#many are just trying to make enough money to get by

[eclipsen-smiles]

I doubt any of you want to know but I love talking about them so-

Eclipse’s version (I’ll do Chai’s on my art account.)

Any variation of “I’m fine” or “it’s fine”

Basically never. They’re/we’re SHIT at verbal affection.

Also practically never, unless around either their world’s family or the bloodpack.

Childcare.

Yes. They don’t think of anything. They just can. Their human form is small and pathetic looking, they use it for pity. (I do. I’m tiny. I look young. It’s so so so easy to get idiots in trouble.)

Favourite show: ever after high. They will never mention this. Ever.

Fuckshit. Probably. Or just “GET YO ASS OVER HERE.” With their gf…… the SpongeBob theme. Eclipse is still childish at heart.

There’s actually a list.

Nothing= anon

Friend= distant.

Name = talked once or twice.

Nickname= close

Hun/bud/pal/pet names= family or extremely close. Or if they’re concerned.

It depends on the situation. It’s a weird mix. They can be very rough, but they’re usually gentle at the same time.

Random facts about mental states. Usually things that make people feel better. (Ie; fun fact, you’re face is distorted through your eyes, so how you see yourself isn’t what other people see.)

Trust me. You’ll tell. (They’re already behind them.)

People being dumb. Or people trying to insult them. (Please. Try to. It’s hilarious.)

Always. I don’t think they know how to smile naturally at this point.

With their finger. Or hand.

Home: kinda dull, calm. Work: silent, disassociated. Friends: HYPER. ABABABA. MISCHIEF. PRANKS. alone: no facial expression.

Idiots.

Memories. Others, idk.

Luna. Believe it or not, but their version of lunar is almost MORE psychopathic than them…

Panic. Not because of the person, but because they’re trapped. (One, that shouldn’t be possible. two, agoraphobia.)

1:Unknown. 2: the astals. Specifically the higher ups.

Uhh.. eye contact, I guess. They’re fine with it, but they know others aren’t.

Hilariously, normal work hours. And taking breaks.

OHHH BOY LET ME TELL YOU- (reminder: luna is a ghost.)

Bold of you to assume they only took one.

Uhh.. random facts from plants and animals to history to cooking. They’re 600+, they’ve had a LOT OF FREETIME.

Laughter.

A “dont do drugs” pencil. Responded with heavy laughter.

A break. I pled the fifth (death.)

“Your funeral”

Heavily different because of the topic of their work. Personal= eh whatever. Work= oh fuck oh shit

.. seeing luna happy actually causes the most guilt.

MONEY PRINTING. WHO NEEDS A JOB WHEN YOURE GOD?

Silence and a glare

Family/not super close friends/people who look up to them: very calm but visibly happy. Close friends/people close to them/people who don’t necessarily hold them highly: ABBABABABABABAB

…so…many

Tartarus. “Can’t kill him yet. He still has use.” But DAMN DO THEY WANT TO. (Tar is a corrupt ass in their au btw.)

Actually nothing serious. Like… nothing. Besides secrets others have told them.

Hahehakfjkwnf. One that I have. Juggling.

Excluded. They hate having people include them just for pity. Though that’s if they know. (Same philosophy as me. Just being invited is enough. Even if I can’t come or I don’t have to actively participate.)

Depends. If the person looks annoyed it’s “what an ass.” If they look neutral or uncomfortable, it’s quickly “are they okay?” or “am I too imposing?”

Unknown at the moment.

Guilt and tragedy coping. Self explanatory

They’re quick to assume people being uncomfortable or afraid is because of them. They will not mention this.

Any. Since built in language processors, but probably Spanish since is such a direct translation language.

Shoes/socks in the house. What’s the fucking point. Take em off.

Listener. Make them talk? They’re autistic. You. Will. know.

EVERYONE FROM THIER ORIGINAL WORLD. EVERYONE. they either are still on the “glad they’re dead” bandwagon or the “holy shit he(moon) killed a mostly innocent dude.” Wagon.

Girlfriend. Friends. Family. Literally anyone they know. Hey, who coulda guessed, the person grappling with their past is a people pleaser!!

Nope. Politely decline

Hhhhhh….. past morals I guess? The old belief of corporeal punishment? (they don’t now.)

“Hun” when they’re concerned.

Self explanatory (mod is a lawyer…. Eclipse is at heart..)

The blood pack or their gf. (Too much shit has happened for them to NOT believe the pack. They’re safety is top priority)

Freeze to fight in normal situations. Straight to fight in dangerous situations. Freeze to “JEESUS” in safe situations.”

Destroying worlds. It’s their job, sure, but they’d much rather stop what’s CAUSING it.

Gf usually. But she’s back on the “hub world” so probably no one.

Eating. Sleeping. Drinking…. Self care.

ALL OF THEM.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

[yandere-paramour]

Why is noelle so openly unhinged towards darling? Does it stem from hidden fears? At least the others try to find common ground.

Noelle has DEEP psychological problems stemming from her childhood. Basically, Noelle grew up in a shitty 3 bedroom house with her mother, 4 sisters, and a rotating cast of stepfathers. She shares a father with her older sister, Odette, but is half-siblings with her younger sisters. She has no idea who her father is because he dipped when she was a young toddler.

Noelle's mother is a... complicated woman. To put it simply, she was a serious alcoholic more interested in trying to keep a man than she was raising 5 daughters, which left Odette and Noelle with most of the responsibility. After school, they would both go home to make bottles, give baths, clean the house, cook dinner, and basically raise the other sisters. Mom brought home a paycheck, but it was sparse and usually only enough for rent and a few groceries. Odette and Noelle went without food more than a few times so the younger ones could eat. It was worse when they were younger, but once Odette and Noelle got to their early teens, they started working to supplement the meager income.

In addition to this, Mom was also not too selective with the men she brought home. There was always a new man sleeping in the house one door down, and the bedsprings were always squeaking, making another little sister to take care of. Multiple men were creepy with the many girls, but Noelle always managed to threaten them/scare them off before anything too bad happened, but it seriously scared her; they never slept without the doors locked. Noelle and Odette escaped because they did well in school and got scholarships, but they are both deeply scarred by their childhoods. Their mom is older now (40s), and it's harder and harder to keep a boyfriend, so she mostly drinks, leaving the younger sisters home alone. They're teenagers themselves now, and Odette and Noelle send money home to help out and visit when they can, but they don't interact much with their mother. None of them really do.

Obviously you can see why Noelle is the way she is. She doesn't eat because she's used to skipping meals to feed her younger sisters. She has insomnia/sleeps very lightly because she's used to staying up to study/watch the locked door. She works/cleans/controls constantly because that is all she knows how to do to keep herself sane. Every aspect of her adult life is controlled by her shitty childhood.

This clearly spills over into her relationships too. The reason Noelle takes so much time with stalking gathering information and getting to know her Darling during dates at first is because she doesn't want to make the same mistake her mom continues to make over and over again. She needs to know you, needs to know how you'll react and if you'll be able to love her because any uncertainty scares her. Once she knows she loves you, she can't let you go. She can't let you walk out like everyone else in her life.

She keeps you inside because the inside is safe. She can control the inside, she can keep you safe and pure away from a heartless world that will crumble you up and spit you out, god knows she knows that. She wants to keep you pure and unspoiled by the horrible facts of life, untainted in the way she isn't. Your virtue and loveliness purify her, make her feel like her past doesn't have to haunt her so bad because you are here and you love her so maybe she is worth loving. She loves you so so so so much, she just wants to keep you close and safe because she doesn't want you hurt, she has to protect you.

Since Noelle does so much surveillance with you, she also knows you quite well and tends to pick a Darling that she knows will be receptive to her love and (eventually) love her as much as she loves you. Noelle's Darling tends to be someone who is overwhelmed and exhausted, afraid of the endless painful choices of life, and who wants someone to swoop in and take care of them, treating them like a precious treasured spouse while they sit loved and adored on a soft pedestal. Noelle will absolutely do this for you. She will shower you with gifts and luxury as long as you're a good girl who listens to and obeys her. She knows what's best for you, she loves you more than she loves anything, just let her protect you and everything will be okay.

