#may i offer you a poll in this tiring times?

[trabandovidas]

Wenas mutuals vamo a ver a quien lo cargaron más!!

[kodii-ak]

KILL APATHY & VOTE

I'm tired, too, but voter resources under the cut because we're in survival mode right now:

- Find your nearest polling location: https://www.vote.org/polling-place-locator/

- Check your voter registration (some states allow same day registration): https://www.vote.org/am-i-registered-to-vote/

- Need a ride to your nearest polling location? The NAACP is giving out free Lyft codes: https://asalh.org/naacp-is-offering-free-rides-on-election-day/

- If you are still in line when the polls close, stay and request a provisional ballot.

- You are not required to disclose who you voted for.

- Many states legally allow for voter leave. Check your state to see how much time you may have for voter leave and speak with your supervisors.

- Chances are your state may have resources to track the status of your ballot. Keep an eye out!

(I create this piece and raise awareness on my own behalf)

[dell-amor-te]

“Three For a Girl”

Word Count: 3,029.

Warning(s): No beta but I try my best, slight language.

Pairing: F!Rook x Lucanis Dellamorte.

Summary: A look into a typical (very early) morning in the Dellamorte residence. (AKA the winner of that Dadcanis poll from a month ago, finally up and ready for reading.)

🐦‍⬛Read on ao3.

One for silence.

A single fussing sound—not even a proper cry—disturbed the otherwise placid night air. Perhaps it didn’t wake Lucanis in and of itself, but it certainly did nothing to ease him further into unconsciousness.

Maybe she’ll go back to sleep.

It was wishful thinking, and entirely misguided.

More fussing soon followed the first. Lucanis sat up, blinking a few times to allow his eyes time to adjust to being open for the first time in hours. Despite only having moonlight that snuck in through the windows to illuminate vague outlines and shapes of furniture in the bedroom, he knew his way around well enough to carefully pry himself from underneath the covers.

Despite his lacking sleep routine, he still found himself hesitant to leave the warmth of his shared bed. While it may not have been as lavish as some magisters, it was still a far cry from the meager cot shoved into the corner of a pantry he had slept on, an even further cry from the Ossuary’s cage that had acted as his home for a year before he was recruited by the Veilguard.

He rolled his shoulders, further unwinding from his rest.

Everyone had opinions when it came to babies. Lucanis learned that lesson before their daughter had even been born.

Let them cry, otherwise they’ll become too dependent on you. Pick them up and soothe them so they go back to sleep. Don’t sleep with them in your bed. Keep them between the two of you until they’re big enough for a crib.

It was endless. For a while, Lucanis had been sure it would end once the baby was born; when she became tangible and all too real and there was no more time before he was a father.

Her father.

When the newborn continued to fuss, Lucanis sighed in defeat.

His love’s sleep-heavy voice drawled out a yawn from the opposite side of the bed, pulled from sleep by their fussing daughter. In the dark, he leaned over the bed to plant a kiss against warm, familiar skin. He would never grow tired of being able to give such affection, just as he would never grow tired of receiving it in return.

“I’ve got her, anima mia. I’m awake, anyway.” A yawn interrupted him. “You stay put.”

A noncommittal groan assured him that his offer would not be fought tonight.

Between the three of them, it was hard to say who was getting the least amount of sleep these days.

Lucanis pulled himself up from his leaning position against the bed before retrieving and redressing himself in the housecoat he had haphazardly shrugged off before falling into said bed just hours ago. The Crow raised his arms above his head, catlike in comportment while he eased cramped muscles back to waking limberness. He rounded the bed and carefully freed his disquieted daughter from her bassinet.

“Now, now, diavolina. You’ve already woken us up, hm? No need to get louder.” His teasing was gentle and warm, not that she could have understood him, anyway.

He was rather pleased. She was growing everyday, but her changing weight was just as familiar to him as any weapon of choice. He certainly enjoyed holding her more than any of his treasured daggers.

Two for surprise.

He pressed a kiss to one of her round cheeks, both because she deserved it and to make sure she wasn’t too warm. He placed another one to the center of her forehead. She was warm, as always, but not feverish.

“Sweet Andraste, this is quite the tantrum.” Despite the chastising nature of his words, Lucanis’ lips were pulled upwards in a gentle smile, and his tone remained impossibly soft. “What’s the matter, my pearl?” He all but crooned, muttering a string of Antivan that she understood as much as she did any other language at this point.

He had done so since before her birth.

Having one parent fluent in Antiva’s famous tongue and one who still kept the language of the elven people alive, they did their best to introduce her to both, along with the common parlance she would need more than anything. After all, she was both elven and Antivan. Why should she not know both parts of her lineage?

Lucanis studied her, thinking better of his actions with a quiet hum, then he pressed another kiss to her other cheek.

“Three for good measure.”

She was quieter in his arms, thankfully, though she remained far more awake than he anticipated. Dark-bright eyes stared up at him, fully alert despite the lateness of the hour.

Or was it considered early now?

Either way, if she had no designs to return to sleep, then he was going to need coffee.

And soon.

Four’s exercise.

Rather than fussing, Lucanis listened with a half-smile as his daughter’s vocalizations became more agreeable, now that she had gotten her way.

Barely a month old, and the half-elf already knew exactly how to get her way. But, to be entirely honest, she had managed to wrap Lucanis around her little finger the moment he first held her in his arms. With her safely in his arms once again, he made his way out of the bedroom, leaving his love to continue sleeping undisturbed.

She babbled softly, entirely nonsensical, though each sound meant the world to Lucanis.

“Is that right? Well, forgive me for presuming such a thing about you, my pearl. However, I feel I should tell you that your mother is a very good sleeper, unlike we two. And you’ve given her quite the time this past month…and the months before that, too. I think the least we can do is let her sleep tonight, don’t you?”

He stopped at the door to the room just down the hall, opening the door with a slight push using one of his knuckles.

There was no one to greet him on the other side of the door, though the room was plenty filled.

A menagerie of different gifts from Teia (and Viago) to mark the occasion of her birth, sat alongside, well, not gifts, but offerings from other Crows who wanted to sit well with the Dellamorte’s. A large, entirely too oversized plush bird—a crow, of course—from her Uncle Illario, headed a small army of other toys and other playthings from her other aunts and uncles.

A carved dragon accompanied by a wyvern that Davrin had made, each holding a griffon feather in their mouths. Gold relics that acted more as decor than anything a newborn would be interested in beyond their shine. They were courtesy of Taash’s own private collection. An intricate mobile was suspended in the air above the unused crib, crafted and enchanted by none other than Bellara. A bundle of books had been a gift of Neve’s, while Varric had also supplied a tiny collection of his own.

Harding had also gifted a myriad of frames that now hung all over the room. Not one was empty, each one contained a pressed flower or other such plant, each collected along the course of the adventure that had led to the little girl’s parents meeting (again), and arguably to the existence of the little girl at all. The girl’s mother had insisted it was simply due to her elevated and inconsistent hormones, but it has certainly been the gift that had made her cry the most.

Well, apart from Emmrich’s gifts.

The crib was one of a kind, and Dalish made. Made by Nöa’s late mother’s clan to celebrate Nöa’s adoption, treasured all the same as any birth. The blankets, too, were Emmrich’s doing—handmade, soft but tapestry-like. One sported the colors of the Volkarin family banner. One was patterned with the sigil of the Dellamorte house. Another denoted Nöa’s two clans, as well as her allegiance to the Veil Jumpers.

The knitted halla penned in the crib were gifts from different Veil Jumpers. The only one to wear a scowl was apparently meant to mimic Strife, no doubt gifted by Irelin, though she had never admitted to it.

The room was more like a shrine to the infant’s very existence rather than a nursery proper. The crib hadn’t been slept in once yet, as instead she had been routinely settled in the cot (a gift from Emmrich) at the foot of their bed, and only then when she wasn’t where she was now—in one of her parent’s arms.

Lucanis had never allowed himself to dream of a life like this before. Death was his calling, and his desires did not exist outside of that calling. And yet he had hesitated, any time he saw an infant, his mind would try to wander. He would wonder.

He never could have dreamed of this, though. Not of how much he loved her mother, nor how much he loved her, their daughter, and certainly not how much she was loved by people who also loved him.

While the rumination meant the world to him, the muse behind his considerations was less than enthused by their stop.

“As you wish, my pearl.”

He turned to leave the room, shifting her to one arm so he could pull the door closed behind him.

The house was impossibly still in the liminal hours of night, almost like a crypt. Lucanis found it comforting, this quiet. No demon in his mind, or hanging on his ear.

He made his way down to the kitchen easily enough in the dark, though he remained mindful of each step until the light of his beloved’s enchanted candles licked against the flooring to illuminate the rest of his path.

“Alright, now.” Lucanis said with a quiet sigh. “We’ll have to wrap you up so I can use both of my hands, hm?”

The brightly-woven sash-turned-sling—an impromptu gift from Bellara from the night of the infant’s birth—had been thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs after its last use, and there it still hung in half-draped glory, ready for its next wearing. With one hand, Lucanis slid it over his shoulder before settling his daughter within, securing her to his chest with a deftness that had not come as immediately as his current proficiency would belie.

The sling had been the first gift their daughter received after her…well, less than ideal birth.

Born a month before she was due—by their estimations—in a magister’s home after said magister’s failed abduction attempt. While Lucanis would never regret the active role he got to play in bringing her into the world, he had wished more than once that the ordeal of bringing a child into the world hadn’t further compounded on his wife by happening in a house that had played the stage for so much of her trauma.

Not to mention Nöa’s immediate detainment after the body of said magister had been discovered, or the subsequent two days she had been incarcerated while evidence was collected to prove her innocence. Two days where a newly postpartum Nöa had been forced into an unearned cell, left to tend to her own postpartum care while Lucanis fought both to prove her claim as well as care for a newborn who had been ripped from her mother.

Lucanis was often glad to be rid of Spite, but that was the first time he was truly thankful to be disconnected from the demon. He could only imagine what sort of reaction to the entire situation the demon could have come up with, his own emotions having been a dark storm enough on their own without Spite’s additional support.

Even weeks later, it was difficult not to look at his wife and daughter from time to time and remember those emotions. He would do anything for them and their safety. And he had proven it time and time again.

But it was hard to tell where he would be today if he had given in to his own desires that day.

Five for a slaughter.

Lucanis yawned, setting to work preparing his coffee. The motions were familiar, comfortable.

Once everything was said and done and Nöa was emancipated and they were reunited to adapt to life as a family of three, the issue of what to name their daughter finally presented itself.

During the course of the pregnancy, they must have discussed hundreds of names, for sons and daughters alike. But in the end, none of them matched up to the beginning their daughter had, nor did they reflect what continued to be a theme in her parents’ life.

And so they had named her Judex, their judgment—their justice, just like the blade of old Tevinter law.

A fitting irony for the freeborn daughter of an emancipated elven slave.

Six for the thrill.

“Now, the trick to any good cup of coffee is to make sure you’ve got the right balance, Jude.�� He told her.

Taash had been the first one to call her Jude, and the nickname quickly caught on.

Judex remained unfazed by his explanation of proper brewing techniques, already half-asleep again, her half-tipped ear pressed to the skin right above his heart. No doubt lulled by the familiarity of being wrapped against her father’s chest, and, Lucanis liked to think, the smell of fresh Antivan coffee beans.

Seven means more sovereigns.

He was pouring a stream of fresh coffee into his favorite mug not a moment too soon. He didn’t wait for it to cool before he took a first savoring sip. He nodded, approving of his work.

And once the sun had risen, Lucanis set to work preparing a morning cup of his wife’s drink of choice.

By that time, Judex was properly awake again, and had quickly taken an interest in testing her lungs. She didn’t cry, no. She took to yelling, chirping, babbling. And Lucanis indulged every sound as if it were the most profound conversation.

The chatty little girl let out one particularly loud shout, and then quieted, staring up at Lucanis intently, as if waiting to gauge his reaction.

“Well, good morning to you, too.”

Lucanis spun around just in time to see his beloved coming through the front room, joining them in the kitchen.

“Oh, I’m sorry, amor. Did we wake you?” Lucanis asked before giving her a good morning kiss.

Nöa hummed. “No. I smelled tea.” She told him.

“Green tea and peppermint.” He confirmed. “It should be done steeping by now.

“Maker, you’re too good to me.” She kissed him again, then pressed a kiss to their daughter’s forehead. “Good morning to you, too, little fledgling.”

“And that particular nickname, my pearl, is your Uncle Illario’s fault. Yes, it is.” Lucanis nodded emphatically, earning himself a laugh from Judex.

