish, cry?" the spaniard said before getting closer to neymar’s ear. "if you dare to even whisper her name in your sleep, i’ll come for you, neymar da silva santos junior."

neymar finally let go of carlos before leaving quickly. the driver was now concerned about where you were hiding. as he was looking at the crowd of people, who were still talking about what just happened, lando approached his friend. "she’s with luisa and charlotte, they’re on the balcony." carlos nodded before patting his friend’s shoulder as a thank you. he quickly made it to his balcony where the girls were talking, luisa noticed him and patted charlotte’s shoulder to tell her that they needed to go. carlos sent them a thankful smile before walking towards you. your back was facing him and you were too lost in your thoughts to even notice his presence. he gently hugged you from behind which made you jump before you recognised his fragrance. "carlos." you simply said. "yes, cielito, are you okay?" he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder. you sighed before looking up at the moon, shining on the both of you. "i guess? is he gone?" you asked with a small voice, feeling the tears threatening to fall again. "yes, for real this time." you frowned before turning around to face carlos.

you were still extremely close as his hands were on your waist and your hands on his chest. he looked ethereal under the moonlight. "carlos, what am i to you?" you finally asked the question you were scared to even ask yourself. carlos smiled before moving his face closer to you. "you’re the love of my life." and then he kissed your lips. he kissed you like you’ve always dreamed to be kissed. with love, respect and passion. carlos was the first one to break the kiss, he looked at you and replaced a wild strand of hair behind your ear. "none of this was fake to me, every word, every attention, everything was real to me."

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, charlottesiine and 1 789 007 others.

y/n: thank you everyone for all the birthdays wishes! and thanks to my amazing boyfriend for throwing this party for me. i love you to the moon and back, handsome and i thank god everyday for giving me the chance to be your girlfriend.

_

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_

taglist: @mjaudrey @champomiel @lorarri @watersquirtpewpewboomm @ndunad @shrimpyshrimp @gaviypedrisbride @little-angel-07 @ironmaiden1313 @leclerc16s @xjval @elijahslover @hearts4esmee @love4lando

thanks for the support 🤍🥹

[hpowellsmith]

Honor Bound is in copyedit!

I’m delighted to let you know that I’ve sent the full draft of Honor Bound to my editor Abby!

Play Chapters 1-3 of Honor Bound here, and read all about the game here.

More about the testing and revision process, and wordcounts after beta testing, below:

Beta testing started in mid-August and since then I’ve added around 50,000 words to the game. Some of this was expanding things throughout the game, and most of it was expanding the epilogue sequence to include LOTS more detail about where the PC is living at the end, their career choices, who they’re living with if anyone, letters from friends and loved ones if they’re living in different places, and rundowns of what major characters are up to if the PC’s living in the same town/location as them but not living in the same house.

That whole section ended up incredibly branchy and complicated, but I’m really proud of it - I think it caps off the game nicely. Yesterday I played through several of the ending scenes and felt really good about them, which is a nice feeling to have.

Honor Bound is now going to copyedit, and it’s looking like the release should be somewhere in early December, depending how long the copyediting takes. Copyediting is certainly a big job, because right now the game stats are:

Total wordcount: 592898 words Average playthrough: 98553 words

So each playthrough sees about 16% of what’s there, which means a ton of variety from playthrough to playthrough… and there’s a huge amount there to see even on one playthrough.

I’m incredibly grateful to all the testers from start to finish and everyone who has cheerled, supported, and given feedback that’s helped get this game into shape. I massively appreciate everyone here who subscribed which gave me a real helping hand, and who gave feedback on early versions of the drafts.

I’ve learned a huge amount from making this project, and have stretched out of my comfort zone in a variety of ways. It’s interesting seeing what writing-process-mistakes I didn’t do because of learning from Royal Affairs, and where I committed whole new coding crimes. (Next project, I am going to go easier on the nested *gosubs so it’s easier to troubleshoot and read. I am sure I will do something else that makes the code horrid to read.)

It’s the largest and most ambitious of my CoG games, and I’m proud of how the plot’s paced and pulls together. I’m incredibly fond of the characters - even if I put them through horrible things. It was so different writing characters who were older and more mature in various ways than the teenagers in Creme and Royal Affairs (and the young adults in Noblesse Oblige, who are all going through… a lot), but still with plenty of flaws, foibles, and hangups. I was delighted when characters surprised me, as well as when I could feel “oh, this is classic [character]” and their dialogue came naturally. There are some personality nuances that I’m not sure anyone will end up noticing, but felt lovely to put in because I had such a strong sense of who the characters were.

I’m also really pleased with how much I’ve personalised the PC’s dialogue and internal voice. When the PC speaks in the text (and often in the dialogue options), their tone and vibe is almost always informed by how their personality has been expressed by the player, which works with the choices the player’s making to make the PC feel their own. I really wanted to make the PC feel like an adult who’s gone through Some Major Stuff and is in a position of figuring out their principles and purpose because of it: there are a ton of different ways in which they can respond to what’s happened to them and to what happens throughout the game.

I’ve really loved exploring a new part of the Creme de la Creme setting and show such a different culture to Westerlin. I hope you all enjoy Honor Bound once it’s out!

(and… please wishlist on Steam if you haven’t already - it really helps!)

[writergeekrhw]

I just want to offer an alternative take on Kira’s behaviours being queer coded (Is it the short hair? The anger? I don’t know what people mean tbh, sounds… stereotypical and rude to queer women tbh), I never got those vibes as a young person watching her, never would have occurred to me at the time. I’m not judging I just have a very different view the character let me explain.

What I did get from her was that she was young and female and religious and angry and she was ALLOWED to be all those things. And I was ALL those things too, and it meant, and still does mean, the world to me that she was like that but ALSO competent and respected and loveable even though she was so, so angry, frustrated, and DONE at the injustice in her life. I (also some close friends) was going though some dark times myself when I was young, and Kira was a beacon of hope. And as she grew in her character arcs, and faced her own prejudices from Marritza to everything else, to me that was saying you can do it. If Kira can do it, can look her shitty past in the eye and say I will break this cycle and do better and unlearn and grow, you can do it too. Back to dark stuff and queer coding - I’ve seen people blast Kira getting more “feminine” (again, what? The hair? Softer personality? She learned to be gracious, is that so bad? Angry redhead stereotypes aren’t great) over time as bad and anti-queer, but to this young person it was… sometimes young women go through things at the hands of oppressors and making yourself unappealing and masculine is a choice for safety. Men don’t want ugly. So seeing her grow past that too, seemed like a culmination of her safety and maybe by extension bajor’s as metaphor.

Maybe this is a stupid interpretation but I did not see kira queer, I saw her as a hurt person who was allowed to heal and that gave me hope. I’m sorry if this is not what you intended but Kira kinda saved me from giving up and I want to thank you (and all involved) for her. Sorry this isn’t super well organized thoughts. I really am grateful for all of ds9. It was a very good show.

Without getting too deep into critical theory and Writer Intention vs. Viewer Interpretation, this is also a perfectly valid interpretation of Kira's character and it's yet another lens through which we saw her/wrote her, probably even the dominant one (and the one I suspect Nana drew most from for her performances).

Which is not to invalidate people who saw her as queer/repressed or people who saw her as a colonized woman wrestling with her ambivalence about her new, arguably more benevolent colonizers, or people who saw her as a person of faith struggling to see past her religious prejudices, or people who saw her as a terrorist trying to overcome her past sins.

Over 172 episodes, multiple writers wrote her thinking about different things. Sometimes the very same writers would draw from different inspirations from episode to episode or scene to scene or even line of dialogue to line of dialogue. And of course, Nana and the various directors would bring their own takes to every moment.

All of which, IMHO, helped make her a terrific character.

Also thank you for the kind words and I'm glad we helped! LLAP.

[tetsunabouquet]

Just asking, do you write for nash gold jr? If you do could you do some nsfw headcanons or a scenario?

Also I hate how shallow they made jabberwock in the movies, I know they're meant to be like the typical antagonist but I personally don't think nash is as shallow as he seems

A/N: Here is a Nash Gold Jr X Reader one-shot considering the lack of Jabberwock content! Considering there wasn't any specification about the reader's gender or the scenario being an NSFW, I wrote it female coded and non-NSFW.

