#of a debate I refused to watch

[whatbigotspost]

CAUSE IM PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN

WHERE AT LEAST I KNOW IM FREE

[al-mayriti]

idk if it's because my mum worked in a tv magazine or what but all the media wars and backstabbing and stuff happening behind the cameras is so so interesting to me

[queen-scribbles]

Sooooo I caved and started watching a Halsin romance compilation on yt and my GOD is Tala gonna climb that man like a tree.

[boyapologist]

anyways what I've been trying to say for two days now but tumblr won't let me post it without several error messages is that: I'm posting on tiktok now! come show me some love in this scary scary app

tiktok.com/@boyapologist

[fleshtool]

all my friends know who i've been researching to make my antagonist but idk if i want to say who it is or if i want people to read and then find out bc i think that would be funnier than me telling. i'm very excited to write this book

[bookalicent]

if i see another destiel meme about the debate or literally any big news...... just listen to npr

[willyoubemycherryy]

No Guidance (Stack.M x R)

Summary: You’re just getting to the good part.

Contains: Flirting, some smut, Mary slander, cursing, everyone has a southern accent, platonic smoke with reader, a little dancing, MARY SLANDER, and I don’t care I don’t fucking like her, this is for the _ strictly for the _, kissing, making out, a hint of manhandling, established relationship, choking, allusions to sex and one brief flashback of some impact play, Michael B Jordan fine as hell, fine enough to bring me out of retirement

-There’s just not enough mindless smut of sinners, almost no x reader bc they’re all OC 😔 and please tell me how we feel about the daddy thing bc Stack screams daddy kink and in the next part👀…

A/N: act like I’ve been here the whole time.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

“Uh-uh. We not doin’ none of that. Not tonight. Get ta steppin’”.

You level a look at the pale woman standing in the doorway, raising an eyebrow when she crosses her arms- fixing you with a glare of her own. She really was lucky you 50 percent Christian- otherwise, you’d have turned her every way but inside out.

It was no surprise that Mary was there- given her history with Elias or “Stack”. Of course she’d come running the minute she heard he was back in town along with his brother and cousin…but running to where? Not up in here.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere cause I have business in there.” Mary points the loud crowded space behind you and you push your shoulder from off the side of the doorway. You knew all about Mary. You may have empathized a little with her but you damn sure didn’t like her. She was the past in a future that needed her gone in order to make it and her refusal in understanding that irked you immensely. To you, she was selfish- plain and simple.

“You also ‘bout to have a foot up yo ass because the only business in there is the one my man is tendin’ to and you can’t possibly be talkin’ ‘bout him?” You pose it like a question but you leave no room for debate in your voice.

She was there for Stack. She wasn’t getting Stack.

Your question was met with a scoff but otherwise silence. Mmhm. That’s what you thought. Stepping back, you get ready to close the door since you were not about to stand and argue with Mary all night; fixing her with the same ugly glare she always gives you before leaning down to whisper in her face,

“Go be a good bitch and find a new master or I’ll be the one to walk you.”

Slamming the door with a satisfied grin, you turn around to go find a friend of yours and ask her to watch the door. It took some convincing since she was the strict one out of your group but it had to be her because as much as you love the twins and trust their judgment (mostly), Cornbread could not be the one to watch the door the entire night. After agreeing that you’ll owe her one, you leave to grab a drink of your own and judging by the look on Smoke’s face as you pass him- you didn’t look happy.

“Ooh. Who did it?” He drawls out as his eyebrows draw together in a slight frown. He knew about his brother and Mary’s sordid past because of course he did but he also knew how you and Stack have been since day 1.

He still remembers the day they met you…barefoot and sass-mouthed serving drinks at your mommas little dive bar.

“Aww twins~ Wait-! don’t tell me! Y’all gots ta be Double and Trouble!” Laughing like a hyena until your mama threw a spoon from the kitchen and you ducked- smacking your teeth before hurrying off to get their liquor.

That was it.

A pretty young server and good malt..until they came back for another couple rounds one night and you were still barefoot but this time, you wasn’t serving no drinks. Instead, you were standing in the middle of the room singing with a voice so sweet and strong that it rang through their head for the rest of the night. Smoke saw an amazing gift. Stack had seen a gift and something more…

“Just some go-go flour ranger. Nobody important.” Damn. Smoke winces with a soft hum at the insult yet knowing exactly who you mean. You always were creative with your insults- never missing in hitting where it hurt. Taking a deep breath, the beat of the music temps up and he passes you your drink and you sip at it, nodding along to the music as you start to loosen up. Tonight wasn’t the night and neither were any of the others. Tonight was supposed to be the continuation of their new pages turning- and that meant the end of whatever beef was between you, Mary, and his brother.

Smoke watches you start to move and raises a brow; broad smile growing across his face, making his dimples pop out as something comes to him.

“You gon’ sing a lil sum’ for us?”

Reaching out, he takes your hand to twirl you with a soft grin and you let go afterwards to fake think for a bit. Sammy currently had the floor and he was doing great plus…you sorta had other plans for the night. Smoke huffs a laugh, noticing that glint in your eyes- the one you got when you were fixing to get a kick out of causing trouble.

“Ohh, I get it. You in a just dancin’ mood tonight, huh?”

You get another drink and finish that one quick before nodding slowly before moving closer with a grin.

“Smoke, y’know, I neva’ woulda pegged you as a dancin’ man but if you’re offering-“,

“Oh nah baby, he ain’t but I am.”

