#just like i was when i originally wrote this

[funeral--pyre]

#reblogged for commentary #i am really glad katedoesn'texist posted this experience #because whenever i see one of these posts #i wonder #what does the person who wrote this think I owed any of the men who have grabbed me on the street #am i allowed to walk down the street and want to not be grabbed by random people #i really like the way katedoesn'texist has addressed this part of the puzzle #anyway #tag rant #people in public #also #don't call the police

For clarity responding to the tags, there's a distinct difference between violence/harrassment and possibly scary actions that aren't directly violent. I agree with @katedoesntexist and appreciate her adding on actually, she worded it well and her response is exactly what the original post is getting at. You can't know what someone is going to do to you based on tics or stuff like that, the line is when it becomes a clear, direct threat such as following you, coming after you, getting physical or up in your face--things that cross the line between them existing in public and harrassing you directly.

As for "what does the person who wrote this think I owed any of the men who have grabbed me on the street", I'm definitely not implying that you owed them anything kind here. Regardless of how they acted before the incident, grabbing you is breaking a definite boundry and yeah, at that point you should be expected to react however you'd like--cops, getting them away, fighting back, whatever.

There's a line to be drawn and what the original post is getting at is that if someone's just being weird but they're not coming after you, then they're likely not a threat so you should leave them to their own devices. That doesn't mean you should expect everyone to be safe or kind and never be wary, its just simply that outward presenting symptoms aren't always an indicator of if someone has violent intent and that should be respected. Coming up to them or going off at them before they've done anything except act weird isn't going to help either of you and yeah, could be unsafe. Just leave em be until you need to act.

'Cause people tend to not get the memo: People acting strangely in public is not a danger to you. Pacing, talking to themselves or something you can't see, laughing to themselves, stimming, twitching, ticcing, making "weird" noises--it doesn't fucking matter. They're not your personal freak show, they're not broken, they're not a murderer and they're definitely not going to be fucking helped by you calling the authorities or anyone else on em. These actions alone are not indicative of danger to you, as a random person on the street. Shut the fuck up and move on, leave disabled people alone.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the cozy café, the kind of place that hummed with quiet conversations and the occasional clatter of ceramic cups. Lizzie sat in the corner, tucked into her usual spot by the window,  her mind was elsewhere.

The Laptop was open, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but the words…the words refused to come. 

Instead, she sipped at her now lukewarm tea, absentmindedly, running her fingers through Mara’s soft fur. Mara’s chocolate coloured head was resting on Lizzie’s knee, watching her, her tail rhythmically thumping against the floor. 

They often came here..nearly every day, to be exact. 

Elizabeth Treshton’s life was built around her routine after all. 

She knew the exact number of steps from her apartment to the cozy coffee shop on the corner. She knew the best seat—by the window, tucked away, where Mara could curl up at her feet while she wrote. And she knew the barista always had her order memorized: earl grey tea with a dash of milk, one sugar, and a small bowl of water for Mara.

They knew them both. They knew not to bother Mara while working, even when it looked like the dog wasn’t working. She was. 

Mara told Lizzie when her body once again decided that having seizures was something it should do and then stayed with her through the whole…shitty ordeal that were said epileptic seizures. 

Still, they thrived on their usual routine. And they hadn’t been able to have that for weeks, because Lizzie had been busy with all the publicity surrounding An Autumn of Flames and Stone and the fact that her little book had reached No. 1 of the New York Times Bestselling list. 

Which meant…that she now got to write the last book in the Seasons of Fate Series…Something that she never thought she would get to do. 

This had been her dream since she was a child…and now…now she finally got to do this. This was her job! Her dream job!

And if this chapter was finally going to start going her way, then maybe Lizzie would be feeling like she actually knew what she was doing too. 

Just at that moment, Mara suddenly lifted her head, ears alert and then stood. Lizzie’s pulse spiked. She waited with baited breath for Mara to tell her that another seizure was incoming, even when Lizzie couldn’t feel anything yet. 

“Mara?” Lizzie murmured, feeling her stomach knot.

Her service dog didn’t react to her voice. Instead, Mara’s attention was locked on something—or someone—across the café. 

Lizzie turned just in time to see Mara move.

Straight toward a guy at the counter.

“Mara, heel!” Lizzie called, already pushing back her chair, heart pounding.

But Mara wasn’t listening.

Mara always listened. Lizzie had not once been in this situation. 

Mara was always well behaved. Mara had been trained so well that this was nothing Lizzie had ever needed to worry about…but apparently that day Mara had decided that her time as picture-perfect seizure dog was over and instead she would run across the cafe, straight to random guy…

The guy turned just as Mara reached him. He was tall, wearing a hoodie pulled up over messy brown curls, and he looked as confused as Lizzie felt when Mara pressed her nose against his hand.

“Oh,” he said, blinking down at her. “Uh. Hi?”

Lizzie practically skidded to a stop beside them. “I’m so sorry—she doesn’t normally—”

And then she got a proper look at him.

Her brain stuttered.

Because that wasn’t just any guy in a hoodie.

That was Lando Norris.

Formula 1 driver. Twitch streamer. Walking, talking social media chaos generator.

She knew who he was. Of course, she bloody knew who he was. 

They were literally in Woking. A stone thrown away from the McLaren Technology Center. 

And even if Lizzie hadn’t grown up seemingly right next to the headquarters of a Formula 1 racing team, she still would have grown up as the daughter of a man that believed that Formula 1 was just as important on Sundays as church services were. 

Her dad was the original F1 fan and Lizzie had easily inherited his love for the sport. 

So to say that she was…a little bit starstruck, because there was Lando freaking Norris standing in front of her, holding a  coffee cup in one hand, a half-eaten croissant in the other, looking between Lizzie and Mara with increasing confusion, was an understatement

“So, uh.” Lando tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

Lizzie swallowed hard, her mind racing. “She’s a service dog,” she managed, her voice tight. “She only does that when—”

Mara insistently pushed her nose against Lando’s hand again. When he didn’t react she started to headbutt his thigh aggressively. 

The realization slammed into Lizzie with the force of a freight train. Mara had alerted to him.

Lando still looked baffled, shifting slightly like he wasn’t sure what to do. “Is—uh—is she okay?”

Lizzie swallowed hard. “I—I think she’s actually asking you that.”

His brow furrowed, then a flicker of something passed over his face. A split-second of realization. “Oh.”

Lizzie watched as Lando’s hand curled slightly, his fingers flexing like he was suddenly hyper-aware of his own body.

“Do you feel off?” she asked, voice softer now. “Lightheaded? Dizzy? Aura?”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue—but then he hesitated. “I mean… I was feeling a bit weird this morning.”

Mara let out another small whine, nosing at his wrist.

Lizzie exhaled sharply. “You need to sit down.”

“I’m fine—”

“Sit. Down. And drink some water, for god’s sake.”

He blinked at her in mild shock, but something in her tone must’ve struck him because he moved, letting her guide him to an empty table.

Lizzie crouched next to him, all business now. “Do you have any underlying medical issues? Mara was trained to alert to my Epilepsy. Have you ever had a seizure?!”

Lando shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I do get migraines sometimes. And sometimes before I get one, things feel… off.”

Oh. 

Lizzie sat back on her heels. “Then she probably picked up on that.”

Lando looked down at Mara, who had now settled next to him, still watching carefully.

“Is this—normal?” he asked.

“For her, yeah.” Lizzie scratched the back of her neck. “She’s trained to detect seizures, but she picks up on other stuff too. She’s never alerted to someone else before, though.”

Lando let out a short laugh, like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. “Huh. Well, I’m still here, so I think I’m good,” he finally said and Lizzie exhaled. 

“Sorry, about that,” she apologised. “She has never done that before.”

Lando grinned, slow and teasing. “Guess I’m just special, huh?” he teased. 

A pause. Then, hesitantly, Lando reached down, fingers brushing Mara’s head.

“Thanks, I guess,” he murmured. Mara’s tail gave a small, reassuring wag.

“So, like… I am not dying, right?” Lando asked her suddenly, and Lizzie let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. 

“No. But she’s never wrong about this kind of thing.” Lizzie sighed. “Drink some water. Eat something. Just—don’t ignore it.”

Lando hummed. “Noted.” Then he tilted his head, studying her. “And you are?”

She blinked. “What?”

His smile widened. “Your name. And her name too.”

Lizzie felt warmth creep up her neck.

She bit her lip.

“I am Lizzie. That’s Mara.” 

Lando grinned, like he was committing both names to memory. “Lizzie and Mara. Got it.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure why her stomach flipped at the way he said her name, but she pushed the feeling aside. “And you’re Lando,” she said, more to ground herself than anything else.

His grin widened. “So you do know who I am.”

Lizzie scoffed. “I live in Woking. I’d have to be actively avoiding the internet to not know who you are.”

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” He glanced down at Mara, who had finally relaxed, still keeping a watchful eye on him. “So… does this mean I have, like, a cool dog guardian angel now?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Only if you promise not to ignore your body when it’s telling you something’s wrong.”

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Noted.”

The café felt warmer than it had before as they looked at each other. Lizzie, still crouched next to Lando and Mara. The air between them felt charged, and Lizzie was suddenly reminded of a fact she had never forgotten: Lando Norris was unfairly attractive.

"So...are you here often or was today my lucky day?"

She blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by the question. “I—uh. Yeah. I’m here most days.”