Nash Gold Jr's hands were aching. After the game they lost in Japan, they had left back for the US. Silver had been rageful the entire time, and didn't seem to calm down until he beat Nash Gold Jr. Nash Gold Jr fought him, knowing he needed to vent. This wasn't the first time Silver would beat someone up, nor, would it be his last. Unless Silver were to work on his anger issues, and Nash Gold Jr did not see Silver do such a thing in the near future. So Nash Gold Jr drifted alone on the streets, preparing what to say to his mother, who undoubtedly was extremely worried for his emotional state and had probably been baking like a madwoman. She had a tendency to keep baking cakes for him to the point where the entire kitchen was bursting with an abundance of cake whenever he was sad. It was a habit she had developped ever since his father's disappearance. His father was a proud soldier who had gone missing last year. He had been sent to the conflict in Afghanistan, and neither his mother or himself, even knew whether he was still alive or not. As he reached his house, he could see your bike parked in their tiny small garden. 'Great, I should have known y/n was here to pester us.' Nash Gold Jr sighed. It had been this way too, for a while. You were his long-time study buddy. You had saved his grades countless of times. You'd noticed his mother's unstable emotional state after his father had went missing and would often help her with things around the house Even now the two of you had graduated, you had remained a pesky presence, always making sure his mother was okay. He wanted to be grateful for you, but you snapping about the risks he always put himself in was frankly annoying. 'She really should stop offering me help all the god damn time. Doesn't she have her own life?' Nash Gold Jr sighed as he went up the steps, unlocking the door with ease. "Mother, Y/n, I am home." He lazily called out as a greeting. You entered the hallway, carrying balloons in your hand and a sour, disappointed expression on your face. "We wanted to surprise you!" You whined, and Nash Gold Jr slightly melted. His mother stood in the doorway of the living room and said, "We had planned a party for you. We thought it was important to celebrate your first competition abroad, even if the second one didn't went so well." Nash Gold Jr couldn't help but smile ever so slightly. Probably your idea, to turn his mother's baking obsession into a operation. He chuckled and ruffled your hair, and as you pouted he greeted his mother, glancing into the living room to see even more balloons, decorations and a plethora of cakes, but not as many as his mother would have baked otherwise. He held his mother tightly to himself, whether to reassure her, or himself, he had no idea. "I will admit, there's some foreign potential, alright." He omitted another small sigh, and felt your hand slapping him across the back. "Well, now you know what to expect and how to prepare, right?" You asked enthusiasitcally, and Nash's slip of smile broke way for a bigger one. You always did this, you were always there to pump hope into his veins. "I hope you haven't stuffed yourself full with too many cakes already, because you're totally helping me with those," Nash said instead of telling you how much he appreciated you, but he figured you knew anyways. You always seemed to know the question to every answer. "Of course I haven't, I figured you needed my assistance. I gave any cake your mother tried feeding me over the past days to my own family so I could spare my stomach." You declared, ever so knowingly. Sometimes, when Nash dared to allow himself to think about his growing feelings for you, he couldn't help but think; 'If I am the Magician, Y/n is my Oracle.' Perhaps someday he'd say them out loud, but not now. Now, he would eat cake with you and his mom and celebrate his first opportunity to basketball overseas. His mother started blasting one of his childhood favorite songs, and began dancing in the living room as you cheered her on and Nash did feel grateful for what he had indeed.

[dotthings]

So this is it. Last episode of Gotham Knights.

Thank you to James Stoteraux and Chad Fiveash for a fantastic finale. And to all the writers and cast and crew who made this beautiful DC series.

Season one gave us a taste of all the places this could go and what this show could be and it was SO GOOD I'm sorry there won't be more of it. There's only a few DC live action TV series that have worked for me over the years, Gotham Knights is among them.

"Batman chose well. Gotham needs its Robin." I LOVE this. Carrie's mom trusting her to look after herself, to stay alive, having seen her daughter in action as Robin, and asking her daughter to go save lives and trusting her to survive in return.

Commissioner Soto!! Knew!!! So...maybe she was the Gordon analogue in this continuity. All this time.

What finally made Harvey give himself over to the Two Face personality, what finally made him fully snap -- HE DID IT TO SAVE HIS DAUGHTER AND THOUSANDS OF LIVES IN GOTHAM. This is a really brilliant re-imagining.

With Turner's parents, I got that there was more to the story. Batman was defending himself from assassins. I didn't expect this version to have Batman actually have killed them, because the Batman doesn't kill idea is so seminal in most continuities including this one--this Batman also had the do not kill code.

He's a precise highly trained fighter, who has a strong code about not killing. So in that fight, something went wrong, he was in deadly peril, or, in defending himself, did something he didn't intend to be a kill, but wound up killing them.

Misha Collins and Olivia Rose-Keegan are hitting it out of the park in all their scenes. Duela with Harvey, Duela with Two Face, two very different dynamics and both riveting.

Misha getting to play Harvey as a regretful father who wants to save his daughter and thousands of lives and make amends and then Misha getting to play completely unhinged scarred, murderous Two Face and Misha floors it in both directions.

GIVE HIM AWARDS I'M NOT KIDDING HE DESERVES NOMINATIONS.

Sadly, because it's the CW network and a superhero show, the critical awards people won't even look at it. But I'm betting industry folks will take note anyway. Bravo, Misha.

I didn't expect Turner to actually be dead, and that tactical team had French accents so I expected Henri Ducard. Still enjoyed that reveal at the end. Guessing they're going with the comics background as inspiration (and would put their own twists on it--and not Nolanverse.) Henri Ducard trained Bruce Wayne. He's not a good guy, but he helped Bruce. I like how this show's plan was to have him train his son too.

And Turner, who wants to live up to his father's legacy, becomes a legacy and inspiration for his friends, to Duela, to keep fighting for Gotham, like Bruce did, like Turner wanted.

I can only guess what the S2 plans were. It's hinting Turner becoming a new kind of Batman eventually, not sure by S2.

The Knights are going to be pissed he didn't tell them he's alive.

The Two Face and Duela stories I'm sure would be riveting.

Steph/Harper and Duela/Turner getting more development and drama. Harper enrolling at Gotham Academy. Cullen would get a boyfriend.

Beyond that, it's a wild card. Two Face likely as a significant villain, but perhaps one who goes after other villains, who ultimately acts to preserve Gotham. Maybe some Owl remnants would be in play?

As it stands, I'm grateful. I got to have this, as a DC fan. I didn't go into this solely as a Misha fan. The bulk of my perspective of this show was as a DC fan, and it was good and I am going to keep saying it was good.

I love the team, I love its beautiful, candle-lit, aged, gothic, old stones and hidden dark corners and dirigibles and pre-war towers Gotham style. It gave, in my opinion, what is the best filmed take on Harvey Dent I've ever seen. The most nuanced and compassionate and unhinged and heartwrenching and frightening and gloriously fun to watch.

And it gave me this amazing and wonderful version of Carrie Kelley's Robin and I think I will miss her most of all.

[pineapple-coffee]

Unfit To Lead: Thoughts On Growing Up, Queer History, And Feeling Unprepared

A short essay, written by Elliott (@pineapple-coffee, aka me)

(As context, I am a bisexual, genderqueer/gender questioning individual. I use they/she pronouns.)

In every community, there are elders. These elders pave the pathway for the generations that come after them—creating literature, sharing stories verbally, and educating the new generations on history and culture. Elders are essential beings in all communities, and their presence cannot be understated. Without those who came before us, history is lost, and the new generations, who will one day teach others, will have nothing to go on.

So what do you do if your elders died in the AIDS epidemic of the 80s? What do you do when queer history is often so underrepresented, so rarely accessible without proper guidance? Where do you go from there?