Nöa chuckled at her husband and daughter’s not-so-one-sided conversation while she took one of her mugs out of the cabinet and poured herself a generous portion of the prepared tea. She watched as Lucanis noticed the letter she had sat on the counter when she came into the room.

“The courier already came?” Lucanis raised an eyebrow at the letter.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear him knock.” Nöa admitted, cradling her mug in both hands to warm them. “That’s what woke me, actually. The tea was just a better incentive to get out of bed. And I figured since I actually kept my clothes on for once, there was no harm in grabbing it.”

Lucanis held the letter between two fingers, looking up at his wife.

Her half-wakefulness still playing on the corners of her half-cocked smirk. “The Crows send their regards.” She said with a shrug.

Sure enough, the letter was sealed with the Crows corvid wax seal, with Teia’s handwriting on the front.

Lucanis sighed, kissing the top of his daughter’s dark-haired head. “No rest for the wicked, eh, Judex?” He mused. “It’s not a contract. Teia doesn’t sign those.”

Nöa leaned against the counter, intrigued.

Lucanis offered her the letter.

“You want me to open official Crow papers?”

“Well, you married into the house. It says Dellamorte, not specifically my name. You’re a Dellamorte. I don’t see why not.” He reasoned, one hand going up to support the Judex’s head when he sat her upright against his shoulder. “I don’t think this one quite has the hand-eye coordination for it yet.”

Nöa hummed, feeling a little smug as she broke the seal easily enough. She read the letter quickly enough, and then laughed.

Judex made a similar sound.

“What does it say?”

“It’s an invitation from Illario.” Nöa said, still laughing as she slid the letter across the counter for him to read.

Lucanis read it quickly before snorting. “An invitation written by himself to stay in our house.” He amended for his wife. “Mierda.”

Nöa laughed again. “If you’re not careful, that’s going to be her first word, vhenan.”

They needed to joke. They both knew Illario’s arrival would bring with it updates to the ongoing situation between the Crows and the Crown. In the weeks since Judex’s birth, maybe even more so given the circumstances of her birth, they had been given a bit of relief from their assistance with Illario’s project.

Nöa moved around the counter to rest herself against her husband’s side so she could have access to their daughter once more. She still got caught up in the shock of it all sometimes. She never pictured herself here—as a mother. And yet she couldn’t imagine life without Judex any more than she could imagine her life without Lucanis.

The Crow rested his head against his wife’s, both of them lost in their daughter’s world, all the while said daughter remained peacefully oblivious to her parents’ mooning.

Judex had been with them every step of the way so far, and they both knew that wouldn’t change now that reality beyond her was knocking at their door once more. They would simply have to do everything in their power to see things through before she was old enough to remember any of it it.

Even better: before she was old enough to speak, let alone curse.

Eight marks the final kill.

[ofliterarynature]

TBR TAKEDOWN: Week 19 (October 6)

This week we're doing a special Cozy Mystery poll to finish the first round of the Takedown! Now, I love a cozy mystery, but it's hard to find good ones - the writing is not always good or as diverse and progressive as I'd like. So this week, I have a new question for you:

TLDR: I have too many unread books, and I’m asking tumblr to help me downsize. Comments and reblogs welcome, book descriptions below the cut. See my pinned post for more info.

I'll be taking a break after this poll but will be back in November for round 2 with my Goodreads TBR!

* * * * * *

Foul Play at the Fair by Shelley Freydont

When a rotten apple spoils the local harvest festival, event coordinator Liv Montgomery becomes an unplanned amateur sleuth in the first mystery in the Celebration Bay series.

As more and more tourists flock to Celebration Bay, New York, to enjoy their seasonal festivals, the town is in need of a professional coordinator. Enter Manhattan event planner Liv Montgomery, tired of big-city stress and looking for an idyllic spot where she and her Westie terrier, Whiskey, can put down roots. The Harvest by the Bay Festival is Liv's first chance to prove herself, and everything from apple bobbing to pumpkin painting goes perfectly--until the body of an itinerant juggler is discovered stuffed into an antique apple press.

With a murderer on the loose, town leaders threaten to shut down the upcoming Halloween and Christmas festivals. But the town's livelihood is at stake, and there is no way Liv is going to let that happen, even if she has to solve the murder herself. No matter how many balls she needs to keep in the air, Liv is determined to find a killer who's rotten to the core...

The Pickled Piper by Mary Ellen Hughes

After her dreams of romance are crushed, Piper Lamb decides to pursue her dream of opening her own shop of pickles and preserves, called Piper’s Picklings, in the idyllic small town of Cloverdale. But she isn’t in town long before she encounters a barrelful of trouble…

The Cloverdale fair offers Piper a sweet opportunity to promote her business. With her new assistant, Amy, she sets up a booth centered around an eye-catching display of the ever-popular dills in an old-fashioned barrel of brine.

But things soon turn sour when fairgoers witness a fight between Amy’s boyfriend, Nate, and town council blowhard—and bagpipe player—Alan Rosemont. When Rosemont is found floating in Piper’s barrel, Nate becomes the prime murder suspect. With Amy’s boyfriend in a pretty pickle, there’s no time to dillydally. But as Piper searches for the real killer, she needs to be careful to preserve her own life…or she may end up a pickled Piper herself.

How to Wash a Cat by Rebecca M Hale

Two cats are better than one...

A deceased uncle and a surprising inheritance propel a woman and her two very curious cats into the mystery surrounding his death.

An investigation that starts amid the curios and novelties of a San Francisco antiques shop follows a twisted trail of dangerous deception that leads all the way back to the days of the Gold Rush itself.

A Peach of a Murder by Livia J Washburn

All year round, retired schoolteacher Phyllis Newsom is as sweet as peach pie-except during the Peach Festival, whose blue ribbon has slipped through Phyllis's fingers more than once...

Everyone's a little shook up when the corpse of a no-good local turns up underneath a car in a local garage. But even as Phyllis engages in some amateur sleuthing, she won't let it distract her from out-baking her rivals and winning the upcoming Peach Festival contest.

She and all the other contestants guard their secret, original recipes with their lives-and talk a whole lot of trash. With her unusual Spicy Peach Cobbler, Phyllis hopes to knock 'em dead. But that's just an expression-never in her wildest dreams did she think her cobbler would actually kill a judge. Now, she's suspected of murder-and she's got to bake this case wide open.

[moo-blogging]

Late night thoughts #103:

Levi never been pampered. Not that he remembered anyway. He thought he was cold and stoic just like everybody said he was, that was before he met you.

You treated him with such softness and patience, guided him to be gentle from time to time. He never knew he had a soft side. He always thought it was him being lenient, but you showed him he was gentle too.

Levi was slow to open up, but your reassuring smiles and persistence in showing him you love him no matter what gave him the courage to ask you to take him as yours.

"Please, may I be your lover?" He asked on an early morning when there was only both of you in the room. Your grin was the loveliest thing he ever seen when you nodded yes.

Since then, Levi felt that his life had finally brighten up. With you by his side, he learnt something new about you and himself every day. He never knew he could shed all his tough layers and melt under your touch until you offered to shower with him.

Levi was tired to his bones and his muscles ached in the way his body was stiff and he could hardly move. He was disgusted with the sweat on him but he had no energy left to deep clean himself. You offered to shower with him instead. "It'll be fast, I promise," you gently led him into the bathroom and had him undressed.

You took a stool and had him sat on it while you get the warm water running. You stripped into your undergarments, which let Levi blushed but you acted as you did not see it.

You run the warm water over his body and saw him exhaled in relief. You shampooed his body, missing on his private part as he awkwardly covered it up. You run him under the water again and wetted his hair.

Rubbing your palms and creating bubbles, you gently but firmly work your fingers on Levi's hair, massaging his scalp in circular motion.

"Am I going too hard, love?" You asked him.

"Mm.. no, keep going," Levi mumbled and you continued working your fingertips on his scalp. The bathroom was quiet except the sound of your fingers in his hair and Levi's steady breathing.

After 5min, you took the shower in your hand, ready to wash off the shampoo from his head. You leaned your hips against the wall and your legs were outstretched 45° as you pulled Levi backwards to lay on your thighs.

You washed his hair, careful not to let the water and shampoo slip to his face. Levi had his eyes closed, he never felt at peace before. All he felt was your fingers on him. You washed his ears before you whispered you were going to run the water over his face and he nodded.

When you are done, you gently tapped on his pointed nose. He opened his eyes and saw your smiling face before him.

"I fell asleep," his lips curved upwards, "and I fell in love again, with you."

You bend down and kissed his forehead, "my pleasure."

"Pleasure's all mine to have you washing my hair." He tilted his head to kiss your lips.

"We have to do this often, my love." He kissed your nose.

[in-my-shifting-era]

Lost Keys

Spencer Reid (Fluff)

Summery: After a hard case reader just wants to get get home and sleep in her own bed.When readers keys keys goes missing. Spencer comes to save the day.

Warning: Normal Criminal Minds stuff. Some talk if a case that involves children. Nothing graphic. Reader does cry but it is more of frustration and exhaustion then sadness.

Authors note: I’m back! Sorry I haven’t posted anything. Life has been keeping me a little too busy. Writing has been on the back burner for a bit. As the poll determined here is a Spencer Reid post! Feedback would be amazing. I’d love to get some mutuals on here!

————————————————————————————————————————

The case was a hard one. Cases involving children tend to be harder to handle then others. Though the unsub was caught pretty quickly and the children taken where physically unharmed; this case took so much out of you. Having to think about what those children may have experienced at the hands of that monster.

You would have loved to just go back to the hotel room you had been staying in for the past few days and sleep this whole weekend off. Hotch insisted that the team would be home sleeping in there beds tonight. Even if that meant getting in at almost 2am. The thought of being on a jet for two hours feeling both physically and mentally exhausted was enough for a headache to start.

Your ‘Go’ bag had been packed up messily before heading to board the jet. You shuffled in with your team. Everyone taking there sports tiredly while having had one final debrief before take off. You sat down and tried to get comfortable. Tried being a key word there. You did not fall asleep once on the whole 2 hour flight. JJ offered you some ibuprofen for your headache. After hour in and still a pounding headache Spencer offered you chamomile tea. You ended up sipped on that as you watched the jet land.

You stretch lightly as you get up and gather your stuff to head to your car. Spencer stops and lets you off before him with a sweet but tired smile. You mimic his smile right back to him and head off the jet. You wait at the bottom for the young doctor. He always insists on walking your to your car when it’s late at night, and because you think he’s cute you let it slide.

His long strides get him down quicker then you. As you start to walk together he speaks. “So do you think you’ll make it to your bed this time or is your pillow still on your couch.” You laugh and roll your eyes playfully. “No actually I’m making an effort to sleep in my bed. Bosses orders.” You smile up at him and put your hands in your bag looking for your car keys as you approach where you thought you parked.

Your heat sank when you didn’t feel your keys where they should be. You stopped quickly and started searching more thoroughly. This action making Spencer almost walk right into you. You start to panic more when you don’t see the small wristlet of keys you usually have. Spencer places his hand on your shoulders gently taking you back to reality. “What’s wrong. What are you looking for.”

A pit of dispute hits your chest as your respond. “I don’t have my car or apartment keys.” Spencer’s small looks of pitty makes your eyes well with tears. “I could have left them on the jet. I’ll run and go see if-” Spencer steps in front of your swiftly and puts his hands on your shoulders gently to have you look at him. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s almost 3 am and you’re exhausted. I’ll bring you to my apartment. You will get some sleep and in the morning we’ll call and ask if they found any keys left behind.”

A single tear falls but only because your blinked while nodding your head lightly. “I don’t get to sleep in my bed though.” You look up giving him sad eyes because at this point your are almost delirious from no sleep. Spencer moves some hair behind your ear and smiles softly at you. “We’ll I am sorry about that. You can have my bed. We both like a more firm mattress so you’ll be comfortable. Does that sound okay?” You nod lightly loving the idea of sleeping in a bed after the weekend you’ve had and follow Spencer to his car.

Spencer left his oldies station on as you drove to his apartment. You hummed along to a Beatles song as you pulled up to the familiar building . You got out and follow him up to his appointment thinking about just how late it is. You both get in and take off your shoes and coat. Spencer leads you to his room turns on lights as he goes.

“I’ll give you some clothes if you want. Work clothes are not comfortable to sleep in.” You offer him a sweet smile. “Thank you Spencer. For all of this. I’m paying for our coffee on Monday.” Spencer smiles cutely. “Technology you owe me two coffees because when you spilled yours last week I gave you my cheese danish to eat.” You laugh remembering the hazelnut latte you lost that day. “Then I owe you a cheese danish. Sound fair?” Spencer nods and hands you some sweatpants and an old tee of his. “I’m going to the guest bathroom you can change in here or in my bathroom.”

