#or a prize or medal or something

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Giles Martin telling Peter Jackson that "Now and Then" was John's "Here Today."

(x)

[meetmeinhellcroutons]

Currently rewatching MisMag s1 and something sounded AWFULLY familiar… AABRIA IYENGAR THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

[bitchthefuck1]

We as a society need to acknowledge the psychological toll of being the only woman in a friend group willing to argue back when the guys start saying sexist shit. I deserve financial compensation.

[xinganhao]

🪐 boy best friend!mingyu.

@tubasebongs → "I WOULD LIKE MINGYU CLINGY/POUTY BOY BEST FRIEND WHO LIKES YOU AND HE TRIES TO HIDE IT BUT FAILS AND STILL TOO PAINFULLY OBVIOUSLY 🙏🏻🙏🏻"

⌗ ┆threw in another trope because mingyu is childhood best friend coded (⋟﹏⋞) lost the ask in my inbox (i'm so sorry!!!) but i hope this still hits the mark :'-)

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: boy best friend!mingyu, childhood friend!mingyu, fluff fluff fluff!!!, cussing, pining/idiot in love/etc., confession -ish, headcanons under the cut.

🪐 headcanons .ᐟ

because of course kim mingyu is the boy next door. your mothers are friends and that's how you meet him, how you essentially grow up with him, even. he's a lively kid— loud and sociable, fond of roughhousing and buying candy at the corner store.

mingyu is the type to have defended you on the playground, his little hands balled in to fists as he plants them at his hips. at the age of six, he's not really capable of inciting fear, but he'll damn well try. as early as then, he's already referring to you as 'my best friend.' "yah, that's my best friend!" "don't make my best friend cry!" "what did you say about my best friend?!"

mingyu's overbearingness wanes a bit as you grow up, as you begin to insist that you can fight your own battles. the title is the one thing that doesn't change. it doesn't matter if you go on to not be classmates anymore, if you run different circles. you are mingyu's best friend and he's yours.

it's a fact that mingyu makes abundantly clear to everyone he meets. hell, even strangers aren't spared by the casual ways in which he manages to bring you up. "excuse me, but your hat is really nice and i think my best friend would like it. may i know where you bought it?" "oh, my best friend loves that artist too!" "you think my shoes are nice? thank you, my best friend got it for me."

mingyu is the picture perfect cliché of the best friend. he lives to annoy you, to rile you up and test your patience, but he also knows you like the back of his hand. it's something that you reciprocate— the cat and dog fights belied only by the deep concern and consideration that you both undeniably have for each other.

if he's honest, mingyu isn't all too sure when things shifted. (the answer: somewhere around adolescence, on an unassuming weekend spent at an arcade.) he just found that he kept wanting a little more. wanted to annoy you a little more so you would keep looking his way. wanted to talk to you a little more so you would think of him, too. mingyu isn't sure when his feelings started, but he knows they're not about to end any time soon.

it drives mingyu absolutely insane, initially, because he's seen how these things go! he's sat through all your favorite romcoms, has idly watched his mother's weekly dramas. falling in love with your best friend only ends well in fiction. in real life, in his life? he's not so sure.

mingyu isn't about to start avoiding you, though. isn't going to run from his feelings like a bunch of other people do. you always say he's dramatic when he says so, but he's at least half-serious when he says he can't live without you. and so he gives himself a stern talking to, a set of rules to follow— he won't tell you. he won't put you in that position, where you have to choose. he'll just go about things as he always does.

and, most importantly: mingyu refuses to look at your friendship as a consolation prize. it is not a silver medal, not a second-best to a potential romantic relationship. it is the best thing, being your best friend, and he's not about to put that on the line.

one thing mingyu fails to take in to account: just how painfully obvious he is. he doesn't have to confess to you. it bleeds in to everything he says and does. everyone knows, from his family to his friends to your family. they're all not so sure, either, when the exactly mingyu went from just acting friendly to being at your every whim without you even asking, but it's as clear as day.

mingyu thinks he's slick. on the rare occasions he's called out, he'll scoff and deny. "me? in love with my best friend? that's crazy." deny, deny, deny. that's mingyu's game for years and years, until people just give up on asking and wait for one or the other: for him to crack or for you to notice.

