#i don't know if i like this or not

[isabelleneville]

@perioddramasource: Period Drama Appreciation Week 2024

day six | favourite era/time period

T H E W A R S O F T H E R O S E S (as shown in The Hollow Crown, The White Queen and The White Princess )

[flyolai-brainrot]

trying out new things art wise

[dicewrap]

something small before I sleep

[justaboymadeofhoneyandglass]

Okay that makes sense, past and present being surrender and new perspectives, and contentment and satisfaction let's see what my future card is!

👀

[chetchad]

The Best Room They Have Is The Last Room You Want

(Brad Vickers x FEM!reader)

Warnings; sexual jokes, Brad being a little perv, no real smut, barely edited.

Summary; Brad and readers normal nights together as a married couple.

Title from The Best Room by Modest Mouse

Brad sighed, late shifts in the office were always boring and repetitive. He just wanted to go home, crack open some cheap beer, and eat dinner with you. God, just the thought of you sent him into a spiraling frenzy of emotions. Lust, happiness, and longing mostly.

The brunet missed you, even if he saw you everyday and spent every night with you; he'd still miss you dearly. With a small huff, he continued his mind-numbing paperwork and waited for the time to pass.

~~~

Brad parked his small 1997 Honda Civic, white, a little dinged up. But Brad loved it, it was his pride and joy. Pocketing his keys, Brad opened the driver's side door and climbed out, closing it behind him. He walked up the small concrete walkway, humming to himself when he noted that he needed to cut the grass again.

Brad groaned in annoyance when he realized that he could not have put his keys away, and that he had to now use his house key. Fishing the bundle of keys out, he slotted the house key in, a bright pink finish on it. You had insisted on it, as he always lost his keys, and now his keys were all embarrassingly colorful.

Brad snorted and shook his head when he heard the dog come running towards the door, the dog's tail beating against the floor while he waited for his favorite person to walk in. Brad smiled when he heard you talking to the dog, asking if Brad was finally home.

After unlocking the door and opening it, the canine excitedly jumped when Brad walked in. Brad chuckled and rubbed the chocolate lab's head, before walking into the living room where he assumed that you were.

Fuck.

You sat on the couch, only in a baggy shirt and a pair of his boxers. You had insisted on it, if he got to wear your socks; you got to wear his and his boxers.

Brad really needs to thank Joseph for daring him to buy a Hooters T-shirt from said breastaurant. Now Brad gets to see you wear the loose T-shirt around the house, sometimes just it and a pair of panties.

Shaking the dirty thoughts from his head, Brad walked over and sat next to you, leaning over and pecking your lips. Brad toed his boots off, and peeled his socks off, wiggling his now free toes. “How was work?”

You glanced up from your magazine, and smiled at him, “Fine. Still cute as always. The kids got really excited when I told them about the possum in the backyard last night.”

You worked as an elementary school teacher, you taught second grade language arts. You always came back with cute little stories about your class.

“Yeah? That's cute.” Brad replied, looking over at the TV. “WrestleMania? You like wrestling?”

“Wanted some background noise while I cleaned up around the house.” You shrugged, looking back down at the PlayGirl magazine.

Brad shook his head fondly at you, a bit jealous that you were looking at porn right in front of him. But, then again, you seemed bored looking at it.

“You know, I'm kinda jealous that you get to work around a bunch of little seven year-olds and teach them to spell n’ stuff.” Brad sighed, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in the old couch. “I have to work with brawly guys.”

“Hey, what about Jill?” You asked, tossing the magazine on the coffee table.

“She counts too. She beat everyone at arm wrestling and thumb wrestling.” Brad mumbled, his bottom lip jutting out in a tiny pout.

“Aw, is Brad jealous that I get to work with a bunch of cute kids?” You teased, leaning towards him with a cheeky smirk. “‘Cause it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Just yesterday I had to help one of the kids clean puke off of his shirt.”

Brad grimaced, a look of disgust across his face, “Ew…”

“Yeah.” You hummed, pecking his cheek and leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“My point still stands, I'd rather deal with puke than some grown man with his boner.” Brad muttered, not realizing how lewd it sounded.

“Brad, are…are you giving sexual favors?” You asked with a shocked look, unable to hide the childish grin.

Brad's head snapped up, and looked at you with a bright blush across his cheeks. “W-what?! No!”

“You sure?” You giggled, staring at him with amusement while you rested your feet in his lap. Brad gave you a side-eye, and a little sneer.

Before Brad could open his mouth and give a rebuttal, the doorbell rung. You stood up and walked walked over to the front door, Brad shamefully watching your hips sway with each stride. With a small groan, Brad grabbed a throw pillow and laid it on his lap, covering his semi-hard bulge.