That's not to imply that there aren't elders. I know a man online named Ian—early 20s, not quite "old"—who taught me about queer cowboy culture, both of the Old West and of the modern day. Through video essays and documentaries, I learned about the true lives of notable figures, such as Oscar Wilde and Eleanor Roosevelt, instead of their more sanitized media portrayals. Thanks to queer artists and educators on social media, I proudly display a sticker of a green carnation on my laptop, still using it as a queer signaling device even over 120 years after Wilde's death. But most of the elders that I've looked up to online have two things in common: they're younger—typically between 21 and 40—and I know them only online. Rarely in my life have I physically met a queer person over the age of fifty. Only one person immediately comes to mind.

This came to a panicky culmination a few weeks ago when I realized, "Oh, damn. I'm nearly old enough to be considered a 'queer elder.'"

This thought freaked me out. I'm a young adult. I have so much to learn. I don't have a lot of elders to teach me. I've only ever been to one Pride festival in my life. Yet, to the youngest pre-teens out there who are just coming into their identities, I might be perceived as someone older and wiser.

Let me be abundantly clear: queer rage is the most powerful emotion that I have ever experienced. My queer elders did not "fail" me or anyone else—the government did. It was the government who let my queer siblings die slowly, whilst they did nothing but spit in the faces of the queer community and take the chance to spread their visceral hatred. Every day, I am filled with rage that generations of queer people have been ripped away due to the neglect of the government. I mourn the artists, musicians, partners, siblings, and activists who passed away. Every single AIDS victim deserves to tell their stories.

In my melancholy, I turned to the Internet. And through the Internet blogs, decades-old archives, and unsanitized history books, I found community.

I am thankful. I am grateful to those who archive gay and trans magazines, newsletters, zines, and adult magazines. I am grateful to those who survived, who share their stories about queer culture in memoirs and blog posts. I am grateful to those who keep history documented and make detailed accounts of each subculture and pivotal moment. I am thankful for those who create queer and trans sex education, relationship advice blogs, and provide information for trans people who want to physically transition. I am grateful to the AIDS Memorial for keeping memories alive. I am thankful for queer lawyers who debunk the nitty gritty details of anti-queer and anti-trans legislation so that everyone can understand the letter of the law.

I’ve learned about the culture of gay and lesbian bars. I learned about the Hanky Code, Hays Code, and Flower Codes. I learned about pre-Internet queer dating, the ways that people lived, and the subcultures that exist within queer communities. I learned about the brave trans women of color who gave us our rights through protests and riots. I learned, and I learned, and I learned. And at some point during my learning, I found myself with tears streaming down my face.

Never before had I learned the other side of history. The sides that include the radical activism via art and music, subcultures full of passionate people who yearn to share their craft, and the history that wasn’t touched by the mainstream.

I may feel unprepared to lead future generations, but the communities I have found have filled me with nothing short of euphoria. I feel proud to say that I’m queer, that I’m a fag, that I will be the elder one day. I display my Keith Haring merchandise with glee, sing Freddie Mercury’s songs at the top of my lungs, and abide by the motto that a day without lesbians really is a day without sunshine.

And in the times of uncertainty, perhaps community is the drive we all need. Whether you’re young, old, or somewhere in between, the queer community is always there to rally behind you.

Maybe being the next generation to lead others won’t be so scary after all.

[janggtoco]

songs you associate your moots with?

okie anon. u didn't know this but you asked someone who takes their music recs very seriously so letsgetit (i only picked songs from my fave albums & liked songs playlist, nothing but the best for my favorite people)

@seokgyuu: dog days are over by florence + the machine - the reason i picked this for mitchie is bcs literally the WEEK maybe even the DAY we started regularly talking, i instantly felt less lonely and felt more ready to just. rebuild my life. and she gave me much more motivation and inspiration and i was just a much happier person to be on this app ;-; she's the reason i'm back to being my somewhat normal self.. i'm forever grateful for her love ;-;

leave all your loving and longing behind / you can't carry it with you if you want to survive / the dog days are over / can you hear the horses? / cause here they come

@seokmins: st. patrick by pvris but also lay me down by sam smith - i mean. obviously i had to pick the song that inspired the first chapter of my own series white noise.. but lay me down.. it's just the perfect calming song. i can't explain it but it's so elv-coded for me.. both of these are tbh. elv helps me forget the bad in my life and i hope i give her even just a fraction of the comfort and happiness she gives me ;-;

but please stay / cause i think you're a saint and i think you're an angel / i said you give me something to talk about that's not the shit in my head / you're a miracle

&

told me not to cry when you're gone / but the feeling's too overwhelming it's much too strong / can i lay by your side? next to you / and make sure you're alright / i'll take care of you / and i don't want to be here if i can't be with you tonight

@bitchlessdino: bubblegum bitch by marina - nana just kind of own bubblegum pink in my mind right now (it's also perfect for her online theme for both of her blogs rn).. i don't think this song really embodies nana in any way other than her fierce alter ego that comes out when you wrong her or her loved ones. like she is queen electra heart what can i say!!

i'll chew you up and i'll spit you out / cause that's what young love is all about / so pull me closer and kiss me hard / i'm gonna pop your bubblegum heart

@bisexualgyu: intro/forgive me by chloe x halle but also mundo by iv of spades - listen. rhys has chloe x halle energy. don't fight me on this. like this whole album is lowkey her-coded deservedly so. and mundo is a little obvious (at least for her). she knows why <3

so forgive me, forgive me / i've been going too hard in your city / so forgive me cause i'm not teary / best believe i move onto better things

&

limutin na ang mundo / nang magkasama tayo / sunod sa bawat galaw / hindi na maliligaw / mundo'y magiging ikaw

@97-liners: daddy lessons by beyoncé - picked this one just bcs it tells the trials and tribulations of growing up with a tough parent and ultimately loving them through all their flaws while also realizing the trauma they put you through. not to get deep but yeah skdjfs sorry to give you a country song jackie but at least it's beyonce 😭

tough girl is what i had to be / he said, "take care of your mother / watch out for your sister" / and oh, that's when he gave to me / with his gun, with his head held high / he told me not to cry / oh, my daddy said shoot

@gguksgalaxy: bitch, don't kill my vibe by kendrick lamar - just ready to be straight chillin'. tired of the drama. here for a good time with people who also won't cause too much drama. also just a straight up club banger lol.

i am a sinner / who's probably gonna sin again / lord forgive me / things i don't understand / sometimes i need to be alone / bitch don't kill my vibe / i can feel your energy from two planets away / i got my drink i got my music i would share it but today i'm yelling / bitch don't kill my vibe

@taeiltual: nights w u by tiffany day - just such a lovely feel good person that i love talking to and always brightens my day! this song is just bouncy and lovely just like bex in my mind <3 sdkfjs

but we don't got to talk about it / i just want to dance around / all night with you, you, you, you / cause i don't wanna feel the pressure / know that I'll be better when all my nights / are with you, you, you, you

[beevean]

Top 10 reason why Hecula is best ship, go!

Oh, but what a fortuitous coincidence :) I vaguely imply that I'd like more asks about Hecula, and lo and behold :) it's almost like you're in hell with me :)

I'm not sure I can rank them, but if you know me, you know which ones are the peak reasons I'm suffering from terminal brainrot <3

I am very weak for the narrative of a person trapped in an abusive relationship who manages to escape and learn that they deserve more. Fits Hector to a T :)

And yet Hector can't fully escape from Dracula. He's still cursed. He's forced to re-learn Devil Forging, the art taught by him from Dracula. He still lost much of his childhood and youth in Dracula's castle. He has to unlearn everything he has learned about being a weapon.

Hector is Dracula's specialest little boy and I love all the hints of how he was favored <3 because he was talented? Because he was cold and efficient like Dracula strives to be? Because he doesn't beg for love like Isaac does? Because he kinda looks like him? You decide. Point is, the mentor/protégé dynamic is very <3

But no, really, Dracula being possessive and overprotective of his precious Hector makes me swoon <3 it's both creepy and lowkey cute <3 he'd gouge the eyes of anyone who deludes themselves to be worthy of looking at Hector's splendor <3 only he can <3 because he deserves the best <3

I love to imagine that Dracula feels ownership towards Hector because he infused him with his own magic. Yes, same goes for Isaac, but... well, he's just not as good at using it :) Hector always makes Dracula proud <3 he's his very precious perfect weapon <3

Hector would care about his Lord. Dracula cherishes him like no one else does... like no one else would, because Hector only knew hatred before running to Dracula, and he welcomed him, and Hector is so grateful to his Lord and would obey him with pride <3 ... up to a certain point.