Lando nodded like that was exactly the answer he was hoping for. “Cool. I might have to come by more often then.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Because of the coffee? Or because of the dog that just diagnosed you?”

He smirked. “Both. And maybe because the company’s not bad either.”

She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was actually flirting or just naturally charming. Either way, it was… a lot.

Lando hesitated, then scratched the back of his neck. “Look, this might be weird, but—can I give you my number?”

Lizzie’s brain stalled. “What?”

His grin turned a little sheepish. “I mean, you know, in case Mara ever wants to check in on me again. Or, uh, if you ever want to.”

Lizzie exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “That was smooth.”

“I try,” he said, dimples on full display.

Lizzie couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, part amused and part baffled at the whole situation. She had gone from sitting in her usual spot, writing away in her notebook as Mara dozed by her feet to now crouching next to a Formula 1 driver giving her his number. What sort of alternate universe was this?

She hesitated, but then Mara nudged her hand, like she was making the decision for her. Lizzie huffed, pulled out her phone, and slid it across the table. “Fine. But if you start texting me memes at 2 AM, I’m blocking you.”

Lando chuckled, tapping in his number before handing it back. “No promises.”

Lizzie glanced down at the contact name he’d put in: Lando ‘Not Dying (Yet)’ Norris.

She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

Lando shot her a cheeky grin as he got to his feet. “It’s part of the charm.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, the smile stubbornly clinging to her face. It only widened when Lando bent down to say a quick goodbye to Mara, who promptly licked his hand in response.

Lizzie shook her head, but she couldn’t quite fight back her smile. “Come on, Mara. Let’s go before you decide to start diagnosing other random strangers too.”

As she walked away, Lando called after her, voice warm with amusement. “See you around, Lizzie.”

She didn’t look back—but her stupid smile stayed all the way home.

***

***

The morning air was crisp, the kind of early autumn chill that made your breath curl in the air but wasn’t quite cold enough for a proper coat. The park was quiet, save for the occasional jogger or dog walker, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees.

Lando arrived a few minutes early—not that he was eager or anything. He just… didn’t want to be late. Which was not the same as being eager.

He shifted on his feet, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. He wasn’t nervous. Not really. Okay, maybe a little.

It wasn’t a date. Not officially. Just a walk. With a girl. A very cute girl. Who had a dog that might have magical powers if yesterday was anything to go by.

He heard her before he saw her—the sound of Mara’s paws on the pavement, the soft jingle of her collar. Then—

“Morning,” Lizzie said, smiling as she approached. She had a bright red scarf wrapped around her neck, her dark hair pulled up into a messy bun, and Mara trotted happily at her side.

Lando tried not to notice how good she looked or how her smile lit up her face. He was cool. He was casual. He wasn’t a blushing teenager getting flustered over a girl.

He failed utterly.

Lando exhaled, grinning back. “Hey. You actually showed up.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression. Mara padded over and sniffed at Lando’s hand, her tail wagging excitedly.

“As if you weren’t expecting me to,” she said, eyes glittering with humor. “Did you really think I’d ditch you?”

Yes. Yes, he had. 

“I dunno. Maybe you’d wake up and realize agreeing to go on a walk with a random guy from a coffee shop was a terrible idea.” 

Lizzie laughed, the sound surprisingly musical. “It probably was. But you’ve got Mara’s seal of approval, so you can’t be too dangerous, right?”

She glanced down at Mara, who panted happily up at Lando, as if in agreement.

"Can I touch her?" he asked carefully. "I should have asked yesterday, I am sorry." He may had spent too much time yesterday reading up on Service Dogs. And what exactly they did for their handlers, especially if they had handlers that had epilepsy like Lizzie had.

Lizzie smiled, her expression softening. “It’s okay. I know it’s not exactly common knowledge.” She nodded. “You can touch her. She’s off-duty right now, so you’re good.”

Lando crouched down, holding a hand out, allowing Mara to sniff him. When she didn’t shrink away, he cautiously patted her on the head. Her fur was silky-smooth to the touch.

"Hello Mara," he greeted her. "I even brought  Peanut Butter for my saviour.”

He probably shouldn't have said that. At the sound of these two words Mara suddenly perked up, immediately sat down before Lando’s feet.

“You shouldn’t say the magic words unless you plan to give some to her right at that exact moment,” Lizzie said drily.

Lando laughed in surprise, looking down at Mara as she sat there, looking up at him expectantly. “She is serious about peanut butter, huh?”

He pulled the jar out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap before holding it out for Mara to sniff. She stuck her nose in it, tail wagging furiously.

“I think she approves,” he said, watching as Mara licked at the peanut butter.

Only after she had been allowed to stick her snout in there for a full 5 seconds was Mara ready to continue their walk. 

“So, how’s the head?” Lizzie asked, tilting her head toward him.

“Better. I took something last night before it got too bad and slept it off.” He glanced down at Mara. “Not sure I would’ve done that if someone hadn’t warned me.”

Lizzie hummed. “She’s good at her job. Even when she has never alerted to somebody else before.” 

Lando tried not to let that go straight to his ego. Tried.

Lando tried to sound casual as he spoke, but couldn’t quite hold back a hint of satisfaction. "I guess that means I’m extra special, then?"

Lizzie raised an eyebrow at that, but there was a laugh in her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “Yeah, too late for that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, just walking together, the sound of the leaves crunching under their feet and Mara’s paws filling the air.

“So, what do you do, exactly?” Lando asked, trying to shift the conversation somewhere less awkward. Though he was pretty sure that the abrupt topic change was not gonna help at all. 

Lizzie smirked. “You mean besides walk dogs?” she joked. 

“Yeah. You know, because you know what I do” He gestured at himself dramatically, trying to be playful. “It’s not fair that you are the big mystery.”

Lizzie laughed and shoook her head. “It’s not fair,” she agreed. “I write books.”

Lando blinked. “What kind of books?” he asked, his curiousity piqued. 

“Romantasy,” Lizzie answered, watching him closely, waiting for a reaction.

What? 

Lando frowned. “Like… romance and fantasy?” Was that a thing?

“Exactly.”

“Is that, like, dragons? Or is it—”

“Faes,” Lizzie supplied. “And magic, and epic love stories, and usually some kind of dramatic war.”

Lando’s eyes widened as she talked, the concept of 'romantasy' sinking in. “Wow. So, like… magic powers and romance and all that good stuff?”

Lizzie nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty much. And there’s always a bit of adventure thrown in for good measure.”

Lando thought for a moment, picturing tales of epic battles and star-crossed lovers. It sounded…. Nice.

“You write those books that people fight over on the internet, don’t you?” he asked. Because he was pretty sure he had seen things about Morally grey love interests and a enemies-to-lovers arc and people fighting with other people about which fictional man was hotter. 

Lizzie’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with humour. “Guilty as charged. I write the books that people have passionate debates over online. The ones where people are way too invested in the love triangle and have very strong opinions about which fictional man is hotter.”

His brows shot up. “Wait—are you, like, famous?”

She shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

Lando narrowed his eyes, then pulled out his phone and started typing.

Lizzie swatted at his arm. “Are you Googling me?”

“Uh, yeah?”

"What are you evening googling? Lizzie Romantasy?" she asked him with a snort. "You probably won't find me. Try Elizabeth Treshton."

The results for 'Elizabeth Treshton' appeared on the screen, and he scrolled through for a moment, articles and book covers, reviews and interviews popping up.

A moment later he got his answer.

"You sold millions of books."

Lando stared at Lizzie with a mixture of incredulity and awe. "I think that counts as famous."

Lizzie shrugged. “And yet, my dog still expects me to carry her up the stairs when she’s being lazy.”

Mara wagged her tail like she agreed.

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “I have a feeling Mara has you wrapped around her paw.”

She hummed in agreement, her hand going to the end of Mara's leash as the dog stopped to sniff at a tree.

“I swear, she knows exactly how cute she is and uses it to her advantage.”

Lando slipped his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head. “That’s actually really cool. How’d you get into it?”

Lizzie hesitated, then exhaled. “I have epilepsy. Had a lot of seizures when I was younger, which meant a lot of time in hospitals. You get really bored after a while.” She snorted. “So, I kept busy. Told myself stories, read, learned to crochet. But writing stuck. Studied English lit at uni, got a publishing deal right after. I was really lucky.”

Lando nodded. “That’s kinda sick, actually. You get to make stuff up for a living.”

Lizzie chuckled. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.” She glanced at him. “What about you? What’s it like, racing cars all day?”

He grinned. “Honestly? A lot more boring than you’d think.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “You drive 300 kilometers an hour for a living.”

“Yeah, but I also stare at spreadsheets for hours. It’s not all fast cars and cheering crowds.”

“I mean, if you didn’t look at data, I think there would be bigger problems,” Lizzie said, teasing.

He rolled his eyes. “I do look at it, I promise.”

“So, how’d you end up doing that?”

“My mum tried to get me into horses—wasn’t into it. But I wanted to drive. Did quad biking, motorcycle riding… then my dad took me to a kart race, and that was it.”

“That’s sweet. My dad and I have watched F1 together since I was a kid," Lizzie said with a grin.

Lando glanced at her. “Really? That’s awesome. So, are you, like, one of those people who actually knows what’s going on during a race?”

Lizzie grinned. “You’re just mad because I probably know more than you.”

“Impossible,” Lando said, acting affronted. “I drive the car, I know what I’m doing.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Do you, though?”