When she lets you out of the house, even if you're with her and in her sight, she feels like she can't breathe. The world is dangerous and unpredictable and if something random happens and hurts you and she can't prevent it, she'll never forgive herself. She can bring anything you need inside, or she'll ask Ata for a favor and make sure no other people will be at the event to hurt you. She can protect you, she's not a little kid anymore, she's stronger now. Just please please let her protect you.

She doesn't know if she can handle it without you there at home, knowing you are waiting for her with a cuddle and a kind word, making her feel like she's worth something.

[vicariousresearcher]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Johnny who’s slowly making progress. Whose tremors in his hands are relaxing. Who’s starting to be able to order food in public again without his stutter doubling over itself. There are still more days than not that he’s using the wheelchair more than the forearm crutches but even with that he’s accustomed to it enough that he’s got plenty of mobility.

It’s been over two months that you’ve been working with Johnny and he’s been thriving as well as a man in his condition can. He attributes this entirely to his god-sent Angel of a nurse. He wouldn’t have gotten too far without you helping him through every stage. Having endless patience and compassion. Not a judgmental bone in your body.

So it comes as a complete shock when you ask him about having his sister or one of the team come up in two weeks because you have to take a shift back at the hospital.

“Why would you n-need that hen?” Johnny's voice is strained despite the joking tone he tries to lighten it up with. “Needing more funds? Am I n-not paying you well?”

You just shake your head, back turned to him while you section out his meds for the week. Unable to see the mounting anxiety in his face.

“Oh, don’t worry about my money. I just need to work on the floor every four months or I have to get reorientated. It’s just more convenient so that when I leave I have a job right away.”

“Already thinkin’ bout leaving me hen?”

You just rolled your eyes at the comment, having gotten to the point of being casual with Johnny weeks ago.

“Only so many football games I can listen to Johnny before I start to go mad. Try changing it up to hockey or baseball once n a while.” You slot the bottles back into the cabinet and the pill box on the counter for easy access. “So it’ll only be two days I’ll be gone and I can get everything set up beforehand. That sound good?”

You look over to him expectantly and Johnny doesn’t have the heart to say no to you. 

No, he can’t do that yet. That’ll freak you out. Get some big reaction. He needs to get you to make the decision to stay on your own.

......

Everything just seemed to go downhill so fast. Relapsing back into previous conditions.

Every other word evaded him to the point of forcing himself into a stewed, annoyed silence from being unable to just get a damn sentence out without ‘sounding like an engine about to give out.’

Waking up to a hard thump and groaning, sending you padding out into the dark hallway only to find Johnny on the ground, forearm crutches on the floor right beside him. Quickly stammering out that he thought he could make it to the bathroom without the wheelchair. He normally does this is just a one off please don’t fuss over him hen-

You having to strip off his shorts to apply moist pads to his thighs after he’d spilled steaming hot coffee on himself. His hands shook too bad to slide under the waistband. He kept apologizing with a look of frustration on his face. Brows furrowed and teeth bared with a hiss of pain yet eyes soft with humiliation as you kept reassuring him that it was okay. This was your job. You were there to take care of him.

He always tries to keep that light tone of his, joking about independence and no longer having a babysitter one day. It makes you want to believe him but the bitterness and scorn in his eyes when seeing even his buddies come by is palpable. 

Even the fun of watching football is sucked out when his brain contorts to see the men as comparisons to his own state. Functional men.

Men that you would never leave, men that you would willingly cling to, men so unlike him.

…..

Johnny’s therapist takes you aside before one of the sessions, asking about the sudden change in Johnny’s progress. If there were any triggers you could remember.

And you should’ve said something. Confessed that the trigger of Johnny’s worsening was the perceived threat of you leaving. But you didn’t. Because if you did then flags would be raised about the inappropriate boundaries being crossed between caretaker and patient and you would be removed from Johnny’s care. And that just would make his recovery worse. 

You were doing the right thing, right? You were just looking out for Johnnys well-being.

[raggedy-anne4013]

oof. This post has been in my drafts for months. I remeber feeling when I initially wrote this that it would get too much hate. However, I feel so strongly about this and so I'm going to post it here anyway. Just beware if you're steering clear of politics and anything community services related.

I hear you live in Germany! In Australia, it's a little different. Resi is a place where they put the foster kids that no one wants. Often it's filled with teenagers who've bounced from home to home in their childhood. Parents can't put their kids in resi (they would need to put their kids in foster care for them to possibly end up in resi). Saying that, in Australia practically all the kids in resi are disabled in some way.

As it is such a toxic environment, there is huge pressure on social workers and foster carers to take kids so they don't end up with the 'failures' in resi. Thus, many carers take on kids with extreme disabilities that they can't handle to try and 'save' the kids from resi. They're definitely saving the kids some level of pain (I know numerous people who have died in residential care) but it's horrible that these kids aren't given the care they need.

Resi does nothing for our society except cause an extra level of pain for kids who have already been rejected too many times. Our resi is a bit like you described in that most people I know who are too disabled or too mentally unstable or too much of a danger to themselves or others either end up in prison, a psych ward or dead. The kids who are able to 'graduate' are thrown out into society with no tools to properly help them survive and so even if they survive resi, the same thing happens to these people, just when they're a bit older.

And this is from a system in which you only go to resi if you are too disabled or too mentally unstable or too much of a danger.

It's a hard pill to swallow but the reality is that our government doesn't put enough money into this system to accommodate the people who need to be in it. The people who want to change things are too overworked and underpaid to even afford to live for themselves, let alone help the people who need it. The people who are suffering the impacts of this stupid, stupid system are unable to advocate for themselves.

I was talking to my parents a while ago about this (they are foster carers as well) and how it just makes me want to scream because I know this threat of resi that these social workers are telling me about is true. If you say 'no', you are condemning this child to a lifetime of pain or death. It seems that every system in this stupid world which is meant to help people, falls so short. The world sucks. People sucks. The institutions we make to stop things from sucking so much suck the most.

Most people really don't seem to know what this mysterious "residential care" means when it comes to disabilities.

"This person is severely disabled, they have to live in residential care."

Do you know what happens when a severely disabled person with high support needs who isn't aware of dangers and needs constant supervision applies for residential care?

They get turned down or kicked out a couple of days later.

This happens regularly, btw. Kids grow up and parents think "Oh, residential care sounds good", and then suddenly every institution, etc. goes "Sorry, we don't specialise in that, sorry, your child is too aggressive, sorry, your child can't stick to our sleep schedule, sorry, your child is too noise sensitive, sorry, your child HAS to participate in our weekly activities even though their disability makes it impossible for them to do so, sorry..."

People who can live in residential care aren't your "the worst of the worst" example. There is such a thing as "too disabled for residential care" and it's more common than you'd think! ☝🏼

"But what happens when someone is too disabled for residential care and their family can't take care of them? Surely everyone eventually ends up somewhere!"

They get passed around from institution to institution, but everyone eventually goes "Sorry, we can't keep them here", and it won't stop. Until, maybe, one day they're lucky and a fixed team of carers "adopts" them and tries to create some kind of assisted living from scratch.

(Edit: Some people in the notes mention that many end up in prison or psych wards. That's included in what I mean with "institution" ☝🏼. But keep in mind that most severely disabled people with very high support needs simply die when their needs aren't met, so they either are passed around from institution to institution until someone builds something from scratch... or they simply die.)

Nobody talks about it, which is why it's always a big shock for parents who found a really good residential care place for their soon-to-be adult child and their child looks forward to moving out, and suddenly this wonderful residential care company turns their child down because it's too disabled. And then the next one. And the next.

So no, residential care isn't for "those with the most profound disabilities" - people with the most profound disabilities can't be in residential care at all.

[heyheydidjaknow]

After a very long week of diving headfirst into this fandom I think it’s only right that the champagne bottle we smash into this here ship is a four thousand word Chuuya x reader. Here’s to what I’m sure will be another few years of this, everyone; hope everyone is down.

Candies

He was glaring at you.