You give him a small nod and smile as he leaves his room. You change quickly and do a very lazy version of your nightly routine in his bathroom. As you get back to his bed you see Spencer taking a pillow off and look around for an extra blanket..“ Am I kicking you out if you bed sleeping here?” He shakes his head. “No not technically. I just figured you’d be more comfortable if I slept on the couch.”

You shake your head and pat his side of the bed. “No. I’d feel terrible if you slept on the couch. Stay here.” He gives you a shy smile and puts his pillow back. “As long as your comfortable with it I’ll stay.” You smile tiredly at him as you getting under the covers on your side of the bed. “I’m fine with it. I’m usually comfortable when I fall asleep on your shoulder anyway. If I latch onto you just push me off the bed.”Spencer lays lightly and gets one his side of the bed making it dip slightly. “I never push your head off so this would be no different for me.” You blush lightly at the thought of waking up entangled with him. “Goodnight Spencer.” You close your eyes slowly letting Spencer’s “Goodnight” be what lulls your asleep.

[pomegranateboba]

Hello! I'm another Arcana Twilight fan, just coming out of the dark. Along with sleepytwilight, you're active when it comes to ArTw content. I hope it's alright to send a request!

Anyway, uh, here's mine: ArTw men with a MC who is a great dancer in jive? (Our dance this year is social dance and we're gonna be doing Cha Cha and Jive 😭) I hope this is okay! Thank you, and have a good day!

Hiiiiii, thank you for the request this is my first actual one 😭🤩Okay so I had to google what that was but I think I got it (sorry if it's a little inaccurate I just learned this dance existed)

(For those who don't know, I copied and pasted the definition from google: Jive is a lively style of dance popular especially in the 1940s and 1950s, performed to swing music or rock and roll.)

A Summoner that is good at jive dancing:

Arcturus

He was pleasantly surprised at what a good dancer you were

Little baby was in awe you you performed it for him

Would definitely encourage you to perform it for others, if you're comfortable with it of course. He won't bug you if you don't want to

Curious to know the history of this type of dance, he hasn't heard it it before (get the powerpoint slides ready)

Your biggest supporter if you do actually decide to perform it for others

If there were some event or festival that involves dance performances, he would recommend it to you if you want to participate

Wouldn't go around telling everyone this piece of information if you aren't comfortable with it

Very understanding

Would try to learn from you to his best ability

He would probably actually manage the basic steps

He's a sweet little baby we all love Arcky

Spica

Impressed

I'm pretty sure this man would do ballet or ballroom dancing, so this more lively dance is probably pretty new to him

It would also give him cultural shock, because he is not used to whatever you are performing to him

Still impressed nonetheless

You would have to make him learn, because he would very much refuse

Though he is interested to know the history and whatever information you can give him (time to pull out the trusty powerpoint slides)

Would also recommend any dancing/performing events if you want to participate

Can keep a secret, if that's what you want

And if you do want to perform, he would make sure everything runs smoothly

He would most definitely get the best seats to watch you perform (hot rich men things fr)

He is proud that you know such a unique skill

Alpheratz

And all of a sudden he is wide awake

Is lowkey impressed

He honestly could not care less about the great history of jive

It's a little loud and feisty af, but it's the summoner, so all is good

Would be very awake whenever you perform

Won't talk you into performing or anything, but he would be pretty happy if you do

And if you do, he would actually get up to go watch, even if he has to put up with Spica

Won't say anything about this, he doesn't gossip or anything like that. It's too troublesome for him anyways, having to go talk to people

He doesn't say anything, but secretly he is so proud of you

He may request for you to dance for him, but no way in hell is he getting up and learning it

He loves you, but seriously no thanks.

He would rather just admire you from the crowd

Will offer to come nap with him if you are tired from dancing

Pollux

The shock on his face.

How come no one told him his beloved summoner could dance?

And why are they actually so good at it??

When you open your phone to play Arcana Twilight, Pollux's affection levels are suddenly at the max level

I don't know how else to describe how he felt in that moment

Would immediately request that you teach him

You agreed, thinking that it would be fine

Spoiler: it was not fine.

Little Misfortune the Second is tripping all over his feet, and you don't think it's just because of his bad luck

Pollux would love to dance, he's just clumsy af and keeps breaking his legs (stars help him)

Even Arcturus came in and helped

Well...Poll tried, at least

He won't give up though, so if he pulls a Sirius at 3am and asks you to teach him, that's your problem not mine

If you perform at an event or festival, Pollux would be at the front of the crowd cheering for you

Is gonna run around and tell everyone how cool you are. You can't stop him.

Would openly flaunt you to the world, even the void monsters won't be spared from his reign (of terror)

This is just an excuse for him to like you more

Vega

The shock on his face (part 2)

Summoner?? You can do that??

I feel like Vega would be pretty poised and elegant and stuff, considering his personality and his house

So to see you so lively is gonna be a shock (in a good way)

Vega may or may not know what jive is, depends on his memory of Mid Earthium

So he may recognise it. May.

Vega wouldn't ask to learn it, but you would probably drag you into learning from you anyways

Besides, he can't say no to his beloved summoner

He would pick it up pretty quickly, though if he seems a little stiff it's normal

He isn't used to having and expressing positive emotions (I'm sorry)

He would still do it though, because it means more summoner quality time

It would remind him of your time together as kids back at Mid Earthium, and all the more he would want to see you happy again

Is secretly your biggest fanboy, if you may or may not be able to tell

If you choose to publicly perform, he won't see him openly cheering or screaming, but he is internally simping

If you have a partner when dancing, he will keep a close eye on that person, making sure they don't get too close to you

He is now your bodyguard (as if he isn't already)

Sirius

You can't tell me he wouldn't tease you relentlessly

He is a menace to society, remember that

You could teach him, but just keep in mind that he will make these sessions somewhat questionable

I think you should do your best to bring along one extra person when this happens

I saw it on another blog once, and I fully agree that Sirius would probably only know how to dance like Michael Jackson

He's so goofy I want to punch him in the face

Would occasionally ask if you would want to actually perform to the public, would tease you a little but if you don't want to he won't bug you anymore

If you do, Sirius will pull strings to do it

You may not see him in the crowd, but just know that he is watching (because he is a red flag like that)

Will take you out (on a date not shoot you) after the performance, effectively stealing you away before other people (Vega) can get you

He may ask you to do a personally performance for him. My suggestion is to decline if you feel the emotion known as embarrassment, because this man is a menace.

Remember to stay hydrated kids :)

[spookyspecterino]

Soft Moments in the Stars

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used.

Anxiety, worry, some fear (Sam is there to comfort you and calm you down). Comfort, breathing exercises, reassurance.

Staring out into the stars, while everyone sleeps, your mind starts to worry. Sam notices you're awake and stays up with you.

Characters: Sam Coe. Mentions of Cora Coe, Sarah, Barrett, and Andreja.

Haha, bet you didn't expect another so soon! This is short. But I really needed it. Now that the poll requests are done, I can get into the heavier more plot related stuff >:) (Aka: my sad era)

Staring up at the stars, what a primal instinct it’s been for all of humanity since the dawn of creation. The unknown, the curiosity, the wonder in it. How long have humans been looking up at the night sky? And how many of your ancestors have done just the same; sitting, staring, and questioning?

What’s out there? How do you fit in to any of it? In this vast field of stars, of people, of planets—why are you the one to go on this cosmic journey?

New Atlantis had too much light pollution to look up and stargaze at night. Akila city had too much dust and sand in the air. But now, in the cockpit of the Frontier, the entire universe stretches out for your curious, pondering eyes.

Quiet moments, when everyone is asleep and the ship drifts across the blackest sea, are rare. It’s an opportunity to sit and really think. At times, maybe the constant hustle and bustle from place to place, mission to mission, is good. It’s a distraction, that much is clear. The lively conversations among your crew, Sarah jotting down notes about unexplored systems, Cora with her enthusiastic book reports—is comforting.

You may not always have them. It may be, in time, this quiet, contemplative silence is all you have left.

It’s a chilling, anxiety-ridden truth that you’ve been forced to think of more and more. Especially now.

With every new temple you discover, every new power you gain, a rift grows between you and the others. There’s a distinct feeling to it.

Sarah and Noel look at you like you’re something to be studied. Barrett uses constant humor and jokes to cover his nervousness. Andreja feels threatened by the power imbalance.

Only Sam continues to treat you the same.

Sam—wonderful, optimistic, loving, Sam.

Your shining light in the dark.

Every outcome is uncertain, but his promises of staying with you—always being at your side, no matter what—is a comfort unlike anything else.

A long-winded sigh leaves you. Your mind can’t help but wander into the worst-case scenarios or worry about the unknown. If these temples turn you into some kind of monster… what then? If your destiny takes you on a different path than his, how can you see it coming? Could you even prevent it?

What about Cora? Will she grow up without you? Her own path taking her elsewhere?

Is this all for nothing? Is this endless space an indifferent, uncaring, void that only seeks to be filled with violence—

Soft hands caress your tense shoulders. “Hey. What’re you doing up?”

Like a light switch being flipped, the anxious, spiraling thoughts cease. A lucid calm washes over you.

You lean back in your pilot’s seat, feeling the warmth of Sam behind you. “Couldn’t sleep.” You murmur.

He hums softly, leaning down closer to you. “What’s bothering you, sweetheart?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Hmm…” He presses soft kisses to your shoulder, gently kneading the other. “Describe how you’re feeling.”

“Frustrated. I guess. I have so many questions.”

His thumbs move to massage between your shoulder blades. “I can tell, you’re very tense.”

This makes you chuckle, a breathy and tired sound. You can feel his short beard against your neck. His lips ghost over your skin. “Come back to bed, we can work some of that frustration out.”

A very tempting offer. Other nights you would happily accept to be whisked away in his arms, forget everything, and curl up next to him to start a new day. But something stops you.

He can feel your hesitation. His lips hover and his hands pause.

“It’s…It’s not just that…” You frown at the stars. Sam’s faint reflection in the glass watches you with caring, patient eyes.

“I’m…I’m scared—terrified, actually.” As if a great floodgate opens, you release your thoughts into the still air. “I don’t know what’s coming next; I rely on Constellation to have at least some idea of what we’re getting into. Seeing Sarah and Noel just as confused as I am…it’s really unsettling. These temples and powers…what if they change me into someone—or something—unrecognizable?”

Your breath quickens. “I don’t know what to do. There’s so much responsibility on my shoulders now, it’s all so sudden. What if I screw up? What if I get someone hurt—what if I get you hurt? Or if I make the wrong choice and—”

“Whoa, whoa. Easy. Take a deep breath.”

You do, filling your lungs just as he does, as he guides you along.

In and out. Slow. In and out.

Your heart calms, just a little, but your racing thoughts still tumble around your mind. “Thanks.” You whisper, leaning your head back against his shoulder and closing your eyes.

“Stand up. I wanna hold you.”

His hands guide you out of the chair, sliding under your arms and around you like a safety net. Your hands lay over his. They’re always so warm, while yours are always cold.

His body presses against yours, flooding you with his warmth, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He murmurs into your skin. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. I will always be with you.” His fingers tangle with yours, smooth and practiced.

“It’s natural to make mistakes—and it’s not your fault. You’re learning just like the rest of us. There’s no way you can predict the future, so go easy on yourself. Making mistakes is human.” He trails light kisses up your neck to the shell of your ear. “As for everything else—we take it one step at a time, together. If something doesn’t feel right, we can adjust or take a break. Don’t push yourself. The universe isn’t going anywhere.”

Tears dot the corner of your eyes as you smile and nod. Your voice is barely a whisper. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime, love.”

You take some more steadying breaths, feeling your lungs fill and empty out rhythmically. “You always know exactly what to say.”

He chuckles, his breath is warm against your skin. “I know you, and I know how it feels to be weighed down by anxious thoughts.”

After a few more minutes of watching the stars, feeling your mind slow and your thoughts ease, “I think I’m ready for bed now.”

“You sure? I can give you some more time alone if you need it.”

“Nah.” You turn in his arms to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You’re greeted with the softest blue eyes and a loving smile. “I’m good now.”

Sam presses his forehead to yours. “I love you. You know that right?”

“Of course.” You press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.”

His content, happy, sigh—one of your favorite noises—lifts your heart out of the gloom.

[todoroki-waifu]

Super late, but this is from the poll results! Thank you again to those who voted. :)

Itadori x Reader

Warning: Gender neutral reader, a small, slightly suggested part, and cursing.