He gaped at her. “I can’t believe you just questioned my driving skills.”

She just laughed. “I can’t drive at all, you know.”

“I can teach you,” he offered immediately.

She laughed. “I am legally not allowed to get behind the wheel,” Lizzie told him drily. “Epilepsy, you know. If I get a seizure while driving, I would accidentally murder people,”

“That sucks,” Lando said quietly.

“It’s just one of those things you get used to. You get used to not having control over that part of your life.”

Lando felt a pang of sympathy. “That must be tough.”

Lizzie shrugged. “It is, sometimes. But Mara’s a huge help. And I get by.���

“Yeah, I can see that,” Lando said, glancing down at the dog, who was happily leading the way once again.

Lizzie smiled. “She’s the best. And it’s not all bad. Gives me more time to write, at least.”

Lando grinned. “I’m definitely interested in reading some of your work now.”

She laughed. “You are aware that they are all like 500 pages, right?”

Lando groaned dramatically. “You’re telling me you’ve published multiple million-selling books, and they’re all doorstoppers?”

"I am a wordy person, you know," Lizzie shot back.

Lando groaned again, but he smiled, too. “You’re making me work for it here.”

Lizzie just shrugged, her mouth curving into a smirk. “You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

” Lando grinned, already planning his next move. “Alright, super important question,” he said, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket.

Lizzie raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Who’s your favorite F1 driver?”

She let out a soft laugh. “You really want to know?”

Lando nodded, deadly serious. “This is crucial information. Make or break.”

She laughed, a strand of dark chocolate brown hair escaping her bun. 

“My dad is a die hard Ferrari fan,” she told him. “Seriously. Like you know that quote that there are only two religions in Italy, Catholicism and Ferrari? That’s pretty much my dad,” she said with a shake of her heard. “So for him it was always Schumacher…

As they strolled through the park, Mara trotting ahead with her nose to the ground, Lando shot Lizzie a sideways glance.

Lizzie hummed, drawing out the suspense. “When I was little, I loved Kimi Raikkonen.”

Lando groaned. “Kimi? Seriously?!?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You asked! I was, like, ten. You weren’t even in F1 yet.”

“Still hurts,” Lando muttered. “Alright, fine. What about now? Who’s your current favorite?”

Lizzie smirked. “Are you asking because you want me to say you?”

He feigned innocence. “Noooo… but also, yes.”

She pretended to consider. “Well, I do appreciate drivers with great car control and a smooth racing style.”

Lando’s grin stretched wide. “That does sound familiar—”

“Which is why I love watching Lewis.”

Lando gasped, scandalized. “Lizzie, what the hell?”

She laughed. “What? He’s a seven-time world champion! You can’t be mad at me for that.”

“I can definitely be mad at you for that.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “I thought we had something special.”

Lizzie smirked. “Would it make you feel better if I said you’re my favorite driver I’ve ever gone on a walk with?”

Lando narrowed his eyes at her, fighting a smile. “Barely.”

***

[mamawasatesttube]

sometimes i see the sentiment of "i don't understand how you can call a comic ooc when there are so many writers who have written so many characters differently!! did everyone just pick a single One True Comic or something??" and like... i get where you're coming from, in that there are a lot of comics and it can feel overwhelming, but also there is actually an answer to this, generally speaking.

if you read a lot of a given character's appearances, you will find that overall, they have certain given traits that the majority of writers agree upon. this is true even of characters with a lot of appearances - for example, i've read almost 1000 issues of superman comics (which is nowhere near all superman comics, certainly, but is a fair chunk!) and i can tell you that i found brian azzarello's run fairly out of character because superman never was much of a religious man in just about all other runs, and him going to a priest for some kind of informal confession stuck out like a sore thumb. or that marv wolfman's superman felt out of character because of all the damn racism, which was definitely just marv wolfman being racist and using superman as a mouthpiece. like, if you read enough you WILL be able to pick up on patterns of what a character generally is like.

this gets even easier for characters with fewer appearances and less cultural icon status (relatively speaking). you can even take into account things like the character's original run and how their creator wrote them, vs how others picked up after the creator left. for example, i can easily call geoff johns's writing of superboy in teen titans (2003) gratingly ooc because it directly contradicts years of established superboy characterization from his origin story and from his solo run, which was in part penned by his original creator. when superboy (1994) establishes over and over that superboy feels strongly about clones being their own people regardless of their origins and dna, you can safely say that a later writer coming in and making him weirdly into pseudoeugenics is insane and, yes, out of character.

like... it's not so much that there's ~one true run~ or something that everyone agrees upon. it's just the concept of pattern recognition. you just gotta keep reading man!

[traflawgar]

boy next door.

sanji x f.reader

05. PRAYING FOR MY DOWNFALL

« prev. ๑ MASTERLIST ๑ next »

˗ˏˋ EXTRA ´ˎ˗

- nami isn't really against the idea of yn and sanji dating, she simply wants to avoid yn getting hurt/them going to fast and loosing the spark too soon because of it.

- Sanji is definitely going to put the seafood risotto back on the menu just to get on yn's good side. he just has to think of more seafood dishes so it will be profitable to buy seafood.

- when yn teased him about knowing when she went to the restaurant, Sanji almost panicked thinking he had fucked up.

- zoro likes to mess with sanji, but he's happy he's moving on after his last ex made a mess out of him.

˗ˏˋ TAGLIST ´ˎ˗

@akmrivaille @rivailleakm @rybunnie @1864reruns @fuckisthatahotghost @stuckinmymind22 @laughtalelogs @mysunfishpeedinmyroom @Songbird-Emerald @pretty-royals

@jojo23allegra @the-bilkush @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e @b-bbytears @deegausserr @grierpilots @aikuute @mere-mortifer @binksbrewcrew @nejilost @yttafahtiwyvas

@sleepy-eepyy @captaincyberqueen

tumblr praying for my downfall like Zoro for Sanji's. the amount of times I had to fix this chapter cause tumblr kept acting up is crazy. first, it posted it when I was trying to save the draft, and there was one pic missing on top of that. then, I delete the post and start a new one, but every time I finish editing the post and add the "read more" thing the whole thing just gets messy and the pics get all over the post. let's hope this time it works.

also I'm gonna be honest, I wrote and rewrote this chapter a couple of times. originally he was gonna ask her out, but considering they've started talking very recently I thought it would be too soon. so yeah.

TRAFLAWGAR 2025

[nuttersincorporated]

Scarecrow: So let me get this straight: a natural disaster carried you and your dog across the uncrossable desert. You and your house fell on top of Nessarose – one of the only independent leaders outside the wizard’s control – and now she’s dead. The people rejoiced because she’d become an intolerant religious extremist.

Dorothy: Yes. I feel really bad though. I didn’t mean to kill anyone!

Scarecrow: You didn’t kill anyone. She died because of the natural disaster. You were just there at the time. Anyway, then my ex-fiancée came down from the sky in a bubble.

Dorthy: You mean Glinda?

Scarecrow: Yes

Dorthy: Then yes. I didn’t know she used to be engaged to a scarecrow.

Scarecrow: I was actually a Winky Prince when we were engaged.

Dorthy: Oh

Scarecrow: Anyway, my ex implied that you might be evil because you aren’t beautiful enough to be obviously good. Then she put Nessarose’s shoes on your feet, told you not to take them off and sent you – on foot – to ask the wizard for help!?

Dorothy: Yes, that about covers it.

Scarecrow: -screaming internally-

Dorothy: Are you okay?

Scarecrow: Me!? I’m just fine! Why do you ask!? You know what? Maybe I should come with you so that you don’t die. Would that be okay!?

Later

The Tin Woodmen: So, you’re saying that the cripple I asked out – to impress Glinda – is dead and Glinda sent you to find the wizard?

Dorothy: I killed a disabled person!?

Scarecrow: Dorthy, we’ve been over this, you didn’t kill anyone. I promise none of this is your fault.

The Tin Woodmen: Who cares about that? Ding dong the bitch is dead! I might finally have a chance with Glinda! Dorthy, I’m coming with you!

Later still

Lion: I am terrified of everything but you say you’re going to see the wizard?

Dorothy: Yes

Lion: Talking animals used to be treated as equal citizens in Oz but now we have no rights at all. As I cub, I was taken from my mother, placed in a cage and kept away from other talking animals. They hoped it would stop me from learning to talk. I was rescued and set free but I grew up alone and without sort of socialisation or education.

Scarecrow: …

Lion: Anyway, I’m sure that if everyone says the wizard is good, then he must be. The mistreatment of animals is probably just a big misunderstanding. If I can have courage and talk to the wizard, I’m sure this whole thing will be sorted out.

Dorothy: Can we just stop for a minute? Will someone please, explain what’s going on? I feel like I’m missing a whole lot of contexts here.

Toto: Just so you know: in later books, in the official original L. Frank Baum Oz series, it will be reveal that all animals in Oz can talk. I just didn’t feel like talking in the first book.

While the Wicked book by Gregory Maguire covers a lot of interesting, important and deep topics; it was unrelentingly depressing and the narration showed little to no sympathy for the women who suffer horrible things.

The L. Frank Baum books – though by no means perfect – have a far more progressive Land of Oz than the one Gregory Maguire wrote about. If fact, Gregory Maguire took a world that had women in most of the important positions of power and turned it into a sexist, racist and patriarchal world.

I prefer Wicked the musical to Wicked the book because the musical brought the fun back.