being best friends with a mingyu who's hopelessly in love with you is a carousel of moments: a dozen pouty selfies a week, incessant texts blowing up your phone, facetime calls where he's drunk and whining to be picked up. and more: the smell of his cologne on almost all of your things, the passport photo of you that he keeps behind his clear phone case, a specific smile that he reserves for when you're not looking.

really, it's just like mingyu for his eventual confession to be unceremonious, unprompted. all it takes is for you to make one offhand joke (time for you to confess to me, kim mingyu) and for mingyu to take that just a little too seriously (holy shit, have i been that obvious).

mingyu thought he'd take this 'secret' to the grave, honestly. or maybe he'd bring it up when you're both old and gray, and you can hit him over the head with a cane or something. but now it's out in the open, now it's something he can't take back— and, well, there's only one last thing for him to do: hope for the goddamn best.

extras 📱 texts from mingyu ➤ friends.

[babsisbakery]

Questions Upon Questions pt.1

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

Info: had this in my drafts for a while sooo bear with me

Word count: 1.6k

Another win for Arsenal. Winning the Cup was what the team needed. After all a successful season has to be accomplished somehow if the league title goes yet again to the biggest rivals. Everyone was ecstatic. The crowd went crazy, more Arsenal fans as usual. They really are the best fans, travelling for hours to see their players destroy their opponent on the field. But you're biassed anyways, as an Arsenal player. Of course you will think your club fans are the best. This game wasn't easy to say the least but the odds were in your favour. 

Arsenal staff and players were in their usual post match circle with big satisfied smiles plastered on their faces. Jonas didn't need to say much. As you've received your medals and parade the trophy for a bit, you leave the group. Sprinting to a staff member. She was holding onto a prized possession of yours. You took the small box and went back to the others. No-one noticed your disappearance except your girlfriend, Leah was always on the lookout for you. No matter what, she searched for your presence in a crowded space. In those five years you've dated already, you were the only one who could charge her social battery again. She just needed to be with you alone for a bit and she was fine. 

When she finally spotted you, you were walking towards her. Hands behind your back hiding your special “gift”. A nervous yet excited grin making it across your face. Leah wondered why your facial expression wasn't more euphoric. She knew you quite well and for you not to celebrate a cup win as much as usual, meaning as hard as Katie, made her anxious. Something must be off, she thought. 

As you make your way towards her, teammates and staff know what's about to happen. Everyone knows except the person who is involved. They make way for you. Forming a big circle around you two. You start your speech “Leah, we’ve been dating for quite a while now and friends for much longer. Past me couldn't have seen this coming. Being with the woman who had me wrapped around her finger without even noticing it. I would have done anything you asked and frankly I still would. My love for you has only grown over time. Having met the most amazing, smart, goofy, breath-taking woman is one of the best things that occurred to me.” Leah stood frozen, not believing her eyes and ears. What the hell is happening, was her thought. She couldn't really focus on what you were saying. Her brain registered what you were about to do, go on one knee and propose. It would have been rude to interrupt you, so she stayed quiet. Subtly looking around she saw people with knowing smiles on their faces. “The place you hold in my heart is immense, the most important person in my life. Without you life isn't the same, it is not exciting. Through you I can finally see colours and not just black and white. You're the one I want a future with, the one person I want to teach how to properly cook, the one person who enamoured me and I can't live without. So I’m asking you Leah Cathrine Williamson would you do me the honour of becoming my wife and thus marry me?” as you say the final words, you drop to one knee and open your box.

Leah gasped, you smiled up at her, holding such an exquisite ring. Her hands flew to her mouth covering it. She loved the ring, it was so her. You could see it in her eyes, she loved it. You also saw something unfamiliar, hesitance. Leah was never hesitant when it came to you. Always upfront, she even made the first step to cross the line of friendship. Something you are glad she did, not sure you would have had the guts to do yourself. But she couldn't form any words. She was still frozen in place. So she ran, as if she was running for her life. She charged towards the stadium. Your smile vanished. A pain coursed through your heart, it was like no other. Stronger and deeper than any emotion you've ever felt. The box fell out of your hand. The ring disappears in the strands of grass. Tears running down your face. Why? What did you do? You fucked up. Nothing was making sense. Amanda was by your side in seconds. A sister figure you've never had. She didnt need to utter any words, she just embraced you, while you sobbed on her shoulder. “Why, whyy? Madi she ran awayyy.” “Shhh I know, I know. I got you. Let's get you inside okay?” A short nod was all you could muster. All energy has left your body.