Scenario: How Itadori shows he really cares for you.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,896

----------------------

You returned from your two day mission late that evening, exhausted and sore. You also didn't recover from the previous missions that were given to you prior to the one you just came back from. Because of your abilities and the rising numbers of high grade curses, you were needed more frequently. You either went solo or in a group, but lately it's just been you.

"Good morning, everyone." A yawn is laced with your greeting as you walk  towards the entrance of the dormitories. The others were training, but stopped when they saw you.

"Good morning? It's already evening!" Itadori straightens up from his defensive stance to rush over to you.

"__(y/n)! It's been forever!" Kugisaki beats Itadori and has her arms wrapped around your body.

"I know, I've been a bit busy with these assignments." You returned her embrace.

"I'm gonna yell at Gojo-sensei for taking you away from me. I'm getting hives from being around these two monkeys for so long." She jests as Fushiguro sends her a glare while Itadori raises a brow.

"You might have to hold on just a bit longer. I'm leaving again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Already?" Itadori was starting to agree with Nobara about scolding their white haired sensei.

"Yeah, but it's at night! Hopefully it'll just be a one day kind of thing."

"I hope so! Anyway, go get settled. We're finished here then we're gonna make some hot pot."

You nod at the three of them, agreeing to join them later once you finish taking a shower and changing into comfortable and intact clothes. Yuji leaves Megumi and Kugisaki to walk with you back inside.

"You sure you're gonna be okay going tomorrow?" He then grabs your bag and belongings, offering to hold them for you. You attempt to get them back, but Yuji wants to help. Even if it's something as tiny as this.

"Yeah, I mean...I don't really have a choice, but even if I did, I'd still take it. There's people in danger so I want to do this."

"You're over exhausting yourself." He frowns at the consequences your body may potentially suffer.

"I'll be fine. Promise." You give him a smile as you make your way towards your room. Once in front of your dorm, that was when you both departed to get ready for dinner.

You're gathered on one table with a boiling pot of soup and various ingredients scattered around. You thanked those who prepared it since none of them allowed you to help and instead encouraged you to rest. A few minutes into dinner and your body was starting to crave sleep.

"Whoa, hey, you okay?" Itadori sees your head in an alternating up and down motion with your eyes fluttering and bowl almost tilting forward. He puts down his own bowl to stabilize yours as you finally lift your head up.

"Sorry! I just got so tired suddenly."

"We can save you some if you want to go to bed." Megumi suggests and you shake your head.

"I'm hungry, too. Wish there was a way I could both eat and sleep at the same time." You tried to rub the sleepiness from your eyes.

"Oi, why don't you feed them? They can barely hold their bowl. Help them out." Nobara points her chopsticks at Yuji.

"M-me?!" A red tint develops across his face.

"Duh, of course you! You're the one sitting next to them."

Itadori grabs your utensil and dish, picking up some noodles before telling you that he'd assist feeding you.

"You mean I can close my eyes and eat? Perfect!" You turn your body to face Itadori with your eyes shut and mouth open to accept some food. Itadori's blush only deepened and he could feel his blood was being directed elsewhere.

"Oh my God!" He shouts suddenly, earning confused stares from his friends.

"What happened?" You ask and Itadori shakes his head.

"No-nothing. Sukuna was just being...funny."

"Fuck you, kid. You know you were thinking the same thing." A toothy grin appears on his right cheek, making Itadori yell at the cursed spirit residing in him.

"He's having a moment...Fushiguro, you go feed __(y/n)." Your brown haired friend elbows the shikigami user and he starts to stand up.

"N-no! I got it. Just give me a sec." The pink haired boy was able to quiet a laughing Sukuna before focusing on you. You went back to your previous position and Itadori had to bite down on his tongue to fight off another blush. He thought back on how tired and hungry you were which redirected his concentration.

Yuji made sure that the food wasn't too hot or too big for you to bite on. He kept a steady pace and managed to find a way to feed himself in between. After a few more bites and enjoying being fed by your crush, you took back your bowl. It was fun to see his reaction, but found it sweet at how determined he was that you fulfilled your nutritional intake for the day.

Once everyone was satisfied with warm and full bellies, you attempted to wash the dishes. Again, none of them allowed you and Kugisaki sent Itadori to bring you upstairs.

"You should get some rest." He starts leading you to your room.

"Not yet! I've missed you!" You immediately swerve in front of him then your eyes widen at what you just said. "A-and Nobara! And Megumi, too! I haven't hung out with you guys in a long time."

"Well, Kugisaki and Fushiguro are gonna head to bed early since they leave for a mission in the morning. Mine isn't until the afternoon so I can hang out with you if you don't mind just me?"

"Of course, not! I love hanging out with you. C'mon." You grabbed his hand, dragging him to your room. You both occupied your bed, you leaning against the headboard while Itadori was laying sideways on the foot of your bed.

Within a few minutes while Itadori was catching you up on the past few weeks, you were nodding off again until you plopped on the bed. The pink haired vessel wasn't offended, instead was relieved that you finally accepted some sleep.

He carefully maneuvers you into a better position, covering you up to your shoulders with your blanket. As he adjusts the pillow under your head, he frowns at the number of bandages and bruises on your person. He then exits the room after turning off the lights, pulling out his phone to dial his teacher's number.

"Itadori? What's up?"

"Please let me take __(y/n)'s mission."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I know they have one tomorrow night. Let me take that instead and switch theirs with mine."

"Why?" Gojo asks after a brief pause.

"Be-because I...I just..they've been, you know and I just-" He stutters, face and ears becoming warm. "Just let us switch! Please, sensei."

The white haired male exhales loudly before explaining the details of the case. "This is going to be a difficult one for you, Itadori. Based on __(y/n)'s abilities and technique, they could finish the job in 3 days, but for you, 6 days. Are you prepared for that?"

He had no idea that there was such a difference between yours and his fighting levels. Itadori was going to need to catch up so you didn't leave him behind or worse, be a burden to you.

"Yes. I'll take it. Do I need to wait until tomorrow? Can't I just go now?" Itadori had the energy and resolve plus if it was going to take him 6 days, maybe he could cut it down if he starts now.

"I don't see why not, but be aware that even if you leave now, you're only shaving off maybe...half a day earlier. Anyway, pack your things. I'll send a ride for you in 20 minutes."

--------

It's been almost a week since you last saw Itadori and when you noticed the changes to your assignments. They've become lighter and you were able to finally work with Megumi and Nobara again. You also found out that Itadori had swapped missions with you and you were anxiously waiting for him to return so you could question why.

As you sit on the front steps of the dorm, you see a familiar white and pink haired teacher and student. You're the only one to greet them since Nobara went shopping and Megumi was visiting his sister.

"Yuji! You're all beat up." He sees concern swimming in your __(e/c) eyes.

"I'm okay, promise! That curse was a tough one, but I did it!"

"I heard what you did. Why did you switch our missions? Were you afraid that I couldn't handle it?"

"Wha-no! That's not it at all!" Itadori fidgets in his spot, trying to explain it in a way that doesn't devalue your sorcery skills. Behind Itadori, you see Gojo a few feet away, laughing quietly at the boy who was in love with you. Your teacher makes an outline of a heart with two fingers then points at Itadori.

Ah, now you understand.

"I didn't think that you couldn't handle it. I just felt like you were being overworked and I wanted to help you. I wanted to relieve at least a bit of your workload because you deserve some rest, too. And you know, teamwork makes the dream work...ahehe..."

Gojo slaps a hand over his blindfold, shaking his head at Itadori's missed opportunity to tell you exactly how he felt. But you already knew what he was trying to say. Maybe it was time for you to make yours a bit more obvious.

"Thank you, Yuji." You take one step towards him, aiming your lips to his cheek. Instead of feeling a soft, somewhat flat surface, another pair of lips touch yours. You gasped, pulling away as you realized that you had kissed Sukuna's mouth and not Yuji's cheek.

"Sukuna!! What the hell?!" Yuji places his hand over the side of his face, covering the cursed spirit.

"Hey now, I did most of the work so I should be getting some kind of reward, too."

"Well, thank you, Sukuna, for all your hard work." You cut off their bickering and you move to the other side of Yuji's cheek. However, a mouth and eye were staring at you, showing off a toothy grin. Before Yuji yells at the King of Curses, you press your lips to his, finding that it was a safe place where Sukuna couldn't appear.

You removed yourself after a few seconds, giving Yuji a sweet smile. "You should probably shower and change. I'll make you some food. It's tiring after a long mission."

"S-sure!" He nods then jogs to the dorm entrance, but immediately stops to turn back to you. He plants a quick kiss to your lips this time, a big grin decorating his face as he walks back to his room.

You giggle at the extra energy Yuji has in his stride, happy that he returned to you in one piece and with a surprise. Gojo comments about how both of them are going to be a handful, but you knew that already. You love all of Yuji, even the King of Curses that resides in him.

[morning-star-joy]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

thank you for the tag @sp00kymulderr I love your fics sm <3

Step one: post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet)

Step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on

Step three: every vote is one minute you put on a timer to work on that fic (ex. 15 votes = 15 minutes of writing)

the killer doesn't understand pt 6 (Post-Outbreak Neighbors)

It took every fiber of his being to attempt to keep you at arms length, and it still wasn’t enough to keep you away. He could bite and you’d still be back, still offering him scraps of food from the palm of your hand, trying to feed a feral wolf in a stray dog’s skin. It’s his fault. It’s always his fault. 

daydreams pt 2 (Touch-Starved!Joel x F!Reader)

The heat that rushes towards his face and warms his tired bones when he walks through the front doors of the bakery is welcome, as startling as the comforting smell of freshly baked bread and other sweet delights always is. Being in the small store along one of Jackson’s main streets is always an odd, forbidden sort of time travel to a bygone era of early morning coffee runs and frustrating traffic to get there that no longer existed. It’s a place he wouldn’t have frequented just months before. A place where he now greeted the smiling, albeit sleepy faces of the bakers by name and a nod of appreciation for their hard work. They had made a comment only once, a kind little joke about how much he liked the scones he picked up every Tuesday morning like clockwork. He was ready to snatch them up as soon as they had cooled down enough from the oven for the fresh orange glaze to be layered on top.

tarnished but so grand (Regency!Joel x F!Reader)

“You’ll despise it there,” Joel told the determined Miss Williams for the tenth time as she shoved another piece of luggage into the back of the carriage. “You would be much happier staying here with Miss Servopoulos.” Ellie sent a glance back towards the ranch’s beloved protection, cross-legged on the porch’s rocking chair with a shotgun across her lap. The woman was armed to the teeth as always, her hat resting over her face as her ears stayed alert to what was happening, no doubt hearing as Ellie sighed. “She’ll do just fine without me,” the young woman said simply before she turned back to give Joel an unimpressed glance over. “But you? They’re going to eat you alive ‘cross the water, old man.”

bloodshed, crimson clover pt 2 (Jackson Joel x Doctor F!Reader)

He may as well be a ghost, the way he haunts you. Sometimes you really do think that’s all Joel Miller was—a spectral force, maybe more divine than man in his fury. You certainly clung onto his visage like a prayer, replaying every moment where he danced just out of your grasp. Trying to remember the way the smog-addled QZ sun filtered through the dingy windows of your clinic to reflect in his eyes. Hazel, you have to remind yourself sometimes, ten years later. Not just brown, or even green, but a beautiful combination of the two, a swirling of two colors that spoke much of the dual nature within him, the conflict that raged inside a body honed to kill, even with the glimpses you had caught of him being so much more.

men like you chapter 4 (Arthur Morgan x F!OC)

Arthur knew that Miss Taylor was a beautiful woman. He’d thought it when she had been caked with dried blood upon their first meeting, wild hair and wilder eyes, ready to kill him in a moment if he moved wrong. He still thought it when she glared at him, face scrunched up in contempt at the mere insult of his very presence. Her tenacity, her fire, were things of true beauty that he hoped their way of life would never stamp out, even if they perplexed and frustrated him to no end. He thought it even more now, with the display of her vulnerability that he had never seen. Even if it was just an unintended consequence to their unfortunate situation of being in such forced close proximity to each other.

some violent, exquisite happenstance (Arthur Morgan x Ex-Outlaw F!Reader)

Arthur huffs, annoyance bleeding into his good intentions even as his own hand twitches by his own killer instinct just from the sight of you so ready to draw in case he dared to move wrong. “Now, ya really think I’m gonna shoot you after all that?” He gestures towards the fixed carriage, all your belongings back in place, and you have the infuriating gall to just shrug at his exasperation. “Stranger things have happened.”

np tags: @cavillscurls @5oh5 @sweetercalypso @joelsdagger @punkshort @honeyedmiller @eupheme (sorry if you've done it already, goldfish memory)

[mitamicah]

Soooooo....