You had no idea when he got on the train. You did not care enough to wonder. What you knew was that he— the man in the hat on the opposite side of the train car— had been looking at you for the past three stops, and while you were fairly certain that you had no idea who he was, you were almost as certain that whoever he thought you were had another thing coming from how intensely he was watching you. Sure, he had the decency to look embarrassed by his staring, but that in no way stopped him from looking at you like you had something to apologize for. It was disconcerting. It was borderline creepy. But neither of you moved, because it was a train, and the two of you would not see each other again anyway.

The train slowed to a stop. Most people filed off. You did not. Neither did the man. You checked your watch, head falling back as you considered the pros and cons of waiting for the next train. You would have to eat dinner late, but you would not have to wonder why exactly he seemed to hate you this much for nothing.

You heard the rustling of clothing next to you. “Excuse me.”

You opened your eyes to the man. You took him in, identified any features that might be helpful for a police report: cold eyes, reddish hair, too many layers. Pretty, but not reassuring. You pulled your headphones off, fearing the worst. “May I help you?”

A pause.

You smiled tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand yen if you’ll go out with me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Reality seemed to catch up with him. “Shit. Uh.” He pulled his hat off, fiddling with the brim as he lowered his eyes. “Is that too little? I can go higher.”

“Do you think I’m a hooker?”

“Huh?”

You leaned away from him a bit. “What kind of thing is that to ask someone? ‘What’s your price?’ Seriously?”

The realization seemed to strike him like a baseball bat to the head. He immediately backpedaled. “That’s not— shit, I mean, that’s not what I meant to—“ he stammered. “I— no, I didn’t mean anything like that!”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “That work for most people, asking them what they charge for a night? For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Hey!” He sat up, defensive. “I never said I wanted to take you home!”

You crossed your arms. “Then what exactly are you trying to do?”

“Ask you on a date!”

“You sure have a funny way of doing it.”

He huffed, face red. “Look,” he grumbled, “I don’t ask many people on dates; I’m trying my best here.”

“You could just ask me,” you pointed out. “You could ask me in a way that doesn’t involve offering me money.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly— and audaciously— annoyed. “I can’t just walk up to a stranger and ask them on a date. Why would you go? You don’t know me; what if I’m a creep? How do you know if I’m worth the time?”

An incredulous smile crept onto your lips. “And you thought that offering me money would make you seem less creepy?”

“At least then you have a reason to show up! At least then I have a financial interest in showing you a good time!” He buried his face in his hands. “It took me a while to get this far and my stop is next and I do not have the time nor ability to actually woo you.”

The absurdity of this whole situation— the sight of an extravagantly dressed pretty boy bemoaning his romantic failings— was starting to get to you. “This all seems like a lot for someone you just met.”

He sat up quickly, steam practically pouring from his ears. “Well,” he explained seemingly in an attempt to regain some composure, “I may not know you yet, but I know that I’ve never seen anyone who looks as good as you do, and we’re on a train; I may never get the chance to see you again if I don’t do something right this second.”

You grinned. “Really?”

“Really. I am fucking this up.”

“A bit,” you agreed. “But you’re bringing it back around, calling me hot.”

He brightened. “I am?”

You shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

His hands were shaking. You wondered how long they had been doing that. “Well,” he mumbled, “does that mean your answer isn’t a hard no?”

You leaned back in your seat. “I can be convinced,” you said. “Try again.”

He cleared his throat. “Hello.” He made eye contact with you again, the sharpness you had assumed was being weaponized against you seemingly inherent in his gaze. You tried, for a moment, to make out what color his eyes were, but the answer seemed to elude you. “My name is Nakahara Chuuya.”

“Hello, Nakahara Chuuya.” You crossed your legs. “See, this is better. Keep going.”

He gave you a confused look. You liked him, you decided. “Well,” he continued, disgruntled, “I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re easy to see.”

“Interesting word choice, but alright.”

He shot you a look. “You’re nice to look at. Is that better?”

Your smile softened. “Much. Keep going.”

He looked down at his hat. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were already spoken for.”

You snorted. “Spoken for?”

“Single,” he amended, irritated. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You stretched out your legs in front of you, thoroughly enjoying this. “I am both single and without boyfriend,” you assured him.

He nodded sternly. “Then, can I take you out? On a date?”

You considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sure.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Really.” You leaned back in your seat. “You’re cute, and I don’t think you’ll murder me, and those are my two big requirements, so.”

He chuckled. “High bars. No wonder you’re single.”

“What can I say? I’m hard to please.” You dug around in your coat for a pen, holding your palm up towards you. “What’s your number?”

The redhead paused. “I don’t have a number right now,” he said. “I’m having trouble with my provider. I can give you a time and place, though.” He held out a gloved hand. “May I?”

You gave him the pen and your bare hand. Quickly, he scribbled down an address (someplace in Yokohama), a date (the next Saturday) and a time (six o’clock). As he finished, the train came to a halt at the platform, doors opening with a quiet hiss.

Nakahara Chuuya stood up, fixing his pork pie hat securely atop his head before straightening out his clothes and giving you a stiff nod. “I will see you then,” he promised. “If you’re late by more than fifteen minutes, I’ll assume you stood me up.”

You gave the strange man a smile. “I’ll come early, then.”

He averted his eyes. “Thank you.” And with that, he left you on the train with a date, a time, and a great deal of confusion.

Foolishly, you showed up. You lived neither in nor near Yokohama. Getting to the address the man had given you— which he wrote with poor penmanship— took you some time too. You went through the trouble of dressing as well as he had been the day you met him— which was more formal than you would typically be for a first date with a stranger you met on a train— and went so far as to plan to be there fifteen minutes early. You had no idea why you were so interested in the man. You had no inclination as to what possessed you to show up to meet a stranger in the first place; after all, his assumption that you might think of him as some sort of predator would have been a reasonable one to make. But you had an inarticulable feeling that told you that this meeting would be worth your time.

Or you just thought he was pretty. You weren’t sure which it was.

The address he had given you brought you to a small restaurant close to the Tsurumi river which, if its sign was to be believed, primarily dealt in soba. Despite your planning, you arrived a mere five minutes early instead of fifteen which, in your defense, was still early, but apparently not so early that your date did not beat you there. As you approached him, a look of bewilderment briefly crossed his face.

“Damn,” you joked. “I thought I’d get here first.”

He looked over your shoulder. “You came,” he said, sounding surprised.

“I did,” you confirmed.

“Alone.”

“I was unaware I was meant to bring a plus one on a date.”

“No, I just mean—“ He stopped himself. “Whatever. I’m glad you came.”

You held your hands behind your back. “So am I, though I’m feeling a bit self conscious now.” You looked down at your clothes, then back to his. He had dressed much more casually than you in a loose, short sleeve button up, loose pants and a large dark jacket. He had kept the hat and the choker— which you had not until that moment realized you remembered— but you looked too formal next to him. “I thought you would dress the way you did on the train.”

He gave you a once over. “You look fine,” he said. “You look great, actually. Don’t worry about it.”

A smile spread across your face. “You've gotten more confident since then, too. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t look totally plain next to you is all; you look so stylish.”

He paused, eyes cast down towards his feet. “Thank you. I drank before I came.” He opened the door to the restaurant for you.

You walked past him. “Thank you. Did you drive?”

“Nah.” He shut the door behind the two of you. “This place is out of the way enough to make it not worth the trouble to park. I walked.” He nodded to the hostess, who sat the two of you in a corner away from the door.

The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall: exposed crossbeams, warmly lit, nearly empty despite it being a Saturday. You took your seat across from him as the woman set a cup of water in front of each of you, leaving you to your conversation. She made no eye contact with either of you before she left. You picked up your cup, taking a sip as he draped his coat over the back of the seat and set his hat beneath his chair. The gloves, however, stayed on. “How long was the walk?” you asked.

“Not far. A couple minutes.” His elbows came to rest on the table. “I can walk you back to your car if you drove, or to the train station if you need. Just let me know.”

“Thank you.” You took a menu from the center of the table, scanning it absently. “To be honest, I’m glad you asked me to do something earlier in the evening; I’m not super interested in being on my own in the dark.”