The symbolism of blood sucking meaning giving away your life, whether you want it or not. Hector threw his life away for Dracula because he needed it, or so he would feel. That's what my idea of Hector having bite scars all over his throat symbolizes. That, and a metaphorical collar he can't get rid of.

Dracula doesn't need any magical tricks to keep Hector on a leash, unlike someone else we know :) He knows his boy well enough to know what to say to him to keep him in line :) I like to think it as psychological warfare, Dracula expertly manipulating Hector, his feelings and what he craves to keep him nice and obedient vs. Hector's unbendable moral code and budding sense of pride (that I imagine that Dracula himself caused by spoiling him too much lol)

In short, I love that there is the potential for two "main" narratives. The one where Hector is groomed from youth to be as perfect and pliable as Dracula wants him to be, and while at first he naively trusts his Lord because he has zero world experience and just wants to be loved, he slowly but surely takes a stand and confirms his worth as a human being. Or the one where there are mutual, genuine feelings between the two - the relationship can never be truly healthy due to the massive power imbalance (which is a big 🥰 for me), but maybe, before Dracula went completely insane, there was a window of time where the two were fond of each other, Hector of his Lord who is always so kind to him, and treasures him, and gave him a reason to live, and Dracula of his strong knight who does his will and is so intelligent and devoted and whose valor may remind him of Leon.

Size difference :P Hector is very pickable in CoD, he gets picked up by normal enemies like the Red Ogre and the Harpies and also by Isaac (which is pretty chad ngl), but ofc, he looks especially small when Drac sips from him :)

I will spam my screenshots until people understand my Vision 😤

There was no need to do this, Drac. No need at all. You just missed you boy. Understandable, but really. yes this does things to my brain

and remember guys: Hecula canon <3

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Martinaise, Terminal B

3. "I'm not opening this door for myself. I'm opening it for all working men."

+1 Communism

CALL ME MAÑANA- "I knew this man was a commie." He smiles, tilting his head. "And it's a good thing you're doing too. Thanks."

"What you're looking for is a basement door behind the greenhouse -- that's behind the Whirling-in-Rags -- that's all I know. Our organisation is what you call *compartmentalized*. Means we keep out of each other's business."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Okay, but where did you get the key from?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "The janitor gave it to me. Nice fella. We talked about life and things that really, *truly* matter." His gaze wanders off into the distance.

"None of this mess we're in. This jivin' and jugglin'... What's it for?" He doesn't wait for your answer. "To feed our children I guess."

"*Anything* else I should know about this task? This weasel person? When he'll be home?"

"Got it."

CALL ME MAÑANA- He shakes his head. "I'm more of a philosophical dockworker. I like to talk about the big picture stuff. Who I am. Who you are. What we are fighting for..." The man takes a big sip from his flask.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Who *he* is and what they're fighting for? This is interesting.

"Why are you striking?"

"Any idea who killed the hanged man?"

"Good talking to you. Gotta run." [Leave.]

CALL ME MAÑANA- "We're negotiating our share."

"Your... share?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "Aye." He seems pleased with himself.

"Wait, so not wages or pensions or..."

"How large a share would you like?"

"Oh, okay. Economy stuff. I get it. I want to talk about something else."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "This stuff -- they already covered."

"Shouldn't you be grateful then? It's a lot more than most people have."

"At least you got the benefits, that's something."

"However much you feed the wolf..."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "... the wolf always wants more. I like wolves."

"How large a *share* would you like?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "All of it. However, right now we want all the harbour workers to be on the company's board, so they could take part in *the decision-making process*."

"Are you a... communist?"

"The bossman, Evrart, what can you tell me about him?"

"Got the picture. Let me ask you something else."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "No," he pauses to think for a moment. "I don't think I'm a communist. Seeing something of value and saying *I want it all to myself* is a much older and simpler notion. No science to it at all..."

Even a weak child can think it. The only things holding someone back are *I can't* and *I shouldn't*."

"But the stuff you do aligns admirably well with the World Republic, why not call yourself a communist?"

"Right on, brother."

"You shouldn't take what's not yours."

"Cool. I don't have anything to add to that."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "I have nothing against communists, they are honourable boiadeiros." He takes a swig from his flask. "And they have good analysis."

"But my own code serves me well. If my code starts failing -- a code can fail a man as well as a man can fail a code -- then I will have to submit to a new one. Which may well be communism."

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - He knows who he is. Firmly grounded -- has no need to reinforce or elaborate his political identity to himself or others.

"I guess I understand..."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"It sounds like you're a communist who thinks he isn't doing well enough to call himself one."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "See, I am primarily a lazy person." He looks very amused, as if thinking about some private joke or mystery.

2. "The bossman, Evrart, what can you tell me about him?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "I think it's best you make up your own mind, now that you've met him." He shrugs. "In my eyes, he is a capable organizer and a decent businessman."

"What does bossing the Union entail anyway?"

"I guess you're right, I should." (Conclude.)

CALL ME MAÑANA- "I guess you kinda get to be the village chief. He oversees the harbour, makes deals with the owners or other relevant parties. Watches out for his own."

KIM KITSURAGI - "By that you mean corruption?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "By Heavens, why would he not be corrupt? We live in a harsh and disordered world, see. And in this world..."

"… the old man is corrupt for our *benefit* and we know it. Appreciate it, even. He is, personally, not too lavish."

"That desk seemed lavish to me."

"You're right. He's very ascetic."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "He is *reasonably* lavish, sure. That's his prerogative. It's not like you want a saintly demeanour on a corrupt motherfucker. That would be a manipulative illusion."

"Besides, there are no non-corrupt systems in the world anyway. And *moralism* is the most corrupt of them all."

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - Not you, you would like to say... But then there's that weasel door.

3. "You seem to have spent a lot of time thinking about the political situation."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "Sure, I've had the necessary free time." He spreads his arms wide, using the reach to show how much time he has. "Fortunately, there's always time."

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] - The look in his brown eyes conjures up an understanding: for him, having command of his time is the most important thing.

CALL ME MAÑANA- The man sits on the railing, his hands reaching far and wide, yet it feels as if he could effortlessly go even wider, if need be. An endless torrent of time.

2. "Any idea who killed the hanged man?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "The mercenary, aye?" He shrugs. "Who could have killed him, that's indeed the question. Why even do such a thing?" He shakes his head solemnly.

"The harbour is a prime area of suspicion. In your opinion -- are the dockworkers involved in the killing?"

"Let's change the topic."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "What a thought!" He scoffs, looking shocked. "Why would noble workers resort to such a thing. Unless they were *pushed*, of course."

"Pushed how?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "Your dead guy -- was an enemy combatant."

"Hold up, what does that mean?"

"Did you kill him?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "He was an agent of the opposition, attempting to undermine our honourable efforts."

"Did you kill him?"

CALL ME MAÑANA- "I ain't the murderin' type. But that's just me. Large organizations like our Union have all sorts of men -- with all sorts of skills."

+5 XP

KIM KITSURAGI - "Understood." The lieutenant takes a note. "This has been of limited use -- still, thank you."

CALL ME MAÑANA- "No problem. I wish the best to you in your search. Sure am glad it's not *my* search..." He takes a sip from his flask.

3. "Good talking to you. Gotta run." [Leave.]

Now we're going to keep heading towards the crime scene - but as we do, we're going to make sure to look at everything with our newly Medium level Perception and Visual Calculus.

GRAAD FACTORY OF MAGNETS AND MIRACLES U49 - A lorry stuck in the traffic jam. This big, heavy Graad-made machine is well kept for such an old machine.

Look in the window.

GRAAD FACTORY OF MAGNETS AND MIRACLES U49 - The windows are clear, they've been recently washed. You can see a lorryman's cabin with personal belongings, stickers, insignia...