If you were in the käärijä watch party stream two days ago you may or may not hear me wanting to get a Paidaton Riehuja inspired tattoo

I did quickly mention it before but yeah this idea has had me in a chokehold so I'm thinking about say screw my 6 month plan and contact a tattoo studio in the new year :'D

Here is a bigger view of the concept

It is very simple really; just a flagpole with a t-shirt as the flag.

I have been having a lot very extreme feelings lately about my body - some days I sort of like it and can seem too excited about looking at myself or taking picutres. Other days I am hating it and worry about my appearance and whether or not I am "good enough".

Really, I should be doing what Jere is doing with the song: no matter how he looks he doesn't care - he has a need (not to be hot on stage) and a way to reach that need that doesn't harm anybody else (take off his shirt). This is already being conveyed in his opening monoloque where for a split second he looks subjectively at his body and worries about his looks before saying: whatever! (Iham Sama) and throwing off the shirt.

Because of this I want the words 'Ihan Sama' written on the shirt on the tattoo - it's a reminder to me that no matter if I have a good body or bad body day in the end it doesn't matter; I only have this one body and it's serving me just fine either way.

I am thinking about getting this tattoo on my stomach with the flag being around the navel (pictures above shows position) since I am definitely most dysphoric about everything from the navel down (excluding the chest area - that'll get its own tattoo in good time xD) - my hope is that by seeing the tattoo there everytime I look down I will be reminded good feelings not nesescarily connected to my body's appearance but what my body can offer me (a canvas, a way to experience käärijä's music etc.)

That is my idea - idk I was thinking about maybe making a poll so you guys could tell me if I am being too quick with this idea or not but at the same time I really want this one for what I hope it can mean to me and my body image - I am tired of these bad body days and while I know they wont probably go away because I get ink on my tummy I can't hurt to try :'D

That said if you have any thoughts about all of this feel free to share and I'll try to listen <3

I made it long again, sorry :'D

[jurassicsickfics]

The Headmistress Has Fallen

A good chunk of the plot for this story was requested by @blueandbetaraptors , but other details were determined via some polls I did a while back. Enjoy!

(Also, for any readers who may be unfamiliar with the Halloween franchise, Keri Tate and Laurie Strode are the same person. Keri Tate is the name Laurie assumed when she went into hiding from Michael Myers and this was the name she was known by in Halloween H20. And due to her boyfriend from that movie winning the caretaker poll, we will be in that setting. Ok, let's get into this)

~Based on Halloween H20~

Spring at Hillcrest Academy may have just been the most mellow time of the year. The weather was getting warm and the shrubbery that decorated the grounds of the prestigious high school began to bloom out again. It was truly beautiful. Of course, springtime also meant that Headmistress Keri Tate had survived another Halloween and a grueling flu season, so she was in a much better mood.

As the sun rose in the California sky, Keri made her way into the kitchen of her small home, where her teenage son John was already waiting for her. "Morning mom!" He greeted her. Keri smiled a weary smile. "Morning sweetheart." She said, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge and taking a swig.

"Want some oatmeal?" John offered. "Oh, no thanks, honey, I've gotta get to work a little early today." She replied.

"Ok, if you say so. In that case I'm gonna take my car and pick up Molly for a quick breakfast, is that ok?" He asked. Keri smiled. "Sure baby, that's fine. Don't be late, though."

As the school day commenced, and Molly and John came barreling into the classroom seconds before the bell, Keri made her way to the front of the room to begin today's history lecture. The Headmistress doubled as the school's history teacher, and occasionally took over the odd literature class when she needed to. Something seemed a little off today, though. The Headmistress looked tired; less enthusiastic about the lesson than she usually was. She stood with her arms crossed over her stomach, swaying back and forth and shifting from one foot to the other as the gave the lecture. John and Molly shared a look, as did Sarah and Charlie. The four kids were all good friends, and considering that Keri is John's mother, they all knew her well, and she was like a second mother to them all. Especially to John's girlfriend, Molly.

The four of them knew that something wasn't right, but they wouldn't dare interrupt the Headmistress mid-lecture to point it out.

The day dragged on and on, and Headmistress Tate seemed more and more off as the hours passed. Charlie had even reported that at one point she'd abruptly excused herself from teaching a class, as if it was urgent. Meanwhile, Sarah said she'd heard what sounded like crying coming from the teacher's bathroom.

Upon her discovery, Sarah had gone to the school's counselor, Will Brennan. As much as they tried to hide it, it was painfully obvious among students and staff alike that Headmistress Tate and Doctor Brennan had a thing for each other. John especially had front row seats to his mother's love for Will, as he was the one standing awkwardly across the room while the couple spoke in code about when and where they'd meet later. His mother's flirtatious smirks in the halls and Will occasionally sneaking a booty slap said all that needed to be said.

Sarah knocked on the door of Will's office. "Mr.Brennan?" She asked. Will looked up. "Oh, afternoon, Sarah. How can I help you?" He asked.

Sarah took a seat across from him and said, "Don't tell her I told you, I don't want her to be embarrassed but...I think something is going on with Miss Tate."

Will raised an eyebrow. "Really? What makes you think that?"

Sarah shrugged. "She's acting strange. She seems tired, agitated, Charlie said she keeps excusing herself from class and...I think I heard her crying. "

The counselor's eyes widened. "Oh dear, ok. Well, thank you for telling me, Sarah, I'll keep an eye on her."

Soon enough the school day was wrapping up, and Will went to Laurie's office to check on her. As he approached her office door and went to knock, he heard coughing coming from inside. "Keri? You ok in there?" He asked. No response, only more coughing.

Will slowly opened the door, and he found Keri, bent down over a trashcan by her desk, throwing up. "Oh no...honey..." Will said, rushing to her side and rubbing her back. "Sweetheart, are you ok?" He asked. Keri turned to him, pulling him in for a hug and crying. "N-no...I'm not ok..." she sobbed. Will hugged her tight, patting her back. "Babe...C'mon, let's get you home." He said.

Will drove her home, and upon arriving she flopped onto the couch, moaning about how bad her tummy was hurting. Will locked the door behind him to make her feel safe, and he sat beside her on the couch. "C'mon, honey, let's get you changed into some pajamas and into bed." He said, trying to coax her up off the couch. Keri reluctantly followed him into her bedroom, and allowed him to help her into her pajamas before crawling into bed. Will put a trashcan by her side of the bed and, after taking off his shoes and work pants, laid down beside her. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He asked. Keri shrugged. "Ok I guess...ugh, I'm sorry I didn't say anything all day...I just...I didn't want to bother you or look vulnerable...and I didn't want John to worry...you know how protective over me he can be..."

Will nodded. "Yeah baby, I understand. I'm here for you, ok? I'll be right here until you feel better." She sighed.

"But what about Hillcrest? I'm the Headmistress, I can't just..not go to work..."

Will shrugged. "Well...how about I handle it for a day or two, and John or Molly can stay home with you."

Keri nodded. "Ok.. that works, I guess."

Will kissed her forehead. "Don't you worry, sweetheart, we'll get you through this."

[rarepears]

So, you know that "Napoleon inspired version of Luo Binghe AU" option I had on my poll? Sounds boring right?

But!

Look at the gem I found from The Napoleon Series! It really is a gem - I wanted to copy of sections from it, but I would end up copying the whole thing. It reads so much like Luo Bingge getting rid of his harem to marry Shen Yuan.

Here are some highlights:

Napoleon decided to divorce his first wife, hoping that he would be able to sire a heir with his second wife... who was 19 years old to his 40

He instructed the knight of honor escorting his bride to be to not touch the future Empress: "He had made the Count de Beauharnais, the knight of honor of the new Empress, with special instructions not to use the prerogatives of office, that is to say, not to offer his hand to the Empress when she would have to climb or descend stairs.  Napoleon was so jealous that he did not want another to touch the hand of his wife, or was the recommendation inspired by a sense of propriety and delicacy?  Later we knew what to expect: Napoleon became jealous, and was very jealous of Mary-Louise: he became even more in the future."

Napoleon got very fussy about his appearance, wanting to dress to impress for his new bride: "The Emperor was at that moment, with everyone, even more affable than usual; he increased attention to his appearance; we believe that it was coquettish, because he instructed his chamber valet to completely renew his guard dress, to make his clothes more stylish in cut and less rococo, if we may use the expression, to select the finest linen, and to order a hat new!"

Napoleon wrote letters to his future Empress every day as he waited for her arrival..."Every day Napoleon wrote a letter in his own hand, it was taken by one of his pages, who went at full speed and reported the response of the Empress."

...until he couldn't bear it any longer and rushes to the bridal procession as a surprise and hops into the bridal carriage... And a tour guide in Vienna claimed that Napoleon consummated his marriage on the spot... in the carriage.

Napoleon had already passed Soissons and arrived in Courcelles when the first courriers of the Empress were engaged in preparing for the relay.  As it was unnecessary to go further, he descended from his carriage, put the arrangements aside, and as at this time the rain fell in torrents, he went to hide under the porch of the church, located outside the village, in the vicinity of a little hill that dominated the road.  He had a quarter of an hour he stood on the sidelines and with the King of Naples, when he saw the first carriage of the entourage; at once he turn back and when they were about to change horses, he hurried alone to the Berlin in which the Empress was.

The service equerry, M. de Saluces, who recognized him, but was not informed of the secrecy of the incognito, rushed to the ground, roll out the step and announced: the Emperor!  But Napoleon did not waste time; he climbed into the carriage and jumped onto the neck of Marie-Louise and kissed her several times.  She, not prepared for this sudden visit, remained totally frozen; she struggled, pushed and cried; the Queen of Naples, who was with her, reassured her repeating:

Marie-Louise was then placed at the knees of Napoleon, who guessed his intention and opposed any new embraces as a sign of respect, which cooled his ardor very little; finally he gave the order to move in haste and directly to Compiègne. Eleven o’clock rang from the ancient clock of the chateau when the carriage of Their Majesties came at full gallop into the courtyard.  That evening there was no party; each retired immediately after the Empress entered her apartment.

The next morning Napoleon had the honor to take a succulent lunch he made, at eleven o'clock, next to the bed of Marie-Louise.  It was not served by the women of the Empress, who got up that very late. This morning had to be doubly tiring for her, in that people she barely knew presented a host of others she did not know at all.  After these presentations of etiquette, Their Majesties went to Saint-Cloud, where a prodigious number of people from all walks of life awaited the newlyweds.

I really need an AU of Luo Bingge time traveling back into the earlier years of his empire and deciding that instead of merging the human and demon realm by force and violence, that he should marry an imperial prince. Specially the imperial prince Shen Yuan who has the same soul as that shizun who married the cry baby version of him.

And since Shen Yuan and his servants are going into this marriage under the expectation that Luo Bingehe is marrying him for an heir... some smutty things happen. Well, specifically that the servants do all sorts of things to help get their master pregnant faster like jade dildos, a pillow to elevate the hips, and more. *wipes away a nosebleed*

Shen Yuan feels very much like a special roast turkey being stuffed and carrying preened everyday to be hairless and smooth by his servants, to say nothing else about what's going on down there. Bad enough that he was forced to consume some medicine to ensure that he could get pregnant! He's really hoping that he gets pregnant quickly so that the Emperor can stop paying so much attention to him and leave him alone in peace for once...

Hahaha tough luck bro.

You're going to be screwed every day for your entire life.

[dell-amor-te]

“The Hare, the Crow, & the Unhappy Marriage”

Word Count: 5,906.

Warning(s): Spoilers for what’s been revealed in pre-released content, canon-typical combat depictions, no beta but I try my best.

Pairing: F!Rook x Lucanis Dellamorte. 

Summary: Lucanis takes on a major contract and makes an acquaintance he’ll never forget. (Also known as “the Lucanis and Nöa pre-canon cringefail meetcute that won that poll forever ago that I finally finished.”)

🐦‍⬛ Read on ao3.

9:51, Dragon.

Minrathous, the Thalsian Estate.

“It was a lovely service, Magister Thalsian. A perfect coda for the loss of a titan of our empire. Worthy of a man of your father’s standing.”

She stood still and poised like a marble statue in the moonlight gardens, waiting for any sign of life from the younger man standing before her. His black-clad back remained affixed in her direction while he stared up at an actual, imposingly tall marble statue that was carved in his father’s image.

Larger than life, much like the now deliciously departed Festus Thalsian, Sr.

His living junior always seemed small next to his father, but the statue’s towering height made the discrepancy almost comical.