With Stina and Frida on your other side, they lead you into the tunnel. Knowing Leah was in the changing room with Lia, Steph, Beth and Viv. They entered the medical room. The girls were surprised by the outcome. Everyone was, foremost you. A bone crushing earthquake to your “perfect” world. You start to replay different memories of your love life with Leah. Were there any signs you missed that predicted this? “Y/n/n I know what you're doing, stop it. No-one and I really mean no one could have seen this coming. It isn't your fault, okay?” reassured Stina, knowing you're swirling thoughts too well. You had confided in her about your biggest fear. She would calm your nerves and tell you exactly how things were, without putting it nicely. Always straight forward, you appreciated your friend for this. In this moment she succeeded, bringing you back to earth.

While you were a sobbing mess in the medical, Leah was also a mess. She couldn't explain it, she was at loss for words for what she did. She didn't want to run, she wanted to say yes. But the pressure was extremely high, all her colleagues had been watching her. If she had said no, would they view her differently. Because she saw some of their faces as she made her way inside. All of them displayed the same: shock. It was as if she acted out of panic, she wasn't herself. Leah herself was shocked by her actions, she had pictured this moment for ages. But none of them ended with her sprinting away. "Oh god. What have I done, what HAVE I DONE" it circled in her mind like a mantra. Until they spilled into words. Her panicked thoughts infected her body. The girls saw her anxiousness and her words added to their worry for their friend. “Leah hey, it's not too late. Whatever you decide, we stand by you.” The words were meant to bring her some sort of comfort but they couldn't.

Beth and Frida felt your agony, they exchanged all information about the situation. Both were sure, this was a big misunderstanding. Rather a mistake. Your love for one another was like no other. If soulmates existed you'd be one of them. This relationship was worth saving, you both would need a push. They came to a conclusion. Quickly they set up a plan to set everything right. Two broken hearts would distance themself from each other because it hurts too much to be near. They knew you wouldn't voluntarily meet Leah, you wouldn't listen to them. The pain in your heart consumed every part of you. And Leah wouldn't be able to face you, thinking you despised her. That would never be the case, your love would outweigh any hatred you’d harbour, even with a broken heart. She was your person after all. Any piece of her in your life was worth having.

First they gave you both a night to process what had happened, sleeping separately of course. You at Amandas and Leah at your shared home while Lia kept her sanity upright. Both of you didnt sleep an ounce. The past event was still freshly embedded in your memories. Both feeling lonely to the core, missing their other half tremendously. The numbness in your emotion grew exponentially. The recurring memory hit like a domino effect, starting the cycle of heartache. You began to reread old messages to see if you could have predicted this, if there was an ounce of fading love visible but it wasn't. You were utterly confused by what had gone through Leah's thoughts. 

While you continue to search for clues in your chat history, you receive a message from her. Your heart stops. There is hesitancy yet you still couldn't fathom not knowing what she had to say to you. With a shaking hand you click the scrolling button to get you back to the most recent message. All it says is “Can we talk?”. You are flabbergasted. Is that all she has to say? You contemplate on answering. Your heart wants to reply as fast as possible but your head is telling you to keep your cool. How can you keep your cool? The love of your life rejected you. Right. The LOVE of your life REJECTED you. If the thought hadn't sunk in before it did now. Leah rejected you and you needed answers. You deserved to know why she ran - no sprinted away. 

So you replied: “Yes, meet me at the spot in 30”

To Be Continued...

[gojosrighteyebrow69]

His Prize

Kinktober Day - 5 (Dacryphilia)

Rin Matsuoka × Fem! Reader

SMUT 18+ (All characters are aged up)

Where your swimmer boyfriend comes home after winning another championship

🔞NSFW🔞 facesitting, squirting, dacryphilia, overstimulation, unprotected sex

"a-ah! r-rin 's too much!" Your cries were unheard by your maroon haired boyfriend, who had you sit on his face the moment he came home after winning his championship, gold medal around his neck.

"I know baby, I know" he says his voice low and husky. "But I want more" His fingers continue to move in and out of your tightness, matching the rhythm of his tongue's assault on your clit.

You had already came atleast thrice but everytime you would try to get up, he would pull you back on his face.