The low words are whispered against the shell of your ear with a heat that sends shivers licking up your spine. Big, familiar hands fit themselves on your shoulders while Stack dips his head lower to press soft, full lips against your throat- directly over your pulse point and your heart jumps; you barely holding back a gasp. You look at the space where Smoke had been standing before he made himself scarce with a lighthearted “don’t wear y’selves out” and try to gather yourself, turning in Stack’s arms to face him.

Lidded, mellow chocolate eyes focused on you with plump lips pulled up in a smirk framed by dimples greet you and you roll your eyes. Shaking your head lightly as you swallow a whine.

There really was such thing as being too fine and Stack was proof. Strong hands glide themselves further down your sides, settling on the space just above your ass, never taking his eyes off yours and the intensity of him sparks something inside you.

“Been lookin’ for ya. Shoulda known yous’ somewhere in here causin’ trouble, hmm?”

It’s a lot warmer than you remember it being a couple minutes ago but no matter how deep you inhale, it doesn’t go away. That’s when you realize that the room hasn’t gotten any hotter than it’s already been.

But you have.

Your mouth barely opens to retort before Stack’s is covering it completely with his- slow, consuming and so deep. You truly can’t help the way you melt into him. Heart pounding with adrenaline and something much more tantalizing at the way Stack leads, plush lips firm against yours as you suckle at each others mouths. You only had two drinks but you already feel drunk; senses heightened and so sensitive that you’re borderline vibrating. Blood flowing through your system with a searing rush.

Stack harshly sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and your pulse drops like a boulder into the lava pooling in your lower stomach; sending waves ricocheting through your body before licking deep into your own just in time to muffle the nasty little moans threatening to slip out while his tongue memorizes every inch of your mouth and the pleasure has you on the way to out of your mind and he knows it.

You were unyielding to everyone and everything else except him and Stack used that to his advantage each and every time. He’d always been good at getting people to listen to him but the way you gave into him was the sweetest thing he’d come to know. From the way your doe eyes would get wide whenever he’d say or do something that set you off and you’d find yourself wanting him- to the way you were purring and sighing like a cat now, snuggling your soft pretty self tight against him while he devoured your mouth; lips smacking hungrily against yours.

By the time you two separate, his hand is a little too close to your throat and you suddenly want everyone to go home.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that baby. 'Else I might think we have a problem.” Stack drags his lips from the corner of your lips to your cheek, rasping lowly into your ear and you whine in frustration, shifting in his hold.

“And what if we do?”

The hand that was at first only close to your neck, slides up to wrap around it. Loose enough but heavy like a collar and you go dizzy from how hard your cunt throbs, biting your swollen lip as you bat pretty lashes up at him.

Now, Stack learned early that you had a thing for sass-mouthing. You, learned quickly that Stack didn’t have much patience for being sass-mouthed. So if there was something you wanted from him, you learned the first time he spanked your ass raw while being stuffed with three of his thick fingers but nothing else- to ask for it real nice and polite. Your tone though, would be the death of you.

“Then I’m sure we can come to an agreement”, his hand squeezes quick before releasing as he presses another hard kiss to your lips, “Right baby?” You nod before you can stop yourself, body roaring with molten need and you blurt out,

“Tell everyone to go home.”

A surprised bark of laughter shoots from his chest and he raises an amused brow as he looks down at you.

“C’mon, you know I can’t. We just opened this place a few weeks ago, mamas. Gotta break it in.” You throw your head back with a groan, rolling your eyes as you mumble under your breath.

“Wish you’d break me in…”

“Huh?”

“What?”

You ask back just as fast and Stack whistles lowly, shaking his head before dragging you in by your throat so close that you’re standing between his legs. He drops his forehead against yours and just takes a couple seconds to look at you- breathe you in before he has you begging for the better half of the night.

“Nah, what was that?”

“What was what?” You could play dumb with the best of em. Grinning innocently like you had all the time in the world to play your games and Stack was all too ready to play with you. Especially when he knew he’d win.

“You gon’ make me get it outta you, pretty girl?”

Your heart skips a beat and he notices your eyes doing the thing when you answer:

“If you think you can then go ahead.”

Stack nods slowly, moving his hand off your throat to take your hand instead. Rising to his full height, he leads you up to the office of the joint, guiding you in first then closing the door behind you both with a click and makes his way towards you.

His stride reminds you a lot of a predator getting ready to jump on their prey and you only hope that you’re left shaking afterwards…

Part 2🫶🏽

-p.s. can y’all guess who’s next?

Another note- agree or disagree about Mary in the comments but be respectful to one another. I delete comments and block people so chill and type accordingly.

[so-sick-of-17]

Did trump really just say that it was the republicans that got us out of Covid? Jesus Christ!

[apatheticsunday]

Manifesting Destiny

AKA "Danny knows about Bruce Wayne's little adoption habit, so he actively fights back by making digs at the older man's age. He doesn't realize he essentially adopted himself by calling Bruce 'grandpa'!" prompt idea!!

Okay, so 19-year-old Jazz moves to Gotham because Arkham has an psychiatrist internship that guarantees a job after graduation from Gotham-U. She takes a 12-13 year old Danny with because the "ghost attacks" (i.e., her parents are getting very obsessed with dissecting Phantom and it's genuinely worrying) are getting worse. Now Danny's in Gotham Prep... along with Damian Wayne.

They do not get along.