Dorothy: Did you say something Toto?

Toto: Woof no woof, woof

I’ve seen so many people joke about Glinda being exhausted having to cope with plucky little Dorothy Gale doing her little song while the entirety of act ii of Wicked is occurring in the background. Like the crushing weight of her complicity in an evil system is dragging her to hell and also her fiancé is now a scarecrow and has run off with her situationship. But the act ii context is actually exponentially crazier for Dorothy? Like imagine you are a fifteen year old whose admittedly unambitious dreams of just leaving the farm are already rendered impossible because you are staring down the double barrel of unprecedented rural poverty and climate crisis. You get caught out in a natural disaster and accidentally kill someone and end up straight in the middle of the craziest six-way divorce anyone has ever heard of that is currently actively melting down. No one tells you this. And they’re all taking it out on you. Free her!!!!!!

[ghostgirl-22]

Idk why I did this. But since I wrote it yall have to see it (if you choose to read it of course!). Blame my beloved agegap!anon I fear <3

CW: 18+, NSFW, AGE GAP, teacher/student, power dynamics, semi public sex, jealousy, mild possessiveness, super mild D/s

—-

Original.

Pt 2.

Art can’t really help himself. If he could stop he definitely would… Maybe. He wasn’t a virgin before he had sex with his tennis coach, Patrick Zweig. He’d just never been with a boy before. Now that he’s done it, and done it, and. done. it. All over Patrick’s house. He feels a little more confident in his sexuality. And it’s weird. Because now he’s suddenly getting even more attention.

He’s not a slut. Not really. He doesn’t always give it up. But he likes to tease. And he likes the attention.

A lot.

Probably what he likes even more than the attention is the way it seems to break away at Patrick's ever present cool and calm demeanor.

Art was barely flirting, honestly. Kneeling on Chase Roberts feet so he could do sit-ups. Chase has these really pretty brown eyes that sparkle in the sunlight, and Art wasn’t really straddling him, he was just crawling between his legs to get a closer look. He didn’t expect Chase to sit up and kiss him. Or the other boys to tease and jeer when Chase did it. Chase is smirking at him and Art shoves him back down on his back, licking his lips. “You’re such a freak.”

Chase laughs. ”You can’t blame me for wanting a little taste pretty boy.” Art sits up properly, when he hears Patrick blow his whistle. Conditioned for it by now. Patrick’s looking at him but it’s only for a second before he’s yelling at everyone.

“Enough messing around,” he shouts, “since we’re all in a silly mood without the silly skills to accompany it, we’re all doing fucking drills. He says. “Come on…get up. Line up behind the baseline, middle court. Roberts in front.”

Everyone gets up. Patrick bends over leaning in to whisper in his assistant coach, Meg’s ear. His little purple shorts, forming to his ass, riding up so Art can see more of his muscular thighs. Thighs Art has sat on, that he’s felt hot and warm beneath him while taking the full length of Patrick’s cock. He never felt more grown up. He bites his tongue trying not to get hard.

Coach Meg gets up and pulls on her baseball cap. “Okay everyone we’re doing baseline, mid court, center shots.” She shouts. “For every ball you miss or hit out of bounds you run a lap and get back in line.”

There’s some irritated mumbling as Art gets in line but no one gets too loud for fear it will get worse.

“Donaldson, come with me,” Patrick says. Grabbing his clip board and walking towards the locker rooms. Art looks around and some of his teammates are smirking. Roberts makes a kissy face at him.

“I hope you’re all paying attention,” Coach Meg says, whacking Tyson Wahler with her clipboard when he mimics a sloppy make out. Art grins and hurries to catch up with Patrick.

Art is breathless when they get into the facilities building. “Am I in trouble, coach? Art asks playfully, but Patrick doesn’t really give him anything. Just keeps up his breakneck walking pace.

He approaches his office and pulls open the door, holding it for Art. Art walks in and looks around. He’s probably only been in here once, with a teammate to ask about switching doubles partners because they were both left handed.

Art turns back around to face him. “So what’s the big—“

Patrick covers him mouth and walks him backwards up against the closed office door. “Mm Donaldson, you talk too much.” He’s all in Art’s face. Art’s heart rate speeds up quickly, blood furiously rushing to his cock. “Did you fuck him?”

Art raises his eyebrows.

“You can nod, yes or no. Did you and Roberts fuck?”

Art shakes his head.

“Did you fuck any other boys since the weekend?”

Art shakes his head again. He’s actually falling apart for how fucking hot this feels. Patrick going insane over a little kiss. He licks at Patrick’s palm just to get a taste of him.

Patrick presses his forehead against the wall next to him. “Mm…you have to fucking stop.” He whines and pulls his hand off of Art’s mouth.

“Did you fuck your girlfriend since the weekend?” Art says, grinning as he tries to catch his breath and settle down.

He can’t settle down.

Patrick pushes up against him and he can feel. Fuck. He can feel it. “You’re such a fucking brat,” Patrick whispers in his ear.

“And you’re a pervert, all over me and I’m barely out of high school.” Art breathes as Patrick’s rubbing up against him. “Won’t even let me fuck a boy my own age.”

“No one your age knows how to do it properly,” Patrick whispers.

Art starts sucking kisses into his throat.

“You… fuck… you know you make me crazy. Sitting on my court, showing off that body, crawling on boys laps and letting them… oh fuck it…“ Patrick grips Art by the waist, taking his mouth in a bruising kisses, all while walking him up against the desk and bending him over. Art is pushing back on him while he’s rummaging in his desk drawer. He pulls out a condom and then he’s pumping lotion out to use as lubricant. Art feels his mouth watering. As hot as he was earlier he’s going insane now.

“I knew you’d be this fucking tight still,” Patrick groans as he’s filling Art, big hand covering his mouth to keep him quiet. Or muffled at least. Art licking, talking, moaning against his palm. Fucking in Patrick’s office while the rest of the team is running around the court. Patrick, so frantic and desperate to claim him. Ramming his prostate over and over and over till Art is spilling all over the desk, muscles trembling, head dizzy. God. He can’t believe it took him so long to start. It feels so good getting full on Patrick’s cock. Art wants it every fucking day.

“Holy shit,” Patrick sighs as he’s tying off the condom and easing his shorts back up.

Art’s all dizzy and in love with him. And now he smells a lot like cherry almond lotion.

Patrick settles on his desk chair, manspreading as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. “I shouldn’t be doing this. Fuck. I’m gonna get caught and get fucking fired.”

“Have you ever done it with a player before?” Art asks, lightly.

“Are you kidding? I’ve done fucked up shit before. I’ve done stupid shit before, but never anything this stupid and fucked up.”

Art sits on the desk, he’s all sore and it feels so good he wiggles just to feel the ache and he puts his foot between Patrick’s thighs.

“If you give me your number, I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t fuck anyone else,” Art says.

Patrick takes a deep breath and pops a cigarette in his mouth before playing with Art’s shoe laces. He then takes the cigarette out of his mouth like he’s just realized he’s still inside. “No you’re a kid. You’re gonna be calling me and texting me at insane hours asking for things that I’m gonna fucking do because I have no self control. And I’m gonna end up seeing them blown up on a board in front of the school ethics committee.”

”I won’t say anything bad. I swear.” Art says. “If I’m horny I’ll just send you an eggplant emoji. Like 39 times. Isn’t that how old you are? Or is it one for good luck?”

Patrick snorts. “Get up and go back to practice, you little shit. And tell Megan we were in here talking about that recruiter that was here last week.”

Art shrugs and pushes himself off of the desk. “Can you come with me?”

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes… I promise.”

Art sighs and lingers to the point where Patrick just smiles. “Fine, come on. You get so fucking clingy after.”

“No I don't," Art says, defensive and a little warm because it’s true… Art does want to be around him. Though he doesn’t think clingy is the word.

Patrick straightens his office and Arts hair and checks himself in the mirror before they leave. He lights up as soon as they get outside. Art falls into lock step with him. “Try to relax— cause as soon as we get up there, you’re not sitting around me, it’s gonna be laps. And no more fucking kissing Roberts or anyone else.”

“I’ll try not to,” Art says grinning, knowing that if this is his punishment he might just kiss everyone on the team.

(Btw…Other anon with the brilliant ask in this au I can’t resist — I’m totally coming to that! A thousand percent! Trust!)

[lavender-twilight23]

IMPROMPTU FANFICTION TED TALK

I’m gonna address something that I have thought about recently and then also give a little pep talk to anybody else that might be feeling this way or in a similar way:

Fanfiction is a valid form of expression and it’s okay to write fanfiction, no matter your age, no matter your life circumstance!

Recently, I’ve had doubts about whether or not I should still be writing fanfiction. I’m in my second semester of college, pursuing film, and I have plenty of original stories (three novels, four screenplays) floating around in my head that I keep telling myself I should get back into. But I still find myself feverishly writing fanfiction and pouring heaps of creative energy into that. And especially with how much fucking fanfiction I’ve written in the past six months, (over 201,000 words worth) I’ve had tons of thoughts like:

“You’re pursuing your passions, looking toward the future into your career ambitions, AT COLLEGE, and you’re STILL writing fanfiction?”

“It’s ridiculous how much fanfiction you’re churning out with all the original stories you have sitting in the back of your head that need to get written.”

“You’re wasting your time writing fanfiction, you should be investing your time into your original works, y’know, the things that are ACTUALLY gonna get released into the world one day.”