You could feel yourself on the brink of another earth shattering orgasm as he took your clit into his mouth and sucked on it, his sharp teeth flicking against it making your toes curl.

You had your fingers tangled in his hair, one hand gripping tightly around the headboard and thighs caging his face underneath. You could feel tears of pleasure rolling down your cheek as he continues his assualt even after you cum again.

"One more" he growled against your pussy, his voice rough with desire. He continued his ministrations, sucking harshly on your sensitive nub while his fingers pushed in and out relentlessly.

You could feel a weird feeling building up in your stomach, something you've never felt before

"r-rin stop feel like 'm gonna pee!" Tears of pleasure continue streaming down your cheeks as the sensation in your stomach keeps increasing.

"Shhh, it's okay baby just let me love you" He continues to lap at your swollen clit, coaxing more sounds of pleasure from your lips.

His fingers continue to dug into your thighs, as his fingers and tongue continue the assault, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"r-rinn ahh!" You moan loudly and end up squirting on his face, something you've never done before.

"That's it baby" He groans while drinking up every last drop of your squirt.

You try to get up from his face, but this time he flips you around so you're laying on your back with him towering over you.

"You were such a good girl for me" He says while kissing away your tears, you could still feel your lower regions throbbing again as he flicks your clit with the tip of his cock.

"My baby's so fucking pretty when she cries" He says and pushes his whole length inside you causing you to gasp and let out more tears.

You find yourself clinging onto him while crying and moaning his name as he thrusts harder, his cock reaching the deeper and deeper with each thrust.

"You like that baby? You like that don't you?" He says while biting your neck with his shark like teeth while pounding into you faster.

You were too overwhelmed with pleasure to even reply, only tears flowing down your flushed cheeks while you moan his name continuously.

His gold medal sways around his neck with each of his thrust, sweat dripping down his forehead to yours as he watches you cry and squirm from pleasure underneath him.

"Such a pretty doll for me, aren't you princess?" He says while kissing your tear stained cheeks softly, while pounding into you mercilessly.

You were his prize after all, so he was gonna ravage you the whole night.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

something worse

din djarin x f!reader | my masterlist

for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge almost a month later 😅

note: my trope was "enemies to lovers," but I have to confess up front that there is no smut here. there's not even really a definitive conclusion. this turned into a character study because I was like, "okay let's do an imperial reader, but what about their motivation?" and then unforch I remembered this post and got struck with The Muse so here we are.

words: 3.2k

summary: you're an imperial officer loyal to moff gideon — until a run in with the mandalorian and his weird magic baby.

warnings: daddy issues, imperial reader, i don't know my mindset was v weird writing this, kind of enemies to lovers, really more enemies to allies with implied future lovin', people coming to a mutual understanding of one another, themes of parenthood and childhood and failing to live up to expectations, I'm sorry y'all I really do not know what this is but here it is anyway.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You are your father’s daughter. 

How could you ever be anything else? 

You are your father’s daughter, and, ergo, you are his legacy, his prophecy, his shadow. 

You are your father’s daughter and nothing more. 

What you do, what he does, what you stand for — it’s wrong. You know that. You do. 

But what are you to do? You are your father’s daughter. Nothing more. 

You were your mother’s daughter, once. Young and sweet and bright. Hair plaited by her hands, gowns cinched by her hands, heart cradled by her hands. 

She never liked the ISB. Before everyone knew the truth, before the Death Star, before the genocide. She bristled when your father signed up. 

“There is to be a draft,” he said, cupping her cheeks in hands that would grow less and less careful with each kill. “It’ll be better for us if I go voluntarily. More money, more choices.”

She still struggled to stay cross in those days, when you barely came up to her waist and stayed buried in her skirts every time the harshly dressed men visited your apartment, which became your home, which became your palace, for lack of a better term. 

You weren’t royalty, of course. But you felt like it, long before you knew the cost. Blood money, blood diamonds, blood-soaked hands. 

Of course, by then, your father rarely spilled blood. He had men to do that for him, he had command centers and lasers and booted troops to carry out his will. 

When your mother died, you learned what it was like to be a child of the Empire. What it was to be your father’s daughter. 

His blood held the door open for you, lit a path paved with sycophants and servants, led you by the light of the darkness that had consumed him, of greed and power and pride. 

Oh, and proud he was. Proud as you took rank after rank. Proud as you took life after life — from a distance, always. Calm, controlled, cold. 