He hummed in agreement. “Nobody does. I have work to take care of later, but I can’t imagine wanting to stay out past twelve alone otherwise.”

You groaned sympathetically. “Terrible. What do you do?”

He paused. “I… it’s complicated.” He laced his fingers together. “I operate a shipping company under a parent organization operating out of Yokohama. I technically and practically own the shipping company, but I can’t legally operate it unless it’s under the parent organization, so I have all the stress of a business owner with none of the freedom.”

Your lips twitched nervously. “Are you on a list or something? Why can’t you operate a business?”

“What do you– oh.” The brief look of confusion left his face. “I’m a skill user.”

“A what?”

“You know,” he repeated, “a skill user?”

You stared at him blankly.

“I have a gift?”

“Isn’t that a dog whistle?”

“What? No!” He crossed his arms. “I have supernatural abilities.”

You considered it. “You know,” you mused, “I’ve never been on a date with a guy who came out as being possessed to me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, blinked. “Well,” he conceded, “I guess that’s what I’m saying, but that would be a bad assumption most of the time; most gifted users aren’t possessed.”

“Wait, seriously?” Skepticism and deep curiosity battled for supremacy in your mind. “By what?”

He shrugged. “A god, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“It’s complicated.” To your– and his– surprise, he laughed. “It’s funny; I can’t think of the last time I had to actually explain what my deal was.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Do most people just know?”

“More or less.” He shrugged again, looking towards the door. “It’s practical. I use it a lot.”

“I see.” You sat up, taking your cup and turning it over in your hands. “What does it do?”

He did not say anything for a second, brow furrowing. He looked back in your direction, holding out his hand. “Give me your cup.”

You did.

He set the cup down on the table. Slowly, as though it had been set in a pool of water, the cup began to float upwards. “My ability,” he explained simply, clearly taking pride in the way your eyes lit up in excitement and awe, “allows me to manipulate gravity for any object I touch.”

You reached out towards the cup, moving your hand above and below it. If there was a trick to what he was doing, you had no idea what it was. “That is so freakin’ cool,” you gushed softly. “How can you keep it from flying away?”

He was practically glowing. “Basically, I’m counteracting the force of Earth’s gravity for just this object by creating a second center of gravity that only affects the cup.” He pointed to a spot near the center of cup. “It’s around here. So long as the force of the gravitational field I'm creating is greater than Earth’s, the cup will naturally try and be as close to the center as possible. If the gravitational pull were too strong, the cup would go through that point–” he pointed towards the ceiling, “-- and through the roof before coming back down. But if the force is weak, it’ll stay right around the center.”

You took the cup, moving it towards you before letting go. As if attached to a string, the cup moved back to its place, the water inside is sloshing.

The pure, childlike joy on your face was enough for the man across from you to forget, for a moment, the price of his gift.

The date continued on. The two of you went back and forth on a variety of simple, surface level topics. You learned that Chuuya was a dog person and that he enjoyed fashion. He said he had been in Yokohama practically all his life. He told you about his coworkers– no details, but enough to get a sense for the type of Motley Crew they were– and how that day was an anniversary for something, though he never got around to telling you what it was an anniversary of. At one point, before your food had gotten to the table, you asked about his gloves, which he had apparently not realized he was still wearing. He explained that he wore them all the time– he said it made work easier– but that he did have the good sense to take them off.

“I’m not a monster,” he had insisted. “I don’t want to get food on them.”

The conversation was surprisingly easy. He was nervous at first and clearly inexperienced– an observation that you chose to keep to yourself– but funny and over dramatic in a way that made the discussions flow jovially between the two of you. He was a sailor-mouthed, irreverent, sensitive man, you found, and he seemed to take great pleasure in your company and a surprising interest in the more tedious parts of your life: your occupation, your friends, your earlier life, all of which he found strangely fascinating. Though you knew little of substance about him by the end of the meal you shared, you could not shake the feeling that the sort of things you learned– the simple, stupid things most people gave out as icebreakers– held more weight than you could understand.

But you were grateful, nonetheless. You enjoyed talking to him.

Despite your protests, he paid for the both of you, and the two of you left the restaurant cracking up over some embarrassing story about school.

“Three days straight?”

You waved him off, laughter still bubbling from your throat. “I know; it was stupid!” you cried. “I swear I was possessed; by the end of it I thought there was a chance– assuming I didn’t have heart attack first– that I was immortal.” You sighed, trying to regain composure; you were gigglier than normal. “But I passed the class, so fuck that guy.”

He set his hat back on his head, pushing it down to rest snugly. “Fuck that guy,” he agreed, having about as much success as you did in wiping the stupid smile off his face. “God– being a teenager fucking sucked.”

“Dude, amen to that.” You looked in his direction, tears from the cold and from excessive laughter in your eyes. “Chuuya,” you sighed happily, “I am having an excellent time.”

“What a coincidence,” he grinned. “So am I.”

You looked up at the sky, which was significantly darker than you thought it would be; you supposed that you had spent more time in the restaurant than you thought. “I shouldn’t walk back to the station any later on my own, though.” You slipped your hands into your own pockets. “So–”

“Can you stand to be out later if I can get you back to the train?” He cleared his throat, apparently hearing the eagerness in his voice as clearly as you did. It was the same eagerness he had when he first asked you here. “What time is it?”

You took your phone from your coat, flipping it open. “Nine-ish.”

“Nine?” He pursed his lips. “Shit, I— no, I can make that work.” He leaned his weight onto one side. “I have to get somewhere at eleven, but it’s not a formal thing.” He looked away, swallowing. “If you want to, I mean.”

You held out your hand to him. “Nothing in this moment would make me happier than spending more of my time with you, Chuuya.” You wiggled your fingers in invitation. “Where should we go?”

He was staring at you, at your body bathed in the warm light streaming from the restaurant’s windows, at your face which betrayed nothing but pure intentions, to your hand which you offered him freely. He wondered if you knew how easy it would be to kill you if he touched you. He wondered if that was something someone like you considered at all.

“Chuuya?”

He blinked, clearing his throat. It did not matter. He took your hand. “Sorry.” He was breathless. “Lost in thought.”

You let him pull you closer, nudging him playfully with your side. “You’ll end up swallowing a fly if you keep your mouth open like that,” you teased. “Do you really like looking at me that much?”

He straightened up, heat flushing his cheeks. “So what if I do?”

“Well, I don’t imagine it’d taste very good.”

He snorted. “Shut up.” He nudged you back, looking forward. “We can sit by the river for a while if you’d like; the streets will be sketchy here pretty soon but nobody goes by the part of the river we’re by.”

“Really? How come?”

He shrugged. “It’s impractical. Nobody important goes to the river, anyway.”

“Nobody important?”

“Huh? Oh, right; you’re not from around here.” He looked back in the direction of the river, starting to lead the two of you there. “The Port Mafia doesn’t dump bodies into the rivers; they throw them out by the dock.”

“The mafia?” You started. “What, like La Cosa Nostra?”

“What you do and don’t know is really confusing.” He rolled his eyes. “The Port Mafia is a smuggling ring operating primarily out of the city; it has nothing to do with the Italian mob.”

“Oh.” You squeezed his hand, following close behind. “That’s terrifying.”

“It is?”

“To know that people are just chucking bodies frequently enough that you know about it? And that there’s more than one group doing it?” You tittered nervously. “I mean, I’d heard a little about Yokohama, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

He squeezed your hand back, looking over his shoulder in your direction. A wry smile crossed his face. “Huh. That’s funny.”

You walked a bit faster to stay beside him. “What’s funny?”

“That you think it’s weird. I guess it never occurred to me that it was strange.” He tugged you to his side. “You don’t need to be scared, though; I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, will you?”

He shot you a look. “What,” he challenged, “you don’t think I can?”

“I never said that,” you protested. “It was just a very old-fashioned thing to say.” You lowered your voice to a growl. “‘Don’t worry, dollface; I’ll protect you.’ It sounds like something you’d hear in a noir.”

He opened his mouth to argue, considered it. “I guess if you found that weird, that would be an odd thing to say, wouldn’t it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Because what would you need protecting from?”