Damian stabs Danny with a pencil, Danny bites Damian so hard that he needs stitches, and the detentions only increase their bloodthirst because, "He started it!!" It comes to a head when Damian shoves Danny down the stairs (he wasn't really meaning to, he just pushed too hard), and Danny goes down hard. As in not-getting-back-up kind of hard. And Damian realizes he just killed a civilian. He's running through contingency plans, trying to figure out whether he can hide the body or if he should confess to Father, when the Fenton boy's broken neck... becomes un-broken?? And he sits up??

So, 13-year-old Damian makes a logical decision. Daniel Fenton is clearly his Arch Nemesis. He's undeniably a meta (perhaps with super-healing abilities?) so he can withstand Damian's too-enthusiastic violence. And Danny's like, this fucker just killed me. I'm going to beat his ass. Except Damian has a really high pain tolerance and is literally the heir to the League of Assassins. Long story short, Damian and Danny have "play dates" where they spend the entire time trying to kill/beat each other up. Jazz is just happy that Danny seems to have made a friend.

Bruce, on the other hand, takes one look at a scrawny, black-haired, blue-eyed kid who clearly has some childhood trauma, and mentally becomes Bat Dad. He tried to approach the subject once. Bruce carefully, tentatively asked, "Do you have a place to stay, son? We have plenty of rooms." To which Danny replied, "I'm not your son, I have a dad!! Why don't you go sit down before you break a hip, grandpa!!" (Tim choked on his tea, Damian nearly climbed across the table to strangle Danny, and Dick - who doesn't even live at the manor, he was just dropping off a case from Bludhaven PD - laughed so hard he cried.)

Except... Danny keeps coming over to the Wayne Manor (since Damian refuses to 'spar' at Jazz's one bedroom apartment, as it lacks a personal gymnasium). And Bruce is still kind, no matter how many times Danny makes fun of him for wearing bifocals or turtlenecks, or when he just straight up calls Bruce an old man. Plus, Damian's kind of mellowed out, too. He's teaching Danny actual sparring techniques, hand-to-hand combat, and explains different types of weapons/how to use them. Alfred brings the boys snacks. Occasionally Dick and Jason will visit for dinner, ruffling the boy's hair and joking about something or another. He's even introduced to Steph, Cass, and Barbara.

It dawns on Danny one evening, when Alfred is readying the car to take him back to his and Jazz's apartment. Bruce is scraping leftovers into a plastic container for Jazz to re-heat when he gets home and Danny's debating quietly with Damian about whether octopi are smarter than Superman. (Damian says yes, octopi are definitely smarter; he's seen Superman mutter to himself "lefty loosey, righty tighty" when trying to unscrew a water bottle cap.)

Then Bruce is handing Danny the leftovers, and Danny distractedly gives Bruce a side-hug, saying, "Thanks, grandpa."

Totally unironically. Danny's internal monologue is just what the fuck did I just say as Bruce slips him a $20 ("For a treat on the way home.") and escorts him to the front door. He thinks about it as Alfred drives him home. Thinks about it when he and Jazz curl up to watch a movie that night. Danny belatedly realizes that he's been unintentionally thinking of Bruce "Serial Adopter" Wayne as his grandfather??? For months now?? How could this happen??

Back at the Wayne Manor, Bruce is still in the kitchen, listening to Damian continue to debate Superman's intelligence while Tim scrolls on his work tablet. He'll probably take the kids, including the newest edition to the family, to the zoo this weekend.

[kingkaisen]

— ♡ — 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 || 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 — ♡ —

Gojo’s in the middle of an important meeting, but chatting with his wife and daughter is his only priority.

“Satoru, can you please get off of your damn phone?”

Holding up a finger to the frustrated CEO as if to say, “give me a minute,” Gojo laughed casually as he kept his phone pressed against his ear.

The thirteen sharply dressed businessmen seated at the conference table all had their eyes fixated on the chatty sorcerer, who was asked to attend a very important meeting regarding the recent appearance of a special grade curse lurking around the company’s headquarters.

“Really?” Gojo said enthusiastically, leaning back in his office chair, swerving from side to side just a bit. “And what else did you do? What’d you learn at preschool today?”

Some of the impatient men were less aggravated once they realized who he was talking to — his beloved daughter.

“You learned about the life cycle of a butterfly? Oh, that’s amazing . . . And you drew a picture of one? We’re just gonna have to hang it on the fridge then . . . Mommy packed you your favorite sandwich for lunch? Did you gobble it all up? Sounds like you had a fun day, Muffin-”

“Satoru.”

The CEO called the sorcerer’s name again, but the man ignored him, grinning as he listened to his adorable daughter ramble on and on about her exciting day.

“Daddy’s gotta hang up soon, he’s in a very important meeting right now. Can you put mommy on the phone?”

As Gojo spoke sweetly to the young girl over the phone, he glared at the CEO, who sighed in utter defeat once the white-haired man still refused to get off of his phone.

“This is ridiculous, Gojo,” the older man grumbled. “It’s rude, unprofessional, and disrespectful to do this in the middle of a meeting!”

“Yeah?” Gojo raised his eyebrows. “If my daughter calls me, I’m going to answer. And you’re crazy if you think I’m not going to speak to my wife as well.”

“But we have a serious situation that needs to be discussed-”

“No, not really. This meeting is entirely unnecessary, considering I could just kill the curse and be done with it. My kid telling me about caterpillars matters more to me than anything you have to say right now, sir.”

For a moment, as the CEO sighed heavily in frustration, the big conference room was completely silent until Gojo suddenly spoke up.