You came back with a take-out bag in hand, fondly rolling your eyes when you saw his lap-pillow. You set the bag next to the magazine on the coffee table, walking to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.

“What do you want?” You called out to Brad, listening to him excavate through the bag of Chinese food.

“Beer.” Brad called back, letting out a small ‘yes!’ when he found crab rangoon.

You walked back with a beer bottle and Pepsi, setting them down on the little table. You plopped down next to Brad, reaching down and grabbing the orange chicken and the plastic fork, along with the fried rice.

After the two of you ate dinner, let the dog out, and shared a cigarette on the back porch, you guys were back in your bathroom.

Brad was taking a leak, while you brushed your teeth over the sink. With the toothbrush in your mouth, you looked over at Brad and down at the toilet.

“Is it awys tht crlor?” You asked, your words muffled with toothpaste.

Brad looked up from his dick, and at you with a small glare, “My urine is a normal color.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and leaned over the sink, spitting the glob of foam out of your mouth. You gargled some water and spat it out, wiping your mouth after and moving to the side when Brad walked over to wash his hands.

Brad brushed his teeth and watched you apply face cream and moisturizer on, his eyes were full of love and pure awe. Brad always wondered how he got such a gorgeous woman to date him, let alone marry him.

God he was lucky.

Brad smiled around the toothbrush when he watched you leave the bathroom, listening to the sheets rustle when you climbed in bed. After Brad finished up in the bathroom, he changed into sweats and a plain, white t-shirt.

Crawling into bed, Brad wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a soft kiss against your skin. Basking in the way you curled back into him, Brad smiled brightly and closed his eyes.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

[i-dont-hyperfixate-on-fandoms]

Interrupting this Broadcast

A Music Meister x OC fanfiction

≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈

Word count: 987

Warnings: Angst, arguing, reference to being mugged

Tropes: Fighting with partner

Synopsis: Most significant others wouldn't be super keen on their partner being a criminal, much less a supervillain. Melody is no different.

Ships: Music Meister x OC

≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈=≈

When Melody returned home that evening, she hadn’t been expecting Darius to already be home. Nor did she expect him to be by the TV, scowling at whatever he was intently watching. Curious, she silently walked to the couch and joined in his watching.

‘—and yet their security cameras nearby show nothing. All that is known is that the 129 civilians have no recollection of arriving or being on the premises as if their memory was wiped. We now go to a statement from Jim Gordon, Chief of the Gotham Police Department.’

Concern overtaking her, Melody finally spoke to break the silence and let her presence be known. “Hey, babe, what is this?”

Darius jolted up at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice. “Oh! Uh, just the news. I’ll change the channel for you.”

“No, keep this on. I’m invested.”

‘At this time, we don’t have much information. Very few minor injuries were found on these victims. The perpetrator has seemingly gotten away, taking around four hundred thousand dollars worth of goods and leaving about one hundred fifty thousand dollars in damages behind them. Most notably, the silver jewel-encrusted grand piano donated by the Chalumeau family is reported missing amongst others.’

Melody whipped her head at this last comment, her jaw gaping. “Darius!? What the hell did you do?!”

“What do you mean?” He asked, eyes rolling.

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’? You stole $400,000?”

“No, I simply stole an antique piano and some fancy dinnerware. And some money, I guess.”

“Darius Edward Chapel!” Melody chided.

“Melody, dearest, we’ve been over this,” The man sighed, rubbing his brow in exasperation as the chief of police continued droning, “It’s my whole thing!”

“But why?” She snatched the remote, turning off the TV, “Why do you do it? We’re well enough off, we don’t need that shit! If we were hurting for money, we can get a loan–”

“It’s not just about the money!” Darius shouted. She shifted away at this, her face a mix of frightened, disappointed, and fuming. He sighed once more, reeling back his own frustration. “I… you wouldn’t… I don’t know how to explain it…” he leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Try me,” Melody replied. She cocked her head at him, waiting for him to continue. He looked at her, trying to read her, and huffed as he glared at the floor.

“I just… it… started as a means of… some sort of escapism. Long before I met you. Everything was shitty back then. I had known about my powers for years and was no stranger to manipulating others. But…” Darius trailed off, shaking his head. He gazed to his girlfriend once more, hoping to find a semblance of reassurance to help him continue. A small nod from her was all he needed to continue as he stared once more at the ground.