“Exactly.”

A funny look came onto his face. “That’s funny,” he repeated. “That’s…” He trailed off, slowing to a stop on the road.

You looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just that…” Startling eyes– they seemed to shine under the streetlamps– met yours. “You said you stayed up for three days straight,” he said. “Do you sleep well now?”

You looked away. “I don’t know if I sleep well, exactly; I don’t sleep as much as I should, at least.”

“But it feels normal, doesn’t it? To not sleep much?”

“I suppose.” You turned to face him properly.

His gaze shifted from you to the sky. “You know, I just remembered something.” He started to walk again, pulling you behind. “When I was little, none of us– none of the people I hung out with– had much pocket money, so we made a game out of stealing from the convenience stores in town. The competition was to see who could pay for as little as possible without getting banned from the store. I was never really good at it because I was an easy to read kid, but I remember always going for those… what do you call them? Bonbons?” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “The little wrapped chocolates. I’d always shove one into my pocket because they were always left out and who’s going to give a kid shit for taking a piece of candy?”

You followed beside him quietly, watching him.

He continued. “The other day,” he said, “I went into a convenience store for the ATM, and I must have withdrawn twenty thousand yen or something like that– a good amount. I bought a pack of gum before I left because I didn’t want to be the asshole that just uses an ATM and leaves, and I realized– I think I’d walked a block away when I did– that I had one of those candies in my pocket.” He led you off the path. “I guess I must’ve picked it up while I was paying for the gum. They weren’t even the good chocolates; they were the hundred yen ones, and I knew why I’d grabbed that piece– because nobody’s going to lose their mind over a hundred whatever yen– but I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I’d grabbed it.”

The two of you came to a stop by the riverbed. It was quiet for a Saturday. The water shone under the moonlight, and the man beside you– whose gaze was now transfixed by the reflection– stood next to you, seemingly lost in thought.

You never let go of his hand. “Being a kid kinda sucks,” you said, running your thumb over his clothed knuckles. “You usually don’t have many responsibilities, but you don’t know enough to know what you should and shouldn’t get involved with.”

He looked to you.

“And you get so jealous of the Huck Finn kids– you know the type: no responsibilities, nobody to tell them no– until you get older and realize– too late– that the habits you picked up when you were left to your own devices probably weren’t the healthiest, but by the time you put that together they’re so deeply encoded in your being that they’re a part of who you are and part of how you got this far, so even if they’re unhealthy it’s not like you can give them up now.” You shivered. “It’s frustrating, looking back and thinking about what you could’ve been.”

The two of you stood there, staring at the water. Chuuya wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying, in vain, to keep you from the cold.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of conversation with anyone before.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against him. “It’s funny,” you said. “I don’t think I have either.”

His voice was soft. “I want to see you again.”

“So do I.”

“Then we should.”

“We should.”

You did.

[thatdiabolicalfeminist]

Imagine you're cozy at home, doing exactly what you're usually doing when you scroll tumblr at home. Someone knocks on your door. A couple of teenagers from your neighborhood are there, holding a 1yo baby who is fussing.

They tell you their dad is really sick, he has cancer and is having surgery on Monday. Their big brother, the baby's dad, lost his job after the auto shop where he worked was destroyed suddenly. He hasn't been able to find other work.

They don't want much, just a few dollars, they don't want to bother you, but they have to ask a lot of people because they have no other way to get money.

All the charities have said they can't help, too many people need help rn and there's not enough to go around. The baby keeps having problems with malnutrition, and they're worried about the costs of their dad's surgery.

Does your answer change if those kids aren't white? If the reason they're homeless now is because they are of an ethnicity being targeted for extermination? Does kids being far away make you feel like they're not your responsibility?

James Baldwin wrote that the children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe. Do you believe that? I do. Every child deserves whatever help and support they need. Every single one. As adults, we owe them protection and care.

That's why I'm asking you to think honestly about what you actually can do to help these kids.

This isn't a hypothetical family. Ahmed, the kids' dad, really is scheduled for surgery on Monday. Nader, aged 17, is real and on Tumblr begging for his life and the lives of his family and a lot of people are shutting the metaphorical door in his face. It's largely due to his hardworking determination and perseverance that his family has gotten so close to their goal.

This is their family btw. Just normal people who probably never expected to be in this situation. Look how cute baby Iman is!! Aren't those kids worthy of your help? Aren't their parents, who have been struggling to protect those children, worthy of community care?

Please help them. You can probably spare $5. Maybe you even have more. Maybe you have family members or friends who could help more if you asked and showed them who they'd be helping.

Those kids are, actually, in real life, right now, asking for your help. What will you do?

Verified here (#4)

[kquil]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLE! @ellecdc

i hope you have the best birthday. you're such a dear friend and a wonderful person, and you deserve to be celebrated to the fullest! thank you for being born and for being my friend! thank you for being the person that you are, i and many others, i'm sure, adore you and wouldn't have you any other way ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)!♡

this is how i think the marauders would celebrate your birthday with you (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

my headcanon is that Sirius' love language is gift-giving so, of course, he's taking you on a shopping spree

everything is on him

he will buy everything you touch and look at so be careful

he loves spoiling you and says it's his 'thanks' for putting up with him but we know what's really going on  (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)  

this also gives him the perfect excuse to have you all to himself for, at least, an hour -- 'cheeky bastard' is what James calls him for this

naturally, the shopping spree/spoil session for Sirius ends soon enough but he still tries to steal you away from Remus and James while they're distracted

but James doesn't let that slide and easily catches up to steal you back

Remus has his struggles with money but that only means he's an excellent gift-giver

he's paid special attention to your interests and gives you the best, most personal gift for your birthday

so happy with your gift, you give him a big kiss on the cheek, enough for your lipstick to transfer

Remus can't stop grinning and has to hide his smirk behind his hand

it's because James and Sirius are immature and can't stop pouting at you for giving him a kiss and not them too...

'you just have to up your gift-giving game, like Remus, and you'll earn yourself a kiss' -- is what you tell them and makes them pout even more which makes you laugh

they started that morning by showing up at your doorstep, loudly singing Happy Birthday with balloons, party hats and confetti ready to shower over you

they deliberately sing off-key and grin ear to ear at your embarrassed self, still in your pyjamas when you open the door only to shake your head at them and try to hide your grin

you're embarrassed but can't walk away, they're too loveable to walk away from

when it's all over, one by one, they open their arms for a hug to which you awkwardly try to give them a side hug but they weren't having any of it

they pull you close and force you to hug them properly

Sirius: We deserve a proper hug, princess *kisses your nose*

Remus: We've earned a nice long hug and that's what we're getting *nuzzles and kisses the top of your head*

James: *completely ignores your attempt to not hug him properly* Happy birthday, pretty girl *kisses your temple*

they present you with a beach-themed, heart-shaped birthday cake and, while Remus gets the candles and Sirius prepares his lighter, James explains how they wanted to bake the cake themselves but ultimately decided that that wasn't the best idea

'thank god you decided not to, i like my birthday cakes edible,' you say and giggle when Sirius lets out a dramatic gasp of betrayal

Remus rolls his eyes and James just gets pouty -- but it's all in good fun

Sirius: Σ(°△° ꪱꪱꪱ)

Remus: (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

James: (ಡ᎔ಡ)

Ending the day, the boys set up a bonfire at a place where there's a really good view and the boys make sure to take care of everything

But you won't sit still and keep trying to help them

They want to make sure you don't have to lift a single finger so James sits down and pulls you into his lap

he's never letting you go, not until Remus and Sirius have everything set up

you get fussy and make the excuse that you’re heavy

Sirius: *from a distance* LIES!