“Hi baby,” Gojo beamed at the sound of your beautiful voice in his right ear. “Did you have a good day? I miss you . . . What? The store ran out of rice? You’re right, that is ridiculous. Want me to stop at a different store on the way home? . . . I know what kind, sweetheart . . . I’ll be home before dinner, I promise . . . No, I love you more and that’s not up for debate, sorry . . . Alright, I gotta hang up too . . . Okay . . . Bye, baby.”

Once Gojo hung up, the CEO sighed once again, but this time, with relief. But, as he started to speak, Gojo instantly got up from his chair.

“Hey, where are you going?” The CEO shouted, watching as Gojo headed straight for the door, smiling causally with his hands in his pockets.

“I’m going to kill that curse so I can go home. My wife needs more rice and my daughter wants to show me her butterfly picture, so I’m not staying here for a stupid meeting.”

The CEO’s protests were cut off by Gojo shutting the door behind him as he left the conference room.

And, this was, perhaps, the quickest amount of time in which Gojo had ever killed a special grade curse. After all, he missed his beautiful family, and he’d always make it home, no matter what.

— Part II —

[rin-may-1103]

Aspiring Escape Artist (part two)

Last | Master Post | Next...

"Why don't we all head inside, yes?" Mr. Wayne suggested, waving his arm in the doors general direction.

"Yes, that sounds great," Ms. Clance agreed, turning to Danny like she was debating whether or not she should drag him inside. Danny was very against that idea and glared at her. She huffed but turned and started making her way up the stairs.

The other, he can't really say kids because he's pretty sure half the people standing in front of him were over the age of eighteen, but they still lived with Mr. Wayne, apparently, so kids it was. The other kids continued to try to stealthily watch him as they made their way into the building. (He refused to call this place a house; it was bigger than Sam's manor for Ancients' sake.)

The gray-eyed girl waited for him, the not-so-happy but happy sparkle back as she watched him approach. Pausing for a moment, Danny turned and gently patted the bush closest to him, it had been practically begging for attention for the past ten minutes and Sam would have throttled him if he had just ignored it.

She treated them like demented puppies, and it's against every unspoken law (in danny's books, atleast) to ignore a puppy.

The gray-eyed girl (man, he was going to have to learn their names, Ancients, why were there so many people here?) tilted her head curiously, eyeing the plant he just patted.

"My friend has plant powers," Danny huffed, which was true. Sam still had lingering plant control and a connection to the green because of Undergrowth. Danny was just leaving out the fact that he also had plant powers. He wasn't sure why he always got new powers after beating new powerful ghosts, but it happens, and now he needs to pet the plants because they get sad if he doesn't.

(Jazz theorized once that the new powers were due to his half-a nature, but then they looked at Vlad and decided it was probably something else.) (Also, why in the world did he get ice powers and then almost immediately plant powers? like, seriously, why?)

"Close friend?" Gray asked, turning to follow Danny inside.

"One of my best friends," Danny agreed. Man, he missed them. He'd have to figure out how to get out of here soon; there was no way he was going to just not see his friends on Tucker's birthday. Which meant he had about a week to bust out of here and get back to Amity. Oh, and stay under the radar so Vlad doesn't find him.

Glancing around the entry hall, or was the term foyer? like, the place was fancier then most five star hotels he's seen (which he wants to make clear, was against his dying wishes. fuck vlad and his not hard earned money.) like, sure, it wasn't all white modern minimalist like the hotels, but he's pretty sure the vase just sitting a little too close to the edge of a table was worth more then a human heart on the black market.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor," Mr. Pennyworth started, closing the doors with a heavy thud. He didn't lock it, though, Danny noted. Probably because Ms. Clance still needed to leave.

"may I have your coats?" he asked, holding out his arm to Ms. Clance and looking over to Danny. Ms. Clance immediately started to shrug off her jacket and dropped it onto his arm without a second glance, trying to talk to Mr. Wayne about an office or something.

Danny shook his head, "No thanks. I prefer to keep my things with me." especially in a new place, who knows what they'd do to his stuff. last time he handed anything over it had been locked up and never returned. (or well, not returned until he stole it back right before leaving, but that's getting into semantics.)

"So, Daniel was it?" the older guy from the first three asked, smiling brightly and trying to act casual. He was failing.

"It's Danny," Danny huffed, glancing around to study the others.

Gray was nice, he had a feeling they'd get a long fine. she was like an open book, all her opinions and emotions right there for him to see. Though that just meant she was awear of them and could easily hide them.

The others not so much.

Eyebags looked tired but alert, watching Danny like he was a new puzzle. Which was fine, Danny could deal with that. He probably wasn't as bad as Jazz or his parents were when obsessed with new things, so he goes lower on the list but not off.

Mr. Casual over here was watching him AND the others, which meant he was probably the peacekeeper. That or he was the one who antagonized the others into acting without them noticing. Same as eyebags, then.

Blondie looked like she was planning how to prank him right then and there, but also like she was evaluating him for something. Like he thought earlier, she'll probably stick around until she gets bored. So, hmmm. Keep an eye on more than eyebags, but probably not a problem.

there was a kid maybe two-three years younger than him trying to hide on the stairs out of view, he looked pissed off and annoyed. Something was telling Danny he should stay away from him. So, definitely going to the top of his list right next to butler man.

And finally, Mr. Wayne. He was smiling and chatting with Ms. Clance like he didn't have a care in the world. And it would have been believable if it wasn't for the fact that the man was easily steering the conversation away from the stuff Ms. Clance wanted to talk about, without Danny around, before leaving. Which means Mr. Wayne wanted Danny to be part of the conversation, probably to get both sides of the story.

He was smart and knew how to manipulate situations without people catching on.

Also, top of the list, then.