Once she was certain he would not answer to her first statement, she cleared her throat, making another: “I imagine, as the newly appointed representative of one of the Imperium’s oldest and most respected families, you must be feeling quite proud somewhere underneath your grief.”

A beat, a reconsidered addendum to follow, but not a misstep.

“Somewhere amidst all that grief, of course.”

Nothing still.

Now she was growing impatient.

Again, then.

“I—”

“What do you want, Magister Renata?”

“So formal, my lord.”

Zara smiled easily, taking the break in his silence as her invitation to come stand at his side in the looming presence of his father’s cold and impassive homage. He gave her a not-so-veiled look of derision before his face turned down once more, his tired eyes further fatigued by dark circles under them.

She took a chance to take a proper look at the statue. While the flesh and bone Festus was already ashes stuffed into a gauche urn and shoved on a mantle somewhere in the grand Thalsian estate, this monument would remain in the family’s private and labyrinthine gardens; his perpetual company would be the other members of the family tree who had been so honored.

Forever able to give his son those same withering glances he always had.

“He looks as proud as your father always did of you.” Zara lied smoothly.

“Again: what do you want, Zara?”

“Tut, tut, Festus. Is it so wrong to want to offer you my condolences in person?”

“It is when the funerary services were a private family affair.” His reply was as stiff yet spineless as his current stance.

“I almost married your uncle.”

“But you didn’t. How did you manage to secure an invitation?”

“Oh, I still see him every so often.”

Festus sighed haggardly.

“Really, I’m hurt, Festus.”

“And I’m still left wondering why you’re here. You must want something. You always do.”

Zara chuckled. “See, you do know me.” She said, though it brought Festus no pleasure to be so praised.

To wit, then.

“Your father’s death creates a power vacuum in the Magisterium that having a son and heir to take his seat will only quell for so long. Your father cast quite a large shadow.”

“And we all know I don’t have what’s needed to fill it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She chided with practiced gentleness.

Not here, anyway.

Zara clapped her hands together. “You are more than capable of rising to his heights, Festus. He and my father began their time in the Magisterium together, if you’ll recall. Neither one of them was anything more than we two are now when they began.”

Festus studied her with wariness, like she was an asp—a shining smile hiding fangs ready to strike. While she may have been missing the fangs, she certainly managed to hold the same venom and sharp tongue.

“True enough. But my father had exploits no other mage in our family could hope to replicate. So grand that they made up for his few shortcomings.”

Such as the fact that neither of the sons he produced were born Dreamers.

Zara closed the gap between them, heels clicking authoritatively against the cobblestone. “Then why not show our peers why you’re the heir to the Thalsian name?” She challenged.

“We all know why. It’s certainly not because of my own merit.” Festus snorted, looking to the memorial statue again for a moment.

“And why can’t it be?” Zara asked sharply, shoving one perfectly painted nail into his chest, right into his very heart. “Because you’re going to show them that you’re capable of righting even your unimpeachable father’s wrongs. What could be a finer tribute to his legacy?”

Festus’ brow twitched.

“I’ve had the pleasure of reading some of his notes on Dreamers and the ancient elves, you know.” Zara informed him. “He was onto something with those experiments of his. I know you know that—he mentioned you in his writings.”

“Yes, but if you’ve truly read them—and I won’t even question how—then you know he abandoned them.”

“Yes, because he lost his two prized lab rats. Or should I say lab rabbits?”

“You could say that. But it would be incredibly on the nose of you.” Festus’ own nose crinkled in distaste. “They weren’t just prized. You must have seen the records and ledgers, too. He almost bankrupted our family on purchasing hundreds of different brutes over the years. They were the only two who weren’t only viable, but exceptional.”

“Indeed. His golden goose and lucky rabbit. What’s the elven for that again?”

The younger mage’s spine stiffened with a sharp intake of breath.

“This is a moot point.” He said quickly. “The mother was killed by my father.”

“But the little rabbit escaped. Obviously.” Zara scoffed.

He scoffed right back.

“Come now, Festus, surely you don’t take me for a fool.” She crossed her arms, resolute. “Elves might not be rare in this city, much as we all like to pretend, but elves who bear those savage markings are rare indeed. And I doubt it’s a coincidence that this one goes by a moniker that happens to match the name your father gave her when he came into possession of her.”

Festus set his brow. He wouldn’t indulge her.

“Glower all you like, but I know you must be aware of her exploits.”

“Oh, and what makes you so confident?”

“Because the Magisterium won’t acknowledge what’s happened. A rogue rattus ran about, a runaway, stealing others property and setting it free? And no one can seem to catch her? And then she vanishes into thin air? You know as well as I how our colleagues love their gossip, and they won’t even dare to speak of her. They’re embarrassed.” She nodded. “Just as you keep quiet. Because you habor some sentiment for your lost pet.”

Festus’ cheeks burned red, catching as quickly as a wildfire from a firebolt gone awry.

“You’re hardly the first man in this city to get a little too attached to one of the family pets.”

“That’s quite the accusation to make without any sort of proof.”

“Is that right? Tell me, isn’t that locket you refuse to let leave your neck made of ironbark? Or am I mistaken?”

She, of course, was never mistaken.

Festus said nothing, confirming her suspicions without so much as uttering a single syllable.

“It has her portrait inside of it, no doubt.” Zara spoke in a disinterested tone, picking at one of her nails with another nail before strolling away from the statue.

She kept walking until she reached the balcony overlooking the rest of the gardens below, draping her back against the cool stone of the baluster, the cape attached to her gown lying tastefully of the smooth barrier. She smiled knowingly when she turned to find Festus close at heel, absently fiddling with the locket in question.

“You’re proposing I get her back and continue with my father’s plans.”

It wasn’t a question.

“This world needs Dreamers. More importantly, the Imperium needs Dreamers.” Zara mused, smiling as if he had missed his own joke. “And it should be the Imperium who brings them to life.” She heaved a dispassionate sigh. “It’s a pity that such pristine breeding must be tainted so by lesser, wild blood, but we all have to make sacrifices for the greater good of Tevinter.”

Festus met her at the balcony at last, his arm supporting him as he leaned in and considered her words. He never had managed to learn how to read her. She remained as lost to him as an esoteric tome from eras bygone and best left forgotten. And yet he couldn’t stop trying to understand.

If not an understanding, then at least to twist to his advantage.

“She may be persona non grata throughout the Imperium, but people will catch on if I or my men go hunting her bounty, no matter how we try to spin it. And then there will be no Dreamers. Do you intend to offer my men aid?”

“For the right price, of course, darling. And believe me, once payment is confirmed, I’ll happily use every tool in my arsenal to help you. In fact, I’ll have a new shiny toy soon enough, if all goes to plan. And once the blade’s been honed, I’m certain there won’t be anything standing between you and your little rabbit’s sweet reunion.”

“I’m sure that price tag must be hefty. I did mention my father’s spending habits nearly bankrupted our family, didn’t I?”

“Oh, but who can appraise the priceless gift of acclaim that will accompany being the man to reestablish the Dreamers in the bloodline of the First Dreamer himself?”

“You, I’m assuming. Or you think you can, anyway.”

“It’s a trifle, truly, in comparison to having your precious little—”

“Zara.”

She heaved a sigh. “My father has designs to marry me to some cadet branch from a particular family—one who has recently joined with those traitors, the Lucerni.” At Festus’ pointed look, she waved a dismissive hand. “He’s desperate, and he’ll see the contract through even to them for the sake of creating alliances. Unless someone can make a better offer, of course…”

“And you’re short of suitors.” Festus assumed.

“Not if a certain newly-minted magister puts in his bid. I hear he’ll be plagued with marriage offers come daybreak. And won’t all those pesky marriage interviews keep him from his true passion—his studies?”

It was a grim prospect, one the more introverted Festus didn’t relish.

Zara moved in closer, her breath warm against his cheeks as she whispered in his ear. “Besides, this potential Dreamer will need a more…tamed mother, won’t they? One who won’t ask questions or betray the existence of her sweet husband’s…” Her head bobbled as she considered the best phrasing. “Well…less-than-appropriate mistress?”

Festus hid his repulsion for the woman hanging on his arm under a thinly-veiled feint of consideration. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought of her everyday since her unfair escape from his family’s estate. Dark-bright eyes oft haunted his dreams. They haunted his waking hours, too. It was a lie he kept close to his chest.

What he wouldn’t give just for the chance of seeing her again…

“It’s traditional for my family to marry at the end of the year, during the holiday festivals.” He informed her. “Now, would you like to share this plan of yours with your fiancé?”

Zara smiled knowingly.

…

The memory played again and again in his mind.

I’ll never forgive you.

I understand.

Lucanis Dellamorte sighed.

The toes of his boots hung off the edge of the rooftop by mere centimeters.

Below him, the city of Minrathous danced at its full tilt. Lights of magical-illumination. Bursting pubs. Beggars in the gutter. Unaware of his presence, and yet Lucanis knew better than to let his guard drop. He certainly couldn't while he was here, not while he was in unfamiliar territory.

Vyrantium was one thing. Minrathous was another beast entirely.

But his target was here, and so he had come.

His target.

Zara Renata. Newlywed of Magister Festus Thalsian, the junior of a recently deceased father. A brave match that could see the Empire forward for generations with the heights they could reach together.

Unless Lucanis got to work, that is.

Little was known about the Thalsian family almost in spite of how well-known they were. What was known beyond their names and prestige was limited to what its members allowed outsiders to know. They were prideful, ever seeking more power and power beyond. This fact was likely not helped by their connection to the first recorded priest of Dumat. The lack of any other concrete information about the family as a whole—not to mention individual members—was frustrating for Lucanis.

He hadn’t been able to fill even a full page with what paltry intel he had been able to gather before journeying to Minrathous. In a perfect world, he would have had another week to do some more footwork, perhaps even a day or two to observe the Thalsian estate before he ever crossed the threshold.

But the world was not perfect, and Lucanis had not been consulted on setting a date for this particular wedding.

While the Thalsian family remained obfuscated, the Renata family was much more prone to chase the spotlight. They were a moderately affluent house, but this union would no doubt do wonders to elevate their standing in the Imperium.

The last time he had crashed a wedding, it had ended with the father-of-the-bride dead before Lucanis was mysteriously spirited away from the festivities.

Even as unfamiliar as Minrathous was to him, Lucanis was able to follow the interconnecting alleyways easily enough. A fancy manor in this city was much like a tree in a forest or sand on the beach, even with the special occasion being held at this household. Lucanis was able to find the Thalsian estate with little trouble, and without detection.

The serpentine crest wrought into the black-iron gate of the estate confirmed the proud owners of the home. Sneaking inside undetected amidst the sea of well-wishers and wedding guests was one of the easier maneuvers Lucanis had executed in his time as a Crow.

And so he found himself in much a similar position as the one he was in out on the streets, tucked up and out of the way on a makeshift perch. Rather than a seedy and rain-slicked rooftop, he found security behind a granite-carved serpent, an eave mounted high about the festivities below, stuck in an indefatigable vigil over the decorated and gilded ballroom.

He was charming in a disarming sort of way, Lucanis could see that much from his current vantage point.

The magister’s smile was ostentatious. It wanted your attention—no, demanded it. It was bright, flashy, like vibrant scales that warned potential prey of poison lurking in the body of a predator, just waiting for the one foolish enough to fall to its charms.

It certainly didn’t help that his looks would appeal to anyone.

“You’re sure it’s secured?” He asked with minimal movement of his lips—Lucanis just barely made out what he was saying to his new bride.

Zara Renata offered a much more practiced, poisonous smile as she made to meet her groom. “Of course, darling. She’s downstairs with the rest of the wedding presents.” She said, lip movements less covert than Festus’.

Festus stiffened then, but nodded with a certain eagerness that Lucanis found raising his hackles. The shine that overtook the magister’s eyes did nothing to set Lucanis at ease. There was a hunger—an affection, if it could truly be called that—that had been missing from every moment spent with his bride, even while he bound himself to her.

The bride herself, however, did not share Lucanis’ offense.

“I must admit, she’s prettier than I expected. I can almost see the appeal. Almost.” Zara told her newly-wedded husband, hooking her arm in his. “She shouted something at me in that blasted tongue of theirs. So uncouth.”

Surely they didn’t mean…

Lucanis cursed the magisters under his breath. Both of them—for good measure.

Though his mind immediately set to lecturing him, reminding him that he had a job to do and his window to do it and get out was closing with each step the couple took toward their marriage bed, his heart and legs rallied all the stronger. He left his serpentine perch with a soundless leap, heading into the first corridor he saw with a descending set of stairs, mindful of each step.