James: Heavy? what do you mean? *easily lifts you princess-style from his lap before setting you down and trapping you again*

Remus: *also from a distance* YEAH! YOU SHOW HER PRONGS!

you get embarrassed but then make the excuse of being sweaty and stinky from the trek up but James is unphased -- he's been in a men's locker room, he knows what real stink smells like

James smooshes his face into your neck and inhales deeply and exaggeratedly before giving the verdict -- 'you smell just fine to me, love. in fact, you smell divine~'

he wiggles his brows at you and you huff in defeat before wrapping your arms around him with a pout, James just laughs and the two of you appreciate the gorgeous view together

earlier, because Sirius and Remus prepare the bonfire, James insisted that he has to be the one to give your bouquet

the guys get a good barbeque cooking before roasting marshmallows and making smores

Remus is the first to start feeding you small bites before Sirius begins doing it too and so does James

by the end, when you're all full of good food and laughs, James sneaks off and returns with a stunning bouquet for you

James presents your bouquet on one knee just to be dramatic and get you flustered again

Remus does a toast dedicated to you and everyone claps with Sirius hooting in your honour

are you guys together or just really good friends? i'll leave that to you, darling (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

this is brought to you by one of my dearest and longest friends on here @somewereinthegalaxi or @thebestofoneshots Lilly has spoiled me so much with her love and generosity for my past birthdays, i'm taking a page out of her book now and spreading that same joy and love myself, she's an angel -- FROM NOW ON MY MOOTS ARE NOT SAFE FROM ME SPOILING THEM THE WAY I'VE BEEN SPOILED! (at least, the moots that i know the birthdays of (ಥ‿ಥ))

i have this scheduled to post at 00:00 on 10th November GMT time so I hope it gets to you okay and that you enjoy it! also, thank you for answering my questions (⁎⁍̴̛ ₃ ⁍̴̛⁎) -- you really helped me with completing my harmless side project hehe~

[northwest-cryptid]

With the amount of notes this has I'm sure someone has already explained something like this but probably in a much better way than I can. However I'll try to explain it as best I can. I want to emphasize here that this information is based on conversations and discussions that I have had, with people who openly refer to themselves as Right Wingers (or who were previously Right Wingers) on forums and websites. While I am a Leftist and can't speak to how the Right operates from personal experience, I can speak as someone who has spoke to individuals who do know from personal experience.

The general gist is that the thing you need to keep in mind is that, so many of us on the Left have an understanding of what the problem really is. We get that the problem isn't that someone happens to be a man because of how they were born of because of their gender identity. However as someone with far less (if any) understanding of those societal issues they do not. They see the Left as saying "men are inherently bad." It gives them no recourse to not be a problem, they may not even actively be part of the problem yet but they don't know that the problem is larger than "you're a man, and I don't like that."

Meanwhile that meanspo you speak of, gives them direction. It gives them a direct out from being a person who is looked down on; and promises them that if they can just do these things on a checklist, they'll be respected, they'll live a good life; they'll be an "Alpha" or whatever. It's an easy decision when you feel like one side is telling you not to be what you are, because what you are is somehow inherently a problem; and they (the loud majority) hate you too much to explain how. While the other side is saying you're just not as good of a man as you should be, you're just a beta male because you don't do X, Y, Z.

As someone who is a Leftist who spends a lot more time than I probably should; actually talking to Right Wingers online. This is literally something people have told/asked me outright.

"Do you expect anyone in their right mind, to side with people who say they're wrong for just being a man; when the other side would offer them a ladder to be on top?"

If you notice, this statement neglects the actual problems, it summarizes the issue down to "you're wrong for just being a man." Which isn't what many of us are saying at all, but is what the Right, and individuals who would be converted to it; are hearing.

You are correct in saying it's objectively worse, in that yes; the Right are horrible people. They thrive on treating others on their side poorly to stay "above" them. However they always hold the promise over others that if you make enough money, if you work out, if you have enough sex; then you can also be on the top. The top doesn't seem that great when the bottom is comfortable enough. They have to ensure you feel like garbage but make sure you also have a clear understanding that it's only because you're not doing enough to climb the ladder.

Leftists don't really offer any similar ladder. Our issues with sexism, inequality, the patriarchy as a whole; etc. are a lot harder to break down. Not to mention that a good man isn't really given any reprieve from these problems, he's simply aware of them. A good man, no matter how good; can't just end racism or sexism himself. We don't do a lot to actually give men a proper course of action, we don't give them an easy to follow guide on how to be a good man by just doing quantifiable things, it's not that simple. We just tell them they're bad because the culture they grow up in is predisposed to turn young men into sexist, racist, bigots.

Obviously we're not all actually just saying "men are bad, fuck men; fuck you if you are a man." Some of us, I'd argue a lot of us, are actually trying to educate people as to the wider issues around "being a man" so to speak. I think that's sort of what leads to this question of "how could anyone in their right mind willingly side with the Right?" It's really no different than how cults recruit depressed and desperate people. The Right isn't watching for people to sort of react poorly once to a Leftist and then immediately jump in like "hey kid come join the Right!" It's more that they prey on dejected men who don't feel like they have direction. The Right gives them direction, it's awful; but it's something quantifiable. Last week they were a "beta male" this week they're going to the gym, they're talking to women; they're applying to jobs that pay more or whatever. Because some "Alpha male" made a video, blog post, podcast; etc. that told them that these things will make them successful, get them out of the rut they're in; and fix their problems.

It's a problem that can't be simplified down to a singular answer unfortunately, it's obviously much larger than that. This isn't meant to be a catch all "I've solve the grand mystery of why people are bigots!" Rather I'm just trying to offer some insight into one such potential cause.

the idea that reactionary spaces are attractive to men because they treat them kindly unlike The Left is so odd because whenever I come across that content it's essentially the same dynamic as pro ana "meanspo". if you don't know what that is, it's "motivation" based on degrading the viewer to the point where they can't "make excuses" and not become anorexic, or in this case a true Alpha Male. I feel like thisis objectively worse for someone's mental health than The Left

[daenysx]

Okay blurb req for old money!Aemond who is ALSO a model for really expensive brands and his gf is a photographer👀 inspired by the photoshoot and that one specific blue leopard print pic🙂‍↕️🤭

oh my god i hope i did well, thank you, rue !! <33333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

cw; modern!aemond being a hopeless romantic, suggestive, kisses, no but he's really so in love it hurts, photographer!reader and model!aemond can be a new favorite wow

"are you sure this is professional?"

aemond has no shame, honestly. you don't think you can be expected to be 'professional' when your boyfriend looks like he'll ruin your entire existence by looking like the most charming being in the entire universe.

his blue eyes sparkle in the latest photos you take, a stark contrast with his platinum blonde hair. flowy strands make you want to pull aemond to yourself enough to give him a good kiss on his neck as your fingers travel in his hair. maybe you can do that when you get to be alone with him. oh, you'll definitely do that when you're alone.

"i believe i'm extremely professional." you murmur, holding his hand to make him pose the way you want. "if you stop being so distracting, it'll be even better."

he smirks. a small quirk of lovely lips, he's handsome and he knows it. he leans into your space and your hold on your camera tightens. you will not kiss him. you can't, there are other people here, and this is business. you take a step back.

"i'm only doing what you tell me to do." he says like he's the most innocent man. "you can't say i'm not being good."

you give him a small smile. he's in the mood for playing.

"i didn't say that." you say, quietly. "come on, a few more for me and we'll be done."

aemond fixes his posture, your one hand still holding his. "of course." he says, coolly. "you know i can actually be good for you. as many as you want, you'll have it."

you lick your lips to control your face expressions. not the time, not the place. just like you say to him, only a few more and you'll be done.

the clothes he's wearing make aemond look taller as if it's actually possible. you admire his poses, his confidence and his awareness of how good he looks. he turns his head for another picture, his eyes following your every move. it's like a wordless conversation between you two.

"can i get one with a smile?" you ask him, your hand directing his last pose. "not too wide, just- a subtle one, please."

"i'm afraid that's not possible if i'm going to give you a smile." he flirts. "maybe you should let someone else take the photo if you need a subtle one."

you hear two girls giggling at the corner. he really thinks he's so fun, doesn't he? it's his world here, he knows how to charm his way and he certainly knows how to be a flirt. you're thankful he's already yours, it would be impossible to handle him otherwise.

after another fifteen minutes, you're all done. you go next to aemond, leaving your camera. people around you move quickly to clean up the place, and fix all the mess that has been made. aemond takes your hand to brush a kiss on your knuckles. his eyes are warm this time, so clear under this lights.