"Only people who want to kill me call me Daniel," Danny added, watching as Ms. Clance tried to bring up his file and fell for another diversion.

"Really?" Eyebags asked, actually surprised for some reason.

Oh, wait, murder isn't normal. Ha, to live a normal life. It must be boring. Couldn't be him, even if he wanted it. There was nothing normal about growing up with mad scientists, and nothing normal about being half dead and a vigilante.

"Yeah, my friends and I made a chart and everything. Granted, we didn't have many people to add to the list to compare with, but it's checked out so far." Danny admitted, turning to face Eyebags.

Honestly, it was just Vlad, his parents, a few GIW agents, and those very few times his friends almost killed him. But come on, they all called him Daniel at some point. Therefore, it totally checks out.

"Huh," Mr. Casual blinked, glancing at his siblings before shaking his head. "Right, so uh, why do people want to kill you?"

"Because they're Fruit Loops," Danny grumbled, finally deciding to approach Ms. Clance. Might as well get this done and over with. The longer she stayed, the less time Danny would have to scout the place by himself later, after all the introductions.

Next (to be written)

[rhodolly]

stares into the distance

i want to be a mom. so bad

[yasministration]

a few opinions - remus

potter!reader x remus secret relationship au summary: james finds you crying to remus because of slughorn's disrespectful comments, and decides to tell professor mcgonagall a few opinions about his potions professor wc: 0.6k+

James Potter had never done so much as bat an eye when he saw couples making out in the hallways, but the second he saw his sister sitting on a platform in the courtyard, bag settled down beside her as she locked lips with his best friend, standing right in front of her, he knew he had to intervene.

James huffed, ignoring the amused calls of his name. Sirius only half-cared that James was about to wrench Remus away from you, but when he saw Remus pull away from you, revealing your face that was glistening with fallen tears, he felt his eyes widen, rushing over to hold James back. But it seemed that your brother noticed your tears at the same time Sirius did, because he suddenly halted in the middle of the courtyard, watching as Remus hugged you closer to him, pressing his lips against your forehead in a long, comforting kiss.

Then, as though a switch flicked in his head, James hurried towards you, calling your name worriedly. You glanced towards your brother, sniffling softly as you rested your head against Remus’s chest. James put a hand on your shoulder, a frown on his face as he asked “Are you okay? Who do I have to talk to?”

You laughed quietly, wiping the tears from your face as you replied “No one James, I’ve just had a lousy day.” But Remus furrowed his eyebrows, and James immediately knew you were lying to him.

Remus caressed your back, one hand gently running up and down your skin over your jumper. James mumbled your name once, but you refused to meet his gaze, keeping yourself busy by glancing over to Sirius behind him, eyes glazed over with worry. James looked over to Remus, a question written in his eyes, but Remus wouldn’t tell him, not in front of you. Not if you didn't want to. “Sweetheart.” Remus mumbled, prompting you to tell your brother the truth.

“It’s nothing!” You insisted, though tears gathered in your eyes once more as you recalled the situation. “It’s dumb!” Remus sighed, debating on whether to say anything. Would it benefit you more if he told James? “Professor Slughorn was mean to her in class. He gave her a detention for standing up for herself.” James crossed his arms in front of his chest, anger bubbling inside him. You sniffed loudly, voice cracking as you dug your face in Remus’s chest one more, wailing softly “It’s not fair!” Remus cradled the back of your head, peppering kisses across your hairline as he said “I know sweetheart, I know.”

Still crying, you pointed at James, scolding him “You have a lesson now.” “Yeah, I know love. ‘M worried about you, though.” You shook your head, saying, “No it’s fine. I’m gonna go finish my essay now.” In unison, James and Remus both pulled away from you, muttering “No, it’ll exhaust you now” and “Sweetheart, let’s go rest, yeah?” Looking up at Remus, you furrowed your eyebrows. “I’m not done with my homework, though. Put it off for too long.” Remus pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you lifted your head up, a pleading look in your eyes. Remus smiled, leaning down slightly to capture your lips in a short kiss. “Let’s go sit by the black lake, yeah? Get some sun whilst it's still out?”

James stared at his friend fondly as he gave you suggestions for what to do. He was happy that you nodded along to Remus’s words, and was glad that despite the fact that he will always worry about his sister, at least you had someone else to look after you too. “Okay, we’re going to class. You’ll be okay?” You hummed, fingers gripping the bottom of Remus’s jumper. James glanced at Remus, slapping a hand on his shoulder before turning around and hooking an arm with Sirius. “I’m assuming we’re not going to class.” The curly haired boy stated when they were out of earshot, glancing back at you and Remus, who were still cuddled up together.

“No, we’re paying Professor McGonagall a visit. Have a few opinions to share about Slughorn."