“You not gonna get paid for writing fanfiction– put more energy into writing the stories that you’ll actually end up getting paid to write rather than spending your time writing things that will only ever seen the light of a social media website.”

And shit like that. So I have thought recently: Why are you still writing fanfiction now that you’re taking active steps toward pursuing your dreams? Why are you writing THIS MUCH fanfiction when you should be spending your creative time working on your films/original novels?

Yep. So I guess some sort of guilt, or self-deprecation about writing fanfiction. And not just about the fanfiction writing itself, but also about HOW MUCH fanfiction I’ve been writing, to a point where I either 1) always have a project going, something I’m in the middle of, 2) always something next on my queue (I literally wrote a whole fanfic queue and color coded it to organize it for future fanfics and I have a huge-ass note on my phone/computer dedicated to recording/brainstorming ideas), or 3) spend more time in my fanfic-planning journal than taking notes for my college classes.

I’m doing well in classes and all that shit, but still, I find myself feeling bad that I write so much fanfiction, so to both combat that, and to give validation to others who might be hesitant about writing fanfiction as I've felt in the past:

IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY, IT’S VALID, AND YOU SHOULD KEEP DOING IT.

If it brings you joy, it has a purpose in your life. Fanfiction is just yet another way to express love for something you like, something you love, and that obsession comes out as passion, which has to be expressed, and it’s no different than drawing fan art, making edits, or even any hobby that ISN’T directly tied to a fandom.

If writing fanfiction is how you prefer to spend your creative time, then it has a place in how you live your life.

If it makes you happy and brings you joy, then it has a reason for being in your life.

Fanfiction has a purpose in your life, let it fulfill that purpose.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Carry on. ❤️🩷🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

[verchante]

Ishq hai - LN4

cw: fluff, desi!reader as always, based on an debate i literally had one of my frnd. veer-zaara, om shanti om, and devdaas are goated idc

lando adjust the camera as he waited for people to enter the stream. "chat you need to fix something," his tone solemn. "don't start before me," a voice yelled from the hallway before his girlfriend came into the view. she handed him his cup of chai before sipping on her coffee.

"chat remember whose fans you are," lando says. "that's cheating!" his girlfriend exclaimed. "babe how is it cheating when some bhen ka lauda said 'we're yn's fans lando'," he read one of the comments. "bhabhi hai teri," lando says to the camera as if directly threatening the person who left the comment.

lando norris who is that? i'm js here for yn 😍😍😍

actually she's my fav engineer

lando move i can't see yn

"alright guys, what do you think is the goated srk movie and why is it mohabbatein," he says. "you know mohabbatein jimmy shergill reminds me of neil perry from dead poets society," his girlfriend chimes in. "but the goated ones are om shanti om, veer-zaara, and devdass," she added.

lando scrunches up his face at the movies she listen, already having been traumatized by devdaas. "mohabbatein literally serves everything. devdaas and om shanti om are just plain trauma," he argued. "nah, uh om shanti om, devdaas, and veer-zaara are just goated," she repeated.

kuch kuch hota hai, laughing in the corner

"i literally don't believe ki there are people who like kuch kuch hota hai. that movie doesn't even make sense," she scoffed. "oh so om shanti om and veer-zaara makes sense?" lando sassed. "a guy who died reincarnation 30 years later and took revenge for his dead love?" he added.

"exactly! that's actually like so green flag thing," she replied. "and an iaf pilot left his job to go to pakistan to confront his situationship so that she can marry someone else. mind you that girl went to pakistan overnight," he rolls his eyes.

"okay i get it but it's not like the entire story is bullshit. i mean kuch kuch hota hai just doesn't even make sense. i have this theory ki rahul has a type. he's into feminine girls and jab anjali ko dekha in sarees he wrote a letter to his daughter signed by tina."

"vaise bhi hai toh tharkulla red flag. uss bhen ke laude ko dono chaiye. matlab peak bakchodi. and i genuinely can't understand that kisi ki favourite movie is kuch kuch hota hai," she added. "you cannot talk about logic in movies when your favourites are om shanti om," lando argued. "please my favorites are much better than mohabbatein," she rolls her eyes at him.

"please apna kalesh aapne pass keep karein," lando scoffs at her, referencing to her kaleshi aurat teeshirt. she gasped, "i'm returning you to cisca, you caught on my sass," she punched his shoulder. "dil se movie bhul gaye kya," she read one of the comments.

"wait that's the one with chaiyya chaiyya na? meine dekha nahi hai. behenchod i even forgot the hook step of chaiyya chaiyya," she mumbled. "it's literally this," lando moved his chair away from her, demonstrating the hook step while being seated.

"behenchod a white man knows the hook step to chaiyya chaiyya and i don't," she stopped herself. "actually mujhe hindi bol na chaiye varna mera aadhar card le lenge," she chuckled. "even my name is khan is a good movie too," she reads in the comments.

"anyway songs," lando says moving chair to it's original place. "look i don't care what you say ishq hai is goated. what? g o a t e d, fucking goated brother," he claimed. his girlfriend next to his gasped. "this is so embarrassing. meine isse itne acche gaane sunaye and he likes ishq hai!" she complained.

"baby no, ishq hai is literally so good!" lando says. "it's fucking overrated. like yeah it's a good song but it cannot be goated when sajda, o rangrez, yeh tune kya kiya, bheegi si bhaagi si, chaand sifarish exists!" she exclaimed.

"you know what let me pull up my playlist," she said, opening up her spotify. "also it's mainly love songs wali playlist which i listen to almost daily. like the ealry 2000s and abhi wale. toh mujhe koi bakchodi nahi chaiye ki arey kun faya kun kyu nahi hai," she warned. "actually most of the songs in my playlist are goated." lando makes a face at her words.

"see apna bana le, not so goated. arijit singh have better romantic songs than this so not goated," she said. "agreed," lando chimes in. "zaalima, not sure you guys decide," she said. "i mean it's good but not goated good," lando justifies.

"ajab bi, mast magan, tujh mein rab dikhta hai, fucking goated." "no! tujh mein rab dikhta is not goated," lando argues. "like the other one is goated but not the rab song!" he added. "loud and wrong," she shook her head. "rangisaari," she announced. "not goated," they said in unison.

"raatan lambyian, fucking goated," she proclaimed. "you know yeah. it's you need it injected into your veins kinda songs," lando says. "heer ranjha, ishq wala love, not goated."

"okay the goated ones now." "main agar kahoon, kalank title track even luteron ka lootera version, khuda jaane, chaand sifarish, tere naina, o rangrez, teher ja, haule haule, rang jo lagyo, bheegi si bhaagi si, ye tune kya kiya, and sajda," she listed.

"these all are goated," she proclaimed. lando chimed in regularly with hmms and nahs. "i still believe ishq hai is above all," he states. "fuck off!" she rolled her eyes. "just accept that ishq hai is better," he says. "sajda is literally THE goated song," she insisted.

[wilwheaton]

I didn't expect my original post up there (which, honestly, was amusing to me in a wry, gen x way) to blow up a little bit like it did, but I'm just overwhelmed with the outpouring of love and kindness and all the things that continue to make this hellsite (affectionate) worth protecting and defending until the sun goes out.

I am deeply grateful for your acceptance!

But that's not why I reblogged this. I reblogged this because that thing I wrote about Goncharov is one of my favorite things I have ever written. I don't recall another time I had that much fun writing anything. And it made me so happy to read it all over again, I wanted to share that happiness.

Remember how fun that was? That wonderful moment when we all just agreed to play a global improv game, and celebrated each other's creativity? There were no bad ideas, just fun additions and the largest online gathering of Theater Kids And Associates the world has ever seen?

That only happened because Tumblr can't not be Tumblr. And to bring it all back around, I've been here so long, I'm really happy to be one of the many Elders who care about nurturing it for the future, if I am ever allowed the privilege.

I say this with love. Do not cite the old magic to me, friend. I was there when it was written.

I appreciate this ... acceptance? It's nice to be acceptable.

But I feel obligated to point out that I've been posting on this hellsite (affectionate) since at least 2008.

I don't know what this invasion is, but I am not part of it. I've been here so long, I'm part of the furniture.

I'm not going to play the Elder card, but I am going to tap the sign.

[nightbutterfly09]

Baby Kaede

If you haven’t read my wattpad story please go ahead as this will be an origin story of a character. The universes align. Kaede is entirely my oc as well as the Itoshi parent’s names are entirely my fantasy. Please check it out. Btw the timezone I wrote at the end only concerns the wattpad story. My wattpad   — But my profile is on the post below this as well.

Baby Kaede

Your body was tired. You just gave birth to your baby girl Kaede. Your first child. Sae held her in his arms carefully with tears in his eyes. “And they say the stoic man doesn't cry” your voice cracked as you chuckled weakly. 

Your body was sore and after pushing so much even your muscles grew non existent. “Oh don't joke around with that stuff.” 

Your hands hold onto his finger and try pulling him closer. “She is beautiful.” The baby’s quiet breaths were the loudest to you two in that room. 

It was 3AM, both adults admired the newborn’s features as the moon shone through the glass nearby. “Well.. you are a father now, Sae” “I am, yeah… thank you” he mumbled softly and kissed your forehead.

After a few moments with just the three of you the baby’s cries erupted and threw the silence of the night into disarray.