“But, even then, I hadn’t done much other than get others off my back and maybe persuade some to do me favors. Until one day I was being harassed on the street by some random guy. He eventually pulled a gun on me, and tried to mug me. But as I used my hypnotic voice to get him away from me, he handed me a bag full of stolen goods. The tables had completely turned, and I didn’t even need to use violence. And as I continued to sing to get the guy to fully leave, some others got caught in my trance. I tried to get them to do what the mugger had done with his belongings, and they happily gave me their wallets, phones, and more. It was exciting, being able to steal so easily.”

Melody drummed her fingers on her leg. “And how is theft a form of escapism?”

“I-It wasn’t the crime, it was the extent of power I had over them. I soon began to chase that control I didn’t have in my life. It became a role to play. Charming others with song and dance until they showered me with praises and gifts, helpless to resist my powers. And, of course, as my performances grew in popularity and infamy, I had to protect my identity. So… I fully embraced my part to escape the boring and worthless life I lived.”

Darius lifted his eyes to Melody’s before she exhaled heavily. She opened her mouth to say something, before biting her lip in deep thought.

“I know that it’s wrong. I do. But, at this point, it’s a part of me.” he added, setting a hand beside him in hopes that she would take it.

“Do you still feel like your life is as bad as it was before?” Melody asked, shifting her eyes to her lap.

“Oh… Oh no, not at all! Ever since I first met you, my life has been truly wonderful. You have made this existence so much more amazing than I could ever have dreamed,” he assured, moving his hand to her leg. 

“I just feel like I’m not doing something right if you’re still seeking your idea of ‘escapism’.” she breathed.

Darius squeezed her leg. “Melody, love, it’s not that. I’m in too deep– I’m caught in this facade of mine. You have done nothing wrong; this is my own doing. I’ve tried to change this part of me, I really have. I’ve yet to succeed…” He lifted her chin to have her look at him. “That doesn’t mean you’ll have to accept my villainy as morally just. It’s not. I may not be able to escape this path of mine, but I can try to do better for you.”

“How would you do that?”

“How would you have me do that, Songbird?.”

At this, Melody smiled ever so softly. “Maybe try victimless crimes?”

Darius chuckled. “So, you’re not against crimes in general?”

Melody rolled her eyes. “You asked for help.”

“That I did, my dear.”

[some-pers0n]

I'm always entertained by people doing those "canon VS fanon" memes where both are misunderstanding characters to such a violent degree 'cause like

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

[thelaurenshippen]

watching bridgerton and obviously there were a lot of things wrong with the way socializing has worked in the past, but honestly the idea of a "calling hour" is so appealing. office hours for friendship. you can show up unannounced at my home between 1 and 3pm. you must leave by 3pm. I may give you a pastry. lets bring that back

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[kensatou]

i'll let phie-san say it:

[bloggingboutburgers]

Happy ace week y'all

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

Guy who has wandered through the halls and corridors of your body not with any special kind of love but with the untold intimacy of a contractor assessing the damages and potentials voice: right, so the main issue here is that the body is currently a temple, okay, and what we want is for it to be a home, cause temples are pretty and all and occasionally nice to be in if you're into that sort of thing but very few people would actually want to live in one. So what we're gonna do first is you're gonna take a look at what's here, the carrying walls and windows and all that, and you're going to come up with something you'd actually like to be alive inside of, and it's going to be a lot of work and it's going to feel strange and stupid and embarrassing but you're still gonna do it, because otherwise this construction site is fucked. And maybe what you want to live in is a skatepark or an anime-themed cat cafe or an esoteric library that has a dildo section for some reason, so it might feel like it's a downgrade from a temple, but it's actually the opposite cause the main customer for a body is you and the main customer for a temple are templegoers and maybe higher powers of some kind, - i wouldn't know about those, they never hired me, - not the temple itself, which is what you are, right, cause the body/mind/soul separation doesn't actually do anything, so what you're gonna do is look at the current layout and dig out whatever hope and ability to want you have and come up with a blueprint, and then my boys can actually get to work. Oh, and you have got to change the windows, it's drafty as fuck in here.

[calicorobin]

beanbag chair psychology

[nouverx]

"I want to eat you" is their love language and you can't change my mind