His gut lurched with each repetition in his ears of those words as they played over and over again in his mind.

Wedding presents. Wedding presents. Weddings presents.

He heard Illario’s words in his ears, too, ringing like a warning bell, tolling and warning him away from a course he was already on.

We’re not heroes, cousin.

Lucanis kept close to the ancient stone walls. For all the variations in façades, Tevinter homes above a certain degree of nobility and prestige all had similar layouts. Wine cellars often masked more nefarious rooms—holding cells. Often barely distinguishable from the house servants’ sleeping quarters, though they sported chains and shackles the quarters did not.

The sounds of the wedding party slipped away from him as he neared the false wall of casks, and a hushed conversation filled his ear instead. He knelt down behind the end of a row of casks that acted as the mouth to a slip of hallway leading to the unlit cells beyond.

His brow twitched as he listened in.

“Oh, hush, Strife! I’ll have us out of here in no time.”

“Didn’t you say those things were untested? What if you tip off the whole damn household?” A man’s deep cadence questioned.

Whoever he was, Lucanis could hear the years in his voice. The certainty was unusual, raising Lucanis’ eyebrow. Most caught up in the slave system of Tevinter didn’t sound so confident, especially if they had years under their belt.

“Please. I can hear the band playing from here, which means they might as well be deaf up there. Besides, the mister and missus should be making their way to the marriage bed by now. Now stand back, will you? Just in case.”

The second voice was distinctly feminine, sporting an accent that sounded slightly Nevarran to color her words. It was clear she was well-acquainted with the man she spoke with, given the familiarity in her tone.

In the low light of the pocket hall, Lucanis couldn’t quite make out what was happening, and he certainly didn’t come to terms with it until after it had happened. A bright flash of light—completely soundless—exploded into the air. Unprepared, Lucanis flinched away, pressing his forefinger and thumb into his eyes to alleviate the discomfort.

It took everything in him not to curse aloud.

Beyond the wall, the conversation continued.

“Ye of little faith.” The woman declared smugly. “I tell ya, people in this town are too obsessed with figuring out how to use magic to stop time, or turn it back, or how to manipulate people using their own blood. A little bit of creativity, and they’d actually be a threat.”

“It’s not little faith in you, brains. It’s little interest in having your old man turn me into a walking dead man if he finds out I let a Thalsian get hands on you. Again.”

“Good thing I’m going to kill Thalsian, then. Two Thalsian’s, now.” A pause. “You know that’s not what my father does, right?”

“Don’t try to explain it to me again, please. It’s weird.”

“Only in places that aren’t Nevarra.”

“Yeah, which is everywhere else in Thedas. Come on, let’s liberate our fellow man and get outta here.”

“After y—”

The pair went quiet.

While Lucanis blinked away the after effects of the shocking surprise, his vision still a colorful daze as though he had looked directly into the sun, a pair of thighs wrapped around his neck. The Crow cursed that time, shifting his focus on getting this unseen person off of him.

His hand instinctively went for one of the knees, hoping to disbalance and then sling his assailant off of him. Instead of loosening grip, their knees closed in, ankles locking for extra security.

He couldn’t catch his breath. If they had half a mind, no doubt they could twist their lower half and take his neck right along with them. At such an angle it would be unlikely to kill him, but he still didn’t relish the thought of a neck ache or the accompanying headache.

He just had to catch them by surprise.

And so Lucanis struggled to his feet, balancing precariously with the added weight on his shoulders.

And then he let himself fall backwards.

His piggybacker made a tactical decision to protect themself from injury—rather than keeping a hold on him and risk hurting their own back, their legs released his neck, allowing the attacker time needed to roll out into a safer position just before they both hit the marble floor.

“Bloody shem!” The woman’s voice was warm against his neck.

The woman from the cell, he saw now.

Before either of them could make another move, laughter echoed off the stony walls.

“Take it easy on the poor guy, Nöa.” A tall, muscled elven man, the owner of the male voice Lucanis had heard, chuckled amicably, standing over them in their entangled heap. “I don’t think he’s interested in hurting either of us.”

Lucanis said nothing, only offering an easy smirk in reply once his coughing subsided and allowed him to. He rubbed at his neck absently.

“Oh, forgive the mistake—I saw a figure in black and my brain assumed Thalsian guard.” The woman, Nöa, chuckled easily, offering him a hand up as soon as she was back on her feet.

Lucanis considered the outstretched gloved hand for a moment, before accepting.

“Sorry for trying to choke you, by the way.” She added quickly. “I usually buy people dinner before I start wrapping my thighs around their neck.”

“No, no. I don’t mind…”

Strife snorted, and despite the smug look on her face, the woman blushed. When he realized what he had said, Lucanis cleared his throat.

“Are you alright?” He asked instead.

“Hm? Oh. Fancy meeting a friendly here. You’re not to Festus’ tastes, so you must be a gift for the new madame of the house.”

“What? No. I came to help you.” He shook his head. “No.”

Actually, he had come to kill the new madame of the house and her new husband. But here he was. He could almost hear Illario berating him. It was a harmless enough lie, since he knew she was also keen on seeing the sun set on the world with two less magisters in it.

The woman put her hands on her hips, head cocking to the side as she studied him, rounding him like a surveyor. “Hm. You’re obviously not with the Shadow Dragons.”

Her left eye glinted with a mischievous light, its prosthetic partner seeming to reflect the same sentiment despite its inorganic nature.

“Neither are you. Obviously.” He said pointedly, standing straight up as she circled him.

“Oh, and that accent.” She all but crooned, leaning in closer when she rounded back to face him. “Antivan, right?” Conspiratorially, she posited: “I’d wager you’re a Crow, then, given your ensemble? I’ve always wanted to meet a Crow.”

Lucanis’ brow betrayed him by bunching up, belying his bemusement.

What in the Maker’s name is wrong with her?

Before he could do more than open his mouth, she raised a hand to keep him quiet.

His lips pursed.

A pair of Thalsian’s estate guards passed by, but now before the shorter woman had pulled into an alcove, her taller companion already back behind the wall. Lucanis would have protested, but his focus was squarely on the two guards.

The woman’s hand held him in place, pressed into his chest, before her eyes darted to him, then to the guards.

They were drunk, by the way they laughed and hung on one another—unaware. No doubt they had imbibed on their lord’s wedding wine. They didn’t even notice that the elves tucked within the cages held onto doors that were half-open and slowly, carefully closing.

“And then what did he say?”

“Well, he goes—”

Before the guard could finish their tale, Lucanis and the woman moved as one. They both closed the gap carefully. Just before they reached the pair, the woman muttered something—a spell—under her breath.

The pair quieted, then stilled. Lucanis prepared to end the guard on the left with a clean twist of his neck, but the woman stopped him. It was curiosity, not mercy, that stayed him. He watched as she put a rag to the man’s nose.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and then he crumpled to the floor.

She gestured for Lucanis to let go of his quarry, and she repeated the action with the rag.

“Yeah, just like that. Big, old breaths. Really take in those heady notes of felandaris.”

“It’s a paralytic, but I added in a little extra surprise.” Nöa told him. “They won’t remember a thing.” She folded the rag back into her breast pocket. “Totally harmless to the touch, but works a wonder once it’s inhaled.” She explained. “I don’t mind killing where it needs done. These guys are barely more than slaves to the powers that be, though. Might even be indentured.”

Lucanis hummed curtly. She was much more…exuberant…but the way she spoke of the chemical reminded him of Viago. While he could picture her with a similar deadpan, he couldn’t conjure up a Viago so lively, even in his imagination.

“Well, now that that’s settled, you can shake a leg” Nöa nodded her head toward her companion, the man she called Strife.

She stared at him expectantly.

“Me?” Lucanis had to keep his composure. “I don’t know Minrathous well enough to get them out of the city. You clearly do.” Lucanis said. He gestured toward the man with a sweeping arm.

“No can do. I have business here with Thalsian.”

“And I have business with Renata.”

“Alright, you two, that’s enough. This is getting a little too hot for my tastes.” Strife stepped in between them, separating them with his body.

“I assure you, you’re in no danger from me.” He looked from the elf to the shorter, somewhat elven woman. “The only one I’m here to kill a magister.”

“Well, so am I.” She insisted.

“Crows don’t abandon contracts.”

“He’s mine.”

There was so much conviction in her words that Lucanis found himself frozen.

“I’ll get them out of here.” Strife decided at last. “Nöa, do what you have to do—but if it comes to it, let ‘em take the Crow.” He smirked at Lucanis before turning back to his companion, staring her down seriously as his hand found her shoulder. “You get yourself out of here, that way I don’t have an angry necromancer using me for anatomy lessons because I let his daughter get herself nabbed.”

“Your skeletal structure would be very good for articulation lectures.” Nöa mused.

“See, that’s the kind of strange stuff you’ve gotta stop saying.” Despite his words, the man chuckled fondly. “I better be seeing you back at base.

“Jumper’s honor.” She signaled him off with a small wave before turning to Lucanis. “Shall we go ruin a marriage?”

Lucanis followed her, even if he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he was following her into. He studied her as they slunk back up the stairs. There wasn’t a hint of tension in her shoulders. If it wasn’t for the surreptitious nature of their movements, he would have thought she belonged here.

“How do you know where to go?”

“Who says I do?” She teased.

“Your body.” He said.

“Ser, that implies you’re paying attention.” She hummed, pleased. “Like what you see?”

Lucanis didn’t answer, which made her laugh—quietly, mindful of their situation.

“Let’s just say I’ve spent more time in this house than I want to think about. Thalsian and his bride will be in his chamber. Which will be in the west halls. It’s a whole private suite—belonged to his father before he croaked.”

Lucanis said nothing, pausing when she reached back a hand, holding him in place. She barely reached her head around the end of the corridor leading back to the main ballroom. Then she swore under her breath.

“Venatori.” Nöa told him, turning around to face him with a thoughtful hum.

Her hand didn’t leave his chest.

“Wouldn’t that just ruin the good Magister Thalsian’s name if it got out.” Lucanis noted, raising an eyebrow at her.

She met his gaze. A wolfish, understanding smile struck her features.

“After you, my lady.”

Nöa hummed, pleased, before reaching down and pulling a simple dagger from her belt. It looked like little more than a letter-opener, but she held it with certainty.

“So, were you all invited, or are you the hired help for the night?”

“That mark on her face! It’s the Hare!” One of the agents cried.

“Well, fools! Do your duty. Just don’t kill her—Festus wants her alive.” He sneered, lips twitching. “No doubt he’d prefer her face untouched, too. Her pretty little friend is fair game, however.”

Lucanis glowered, readying his own choice weaponry. “I’ll go left.” He told Nöa, practically growling.

Nöa said nothing, setting to work on the right side of the small troop.

They worked quickly, methodically.

Whoever these Venatori agents were, the spellcasting couldn’t match either of their opponents for speed. Nöa had uttered spells and conjured fire before they could get out more than a syllable. Who she didn’t burn, she stabbed.

Lucanis, meanwhile, showed his foes what a Crow could do. They may as well have been a training exercise compared to contracts he had taken. Forfex came to mind at once, along with a slew of names he couldn’t remember.

“And then there was one.” Nöa said, panting slightly as she leveled her gaze at the magister before them.

“Magister Iranicanus.” The portly man bowed dramatically, unfazed by the efficiency with which his men had been dispatched.

Lucanis wondered if it was pride or sheer arrogance. With magisters, sometimes there was hardly a difference.

“Never heard of you.” Nöa said dryly, stalking toward him.

“How dare—”

With a muttered but committed spell, Nöa had the man frozen, though Lucanis couldn’t see any signs of frost or fractals on the man. She swaggered toward the magister, unfazed, surveying him with a critical glint in her eyes.

Then, she used that particular dagger from her belt to create a simple but deadly cut along the path of his carotid artery. It was precise. Almost surgical. There was no pleasure in it, only a sense of necessity.

Justice.

Within seconds, whatever magic she had used on the man disappeared, and he fell to his knees, then to the floor. Dead at her feet, bleeding freely even after life had left him. That blood trickled down the steps of the altar that had been used to bind two magisters earlier that evening. Now it acted as the resting place of another.

“Well, this was fun.” Nöa decided at last, smiling once again.

Lucanis blinked in surprise, stunned by the sudden feeling of her lips against his cheek for the briefest of moments. He stared at her, eyes wide and lips pursed.

She laughed, no doubt inspired by the look of shock on his face. “What? This poor altar deserved to see at least one proper kiss today. And I’d say you’ve more than earned it.”

“You call that fun?” He asked, still stupefied.

“Well…” She drawled out harmlessly. “At least a magister died today. Right?”