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @juliet-f017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @why-am-i-like-this18, @theoraekenslover, @animalcrossingshameless, @azure-drag0ness, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @cakiebleh, @slytherin-princess-x, @daydreamandforget, @bxuzi, @dlljdhsh, @5sospenguinqueen, @aouoo, @spider–girl, @fandomhoe101, @user010380, @simp-for-fiction, @selenewowww, @paytonluvxx, @sharkers00

[kerink]

ford's lifetime of objectification is so important to me.

when you first watch the show, you don't really see it in tots. just taking the show in isolation, stan's experience is much easier to latch on to: stan is being neglected by his parents and the education system, and he compensates for it by becoming useful to (and therefore needed by) ford. the codependency and abuse are the themes that stand out.

which makes sense, since we've been following stan so long by this point we're bought into his character arc. alex has even said that ford was built to be someone who would explain stan's trauma response. we are meant to be looking at stan for these reasons and because ford lies to us (by omission) during his story. yes stan lies too, but only in the narration; we are shown the truth. ford's story is a lie both in narration and in visuals.

but as the show goes on and as the books come out, we are directed to start looking more and more at ford's experience.

when you read journal 3 standard edition, what stands out is bill's manipulation and how ford fails to grasp the lifelines fate throws him. we see ford transform from a man wanting recognition and connection to being isolated and unable to trust.

but then you read journal 3 blacklight edition, you realize it wasn't just bill: fiddleford was hurting him too. when fiddleford first presents the memory gun to ford, ford tells him that it's dangerous with a high risk for misuse, and to destroy it. not only does fiddleford lie about agreeing with ford and lie about destroying it, he also turns around and starts routinely, non-consensually using it on ford. whenever fiddleford wants to do something he knows ford will disagree with or be upset by? zap zap! conflict averted, no compromising or debating necessary. (and then, of course, he starts stalking ford to ensure nothing happens to him that fiddleford deems deleteable.)

and then we get tbob and watch bill hijack and mutilate his body, rewire his brain, and threaten his life. his value reduced down to a pair of eyeballs bill is more than happy to pluck out to use as keys if ford won't deactivate the retinal lock.

with this new insight, it makes ford's experience in tots significantly easier to see. filbrick didn't care about what happened to ford, he cared about what he lost. yes stan probably did care about what happened to ford, but not enough to tell him about the accident with time enough to fix it. not enough to let him be angry, let him grieve, let him figure out alternative college solutions. it was just right back to what stan wanted: sailing away together. for the entire scene, ford's opinion weren't asked for, his emotions not given a platform, until they were useful for what stan wanted: not having him kicked out. ford's experience of the event was so unimportant, he'd gone to his bedroom while filbrick and stan fought. he was no longer needed.

neither bill, nor fiddleford, nor filbrick, nor stanley see ford as a fully realized human being with wants and goals and dreams and aspirations of his own. at least, they see him as a fully realized human being only up until what he wants conflicts with what they want. after j3 blacklight it starts to become obvious that ford is a tool, a concept, to the people ford thinks are his closest allies.

to bill, ford is an escape (with just the show and j3 we think only into our world, but after tbob we learn that this is both literal and metaphorical). to fiddleford, ford is freedom (from his marriage, from societal expectations, from the pressure of being more than his roots). to filbrick, ford was stability (i refuse to believe it was just about the money, but more about what the money represented. filbrick and caryn wouldn't have to worry about making ends meet, wouldn't have to worry about their children's future; all reasonable desires for parents to have but inappropriate responsibilities to place on a teenager. not to mention how the lasting impact of the holocaust combined with the rise of holocaust denialism in the 1970s would influence filbrick's perspectives). to stan, ford was everything (he was willing to throw away his life on shore, both what he had and what he might have, to sail with ford, just the two of them, forever. and he did throw away his life bringing ford home: he murdered stanley pines and sacrificed 30 years in exchange for his brother. stan believes he is only one half of a dynamic duo, that without ford there is no him).

in a way, ford was a portal for all of them. something they could use to get a better, happier, fuller life. ford is fought for, someone hard decisions are made for, someone people do terrible things for. but not for him, but for the opportunity to keep him, to control him. hell, even his doctor said they want to kidnap him.

because keeping stanford pines is extremely difficult. he's hard to get close to, but once you're close he loves fully, trusts implicitly. but if he's wronged, he's vindictive, he holds a grudge, he pushes you away and he runs.

princess unattainabelle indeed.

doesn't it make sense, then, after all of this, ford would grow into someone who insists upon his own agency? that he was forced to become self-confident, self-assured, a man of action. that he would become an avid journaler so that his wants and goals and dreams and aspirations would become concrete, would become tangible. that he would become someone who lies about his past in order to have control over how he is perceived, how his life is remembered?

because after what fiddleford and bill did to him, wouldn't it make sense he would become someone anxious about his reality, his memories, his sense of self? how much of who he thinks he is and what he believes and what he knows and what he can do is because of changes they made to his mind?

does he even have himself?

for the entire duration of gravity falls, every character, at some point, to some degree, is chasing ford: his journals, his inventions, his knowledge, his identity, what he is able to give them, do for them.

but how many of them are chasing ford.

edit: just want to add this disclaimer for clarity. i intentionally left out other characters' nuance. if this reads uncharitable, that's not an accident and also i know there's a more nuanced perspective. that was just not the point of this.

[solxamber]

Receiving Gifts on White Day with: Pomefiore

go here for other dorms

Vil Schoenheit

The moment you open the door, you are met with perfection.

Vil stands there like a vision—poised, radiant, and utterly breathtaking. He’s holding an immaculately wrapped gift box, the soft scent of roses and vanilla lingering in the air around him. The morning sun catches in his golden hair just right, as if nature itself understands that lighting must always be optimal for Vil Schoenheit.

"Good morning, darling," he greets, voice as smooth as silk. His violet gaze sweeps over you, and he hums in approval. "Even when you’ve just woken up, you manage to be beautiful."

Your brain? Gone.

He hands you the gift box, watching expectantly as you unwrap it. Inside is an array of handcrafted chocolates—each piece a miniature masterpiece, adorned with delicate gold leaf and intricate designs. They look too perfect to eat.

“You made these?” you ask, slightly in awe.

“Of course.” Vil tilts his chin, looking pleased by your reaction. “I refuse to give my beloved anything less than perfection.”