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Medium: Success] - Fumes of heavy fuel oil waft over you, making your eyes sting. The odour mixes with cigarette residue.

What kind of stickers and insignia?

GRAAD FACTORY OF MAGNETS AND MIRACLES U49 - The driver has adorned his space with a substantial collection of peculiar paraphernalia. Proclamations about *honour*, *strength*, and *purity* are glued to various panels.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - A large metal pendant hangs from the rear view mirror. The pendant features a sun crowned with wavy rays.

Nothing else new here.

ABANDONED LORRY - A lorry, abandoned by its owner, stuck in the interminable traffic jam.

Open the door.

ABANDONED LORRY - The smell of cigarettes and perfume welcomes you. The cabin inside is plastered with old movie posters, actresses smile from the walls. There's a radio transmitter in the front and a toolbox tucked under the driver's seat. Some tools lie scattered near the pedals.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - There's something odd about the passenger seat... The seating fabric has been pulled tight over the lower side of the seat where the toolbox should be.

4. Peel off the cover on the passenger seat.

ABANDONED LORRY - Voila! A stack of neatly folded papers has been stashed behind the seating fabric. You see three maps depicting a large metropolitan area. It's Revachol, some of its routes and highways have been outlined with a pen.

KIM KITSURAGI - "*Bonne prise*," the lieutenant commends you as you shift through the treasure -- well worn and folded into neat squares.

Fold open the topmost map.

Return the papers under the seat.

ABANDONED LORRY - This large map displays the elevated motorway called 8/81. The intake leading to Martinaise is marked with a blue X. There's another X on the off-ramp at a place called the Old South.

Tollbooths at the intakes are marked with a circle. It looks like there are scant few ways of getting onto the elevated motorway that runs over Jamrock -- and this person knows them all.

SHIVERS [Easy: Success] - There, hundreds of thousands of motor carriages roar on the 8/81, high above the mass of brown and red roofs that is Jamrock. The commuters don't even look down; the world ceases to exist outside the windshield.

Where does the road lead...

Fold open the second map.

Return the papers under the seat.

SHIVERS - To Couron, through the middle income neighbourhoods there -- by the river -- and then to Stella Maris and La Delta, for work. While the men and women of Jamrock scuttle to their fates below the road.

Fold open the second map.

ABANDONED LORRY - This municipal map from the Thirties displays a complex system of storm sewers underneath a sub-district called The Pox (Old Military Hospital), right adjacent to the 41st Precinct.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - No storm will ever drown Revachol, the great solution to the riddle of history.

Look at the third map.

Return the papers under the seat.

ABANDONED LORRY - The final map displays a labyrinth of service tunnels left over from the construction of Motorway 8/81. A few routes have been marked with a pen -- where the tunnels and sewers surface near the Eminent Domain and a traffic island in Central Jamrock, by the lake.

"What does this all mean?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "It means that the smugglers are secretly using the motorway to transport their goods and materials. They've infiltrated East Motor Tract, most likely..."

"The RCM patrols most of these auxiliary roads, though apparently not all of them."

"Where does the contraband end up?"

"Who do you think is behind this?"

Return the stack of papers under the seat. (Conclude.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Hard to say. This distribution network looks certainly large, yet still vague enough... It doesn't reveal much about the *besmertie* behind it."

2. "*Besmertie*? That sounds vaguely familiar."

KIM KITSURAGI - "A besmertie is a Revacholian crime syndicate. They see themselves as the inheritors of the 14 Revacholian indotribes, but really they're just violent gangs vying for control on the West side of Revachol..."

"...with *cool* names," he adds with contempt. "Like *La Puta Madre* and *Ahura Mazda*. It's a dark parody."

3. "Who do you think is behind this?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's definitely not the Union. They just do *some* logistics. This operation has spread everywhere in Jamrock. If it's that widespread, then Madre remains the most likely suspect."

"He's *bad news*." The lieutenant removes his glasses and polishes them with a handkerchief. "There have been attempts at a serious investigation before, but they… haven't ended well for those involved."

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Lieutenant Kitsuragi is a brave man for saying Madre's name without the winces and whispers that usually accompany it.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] - Somewhere on a hidden field, a flash of light, a whirring sound. Camera lenses focus on a man in a ragged police uniform standing in a field of blood-red poppies. A blurry figure dressed in white stands right by the camera...

The bedraggled cop is holding a manure fork. "Don't hurt me," he whimpers.

"But why... why would I hurt my own *peone*?" asks the man in white. "What kind of an *animal* would do such thing?"

4. Return the stack of papers under the seat. (Conclude.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Best not to disturb the scene." The lieutenant nods. "I'll have Forensics go over the lorry and pick these up later."

The stack of maps looks just like before -- barely noticeable. The movie stars look silently by and the pull-out toolbox has a rubber handle, worn from years of use.

6. [Close the door.]

ABANDONED LORRY - You close the rusty old lorry door.

HORSEBACK MONUMENT - An old monument stands in the middle of the traffic island, pointing toward the sea. It looks as if it's been reassembled piece-by-piece, secured and mounted in the air with the aid of numerous ropes and rods.

Who is this?

HORSEBACK MONUMENT - A silver plaque on the statue's pedestal reads: 'I am Filippe III, the Squanderer, the Greatest of the Filippian Kings of Revachol; Son of Filippe II, the Opulent; Father of Filippe IV, the Insane.'

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Not a good track record of mental health in that family.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - As you look up, you notice something about the statue. There are some odd indentations on the king's chest piece...

2. What indentations? What do I see?

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - Something with great kinetic energy seems to have impacted the cuirass... around where the 'heart' is. A bullet?

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] - Someone's shot him in the heart. Interesting.

"Lieutenant -- has someone *shot* the king?" (Point to the indentation.)

Don't mention it.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Okay..." He cleans his glasses before looking up. "I can't see it. But I'll take your word for it."

"What do you think?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Well... Martinaise is riddled with bullet holes. This place saw a lot of action during the Revolution. But the statue *is* recently renovated -- so maybe a joke? Target practice? Or a political statement?"

[cosleia]

Balance

Originally written for a kiss prompt on Twitter. Anise (twigbelly) asked for Yoda and Maz Kanata, "lazily".

--

Maz liked younger men. They had a lack of world-weariness, a lack of experience, that refreshed her. Hope was a hard thing when you had lived for nearly a millennium and seen what Maz had seen.

Maz also liked men who were nearing the end of their lives, because often at that point they started to recover their youthful joy.

It was the men in the middle who were difficult.

Yoda wasn't young enough when they first met. He was obviously interested, but he was also still clinging to his misguided interpretation of the Jedi Code, and Maz didn't feel like trying to talk him out of it. He had his chance, and he blew it.

Maz spent her Coruscant vacation running around with Dexter Jettster instead.

When the Force drew her to Dagobah some hundred years later, though, there Yoda was, seeming far older and far less certain of everything.

Maz liked when a person could admit they didn't possess all knowledge in the universe.

"I'm not sure why I'm here," Maz told him, settling down on a stool in his cozy little hut. "But it's a nice coincidence that you're here as well. Unless it's not." She gave him a wink.

To his credit, Yoda laughed at her terrible joke. "Moves in mysterious ways, the Force does," he agreed, stirring the pot he had going over the cookfire. "Expect to see you again, I did not." He glanced at her, looking almost shy. "Grateful, I am, for this second chance."

"So am I," Maz said, pleased.

They ate soup together in comfortable silence. When Yoda had cleared the bowls away, he told her he'd had a vision.

"Know not do I what it portends. Believed, I did, that I knew what to tell him. Wrong, I was. Happened differently, it could not have." He cocked his head to the side. "You, I saw, with his father's lightsaber."

"I believe you've made me wait long enough," Maz told him. "Tell me about the vision after. I may be nine hundred and seventy-six years old, but that doesn't mean I like wasting time."

Surprise sent Yoda's wispy eyebrows up his forehead. His nose wrinkled in a rather cute way.

"Kiss me," Maz clarified. "And you can take your time with it. Kissing is time well spent." She put a hand on Yoda's knee, and Yoda swallowed, then leaned in.

It was, Maz soon realized, his very first kiss. She did her best to make it a good one.