Lucanis sighed. “Now, what do we do about Renata and Thalsian? The whole household will be on alert now.”

“I—”

“Well, don’t just stand there! After her!”

“Like I said.” Lucanis said with absolutely no satisfaction in his voice.

He heard the woman speak in a language unfamiliar but not unknown to his ears: elven. If her tone was any proper indicator, she had cursed.

“Thalsian.”

She reached for a dagger tucked against her waist.

Lucanis grabbed her wrist, shaking his head firmly.

She waved her hand at the door, eyes wide and incredulous.

This was the whole point.

“It’s too public.” Lucanis hissed.

She huffed, frustrated.

“Come on, we need to go.”

“I thought Crows didn’t abandon contracts.”

“We don’t. But we retreat when we know it’s necessary. You can try again if you get out. Not so much if you get killed.”

They were both running out of time.

“Fine.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on, there’s a window with a trellis just up the grand staircase. He never locks it. We can get out through there.”

Lucanis didn’t argue—not with her plan and not with her authority over his hand.

They bounded up the stairs quickly. Nöa climbed into the deep sill of one of the overarching windows, unlatching it and pushing its heft frame open before giving Lucanis a hand up. He joined her, but not before the doors below opened with a resounding crash, tailed by the march of Thalsian guards.

“Hey, Crow. What are you doing?”

He looked over his shoulder, then back at her.

They would follow too easily if he didn’t buy her time.

“Hey, hey!”

He shut the window, ramming one of his daggers into the lock so she couldn’t pry it open. And slammed a fist against the outside of the window, horrified.

He offered her a small smile, and then he dropped out of the sill.

It didn’t take long for those rushing footsteps to reach him.

At least Illario hadn’t come with him, after all.

“Well, well, well…”

It wasn’t Thalsian who had come, after all.

“If it isn’t the Demon himself. This isn’t Vyranitum, you know.”

Lucanis froze, keeping his back to the witch he knew stood behind him.

First the attack on the ship, now this.

The magister ran her fingertip along his chin. “Hello, Master Dellamorte. I’ve been oh so eager to meet you. Seems like someone else gave you a warm greeting, too.”

Her fingertip traced upward to his cheek, removing lipstick red as blood. He knew the cut on his cheek was bleeding, but it took a moment for him to realize the witch now had access to his blood.

Access to him.

“Or was it a bitter farewell, hm?” Zara chuckled, the sound malicious and melodic. “You let the little beast escape. My husband will be disappointed, but, well…that’s not my problem.” She clicked her tongue. “But what to do with you, darling?”

He couldn’t move. Not his hands. Not his legs. He couldn’t lash out. The only thing left untouched by the tendrils of her blood magic was his eyes. She wanted to see his fear. But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“I do hope that little act of chivalry tasted sweet while it lasted, Master Dellamorte. And I do hope she was worth it. Though, I suppose one good turn deserves another. I won’t tell my husband she was here. Fair enough?”

Lucanis closed his eyes.

He thought of Illario, and of a summer spent chasing after pretended-wyverns in the mud.

And then he thought of nothing at all.

[tuulikannel]

Alright, getting my propaganda for the next round of @yellowcharactershowdown out now even tho the polls aren’t out yet, cause I really need to go to bed now. So tired, still a bit sick, and got an early morning tomorrow. Anyways, I’m so happy to see the bracket is up and running again! 💛💛💛 (seriously tho how can a glitch like that even happen)

That tumblr glitch gave me more time to figure out who to vote in the upcoming Korosensei vs. Hikaru poll (these are two of my main fandoms, just fyi.) So that’s a match-up I didn't want to see… (and tumblr dutifully obliged and shut down the entire blog just to spare me, so, huh, very thoughtful of tumblr I guess....)

Anyway, the decision wasn’t that hard at all, in the end.

Here’s why you should vote Hikaru too! ^^

If Hikaru went to Kunugigaoka, he would absolutely end up in the E class. No question about it, with his grades, and playing go all the time surely won’t help. And what is the mission of the E class students? To kill their teacher. This is what Korosensei actually wants! Of course, he wouldn’t make it easy, but he would still be rooting for Hikaru.

So, please give Hikaru a vote and help him kill his teacher! (…in this non-existent crossover, that is…)

(tbh, I doubt that Hikaru would ever get into Kunugigaoka in the first place, with his grades… >_> but let’s ignore that. If he did, he’d surely go to E class for his third year…… and I just realized something, this works so well with the canon! So, Hikaru goes to Kunugigaoka for junior high, somehow, dunno, just barely getting in. He’s not doing too well and it seems quite sure he’ll yet end up in 3E. But then he starts playing go for real and turns out to be something of a prodigy. As he becomes a professional player during the second year the school decides to ignore his lacking academic skills, cause honestly, having such a promising young pro in the school certainly pleases the principal. But then… one month or so into the third year (in May, you know…) for some mysterious reason, Hikaru stops playing altogether. He offers no explanations, no nothing, and in the end he is sent to the E class, partly as an attempt to shake him out of it – not that it works. And that is, of course, just the beginning of this story, which is about coming to terms with a heartbreak and ending in another heartbreak and which I am not going to write dammit, the last thing I need rn is another wip that’s such a random crossover that barely anyone will read it, brain, please stop XD)

…I’m sorry, I got distracted, please vote for Hikaru once the polls are out? ^^;;

[mitigatingacademics]

{11.09.2024}

Leaving my house for the first time since I entirely lost faith in humanity; I went to the library book sale yesterday.

These are the books I took to work last night.  

I'm seriously considering not going back to the Chemerinsky book at all. It may only be about 300 pages, but the idea that we're going to be doing anything other than trying to survive for at least the next four years, let alone magically replacing the Constitution with *something better* is so fantastical that it's offensive and my time is worth more than that ridiculousness. 

In the past few days I've slept twice as much as should reasonably be necessary and I'm still tired. 

I've dealt with depression before, but I've never had it hit so hard so suddenly. 

My mother suggested that I just need to 'talk myself out of it.' 

I burst into tears, shouted 'That's the best advice I've ever been given, I can't believe I didn't think of that!' and slammed a door. (I slammed the door specifically because she told me not to. I pay the mortgage. It's my door. I'll slam it if I want to.) So, ...that's going well. 

I feel numb and also as if my nerves are entirely fried. 

It takes a concerted effort not to entirely lose my shit over the smallest thing. 

I usually keep the majority of my politics on Twitter where I engage almost exclusively with folks that I don't know personally.

I'm done playing nice. I've taken it all to Facebook. I've lost at least five "friends" over it, too. 

The example response (middle) to the image on the left is the kind of thing that brought about a post containing the image on the right.

My keep the peace switch has broken ALL of the way off. 

I will no longer offer consideration to folks that they do not offer to others. 

If you are unable to conceptualize that our 'freedoms' ARE political and you think my expression of concern for society due to your inability to care about anyone at all beyond yourself (or even actually understand your own best interests) then you're welcome to see yourself out (it's not an airport, there's no need to announce your departure) -- and I *will* tell you that it isn't the first time this week that the trash has taken itself out. 🤷‍♀️

I did, at one point, suggest that I personally feel that some individuals are unworthy of the work it takes to put on a free and fair election...and some might find that offensive...but you put in a 17 hour day of being nice to and assisting folks only to find out the majority of them voted in a manner that demonstrated a complete lack of respect for the humanity of *several* groups you belong to and see how you feel about it.

I was never actually "friends" with the woman who showed herself before unfriending me, anyway. We became acquainted years ago via a FB game that doesn't even exist anymore. We hardly ever interacted. If I'd previously realized she was the kind of person she so proudly professed herself to be I'd have done her the favor of removing her a long time ago. 🤷‍♀️

Driving home from working the polls, I couldn't help but reflect upon other times when I had worked elections and the results had been, in my opinion, less than ideal. This felt significantly different. It was long before the Presidential race was called, and yet... the offense and disrespect I feel as a woman concerned with decency had taken on a life of its own. 

Immediately upon arriving home I posted a diatribe on FB about my experience that day. 

We had seen approximately 1,500 voters which is a huge amount for that location. There was a line *all* day. ...and even with that many people cycling through, only 3 of them tried to act up. They were all of the same persuasion - you know what I mean, even if you don't like that you know what I mean. Nearly all of the voters were friendly and pleasant. ...to have Ohio called for Trump before we were even released from our duties that evening DID SOMETHING to me. To be called that quickly meant that the vast majority of the folks I'd interacted with that day (as well as their counterparts in other precincts) smiled to my face and then voted against my right to feel safe in our shared society.

It's not a surprise that there are people like that out there, but it's incredibly painful to find them in the majority, especially after all that we have seen in the past few months.

Hours after the Presidential election was called I started writing a letter to my favorite judge. 

This woman, an actual angel, is a Child Protection Court Judge in South Texas. I sent her a Christmas card last year after finding her Zoom court on YouTube. She wrote back offering to serve as a legal field mentor - which, without exaggeration, meant just as much to me as my actual acceptance into law school. 

I'm sure she wasn't *at all* imagining the e-mail I sent her yesterday, which was a three page, single-spaced, 11-point font desperate attempt at stopping a despair spiral and figuring out what the hell happens next. 

I don't have *anyone* else that I think might be able understand what I'm going through right now as far as going from being *so* motivated to suddenly full-stop questioning if studying the rule of law will even be useful in any meaningful way. I keep coming back to wondering if they'll be cutting women's fingers off for reading by the time fall rolls around. 

I expressed to her the irony of being accepted to another law school in the midst of all of this. "Here's $70,000 to study something that won't even exist by the time you get around to using it!" 

...and I don't know anything about this woman's personal politics. I may be wildly out of line here. I'm fairly certain she is in an appointed position and there's absolutely nothing online that indicates her political affiliation. We did exchange RBG stamps, though. So, that's something. 😬🤷‍♀️

She's one of very few bridges I'm still concerned with not burning at this point. It would be somewhat tragic (and hurt my feelings a lot) if she dismisses me as a crazy over this. ...but I'm also kind of 'If you can't handle me at my worst you don't deserve me at my best!' about *everything* right now.

Also not at all about the company that I need to not be myself to keep. 🤷‍♀️

I'm trying to give myself some grace. 

I didn't even take the Constitutional Controversies book to work last night. 

Robespierre came along, but other things took priority. 

I didn't even look at LawHub.

I was working with a Trump supporting colleague who had the nerve to comment on how nice it is that anyone can do anything they want to in this country.

You won't be surprised to find that he's also a white male Elon stan.

He also felt the need to contribute that 180 million (I'm not fact checking his numbers, I honestly don't care) voters 'couldn't be wrong.'

It apparently never occurred to him that something being popular isn't a reflection of its justness. Hitler was popular, too. 🙄

Asking for focus, rationality, AND civility with that going on in the background was just too much.

Liz has been quiet.

With the exception of her (very much expected) Tweet above, there's been absolutely nothing. ...and that's beyond fair. She did everything she could - more than anyone has any right to expect of her, and she deserves a break. 

Since she's clearly *not* going to be Attorney General now, she also needs to figure out what's next.

It's just, selfishly, if you're going to remind me of my duties regarding the Constitution, rule of law, and our institutions...a little guidance on *HOW* we're supposed to do those things would be nice. 😢

Sounds real hard. Like, almost implausible. Send reinforcements.

I have less patience for Democrats like Michigan's Mallory McMorrow who feels entitled to imply that anyone asking any questions about unexpected or unorthodox election results are the equivalent of conspiracy theorists making plans to storm the Capitol. 

Like, for example, it's *interesting* that Democrats won Senate seats in six swing states ALL OF WHICH Kamala lost. Acknowledging this doesn't make you an 'election denier.'

She keeps replying to anyone taking issue with her approach here with a video of a speech she gave following the 2020 election. I recognize that said speech is the most viral she's ever gone, however, Ma'am, this isn't the same thing. ...FFS. 

Same Democrat leaders that had us practically convinced this race was impossible to lose think they can talk down to us now when we're shell shocked and trying to make sense of all the lies we were told by the folks we were supposed to be able to trust.

It's actual bullshit and entirely exhausting.

Ultimately, at least at this point, I feel pretty strongly that I may have worked my last election. 

Whether that be because I'm burnout and disillusioned or because we just don't have elections anymore remains to be seen. 

Coworker says 'he can't see' any way that Trump could do away with elections. ...He also thinks the United Nation's 2030 plan for Sustainable Development is 'the Democrat version' of Project 2025.

When I responded that that interpretation is nearing a level classified as psychotic he said "Democrats like the United Nations."

...this is the electorate.

At this point I don't even know why I'm surprised we are where we are.