You take a careful bite, and the flavor explodes across your tongue—smooth, rich, and utterly decadent. Your knees almost buckle.

“Vil,” you whisper. “These taste expensive.”

He smirks. “They are expensive. Do you think I would let you eat anything subpar?”

You swallow, still reeling from the sheer level of effort he put into this. “You really went all out.”

Vil exhales softly, stepping closer. His fingers brush against your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. "Of course I did," he murmurs. "Because you are worth every bit of effort, and more."

And then, just as your heart completely melts, he leans in—pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead.

You are never recovering from this.

Rook Hunt

You don’t even fully open the door before Rook is already sweeping into a dramatic bow.

"Ah, mon trésor, my radiant light in this world! How blessed am I to bask in your presence on this most divine morning!"

You barely have time to blink before flower petals—where did they come from!?—flutter through the air around him. It’s as if he planned stage effects for this exact moment.

"Rook," you say slowly, staring at the spectacle before you. "Did you… did you set up a whole romantic scene just for delivering a gift?"

He gasps, clutching his chest as if you’ve just wounded him. "Ma chérie! Do you truly think I would offer you anything less than an experience befitting of your magnificence?"

Before you can begin to process that, he presents you with a gift—an exquisitely wrapped box tied with silk ribbon. His eyes sparkle as he watches you open it. Inside are the most beautiful chocolates you’ve ever seen, hand-painted with delicate landscapes, stars, and even tiny portraits of things he knows you love.

"Rook…" Your heart swells. "These are stunning."

He smiles, warmth radiating from him. "Ah, but they pale in comparison to the beauty of your smile, mon amour."

And then—because he is Rook Hunt—he swoops in, gently taking your hand and pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. The gesture is so sweet and so sincere that your face immediately heats up.

"You—" You stammer, gripping the box. "You’re unbelievable."

He only laughs, absolutely delighted. "Ah, but you adore me for it, non?"

….Unfortunately, he’s completely right

Epel Felmier

The moment you open the door, Epel is already looking away, rubbing the back of his neck like he's seriously debating running for it. In his hands is a slightly crumpled gift bag, which he shoves into your hands like it's a live grenade.

“H-Here,” he mutters, still refusing to look at you.

You blink, opening the bag to find a box of handmade chocolates—surprisingly neat—with a little note inside.

You pull it out, reading: “I tried real hard on these, so if you don’t like ‘em, at least pretend ya do. – Epel.”

Your heart melts.

“Epel.” You grin. “You made these yourself?”

He huffs, crossing his arms. “Duh. What, ya think I’d just buy somethin’ for my partner?”

You take a bite—and immediately pause.

“…Epel.” You stare at the chocolate. “These are amazing."

His ears go red. “Quit exaggeratin’.”

“I’m serious. These taste like they came from a professional chocolatier.”

Epel scowls, still embarrassed. “I was trained by Vil, y’know. Had to make sure they were perfect.”

Your chest tightens. “Wait. You practiced for this?”

His blush deepens. “Maybe.”

You stare at him, then suddenly grab his collar and kiss his cheek.

Epel freezes.

Then, very quietly: “Aw, hell.”

You laugh, stepping back. “Happy White Day, Epel.”

He groans, face fully red. “Ain’t nothin’ happy about you makin’ me feel all flustered first thing in the mornin’…”

….You are absolutely going to do it again.

Masterlist

[thepencilnerd]

Right Place, Right Time

pairing: off-duty Dr. Jack Abbot x F!Doctor!Reader genre: crack meets cozy, meet-cute(ish), mutual pining summary: Your first day off in weeks was supposed to be quiet. Instead, you ended up chasing down a purse thief at the farmers market—armed with nothing but a butternut squash. Luckily, Abbot was right behind you. word count: 1.3k a/n: can you tell I watch kdramas - ft. vigilante vegetables, Abbot’s quiet awe, and one shared squash. also I just realized that Shawn Hatosy was in The Faculty, all childhood crushes lead to home

It was your first day off in weeks. The kind of day where you’d promised yourself you’d sleep in, stay in bed, maybe make pancakes. Instead, your eyes snapped open at 6:47 AM. No alarm, no notification, no reason. Just muscle memory and a brain that refused to shut up. 

After 45 minutes of staring at the ceiling, three failed attempts at meditation, and a solid internal debate about whether watching trauma compilation videos on YouTube counted as self-sabotage, you decided to go for a walk.

The farmers market felt like a good idea—low stakes, decent people watching, maybe a loaf of bread or something overly artisanal involving lavender and eucalyptus. 

You were about halfway through your second lap past the honey stand when you heard it: a woman’s shout, followed by a blur of motion out of the corner of your eye. A man sprinted past, clutching a purse.

You blinked. Looked at the stunned woman.

And took off running.

In hindsight, it was a terrible idea. You had no backup, no plan, and you were wearing your least aerodynamic hoodie. But something primal kicked in, motivated mostly by the audacity of men in today’s age, and your feet were already moving.

You chased him past a stall of heirloom tomatoes, down a gravel path, narrowly dodged a man with a stroller—and then, acting on pure adrenaline and chaos, you snatched a butternut squash from a produce display and hurled it like a missile. It hit him square between the shoulder blades—enough to knock him off balance without risking a lawsuit.

He stumbled. Went down hard. The purse skidded out of his hand and into a nearby pile of decorative gourds.

You skidded to a stop and hunched over with your hands on your knees, catching your breath. It was a Sunday miracle. Then something—or someone—slammed into you from behind. You went down with an undignified yelp, landing in the grass. A moment later, a familiar voice groaned from where he landed next to you.