He in turn quickly learned how to take her breath away with soft, slow, gentle touches.

They spent several highly satisfying hours at it. When Maz felt she could no longer ignore her purpose here, she finally disentangled herself from Yoda. Regretful but also happy, she smiled at him. "So am I to bring this lightsaber to you?" she asked, getting right back down to business.

Yoda blinked at her. He had a wide, silly smile on his face. "No," he replied after a moment, seeming to gather his wits. "Return here, Skywalker will, yes. But no longer for him, that lightsaber is. Keep it you must, for someone else."

The Force did indeed move in mysterious ways. Maz set off to Cloud City to retrieve the lightsaber Obi-Wan Kenobi had given to Luke Skywalker…the lightsaber with which Anakin Skywalker had slain dozens of Jedi in the name of the Dark. That same fearsome blade would one day save the future of the Light.

And Yoda hadn't been ready, before, but he was ready now, when Maz returned to him.

Balance.

~The End~

[ldysmfrst]

Reciprocal Synergy (2) - Enigma

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 2 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 2,393

Work count for Story: 4,246

Genre: Omegaverse Au based off KinnPorsche: Thai BL Drama

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

This is the very first story I wrote. I posted it here in July 2023, but I have now edited it and finally decided to add it to my library. I hope you enjoy it. I only have two chapters written so far, but I may get back into it... once I am healed up from my hospitalization and almost dying at the start of August 2024.

Each chapter starts with a definition. (thought it would be cool) 💜💜💜

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have guns, violence, Alpha, and motorcycles.

Library of LdySmFrst / Reciprocal Synergy Master List

E·nig·ma

/I’nigMuh/

noun

a person or thing that is mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand.

“I saw the video from the alleyway,” my father informed me while sipping his tea and looking over the gardens. “You trusted, asked for protection, and gave protection to a stranger. Wait… not just a stranger but an Alpha stranger. Now, you have Arm looking for him to give this Alpha stranger money you promised after he stole your watch, which is worth more than triple what was agreed upon.”

I knew all of this already, but my father…oh, my father loved to point out every flaw that he could just to show his displeasure in the turn of events. Couldn’t he at least be happy that I was trying to correct it discreetly?

“Tell me, Anikinn, what is the point of wasting resources?” With the last question, my father looked me square in the eye, the challenge simmering just beneath the surface.

“I want to uphold our honour, Pa. We never go back on a deal and who knows, he may still have the watch.”  My father nodded his head slightly, always the ever-present helicopter parent.

“Fine. Find this Alpha stranger, and pay him the agreed rate, but then you must get him to work for us. It seems he is a strong Alpha, and it is always good to have someone like him on our payroll.” My father breathed as if to say more, then stopped to take another sip of tea, seemingly to maul over a thought before stating, “Not only will he work for the family, but he will also work for you.” 

The challenge had been given. 

I may have been getting the family’s business partners to accept me in my new position. Still, I need not forget that by codes, I cannot take over fully until I have proved myself to the current head of the family, my father. 

“Understood, Pa. I don’t know if he will, but I will find a way.” I reluctantly agreed, standing to take my leave. I give a slight bow to my father, which he ignores. 

I walk out of my father's balcony and into the hall, only to be greeted by Arm with a tablet. “What is it, Arm? Did you find Jom?”

With a hasty bow and handing over the tablet, I see first a picture of some other, not good-looking male Beta named Jom, who works as a bartender at Hum Bar. 

“Who is this, Arm? You saw the footage from the alleyway. This is not the right man. He is a beta on top of it all.” I glare at Arm, who is avoiding looking at me.

“Yes, Khun Kinn, this is the only Jom that works or lives in a 15-mile radius of where you were assisted in escaping, Hum Bar. Please look at the second dossier.” He quickly states as he clicks on a different document on my tablet. 

My breath catches slightly at the picture of the Alpha stranger. 

It is only from the chest up, and he is dressed in a white, thin, and sheer sleeveless shirt failing to cover his chest, brass buttons, and a Chinese high collar. His ears are covered in a tasteful amount of brass chains. His smiling lips are covered in the same earthy brass color shimmering in the light. His eyes are done with a slight smokey shadow, which brings out the deep yellow amber of his Alpha shining through. Finally, his hair is artfully styled with white highlights striking against his deep brown natural hair color. 

Name: Porsche Gender class: Alpha (potentially Feral) Status: Bartender at Hum Bar Siblings: Porchay Gender class: Not yet presented.

Next to this one is an equally devastating photograph that seems to be of a completely different person, yet with the same amber eyes and face sneering back. 

There is no makeup, artsy hair, or see-through shirt this time. 

The photo is just him, again from the waist up but gleaming in sweat, muscles tense, taking a classic martial arts stance. The only mark on this photo is a busted lip. 

Taking a deep breath and clearing my throat, I read the dossier. 

Name: The Phoenix Gender Class: Feral Alpha Status: Former Taekwondo National Champion and current underground fighting headline contender Status: $7.8 Billion in debt collector unknown.

If I thought my breath caught on the white photo, then my breath left me with this one.

Who is he, really? 

The Phoenix or Porsche… maybe he is both.

“I want you, Pete, Big, and Ken. Then anyone else would fit in for this venue for recon. Where is he tonight? Bar or ring? I need to pay a debt and collect a life.”

“Ring, Khun Kinn, at the old condemned swimming stadium. He is headlining tonight and is up against some heavy hitters. Seems he is past due on his payment and was added to the roster for tonight while you were speaking with Khun Korn,” Arm states, taking back the tablet and tapping on the screen. 

The guards are undoubtedly being notified of their new assignment for tonight. Within moments, a loud screech is heard from the floor above.

Hanging my head, I glance at Arm, “Khun No is not having a good day I take it?”

“Well, he set up a marathon of Tale of the Nine-Tailed Fox for Pete, Pol, and myself to watch with him, and now it will only be Khun No and Pol, Khun Kinn.” Arm timidly says. 

Since he was kidnapped, my elder brother, Thankhun, has been unique. He lives his life through his dramas. His personal guard consists of Pete, Arm, and Pol. 

He will tell you that he does not trust anyone other than his family, which is not always accurate. If he didn't trust them, he wouldn’t be so dramatic when his “useless” guards get into different rotations. 

“Fine, take yourself off the list. I will have Tay and Time join me as it is in Tay’s boundary. That should be enough to make an impression and get what is needed.”

The fight does not start until late evening, and the headlining match, where The Phoenix is rostered, won't start until midnight.

That gives us time to find additional information about the venue and the other fighters. The venues are picked and announced on the same day of the fight, which does not allow any fighters to gain the upper hand or hide anything to aid them in the ring. 

However, it will take a little longer to find out who is rolling out the cash for these fights. Since the fights are being held within Tay’s boundaries, it won’t be someone out of reach. 

Then again, for the Theerapanyakun family, nothing was out of reach.

Pulling up the parking lot, the venue is a 5-minute walk to the south. The sounds of a live DJ start flowing through the air, and the lack of mixed scents on the wind with the undercurrent of peaches let us all know that they must have hired a decently large Omega Den to help keep the crowd in check. 

Omegas have a unique ability to release a calming pheromone in the air that calms everyone. It is one of the reasons why I had Pete placed on the team tonight. His scent is more like apple pie and ice cream and decently strong. 

He always comes in handy when getting answers with minimal bloodshed or calming down Khun No when his panic attacks kick up. 

Big, Mew, Beam, and Mok are all Betas. 

Tay and Time are Alphas and a mate-bonded pair. 

However, with how pretty and delicate Tay looks, you would think he was a “high-class Omega baby,” which tends to be everyone’s, sometimes fatal, mistake when dealing with Tay and Time.  

Tonight Tay is laying it on thick in an all-white suit with a thigh-high layered slit which only shows when he walks… well, more like sashays around flashing some skin. His white high-waisted jacket only closes with a single silver button, and he wears a silver lace bodice. His hair is teased up and back with silver highlights, tasteful silver and glitter dusting around his eyes, and glossy lips that would make anyone want to have a taste. 