When he died on the Death Star, you didn’t waver. You were your father’s daughter, dead or alive. your boss said as much when they presented you a medal in his stead, a postmortem prize for dying for the cause. 

“Your father’s daughter, through and through,” Gideon said, the hint of a smirk curling his lips. Three years in his service and you still couldn’t tell when his words were meant to be cruel. He was always that way, a step ahead, smooth with silk and sneers. 

This time, you knew he meant it, one way or another. After all, he had seen you grow. Seen you change and solidify, right from his first visit to your home when your mother’s hands shook as she poured the bourbon, which likely cost more than your salary even now. 

You are your father’s daughter in the daylight, keeping the cracks full of confidence. There was no room in this world for your mother’s daughter. There was no room in this world for doubt. 

Din Djarin is not his father’s son. Nor is he his mother’s, his buir’s, or anyone’s. 

Not anymore. 

Din Djarin is, as all Mandalorians are, one of many. He is but one ad’ika of his tribe and all of them wrapped together. He is Din, but he is also Mando, who is all and none. 

Together, as one. One part of a whole churning, swirling essence of what it is to be Mandalorian, to be a brother, to be a father, to be a soul. 

He is not his father’s son but he has his eyes. They aren’t for anyone to see, and there’s none left alive that would recognize them, anyway. 

He is not his mother’s son but he has her nose. It’s not for anyone to see, and there’s none left alive that would recognize it, anyway. 

But Grogu is his father’s son. His buir’s ad’ika. He shares none of his features but all of his heart. 

And Din isn’t about to let Gideon tear his heart from his chest.

Not when he’s going to have to give it away to the Jetii. Not when he’s going to have to learn to live with his heart outside his body, across the stars, lifetimes apart. 

Not with Gideon. Never with Gideon. 

You meet the Dark Troopers at the hangar to receive Gideon’s prize, though you neither know nor care about his little petty feud with some Mandalorian. In the wake of the Empire, he’s become obsessed. Obsessed with the Mandalorians, with their steel, with their nerve. He says this thing, whatever it is, will restore the glory of the Empire. 

You find it hard to care these days. What good is the Empire? It’s dead and gone, and it took your father with it. 

You are not your father’s daughter. Nor are you your mother’s. Their ghosts have left you vacant, a blank slate, and the only thing keeping you from disappearing into the vast and empty galaxy is Gideon. 

He’s not a particularly pleasant man, but he gives you purpose, even if you’re not entirely sure it’s worth the effort. But every day, you rise from bed, bathe, dress, and follow the whim of this vainglorious monster-made-man, and you do not think about life. You do not think about the trees or the seas or a reason to breathe. 

You think about duty, not desire. 

And so it goes. 

Which is all to say that when the “trooper,” a glorified droid, hands you a baby, you freeze.

On the outside, you’re impassive. Unmoving, unfeeling, unruffled. Inside, there’s a buzzing taking up residence in your brain. Something fuzzy and uncomfortable. 

You hold the child by the waist at a healthy distance. It looks afraid. You don’t blame it. The hangar of Gideon’s cruiser is a cold, desolate place. You are a cold, unwelcoming face. 

Gideon’s grin is no less unsettling than your blankness, but the child reacts viscerally, the tips of its tiny nails digging into your fingers it tries to escape your grasp. You hold him out with a grimace, nose wrinkled. 

As Gideon reaches to take it from you, it turns its fuzzy little head and looks at you with big, brown eyes. You have the strangest feeling that it's upset with you. 

What a silly thought. It’s a small creature, probably not even capable of such emotional complexity. 

The buzzing doesn’t stop. If anything, it’s a slow crescendo. You find yourself drawn to the sound, drawn to the way your whole body feels the prick of a thousand invisible pins until you wind up in its cell. 

It happens over and over and over. You lose focus. Your tasks neglected; your will stolen. Time and time again the numb, vacant feeling finds you in the cell holding the child. 

You come to your senses and set it back on the bench, it’s tiny cuffs clinking. 

You blink. It blinks. You blink. It blinks. 

You leave. 

Until you don’t. 

“I was wrong,” Gideon drawls lazily when he enters the cell to find you standing, face blank, the child in your arms. “You’re not your father. You’re weak, like your mother. Feeble-brained.”

You’re not your father. 

Of course you’re not. 