"Damn..."

You turned your head. "Dr. Abbot?"

He was already pushing himself up on his elbows, hair a windblown mess, sweater askew, expression somewhere between sheepish and incredulous.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with worry. "I saw you take off. I didn’t know what was happening, so I—"

"Chased me?"

He winced. "Yeah. I think I owe you a new sweater."

Crouching beside you, he scanned you head to toe, his voice weighted with affect. "Anywhere hurt? You took a hard fall back there."

Then, without waiting for your answer, he slipped an arm under your shoulders and another beneath your knees, lifting you with a quiet grunt. His arms were strong, steady, and his hands—warm, broad, callused—held you with the kind of care that made your heart question its rhythm.

You both looked over at the man groaning on the ground. The purse lay just beyond him, untouched.

The police were quick to arrive, picking him up and the purse off the ground and taking him away with practiced efficiency. Abbot raised a hand in greeting to one of the officers—apparently someone he knew—before turning back to you.

He carried you a few paces to a nearby bench, the gravel crunching beneath his running shoes, before easing you down gently like you were made of glass.

"Sit. Breathe. You good?" he asked, crouching again beside you, brows furrowed with concern.

You nodded slowly, then winced as your fingers brushed over a scratch on your cheek. "Just a scrape," you muttered.

Abbot’s hand came up gently, fingertips brushing the edge of your jaw as he tilted your face toward the light. His thumb was warm and careful against your skin, and you nearly melted right then and there.

With the kind of casual grace that only made it worse, he pulled an alcohol pad from the pocket of his zip-up—of course he was prepared—and tore it open. He dabbed it gently over the scratch, his touch featherlight despite the sting.

"Sorry," he murmured, brows furrowed. Then, he pulled out a bandaid, peeled it open, and added, "Hold still," before placing it just below your cheekbone with careful precision. His hands were steady, practiced—like he’d done this a hundred times, just never on you.

Between his firm but gentle instructions and the way he touched you—like you were fragile and fierce all at once—you were pretty sure you’d jump off a cliff with a smile if he asked you to.

"Thanks." You cleared your throat, voice quieter than before. "Are you okay?"

He gave a sheepish half-smile. "You broke most of my fall. I'm so sorry..."

"Well, next time try not to use me as a crash mat," you teased, suppressing a smile.

He chuckled. "Deal. But I still owe you a proper thank you. Maybe pancakes."

"Now you’re speaking my language."

Abbot glanced at you again, cheeks flushing. "You, uh... you have a mean throwing arm."

You snorted. "Years of chucking chart binders at interns and childhood taekwondo will do that for you."

The sound he made might’ve been a laugh, if he hadn’t still been breathless from the fall. He sat back, looking at you with quiet awe. "That was pretty badass. And kind of terrifying. In a good way."

You raised a brow. "You ran full speed through a market to back me up. I’d say that’s at least medium terrifying."

He looked down, suddenly bashful. "I didn’t really think. Just saw you running and... moved."

You blinked. Felt something flutter in your chest. "That’s kind of sweet. Reckless, but sweet." You looked him over then, really looked—noticed the zip-up, the moisture-wicking fabric, the sweat-damp hair at his temples. "Wait, were you out for a run?"

He gave a lopsided shrug. "Yeah. It’s kind of how I burn off steam after shifts. This is actually my usual route. Never seen you here before, though."

You nodded, rubbing the back of your neck. "Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d walk it off before I lost my mind."

Abbot's mouth pulled into something small and understanding. "Good call."

You chuckled. "Barely. This was supposed to be a calm day."

"Hey, you stopped a thief with a squash. That’s more productive than most of my days off. You realize you’re basically a vegetable vigilante now, right?"

You huffed a laugh and nudged him with your shoulder. "God, that was such a dad joke. Do you rehearse those or are they just built into your DNA?"

Abbot held up a finger. "A quality dad joke. There’s a difference. And no, I don't have a repertoire of jokes. Much like medicine, they come to me naturally."

Your eyes rolled out of habit but couldn’t stop smiling. It was the kind of smile that stayed in your cheeks, in your chest, even as the quiet settled again between you.

It wasn’t awkward. It was easy. Familiar. Like the start of something.

A beat passed between you.

Abbot realized he was staring—at you. The way sunlight caught in your hair, your stray baby hairs blowing in the wind, the calm still blooming behind your smile. Something about the moment made his chest ache in the gentlest way.

He blinked, cleared his throat, and finally glanced toward the street. "There’s a café a block from here. Good coffee. Even better breakfast. Want to walk with me?"

You didn’t hesitate. "Yeah. I’d like that."

Before leaving, Abbot stooped to pick up the slightly dented butternut squash from where it had landed. You walked with him to the stall it had come from, both of you still a little dazed from the chaos. The woman running the stand took one look at the scene, then waved him off before he could pull out his wallet.

"Don’t even worry about it," she said with a wink. "You two make a great couple."

Neither of you corrected her.

You laughed as the two of you turned back toward the sidewalk. Abbot cradled the squash like a trophy. "Well, now we definitely have to make soup or something."

"Or risotto," you added.

"Sounds like dinner," he said, grin tugging at one corner of his mouth—teasing, but a little hopeful too. "If you’re free tonight."

You gave him a sideways glance, lips quirking. "Depends. You helping or just bringing the squash?"

As the two of you started down the sidewalk, your shoulders bumped once—then again, but neither of you stepped away.

Maybe this day off wasn’t a total loss after all.