Turned out she was just hungry so after feeding her for the first time you saw her content face. The little girl had no idea how happy she made you. You glanced at Sae from the corner of your eyes and noticed his lips curl upwards into a light smile. His eyes softened as his gaze focused on the newborn in your arms. 

“Do you want to call in your family?” Suddenly you ask, making him turn to you and look into your eyes. “Already?” A small but gentle frown appeared on his face. “Well, why not? She is asleep now anyway” His strong arms cooped up the small body into his arms and walked to the door to invite everyone in. 

“Oh my gosh, she is so adorable!” His mother wiped her teary eyes. “This reminds me of my first time son” his father chuckled at him and walked closer to touch the baby’s face 

“I wouldn't have thought I’d hold a baby in my arms like this..my daughter” His usually expressionless face shined in multiple different expressions today. There were tears on his cheeks rolling down, he laughed and chuckled. His eyes shone in the darkness. 

One could say, he was the happiest man alive.

“What's her name?” Rin gulped and asked looking at you and his big brother. “Kaede.” You say in unison with the crimson haired man. “Want to hold her?” Rin’s eyes widened a little at the older Itoshi’s offer. 

He has never ever in his lifetime held a baby. And to think it would be his brother’s… he never would've imagined a universe like so. Sae placed the little girl into his embrace securely. 

Rin’s eyes filled with tears that he really tried not to surface but emotions got the best of him. ‘I wonder who that reminds me of’ you thought to yourself. “Kaede huh…” 

“So uncle, what do you think?” You grinned teasing him a little. Everyone around you let out a quiet chuckle at the newfound title. “Uncle.. god I sound old.” “Tell me about it” his brother rolled his eyes at him. 

“Hm, welcome boys” Daich-sani (The sibling’s father) laughed and pat Sae and Rin on their backs. “Oh and how are you my dear?” Momoko-san (Mrs. Itoshi) sat on your bed. 

“A little tired… and I'm sore but happy.." Your earnest smile showed how happy you were to be a mother. You gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who will bear the name Itoshi Kaede for the rest of her life. 

You feel like you already understand what people mean when they say ‘You’ll always be my little girl’.

You yawned as Sae sat down on his cushion next to you and grabbed both of your hands. His family was busy with the new family member. “I am proud of you, mi Vida” he leaned down and placed a passionate but gentle kiss on your lips. 

You blinked a few times trying to stay awake but he only shook his head with a lenient smile. “Rest easy now, I’ll handle the rest. Except feeding, you do have to do that” he looked at you with a kind and coy smile. 

At that moment not only were you immensely glad that he was your husband but you thanked the universe for everything that has ever happened to you. 

Your eyes finally closed and slowly pulled your husband’s hand closer as you drifted to sleep.

3 years ago. On October 19th. The day your lives changed forever.

[demonslayedher]

Kimetsu no Yaiba merch and a chance to get nerdy with it? Don’t mind if I do.

Bath time!!

This set of a towel, badge to hang on a bag like one you might take to your local bathhouse, and Swordsmith Village onsen-inspired bath salt was originally sold at the traveling Gotouge gallery, but many of those items were put up for sale again recently at a handful of Shonen Jump stores. I highly enjoyed the very flamboyant bath bomb I got at an Ufotable gallery, so I decided to give it a shot. I like onsen too, and the one in the Swordsmith Village is supposed to be especially nice, right?

In order to be classified as such in the modern Reiwa era, naturally occurring onsen must be at least 25 degrees C when the water emerges from the earth and have a minimum concentration of 1 to 19 certain minerals (amounts per 1kg of water vary depending on the mineral). If they have enough dissolved mineral content to be an onsen but don’t have a particularly high concentration of any mineral, they are classified as simple, low-alkaline onsen. So like, still nice, but harder to brag about. Locals will brag anyway. However, if the water has a high enough concentration of a particular kind of mineral, then it will be classified into different categories. The locals will really brag about these ones and their many health and beauty benefits, and even though there have been studies of some sort, it’s safest to say “purported” benefits. If you want to get nerdy with it, start here.

So anyway, the manga didn’t get that detailed, but, Ufotable wrote this in about the Swordsmith Village onsen: “It can heal anything, like cuts, burns, hemorrhoids and bleeding piles, constipation, gout, broken heart, anything.”

However, this is a product from a manga gallery, and Ufotable did not necessarily influence the making of it. Going by this product (which I’ll bet Gotouge had no influence on the production of), here are some things we might suppose. This particular product is a mix of sodium sulfate, sodium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, sodium carbonate, and sodium thiosulfate. If you’re only bathing in it and not drinking it (and the package says not to drink it), then it purportedly would help with cuts, bruises, burns, skin ailments, dry skin, reducing inflammation, muscle pain, joint pain, sensitivity to the cold, depression, and the ever mysterious “women’s ailments.” If you were to drink clean onsen waters like these, it purportedly could also help with constipation, too.

Although it’s not enough to consider it something your body would absorb any benefit from, there is enough sulfur in this product to give it a fun(ky) smell. Enough of a sulfur smell to make your brain think, “yay, onsen,” without quite enough to think “ew, rotten eggs.” Now, this suggests that the onsen in the Swordsmith Village also has that mineral component, which would also purportedly make it good for treating acne and diabetes. This might also be one of the components that made it hard for Tanjirou to sniff out a secret training weapon.

So like, that covers a lot of the claims Ufotable wrote in. Maybe to cover that gout claim, it’s also carbonated or radioactive. Who knows.

There’s one more thing this product includes: artificial color! For the onsen nerd, there’s a lot more to categorizing onsen than just their mineral content. There’s also how slick or grainy the water feels, how clear or cloudy it is, and what color it appears! Although many are known for being crystal clear, there’s a range of tints, including dramatic ones like reddish-orange, aquamarine, and black. In this case, they merely recreated the effect for fun. With a base of red, yellow, and blue, the powder starts a nice rosy pink when it’s dry in the package, and then---HOLY YORIICHI WHAT IS THAT

That is soooooo not an appealing color, ohhhh my gooooshhhh

Although it all mostly mixes into a yellowish-brownish cloud, there are random bits of magenta or teal or even purple-ish-ness. The tiny specs that wound up on the edges of my bathtub made it look like they chose some strange way to page homage to Mitsuri, Muichiro, and Genya all at once.

Anyway, the color eventually settled to more of a muddy yellow and I got in. The sulfur scent was only enough to be pleasant, the texture was somewhat on the silky side but not dramatically so, and I was healed of all my wounds and ailments. Purportedly.

[archduchessgortash]

Let's talk about the Prayer for Forgiveness:

I personally never care too much about spoilers. Thus, I knew about this document long before I ever found it in-game. Many fans laud it as irrefutable proof of Durgetash being canon. Whether it is or isn't holds no relevance on what I wish to discuss.

Spoilers below the cut.

The only proof of Durgetash that I need is the look on Gortash's face when Durge strolls into the coronation alone. How Durge truly felt is never fully remembered, allowing players to blissfully headcanon the past relationship to our hearts' content.

For my part, I was always more perturbed by how utterly foolish it seemed for Durge to have been carrying evidence of their intended betrayal on their person during Orin's attack than I was concerned about dissecting every word in the Prayer for Forgiveness for the sake of my favorite ship.

When I did find it, I thought it was interesting that certain information about the document was and wasn't on the Baldur's Gate 3 wiki.

On my most recent playthrough, I decided it was time to take some screenshots and make a post about it.

First off, Durge doesn't know yet that Orin is their sibling when they find it, and it is neither signed nor does the in-game item description offer any indication that Durge wrote it. There's also no narrator response or journal update when we read or pick it up.

While it is correct that the Dark Urge wrote this document, it's worth noting that when it is found, an unspoilered player would not yet be privy to that information.

We find it in the Mind Flayer colony beneath Moonrise Towers, on a workbench that is clearly NOT Gortash's, in spite of the ill-informed assertions of some fans.

See evidence below, located on the very same workbench:

Gortash designed the Mind-Archive Interface and certainly used it, but the workspace in which we find the document is, in fact, Balthazar's.

The Prayer For Forgiveness is located here, on Balthazar's workbench:

In close proximity to this item:

More on that in a bit. 😉

Depending on which doors our party chose to explore first in the colony, we either just met or will soon meet this piece of work:

Kressa confirms that Durge could not or at the very least did not communicate verbally while she was doing her experiments on them.

Obviously, that's changed between the time of their departure and waking up on the Nautiloid, as Durge complains aloud about their headache upon waking. They also communicate with Us, Lae'zel, and Shadowheart via both their tadpole and their voice.

Kressa also informs us that Durge was not like other thralls.

Durge fought like the Hells against their captivity.

Kressa's Mistress of Souls' Research Log also informs us that Durge was tadpoled differently than all the others.

We don't learn until much later that the unusual method that Kressa noted was Orin prying open a hole she'd stabbed in Durge's skull to let the tadpole in.

Now... a small tangent that I personally use to explain this scene for a Durge playthrough:

Since this happens before we choose our origin, and in the course of the story, Durge finds out they weren't originally tadpoled on the ship like the rest of the party, this scene starts to feel incongruent with the reality of playing as Durge. When they come across the pod they broke out of near where we find Mizora, I like to think that why both memories exist is that Durge's healing brain might have continued to retain greater control, or at least a rebellious streak, even without the Artefact protecting them.

If they were thrashing and fighting in their pod or resisting in any way, it wouldn't surprise me if the Emperor forced them to take a second tadpole via the proper route of insertion, especially since Empy wants all characters to be teeming with tadpoles anyhow.