"what do you think?" he asks. "good?"

you nod softly. "probably the best in a long time."

"kind of hard not to." he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer. "i had the best photographer."

you give him a kiss on his cheek but that's all. he's been teasing you all day long. "do you flirt with all your photographers like this, mr. targaryen?"

"absolutely not." he answers, cheekily. "my flirting skills are reserved for only one person."

"i think you owe me a drink." you tell him. "even working is easier than trying to deal with your incessant teasing."

"we'll have dinner first." he says, kissing the side of your head. he doesn't say, but he's tired. "think of what you want to eat when i'm changing, okay? i have a few options if you can't decide."

[jweekgoji]

I love your platonic hcs with five!! Can you make more please?:33

Yandere!Five/Reader [platonic/hcs]

tw: very soft yan!dad!five, reader described as child here, mentions of Five/Dolores romantic relationship, brief mentions of Five's past trauma, hints on eating disorders, overprotective behavior word count: ~900. a/n: Thank you for your request, Anon. It was good to write something about my old interest after quite a break. I made this is mostly based on information I had read months ago from some book. Tiny sequel for this.

Kinda sad that tua fics aren't as popular as before and slowly dying.

Let's ignore the ending and other moments we shouldn't talk and pretend like...everything ended well for the Hargreeves family! All the siblings mostly live separately from each other, but they still care for one another and meet on birthdays and other holidays.

Five meets a young, pretty lady during one of his undercover missions, and after that «love at first sight» trope, their relationship grows strong, leading to Five finally abandoning his job as an agent (honestly, good for him).

I really like the idea of Five having a quiet, peaceful life somewhere far away with his family. His wife is a popular fashion model and earns enough money for the family, while Five is the one who stays at the house, keeping you safe and raising the way he wished he was.

Five is scared to repeat the past mistakes his family members made; that's why I see him being extra overprotective with you. He wants to give you everything he never had in his childhood, and it often leads to you growing into some spoiled brat.

I can see him pausing for a moment and having that «wait...WHAT?» look when you reply with a sassy remark, and that's the moment he sees that you're basically becoming the tiny version of his young self. Part of him is proud, he knows that you will be able to stand up for yourself in the future, but the other part...he's not really happy to deal with someone who uses his own methods against him, as we can tell from the show (points at the other versions of Five).

Five is that parent who wakes up early in the morning to prepare breakfast for you. He has a sweet tooth, but he avoids giving you too much sugar, like I mentioned before. By the moment you wake up, you see a plate of eggs and bacon carefully formed into a smiley face with a glass of juice next to it.

I see Five spending a lot of time reading about parenting. He is well-educated enough in many fields, but it's just something he likes to do when he is free from house chores. Sitting in the chair with glasses on and a warm blanket laid on his lap, it's a heartwarming sight. Dolores will return from work later this day, only to see her husband having a nap in their little library and their child eeping next to him.

Five is especially careful with the food he prepares for you. After decades of loneliness in the apocalypse, he had few food choices. Every day felt like a constant survival, and the idea of you experiencing the same at such a young age terrifies him. He unconsciously gives you a little too much food, constantly asking “you need more?” just to make sure you're well-fed. Five might pay less attention to himself, but you're getting the best meal ever.

Five gives me the idea of that dad who will hold you close next to him 24/7. Yandere Five just can't bear the idea of you being somewhere away from home for more than an hour. There's a deep conflict in his heart, and his wife always tells him that it's fine. You're growing up, it's natural for you to try and separate from your parents, but this bothers him to insanity.

There's no more apocalypse, no more The Commission; the world is quiet now; there's no need for him to worry about. He never argues with you about it, the moment you leave your home to meet with a friend, your phone will cry from constant messages like “are you okay?”, “where are you now?”, “when will you go back?”. He needs to know it in case, well...just something happens, he's responsible adult, after all.

For most parents, Five seems like the ideal father figure, but he gets a little overbearing sometimes. When you snap at him, giving something like “just leave me alone!”, he would get quiet immediately. It is a significant difference between him now and in the past.

Usually he never lets people to dismiss him like that, he would have dragged you back and lectured you about disrespecting him, but now he's just sad. He will let you cool down, just to think what he has done wrong.

Five loves spending time with you, mainly because he never had the chance to spend some time with his own family. There were missions, there were trainings, there were constant fighting, etc., and after his retirement he plans to give his full attention to you. He knows a lot, from how to solve some difficult equations under 15 minutes to how to kill a person with a pencil, but it's not the same when the person whom you trust the most teacher you everything.

Reginald never bothered to spend a simple father and son moments, how to be a man and deal with various situations in his life, that's why he wants to teach you of something simple. He knows it's not as impressive, but it's quality time that matters.

[im-a-king-baby]

I was just watching videos of Omar on tour and it reminded me of ELYN. The way he is on stage is so ELYN vibe. I feel like I’m watching the chaos tour haha (minus the negative stuff)

<3 <3 <3 Hiiiii, thank you!!! It's been fun to see all the pictures and videos coming from the concerts and play spot the difference with my mental pictures of Simme. (Sadly I haven't been able to go, very rude of Omar not to go to Australia on his Europe tour. We're in Eurovision! That makes us basically part of Europe.)

Also since you reminded me of it and my November resolution was to try to post more things, here is a Simme Chaos tour snippet that is (mostly) the positive stuff <3 😅

(And for the reblogs, this is a prequel snippet to Everybody Loves You Now @ AO3)

He has his first solo concert in Europe. Not counting the promo events, or the industry shows, or the monopolized Open Mic Nights.

The first show in a concert venue, which was booked in advance, with tickets sold that have his name on them, printed in all-caps.

Of course it’s tiny compared to the stadium they were in last night opening for Ariana. A theatre most used for plays with a single bathroom backstage in place of a dressing room and where Candace had had to drag them all out to the alley where the van was parked for the pre-show pep-talk so they couldn’t be heard on stage over the support act.

But Simon has a support act now. There are other solo shows booked, in and around the Ariana dates. Every day Candace is making calls and emailing contacts and adding things to the calendar pinned up on the inside of the van. Filling up all the gaps.

Which is good. It’s great. They’re gaining momentum and Simon is getting better at jumping from show to interview to show, at catching sleep in bursts crammed between commitments, at finding products that cover up the exhaustion on his face. And now he’s got a solo show, and Candace is In Talks about the second album that he might be able to work with a songwriter to put his own songs on, and he’s in Europe again for the first time in… months.

“This could be the start of bigger things,” Candace had said in the alley, while Simon bounced on his toes to keep warm, already dressed in his show outfit of a black mesh tank and jeans slashed open on the sides. “So drink it all in tonight, we’re only going bigger from here.”

He’d thought he was used to it by now, the noise of the crowd, the sight of phone lights spread out before him like stars, but it turns out it’s different when they’re all there for him. When they’re screaming his name before he’s even stepped on stage, rather than him having to slowly win them over. When he runs out onto the stage and the screaming ramps up and hits like a wall and he can feel the smile stretching at his cheeks that he can’t even pretend to hold back. He might cry, actually has to sniff a few times, turning away from the crowd to pull himself together.

There were so many moments he thought he wouldn’t get to have this. When the label said his songs weren’t good enough, when the graphs showed sales were falling, the shows where he opened and the crowd barely seemed to notice, the phone call in Texas to ask what the plans were for the tour break only to get Rachel’s Assistant ‘Ms McKenzie has decided to cull her list and focus on acts with more commercial appeal.’

“Sim-me! Sim-me! Sim-me!” The crowd chants, falling into rhythm and his heart seems to speed up to match Sim-me Sim-me and it doesn’t matter that it’s three hundred people rather than ten thousand, he spins around to the mic and there’s enough light from the spots and the phones to pick out faces. Girls with glitter dots around their eyes, boys in black eyeliner edged with gold, people in Simme T-shirts, waving signs saying DANCE LIKE THIS, people who came to his show who traveled and paid money and got dressed up because they wanted to see him.