On the contrary, Time is dressed in a deep blue suit typical for any businessman with silver accents with his watch, pocket square, and chain necklace. 

They match, but not overly so.

They have been a couple for several years now. Still, it always amazes me how well Tay puts up with Times roaming eyes and rushing fingers, but who am I to judge a mate-bonded pair. They are hard to find and rare when they are the same gender. 

I played it down tonight. I am simply dressed in tan suit pants, black penny loafers, and a black dress shirt open to mid-chest without makeup or jewelry, aside from the family ring. 

That ring is my key to everything and anything or anyone. 

It never comes off, and it never will. 

The team has opted to dress more for the outing than to be spotted as security, dressed in jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, and the like.  Everyone has been given orders to drop the formalities for the night and play as if we are all old acquaintances or work buddies when they need to come and impart any information or take direction. 

The closer we get to the venue, the louder the music plays, the stronger the scents toxify the air, and the energy of the ring creeps across your skin. 

A quick look at the team and a few of them split off in pairs, jogging through the crowd. Others hang back but never lose sight of Tay, Time, and myself. 

Looking around, the crowd is a mix of mid-game players and bottom feeders, and there is no one high-end like the three of us; so much for effortlessly blending in. 

“A’Kinn, why are we here again. This is NOT your usual scene,” asks Time, looking around with a slightly disgusted look and clinging a little tighter to Tay.

“I have a debt to settle with someone, one of the fighters, but he won’t be on til a bit later. For now, try to enjoy your beautiful date tonight. I am sure Tay will have many eyes on him.” I say while showing my heated gaze, enjoying Tay's view from his heeled shoes to the smoky silver eyes.

“Oh Kinn! You are such a tease,” Tay preens under my gaze, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. “You always know what to say to make someone feel wanted and know the work they put in to look nice pays off. If others learn the same thing, the world may not be so insecure.”

“Come on, babe, you know you look good. You always look good. Can’t you see it when I look at you too?” Time whines while burying his nose into Tay’s neck, scenting him along his mating bite and causing a small gasp to escape Tay’s lips.

“Fine, yes I can see it but sometimes words also help.”

I just shake my head. 

I never understood the point of bonds and mates.

My father always acted as if being a mate-bonded pair was the end of the world because they could make you weak and give your enemies a target with neon flashing lights how to bring you to your knees. In fact, my brothers and I are pretty sure that our mom and dad were in an arranged marriage and that mom died because she found her bonded mate and father had him murdered. After all, it would make him look weak to lose her as a wife to someone else, bond or not. 

“Hey Booouuudy.” I roll my eyes as I look at Mok, the newest bodyguard on the team. He almost slipped up calling me boss, but it was a decent save.

“Oh hey, Nong Mok, what are you doing here? Don’t you work tomorrow?” I asked to keep up the preset relationship roles assigned when everyone was briefed on the way over.

“Yeah but I switched the afternoon shift with P’Tank because I didn’t want to miss out on the Special Event tonight. Its not everyday that the main match is six to one.”  Giving Mok a slight tilt, I process what I was just told. 

Special event, six verse one, and who is Tank?

“You mean it's a gang-up on one guy?!” Time interjects, “What did that one guy do to earn such a match?”

“Word has it that Jay set this up. Apparently, the poor sap of a guy is behind on some payments, and this is how he is to catch up. The deadman’s name is ‘The Phoenix’. The dudes he is up against look like they have more than enough muscle to put down anyone here,” Mok offers, glancing around, looking like he is bored with the conversation but is really just doing safety checks.

“You mean to tell me it is one Alpha against 6 others? Are they all Alphas too, or is it a mix?” I ask, trying to keep the pit of worry and concern that has now formed in my stomach from leaking into my voice.

“Well, the match has been named ‘All-out Alpha.��� So, I am sure you can guess the answer to that question, bud. I would love to chat, but I see an old college hottie. Peace out!” Mok says as he starts to jog over to Beam, who looks stiff and cannot find a way to relax and blend in. Hopefully, Mok can get Beam to chill, or people will start to wonder.

“Umm... A’Kinn. If Phoenix is against six other Alphas, this isn’t a match. Is it a cover-up for a reminder or a beatdown, and why do I feel it's Phoenix that you owe a debt to?  Could it be because your face paled just a hint when Mok said his name?” 

Damn, Tay.

He has been my friend since primary school, and almost nothing gets by him. However, he is not wrong with anything he says. 

I am here for Phoenix. 

I owe him a debt, and we may have just got front-row seats to his murder.

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@bethanysnow @braveangel777 @danielle143

[safesthaveninexistence]

So grateful I'm spiritually powerful to rid of absolutely all fears. Wow. I made it. I'm my own Deus Ex Machina. Geez. It's deadass a whole Universe Within. Wow. I deadass did it. I clinged onto faith and hope that being insane and unhinged would bring me to the other side and bitch it did. Astronomically. Geez. That's why I shouldn't fear being "unhinged and insane" because it only generates more mindblowing Magic and I'll only come across as even more and more saner. I'm grateful I have the option to be able to come across as the most sanest person alive. Like thank God there are realities that validates me and my sanity. Thank God I'm in reality that makes me feel sane. lol. Like this is a whole new New Earth reality. Can't believe I went through such horror to get to the Kingdom Of Peace. Wow. Higher Alternate Realities are Peace. They are Love. Wow. All because I get to choose. Incredulous how I have so much power just from internally. Wow. That's why people are able to control their reality just from within. Thank God this moment is the moment I momentously cracked the code. Wow. A new layer of profundity. Wow. New layer of profundity brings me far more blessings. So grateful the unknown only gets safer and safer. So grateful I have 100% control over the unknown. Wow just like I'm effectively my own Deus Ex Machina im my own Hero I can effectively manifest Laika without guilt or shame or without even feeling I'm abandoning myself or hurting myself. I'm valid to be excited about someone without losing myself in anyway!!!!! That's a new loving way to exists!!!! Thank God for this much needed craved change!!!!! I'm powerful enough now to believe and be assured I am absolutely doing everything right. I reached to the place where I am certain everyone only has love for me behind my back and the front of the scenes. Damn mom gave me her bank account wow so trustworthy. My universe is so exceedingly trustworthy it's unbearable! Even the energy and intention in the world unbearable is TRUSTWORTHY. Whether I believe it or not I'll meet people who are my level of genius and it'll greatly relieve me. Like I won't feel alone with my thoughts and astronomical brilliance. My energy naturally overpowers energy. My energy naturally overpowers others. My energy naturally overpowers reality. My energy naturally overpowers the 3D. My energy is global fame. My energy is global phenomenon. I only get more and more infinitely bolder and bolder with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely assured with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely confident with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely encouraged by my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely satisfied by my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely pleased with my own manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely impressed with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely satisfied with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely content with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely gleeful with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely hopeful with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely trusting with my manifesting skills. I infinitely only get more and more unerringly powerful and consistent at exceeding absolutely all of my expectations with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more expeditious with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely trustworthy to myself. I only get more and more infinitely in control of my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely happier with my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely grateful for my manifesting skills. I only get more and more infinitely empowered by my manifesting. My manifesting skills only get more and more infinitely astronomically brilliant. My manifesting skills only grows more and more infinitely alive. My manifesting skills only gets more and more infinitely sexy.

[tinylittlecubby]

Okay I need to journal real quick cause I can't sleep and my mind is going.

First of all, as usual, my lack of discipline and work ethic is causing a few problems and I can leverage my perseverance to get through them but whew chile it is whooping my ass.

Speaking of perseverance, I have a whole ass mentor for my program that is literally going to help me with everything and I can literally feel myself enter into my anime trainee arc ala tkd. A part of me is so grateful and excited but a part of me is feeling some survivors guilt AND another part is feeling fucking pressure. Talk about needing to lock in.

Damn this isnt even what I was planning on writing about but its what's coming soooo.

Hmmmmmmm whats really bothering me is that if I am being very honest. It is tiring trying to pretend that I am emotionally invested in software engineering. Its actually a lot like tkd. Was I emotionally invested in tkd as a practice? Sure I even had some parts that I was very good at and preferred. Did I train outside the context of class? No.