When one considers that the more tadpoles consumed, the harder it is both to refuse the Astral Tadpole and resist the forced mind flayer transformation that can happen in one of the evil endings, it makes even more sense that Durge already has more than one tadpole.

It was required just to keep them leashed.

Now, about the Resonance Stone...

'Seized by great joy, affected entity is more energized and also more mentally compliant.'

The Steeped in Bliss condition provided the explanation that I needed for why the Prayer for Forgiveness even exists as a document we can find. Durge wasn't carrying it around with them. Balthazar used the Resonance Stone to make them write it, most likely as a confession about their intended betrayal. I feel pretty confident in this interpretation as making the most logical sense.

In my opinion, Balthazar's post-script doesn't have any Durgetash connotations. It's there in order for Dark Urge players to connect the dots and realize that their character wrote it after they find out Orin is their sibling.

My own post-script:

Does the Prayer for Forgiveness also offer evidence that Durge might have had emotions about Enver Gortash?

I think so, but it can be interpreted in too many different ways for me to use it as some kind of Durgetash Holy Grail.

As I've said before, Gortash's face is the Holy Grail of Durgetash.

The only other character that can get anything close to the kind of visible affection from his expression is Karlach, on an Origin run, when she chooses to ally with him. He's pleased as punch that his old bodyguard isn't holding a grudge, but he's a total dick if she gives up the stones, revealing his true opinions about her in his comments.

He doesn't say spiteful lines to Durge even when they've freed the prisoners at the Iron Throne and blown up the Steel Watch Foundry, destroying everything he's built.

For Durge... Gortash hesitates.

If you made it here, thanks for reading! 🙂

[syabm]

> And, uh, evidence would suggest Elon is an obnoxious edgelord who likes attention and happily makes Holocaust jokes, so. Didn't he just visit Israel?

EDIT:

Did you actually check?

Because he pretty clearly said the exact opposite. Right away. A week before you wrote that. People explicitly say it was an actual, intentional, Nazi salute, which is actually very important.

You can't just declare "intent doesn't matter!" when intent is what actually makes a salute a salute.

Also, every single person I've seen who said it was a Nazi salute was a detractor, not actual Nazis.

Genius and someone else tried to and claim he was making holocaust jokes.

Which was not the original charge.

Yeah, Brazen was right, he's clearly mocking y'all.

You can't use something that happened after you made the accusation as evidence the accusation was right at the time, because it retroactively "proves" the target was a bad person.

Also, by this logic, Mel Brooks supports the Holocaust.

Frankly, if countless people were already accusing me of being one of the worst people ever based on a wildly misinterpreted action, there's basically nothing I can do to change their minds.

I'd be very tempted to get a few kicks by baiting them. And appealing to people who, y'know, don't believe I did a Nazi salute.

But I wouldn't.

Whining about his jokes mocking you and ignoring - or failing to even look for - any other context that might prove you wrong is the exact sort of ideological cherry picking that started this nonsense.

what’s with you and the Elon thing?

if anyone did that gesture in basically any scenario it’d be seen as questionable at best. I don’t think he’s necessarily a crypto-nazi, but I do think it was an intentional statement of edgelord-ism to rile people up

Why are you going to bat for this guy? It can’t just be contrarianism, you seem genuinely passionate.

personally, I’m no friend of the SJ people, but I don’t think they’re crying wolf this time. Im not sure how to prove my truthfulness, but I was strongly against eg: 2020 BLM, defund the police, Daniel Penny arrest, and so on.

it is more important to believe things that are true than it is to believe things that are mean, even if they are mean about someone you don't like

any situation in which a large group of people are belligerently declaring "How dare you say we should believe things that are true instead of things that are mean! Anyone who cares about anything other than believing things that are mean is despicable and should be destroyed!" is a bad one

people are aggressively, openly, proudly throwing away all capacity for reason, and winning because they are inherently entitled to win for doing that. this makes me sad.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Some new fandom/fanfiction writing thoughts from me...

Author's Note:

This is just some thoughts I needed to get out because they kept me from finishing my Vampire!Terry Richmond Fic and forced me to start writing my "Sinners" fic I hadn't planned on dropping until April, but my spirit was moved to write by some aspects of the media hype of the "Sinners" new movie trailer release. It's stream of consciousness straight from the hip for Black History Month, so let ya girl cook!

Who remembers this movie?

Do you remember this dynamic duo? (Yes Dr. Karen Jenson!)

Do you remember what happened to most of the "Blade" fanfictions in that fandom as the series progressed (even into television)... and who got centered instead of Blade/Karen Jenson?

Blade essentially became a secondary character in his own franchise. He stopped knowing other Black folks, too. Even the writer of the original franchise David S. Goyer confessed that the studio wanted Blade to be white from jump.

Bitch...whut?

Others have written of this before with the Blade franchise. I personally have lamented the missed opportunity to expand the role of the sexy, beautiful, dark-skinned genius hematologist, Dr. Karen Jenson, played by the gorgeous and talented N'Bushe Wright. Who is still fine just so you know:

The de-centering of Black characters from their own leading roles in fandom is nothing new. Y'all remember this oldey but goodey?:

Remember how they did our girl Abbie Mills (played by the lovely and fabulous actress, Nicole Beharie)? She was the heart of the show with great chemistry between her and Ichabod (Tom Milson). But the Sleepy Hollow Showrunners started centering this heaux:

They even brought in Ichie and Katrina's old ass son Henry Parrish/Jeremy Crane:

Baybee, me and a ton of other Black women were OVER the sidelining of Abbie Mills. Don't even get me started on how they did baby girl by writing her off her own show. Soon it was looking like this:

Chile when I tell y'all Black women rode in like the Sin Eaters on that show and burned that bitch to the ground! No Abbie Mills? No more Nicole Beharie? Alright, bet. Nan one of you hoes is working then. The industry treated Nicole so bad after that show. She was blacklisted and experienced a hostile work environment with that American flavored soup du jour: racism. A recent book, "Burn It Down: Power, Complicity, and a Call for Change in Hollywood", broke down all the horrors Nicole Beharie went through bts.

Here was a show that gained popularity because of BLACK WOMEN. We started the weekly Tweet storms, chatted to each other, wrote fics, did panels about it at fandom conferences (I spoke on some and attended a few myself about the TV series). It was a sexy multicultural cast, a literal crack fic come to life that first season.

But then...the centering of whiteness rears its ugly head and ruins nice things.

Which brings me to the new "Sinners" movie trailer release, and my fears at seeing a lot of the media hype online (thumbnail photos, clips etc) pushing Hailee Stenfield a lot more than Michael B. Jordan (in a double role as twins!) or even the other Black women characters in the trailer.

They got Wunmi Mosaku in this bitch with Jayme Lawson.

You know Wunmi, right?

Marvel Wunmi in the Loki TV Series:

Lovecraft Country Wunmi:

Wunmi with Idris in "Luther" Season 5:

Then there's the exquisite Jayme Lawson from "MLK/X: Genius" with our new fic king at the moment, Aaron Pierre. He plays Malcolm X and she is Dr. Betty Shabazz:

Jayme playing the Queen in "The Woman King":

Jayme as the mayor in "The Batman" (she could be our next Angela Bassett with her acting range and beauty!):

Now, about that elephant in the room for me personally.

Hailee Steinfeld and Jack O'Connell.

Their images are everywhere, often more so than images of the star Michael B. Jordan. Twitter (I will never call it X), Threads, Bluesky, YouTube, TikTok et al, have them hyped up to the point where I'm worried that it will turn into a Blade situation. The white characters overshadowing the central Black one.

Of course, they're playing the vampires. The bad guys. The ones we want to see the Black people vanquish. Some bad guys are sexy if we're being honest (cough--Killmonger--cough). Life in Clarksdale, Mississippi, the birthplace of the Blues, is tough enough with racism, lynchings, prohibition...just white people nonsense in general, let alone white vampires. A horror movie has to have compelling antagonists to keep our interests. But again, the overshadowing of Michael in some places...

On IMDB, Hailee is listed first as the star, then comes Jack O'Connell, and then Michael B. Jordan. Y'all, the two white actors are listed first BEFORE Michael is. I don't care if Hailee was nominated for an Oscar at fourteen. (Black people should know by now the Oscars are highschool popularity contests for white people, and every now and then they throw a bone at negroes who act circles around them on any given day.)

How is Wallace Vince Killmonger Adonis Creed John Clark (aka Muffin to me), listed third in his own goddamn movie? Maybe this will change when the movie comes out, but...excuse me?

Give me a minute. I need to sip some tea to calm down.

I barely see Wunmi in online hype, and she has been in some pretty high profile roles the last few years, especially in superhero action projects. And it looks like she plays a Hoodoo practioner (like myself). I want to see more of her promoted too. Like why can't I see a photo of this on more fandom websites?

That question was rhetorical. We all know why.

The centering of whiteness even in Black spaces.

I already know the fanfiction that will be churned out soon by non-Black people. Shippings of Mary/Remmick (Steinfeld and O'Connell's characters in the movie). There will be the I/R shipping of Mary and Stack (Steinfeld and Jordan) because the ads are playing up their sexy juke joint dance everywhere. I'm beginning to get a sense of deja vu...a la Blade/Sleepy Hollow decentering vibes.