“Oh my god, hi. Hello. Hi. I love you.” There was a script, he thinks, but he has absolutely no idea what it said. It’s only thanks to the set-list taped to the floor by his mic stand that he can even remember what he’s meant to sing. “Hello Cologne. This is the first official show of what I think we’re all agreed is the Chaos Tour.”

They laugh along with him and they cheer and Simon can only hope he’s still capable of singing around this wild, insane grin on his face because it absolutely isn’t going away. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for supporting me. The fact that I’m here, the fact that we can do this at all, is all because of you talking and filming and sharing and streaming and this was my dream for so long I can’t say thank you enough for making it come true.”

The fight is lost, the fight is over, he is absolutely crying as they scream again, someone shouts 'Simmers forever,' and more people shout 'Simme,' and the exhaustion melts away like it was never there.

He’s not cold, or tired, or lonely, or afraid. It feels like getting his song picked for the jubilee, like seeing Wilhelm running after Sara’s car, like everything.

“Now I hope you’re all here to dance,” he says. “Because all of us up here, We Wanna Dance.”

Kevan hits the intro, the backing track hits the beat, and every single person in front of him starts singing. Every word, thrown back at him. Screaming, applauding, chanting his name.

And it’s all worth it. Whatever it takes. To have this.

[bretonalchemist]

i NEED to expand on this 10 years later/the farmer never moved to sdv dream so here it is :

- Sebastian left and became a very successful programmer who lives in a high rise building in Zuzu City and wears suits, but he's very jaded about the world. He sneers at the optimism of his little brother, but somewhere deep inside, he misses the person he used to be.

- Alex has made it pro and he's good but he's also empty inside and he turns to alcohol to fill it up. He calls his grandparents every evening and visits them every weekend religiously. He cries into the dark once Evelyn hangs up.

- Shane has a made a few suicide attempts but Jas had a breakdown at about 13 yo and slapped the shit out of him so he's trying to get better, he stopped drinking and is going to therapy but he is living life through gritted teeth

- Sam is a semi-famous rockstar. He thinks he loves it. He doesn't. He actually doesn't really know what to do with his life now that he has reached his goal, and desperately tries to fill the hole in his heart by buying extravagant gifts for each member of his family. He's always smiling but his eyes are so, so tired

- Elliott has written several books and published none, because he lacks the confidence. He feels like his masterpiece is just at his fingertips and often spends entire nights feverishly writing. He's work drunk. His clothes and fingers are stained with ink. Willy hired him as a clerk to run the shop when he's on the sea, and that's the only money he makes, and he mostly spends it on supplies and alcohol at the saloon. He's become too thin with haunted, crazy eyes half the time.

- Harvey became the new mayor of Pelican Town when Lewis resignes for health reasons. The whole town is growing older and he feels his workload getting bigger. He feels guilty that he cannot keep al of them healthy, even if it's not a logical thought. He doesn't have the time for any hobbies anymore. He doesn't even have the time to realize that his own health is deteriorating. The man is in burnout.

- Haley also left for Zuzu City because she got noticed on social media and became a model. She's finally living the life she dreamed of, full of fancy clothes and sparkles and so so many people taking care of her without her asking. And she hates it. All of it. And she doesn't know why and it drives her crazy. She becomes hateful and angry, the cliché of an ungrateful celebrity. She doesn't dare contact her sister because she doesn't want to admit that she was right about everything, so she's alone

- Leah has moved to the farm and become a farmer. Her ex was stalking her and buying every art piece she made, so she stopped completely. She slowly started making art again, but now, every piece she finishes gives her panick attacks and she destroys them in a frenzy, crying and hyperventilating the whole time. She adopted a big german shepherd that serves as a guard dog, a farm dog and a support animal, named Minnie

- Penny created a montessori school and Pam takes kids from Zuzu City to Pelican Town so they can go to the school. She has a small classroom of 12 kids, all ages up to 10. Her mother is SO proud of her and she is happy to do wake up to go to work everyday. She still reads books in her spare time and is much more confident. But she kinda feels like she's going to become a crazy cat lady, because none of the bachelors left in Pelican Town seem interested in her. She doesn't want to seems desperate but she kinda is, the kids she takes care of make her heart twinge with pain everytime they slip up and call her "mom"

- Abigail has become a tattoo artist, she set up her shop in the community center and people come from far away to get her art on their skin. None of her friends are still in town, so she became buddies with Shane, who frowns at her everytime she downs a can of beer. Her parents divorced and her mother went back to her grandparents'. She still lives with Pierre, but she's old enough to realise that he is not her biological father, and that's the reason why her parents separates. She is angry about everything. She used to play the drums to release some frustration but it started not being enough, so she finally bought a sword from Marlon and went into the mines. She fights monsters when she's so angry she can't speak and her eyes seem to throw curses at people. Her body is full of callouses and scars from all her ventures into the mines. The wizard tries to approach her once but she punched him square in the nose. She is fairly sure he sometimes casts protective spells on her, she can feel her skin prickling weirdly, but it just angers her and makes her take even more risks.

- Emily has started a Youtube channel and uploads meditation, ASMR and hypnosis videos. She's built a loving community and feels like she's making a difference. But she's also losing grasp with reality. She's making enough money not to work at Gus' anymore, but she is so focused on her community that she is going out less and less

i had a dream that Fields of Mistria had an update and the map was a bit bigger, but also npcs came to visit from out of Mistria and it was the Stardew bachelors/bachelorettes !! except they were all like 10 years older, also Maru and Sebastian had a new baby brother who was like... 7 maybe ? and he followed Maru around like a duckling because he admired her so much. but Maru was so much colder, she had lost a leg and had a robotic prosthetic instead, and i was trying to uncover the story of WHAT HAPPENED ???

[natsmagi]

what are your opinions abt people using ych as bases? don't want to start anything but my friends said its theft but it's just a pose? as long as u don't make it your own or smth

ohh very interesting!! i think maybe its being viewed a bit incorrectly here? because arent ych's usually art commissions? theyre little poses an artist has drawn out for you to commission for ur character to be in. this is a good way of doing comms if u dont really have a lot of time for elaborate and fully unique pieces but are still in need of a couple bucks

so honestly, i dont think they should be used as bases...... you can definitely use them as inspo! but dont draw over them like one would a base..... it feels disrespectful to the artist and kind of takes work and income away from them. so, if you see a ych you like, its better to just commission the artist! or, if comms arent open, draw ur own variant from scratch! its ok to use other peoples work as inspiration, just dont draw over it if theyve not given expressed permission to do so

no one can own a pose, this much is true, but they do own the ych drawing. so, when it comes to the ych drawing itself, what the artist says goes

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[dramarants]

Wanting more homoeroticism in the tension between the show’s leads as the narrative introduces greater intimacy and higher stakes between them, especially in a landscape that lacks queer representation who isn’t a villain or dies within one or two episodes, but also recognizing that core values/motivation for these characters lie in their relationships with one of two major female characters in an on screen sausage fest where the only other woman is a morally reprehensible femme fatale and erasing and/or vilifying female leads in favor of conventionally attractive males is a common practice observed in fandoms that’s rooted in misogyny and justified under the guise of rejecting heteronormativity, thinly veiled double standards, or claiming the woman is simply not interesting enough and not wanting to bolster that mindset

[faithfromanewperspective]

concert tickets are not an investment. hate how everything in this economy we’re like ‘ooh what if I buy it cheap then hike the price up and resell’ and it’s perfectly normal—it’s not. it’s not okay. what’s happening is you’re taking advantage of someone who’s really desperate to see this artist when if they wanna spend that money on the artist, the money should go to the artist themselves. who probably don’t change as much as they could because they’ve set a price that is financially sustainable for themselves and accessible to most who want to go not just the wealthy or those who don’t spend money on any other artists. and I’m not talking about if you can’t go to your concert and resell your ticket closer to it for like 25% more to get a bit back for all the time you spent waiting in queue for a concert you don’t even get to go to. the reason concert tickets are so hard to get is because there are people competing to buy them who are just gonna resell them for absurd amounts of money and honestly? as concertgoers and fans of artists we deserve better. our artists deserve better. they didn’t put a middleman in there. we don’t need it.