I also didn't grow up wanting to do it and after 7 years I quit. I went far beyond then I thought but what I loved most was that it was a physical activity cause I love running around and the people were amazing.

SE is similar in that I didn't exactly grow up wanting to do it. There are parts I like, like systems analysis for example and python. The people have been a mixed bag but this new chapter has people that are very much on my side. And I do like solving problems.

I need to accept that I dont have to be emotionally over leveraged in order for the discipline and work ethic to be there. I can just start from a place of curiosity for the craft. It just feels awkward communicating with people that are emotionally over leveraged in it cause it is there passion. This must be how people feel talking to me when I talk about business and labour. That's actually the areas that im most interested in. Yada Yada Yada, software unique positioning for larger goals you get the picture. And the funny thing is once I get good at something,and I mean really good at it, I absolutely love doing it. Tech support was an acception due to the customer service aspect and being sick but yeah thats my usual brain. And I get so happy when I write code that works,especially if I had to troubleshoot it,its literally like a tiny mental orgasm it's amazing! I just need to foster that because thats how you get passionate. It's like im dating the craft and im expecting all this romance with no rapport.

Something I also need to keep in mind is that because I persevere and now have people on my side and am learning more and more, just like tkd, the craft is going to start loving me back. Tkd the sport AND the people gave me soooo much and made me into such a better person all around that it is still a big part of who I am (especially in regards to how I socialize and tend to carry myself)

I wonder how SE will shape me, but I need to show up in everyway to find out. So far, especially recently, I am very confident that it will me for the better.

[wawerrell]

Vaughan Mazursky, the Czarina

Those souls brave enough to phone the lady who ruled over middle schoolers with an iron fist probably found it disconcerting to hear that Vaughan Mazursky’s voicemail greeting was a low-quality recording of ABBA she had made by holding the receiver up to the stereo: "Mamma mia, here I go again!" In that musical limbo before the beep, former students might be forgiven for pondering the absurdity of having to reconcile the piped-in Swedish ballad with scenes of remembered terror from GAWA: the Czarina charging, at almost a 45-degree angle, toward the disobedient student’s desk, gaining momentum and fury as she closed the distance. Personally, my thoughts waiting for the beep hovered not over her classroom by the Ashley but over the land of ABBA — Stockholm in particular: I had come to deeply love my captor.

Outré incongruities were the A’s and T’s, C’s and G’s of Ms. Mazursky, who was nothing if not surprising, contradictory, weird, and beautiful. After all, one does not become the Czarina by having even a single fleeting worry about what others might think.

Ms. Mazursky died this morning, threading a cosmic needle: she held on just long enough to see her Democrats succeed in Kentucky, Ohio, and Virginia — and left just early enough to avoid the Republican debate.

No teacher ever challenged me in the precise way the Czarina did. So unabashedly herself — it was the Czarina who, just a few years ago, broke the indecisive lull on the dancefloor at my sister’s wedding, rushing out after just a few chords of Marvin Gaye — Ms. Mazursky had no patience for artificiality, conformity, or normality. Her mere existence gave weird kids the permission to be themselves. Indeed, so far removed from the normal and typical was she that she frequently ignored normal, typical things like bells and closed doors. Sharon Tate had fewer unwelcome guests than Dr. Slayton, whose classes the Czarina — more often than not halfway through a sentence before the door had fully opened — routinely annexed with talk of NCAA shakeups or political shakedowns.

Thinking of her as I look out at my own students writing essays, I am grateful that among the most critical skills she taught generations of eighth graders was how to distinguish between reliable and unreliable sources, invaluable for navigating messy global affairs. Such a practice feels extra handy today, though, because it can be hard to distinguish between fact and legend upon hearing any Mazoo story: Did she once extol the value of Hammurabi’s Code as a classroom management device? (Yes.) Did she swear us to silence while she went to the copy room only to hear us talking upon her return and proceed to ask each student, one by one, to swear, on their mother’s life, that they had not violated the silent sanctum of the Czarina? (Also yes.) Had she indeed pioneered the medically inadvisable no-water-only-TAB diet? (Probably yes.) Did she antagonize a Soviet tank to spark a revolution? (Absolutely yes.)

A rule of thumb I’ve found helpful over the years is a simple substitution: if the story still sounds feasible after having swapped out “the Czarina” for “the Trunchbull,” then, with few exceptions, the story is probably true.

Teaching us the poetry of the Enlightenment, Wesley Moore began with a stunning visual: Alexander Pope clocked in at four-and-a-half feet of bone-crunching fury. In short, as it were, we sophomore English students should imagine Alexander Pope as an Augustan Vaughan Mazursky. But, while Pope was many things, to my knowledge he never insisted that flocks of middle schoolers swear an oath of undying fealty to serve him as his boyars, never arranged his social and academic schedule around the ‘Hoos, and — despite his fair share of quirks and eccentricities — did not grow up in the splash radius of a nuclear power plant.

Vaughan Mazursky, the Czarina of Porter-Gaud, did.

More than anyone else, Ms. Mazursky taught me that the political is personal. Uninformed or unexamined political belief was not ideology, she taught us, but instinct. (She did go on to explain that, because many of us were genetically undifferentiated from the apes of Borneo, instinct was, in fairness, the closest we could get to an actual ideology.) When I thought that I could skate by on cruise control as a fellow liberal, the Czarina put an end to any such illusion. For Latin, I had made a poster of politicians I admire — in a reactionary, teenaged kind of way, I decided to paint with too broad a brush — the Czarina ripped it from my hands, took a sip of Diet Coke, pointed out Ted Kennedy, pointed at me, pointed back at Ted Kennedy, and, squinting up at my face, said: “Werrell, you dingbat. He killed a woman. Read a newspaper or open a book before you decide to admire someone.”

Politics was the backbone of her life and of her classes. George McGovern, sun-faded and looking down from the bulletin board, was the perpetual teacher’s aide in the classroom, part of each conversation: “Well, George, how about that?” A few years later, she emerged from Senator Obama’s speech cistern yard at College of Charleston and landed on national newspapers, arms triumphantly up and looking like she was in a montage from “Rocky.” 

Despite the urban legends generations of eighth graders shared with younger students, I feel like I can confidently say that Ms. Mazursky never killed any student — though even that would not curtail my admiration for her.

[chromalogue]

Multi-factor authentication at my new German bank has been kind of a nightmare.  They don’t require it for online account access; it just takes a string of numbers to log in to my account.  But every single transaction requires separate multi-factor authentication. 

Normally this is done by smartphone, but it requires you to download the app.  But the app runs only on newer operating systems, and my current phone is too old to install the new operating system.  For about a month, the only way to check whether I’d been paid or not was to either make the trek down to the bank and ask a teller for my account information, or to use a bank machine.  And because that bank’s machines don’t have a balance inquiry function, the only way to find out was to withdraw money and see how much of a balance I had left. 

After that first month, one of the tellers told me about an alternative, something called a chip-TAN.  It’s a credit-card-sized device with a slot, a small display screen, and a keypad.  You stick your card in, chip-first, and it wakes up.  Then you can either proceed manually, in which case the bank website will prompt you to key a series of numbers and some information about the transaction into the chip-TAN, or you can do this weird optical thing where the site gives you a QR code that the chip-TAN will scan.  I switched to manual because if the optical thing doesn’t load right, the field where the QR code is supposed to be starts strobing in a way that is mightily vexing, and I could picture triggering seizures in someone with photosensitive epilepsy. 

The result of either of these actions is a six-digit code that you enter to complete the transaction.  Every.  Single.  Transaction. 

Normally, a chip-TAN unit costs 15 Euros.  I am unbelievably grateful to the teller who gave it to me for free. 

But because I access online banking from both home and work, I carry it around on my person, wrapped in the piece of paper that contains my login numbers.  So it doesn’t really make my money any more secure, unless the goal is to annoy thieves out of even bothering. 

resharing this oldie because i just got a new laptop and the number of times i am being required to login to things, login to a DIFFERENT app/program/password manager/authenticator, provide a number, and then login again is making me fucking INSANE