The trailer all but gave away most of the plot in terms of what the Black characters will be up against during Prohibition Mississippi. Moonshine and Monsters, with sprinklings of Black American Blues music, both real history and the myths of it with Robert Johnson/Crossroads energy. And clearly Mary, who starts off as human, will get turned into a vampire like Remmick...and then run off to dance with hot, sweaty negroes tryna have their own goddamn fun away from white racism and the dangers of white women turning into the o.g. Karen's of their day. Smh. Can't have nothing without white characters slithering in and causing chaos as usual, lol! (I'm looking at you Agent Ross in the Black Panther fandom, you dirty C.I.A. infiltrator!) Plus there's always some dumb Black man willing to risk it all for unseasoned coochie putting every other Black person in his community in danger.

I mean, even in real life, Black people can't even access DEI opportunities without white women taking all the spots. Now I gotta watch DEI Mary-the-vampire mess up Black people's good times? The horror!

Now I'm just fussing. America recently voted the orange racist/fascist menace back into the white house, and he brought his incompetent white people and their Pee-oh-See lackeys. (One day we have to have a conversation about why so many Indians from India in this country-- and their children-- side with white racism and use anti-Blackness to move ahead in America.) I'm a little salty with white folks right now, not gonna lie. We saw those voting exit polls where only Black women and Black men overwhelmingly voted for the correct side of history to try and stop the Magats by any means necessary with the little we had to work with. Forgive me if I'm grumbling and projecting this onto a fictional movie. Two beautiful dark-skinned women are also love interests in the film (based on the trailer), but I can't find them promoted as much as the white vampires? I don't like it.

Listen, I used to do screenwriting. I helped friends make short films for festivals. I also screened films to help choose projects for the L.A. Film Festival when that was still a thing when I was a member of Film Independent. I've done screenwriting fellowships, too. I understand film marketing, and the work it takes trying to get the largest audience possible to see a movie by pushing the big names or face draws to a project.

But...

I want Black things centered in "Sinners". In the long run it will be, because...Ryan Coogler is that dude.

I want this rambling lament to be a call to other Black fic writers who plan on seeing the film to write your asses off after you see it, and even before you see it based off the trailer. I want hundreds, if not thousands of "Sinners" fics stretching out the worldbuilding we'll soon see on the screen. Heck, I already have a prequel fic started that I want to post in the next few days once I finish it. @nahimjustfeelingit-writes has one out already, and I saw a couple more by other writers floating down my TL.

I want Smoke and Stack and their world steeped in Blackness so that they won't be isolated or damn near relegated to a corner like Blade or Abbie Mills was among their world of supernatural shenanigans by the end of their onscreen run.

I hope we write so much that no one would dare try to push these other Black characters aside. There's so much richness to work with: the Blues guitar singer (who has a fucking banjo inside the core of his magical guitar!), the Hoodoo woman, the Black sexy female love interest that Jayme plays, Delroy Lindo's piano player and his Native wife (I'm guessing), and even the Asian woman (probably descended from the Chinese railroad workers in Mississippi) . We need all the fics telling so many stories in this "Sinners" world.

Granted, fic writers are free to write what they want. Black writers will take a side Black character and create a whole universe for them outside of the main characters in a predominately white film/fandom. But that's only because Black characters are always set aside, shunned, or written in racist/stereotypical ways. They are often fetishized, turned into brutes, or given so much less time in the front. Me writing all this is not saying that non-Black writers can't write stories about Mary or Remmick or anyone they choose. They write/appropriate what they want anyway, so it doesn't matter. I'm only interested in what Black fic writers are going to create

I want to be selfish and see Wunmi and Jayme heralded and pined over even if their characters aren't used as much as Hailee's in the film. I want us to have our shine finally. I want "Sinners" fics that reflect that.

I want to see more Black fics with Black characters paired with Black characters.

I want Black fic readers discovering this new fandom and finding new writers and new stories celebrating us.

I want this movie to succeed and everyone who goes to see it having a good, scary, time.

I want to see Muffin show out in his first period piece. Dressed casket sharp with gold teeth, lol!

I want Black fic writers to be able to write Black horror period piece stories that aren't rooted in Black trauma. There will be so many magical/supernatural things to write about in "Sinners" that we don't even have to touch on the horrors of historic white racism in America if we don't want to.

I promise you, Black people back then experienced joy, wonder, falling in love, and going up against antagonists that weren't always white people or white racism, or even the remnants of our enslaved past. The Klan ain't got to show up! Lol! Hell, white people don't even have to show up in your story. Coogler even hinted that there were more things other than vampires going on in the movie. We'll see. But my point is, we can create "Sinners" fics that Black readers won't have to fear dwelling on Black trauma porn as a plot point.

So...my fellow MBJ/Coogler fans...can we write the hell out of this new fandom? Revel in Blackness? Enjoy our latest entry into the vampire genre?

I would love to hear people's thoughts after they see the movie in April!

Last thought: If you know of some "Sinners" fics, share them!

[galadrieljones]

I first wrote Solas/Mythal as a ship in 2016 for my first Solavellan fic The Dead Season, and Mythal was entirely my own, and just like my original vision for Arlathan, she was nothing like we know her now. She was desperately in love with Solas, and she left behind her mantle to bolster his rebellion from the bottom up. She financed the whole thing and basically gave him full control of her Sentinel Army and her fortress in Arlathan. She died protecting him, and he reinvented the world in pure vengeance. It was Shakespearean. That ship was very special to me.

Now, writing a new and overly complicated iteration of Solythal is causing me to conduct a deep evaluation of my love for this character lol. I actually have a very difficult time harming him in fiction. It causes me despair, and I end up softening all of his antagonists so that he can be more easily saved. Even back then, I wrote Elgar'nan as a massive, brutish asshole who smoked cigars and was jealous of Solas's charm and cunning disposition. His jealousy made him easier to defeat, as Solas could easily take advantage of his ego. Ghilan'nain was Solas's old teenage girlfriend whose fragile mind was twisted and driven mad by Andruil. It hurt him badly to have to imprison her, and he built her a special place in the Fade where she could relive their happy childhood innocence forever.

I think this is why the canon ending of Veilguard really messed me up. Because it wasn't soft or easy on Solas. It was hard to watch him that brutalized, physically and emotionally, and it caused me too much despair. It felt unfair and unjust. Note that I think this is a good thing. I think it's good when texts challenge us emotionally and challenge our views of the world. Plus it gives me a lot to write about. But still. Anyway lol

[love44lew]

day 4: draft

彡drivers anyone x reader

彡genre poem (??)

彡summary love & marriage

၊၊||၊ i think i originally wrote this for lewis and then scrapped and when i recently read it again i didnt wanna touch it and mess it up😓၊၊||၊

彡warnings none !!

———-

was it the warmth it brought you to see his face after the cold grasp of a nightmare? or maybe it was the way the moon perfectly cracking through the blinds to illuminate upon its favorite angel. your feelings of calmness shifted into confusion and frustration as you began to question why it must be him? perfection inside and out. beauty that can only be bestowed upon a woman and a demeanor that can only be described by using words one would only use to descript one of a gods. the way his eyelashes rested perfectly, each strand almost orchestrated to sit in such a way. his plump and pink lips, swollen from the slumber, sat in a rested frown. his cheeks were rounded, yet defined, maintaining that ideal tinge of desired masculinity.

the shine peeking into the room only aiding the already natural glow that his perfect skin produced. his aura simply recharging in its state of solemn rest, to once again blind the sun with its radiance once done. the sun that left a harsh buoyant glow, fell into the soft moon, where it feels at home. in your admiration, you prayed he wouldn’t open his eyes anytime soon, for first he would spot you staring at him in his sleep like a weirdo and two the sight of those loving eyes. ones that he was born with for the love he had to give to the world was so great, it was expressed on his face.

ways he viewed the world was different from the way his eyes lie on you. for you—his gaze was lingering, felt just like his kisses. to be looked at by him in this way meant he has claimed you, and you have claimed him. the look a man can only give when he’s ready to give it all up.

you wonder if he might propose soon. he hasn’t done anything obvious or super out of ordinary to think so, but you know its heavy on his mind. sometimes when your fingers intertwine, he pulls your hand up and brushes his lips specifically on your ring finger. you dont mind the thought of marrying him. marriage was a topic you much dreaded growing up. your parents always reminding you that only the best women have a ring on their finger. for them, marriage was always portrayed as an auction and you were to be sold off to the highest bidder.

for once in your life, you wanted to at least choose your favorite one.

sometimes it feels that way with him, even though he never forces that onto you. you always hated the idea of marriage, but you weren’t opposed to marrying him if its what he wanted. he never made you feel like you had to do anything for him, he didnt even make it seem like you have to love him. for that, you do. he’s your freedom. and within these four walls, on this bed in the deep of the night, you felt free.

you quickly wipe a tear away before it dares to drop down onto his face. but before you knew it, the tears kept showering down your cheeks, your little sniffles and restrained sobs filling the room. you dont want to wake him and scare him. hes always worried about you that sometimes it distracts him from his own perfection. the perfection he’d sacrifice any day for your happiness, little does he know that that is what makes you happy. in his light, youre able to soak in the warmth radiating from it. it shields you from the cold of your own burdens.

poor baby, you’ve never known what its like to be talentless, have no purpose. the world will always need you.

you cry because you love him. you cry because he loves you, and you dont deserve it. you’ll never live up to him, he is way beyond your league. he has an entire life ahead of him, and you have being his wife ahead of you.