You never were. 

“It’s been clear, of course, since he died. What a waste of a man. You’ve never had half the potential, but at least you were useful. A shame.”

The hum of the darksaber igniting drowns the buzzing for the first time since the child arrived, and you snap out of the trance, suddenly aware of the little heartbeat racing under your fingertips. It makes a soft noise, with an inflection like a question, and stupidly, you answer. 

“No,” you assure the critter, by the Maker, what were you doing? But it responds just as the klaxons ring and Gideon abandons you in the cell. 

Your head spins, as does the room. What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you—

Nothing, the darkness answers as it takes you. 

The Mandalorian’s visor is as unreadable as the big brown eyes that peer into your cell alongside him, though much lower. 

You blink. It blinks. He doesn’t. 

He doesn’t move or speak, a tower in the night. Not a warning but a turret. Deadly and still, waiting for you to move and give him a reason. 

You look between them. The most unlikely duo. And when you look up at the Mandalorian, your mouth opens, but he beats you to it. 

“Don’t ask. I don’t know,” he grunts, and stands to his full height. “He made me bring you.”

It comes rushing like the tide, taking you out at the knees. You’re on the Mandalorian’s ship. There are a million questions in your veins, but you won’t bleed for him. You stay silent, sprawled there on the cold durasteel where you had awakened. 

He pushes a canteen of presumably water and a ration pack through the grate and closes it. Without another word, he lifts the baby and leaves you in the dark. 

He mostly leaves you alone—but he does consistently feed you. The little one, however, is a frequent visitor to your cell, much to the frustration of his guardian.

It takes you longer than it should to piece it together. 

The buzzing in your head.

Why Gideon wanted the child.

In the end, it’s your propensity for eavesdropping, the same skill that built your career, that solves multiple mysteries at once.

The Mandalorian’s voice is gentler, almost comforting, as it wafts through the open cockpit door.

“You can’t just keep refusing to go with them, kid. I can’t teach you how to be a Jedi.”

A Jedi. 

Your gasp is loud and sharp, a slip-up you’ll later blame on exhaustion and the baby’s brain manipulation or whatever mumbo-jumbo “Force” magic it’s apparently doing to you.

The muzzle of the Mandalorian’s pistol is long enough to meet your temple through the bars. 

You freeze. He sighs.

“Well, I was taking you to the New Republic,” he says. “But I’m afraid that’s no longer an option.”

Your stomach swoops, but your brain doesn’t falter. You snort, daring to lift your eyes to take him in your peripherals. “Wasn’t a very good option to begin with,” you say with carefully constructed casualness. “I’m not much good to you with the New Republic, or with my brain splattered on your ship’s wall.”

“You’re not much good to me at all,” he says, but he waits. 

Your heart picks up its pace. You don’t give him a chance to lose patience. “I know Gideon. I know everything.” 

“Most Imps would rather die than betray their masters,” he scoffs. “But you haven’t even tried.”

You know. The lullaby pill sits safely in your fake molar. If you were your father’s daughter, you’d be an empty husk by now. “Maybe I’m a coward,” you say.

He holsters the pistol. “Maybe,” he agrees. He turns, getting halfway across the hall, when he pauses, not even looking over his shoulder at you. “You’re still not getting out of there.”

It’s one of the days when nobody comes to see you, where the ship sits stationary on some skughole while the hunter hunts and the baby… well, you don’t really know what it does. Just that it’s not there, he’s not there, there’s nobody there but you.

By yourself.

Alone.

Have you ever been alone?

Have you ever been alone?

Of course you have. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. And she was always alone. Until the end. But, of course, she designed it that way.

Wait, though.

You haven’t ever been alone. You are your father’s daughter, raised in the barracks, living life on a ship that was never quiet. 

But he doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know you’re anyone’s daughter, let alone something worse. 

It leaves you reeling. For weeks. Your days become a mockery. No longer do you rise before the suns and accomplish your goals, fulfilling your minute purpose. No longer do you tick off the boxes of each cycle, each shift, each breath. 

Instead, you’re left to do the one thing you’ve spent your whole life trying not to do. You ruminate. Alone with your thoughts, you have to face them. The steady beat of duty is replaced with dread as you wake each morning — though, truthfully, you’re not even sure it’s morning — and grapple with that you don’t have a purpose. You never did. 

Not your father’s daughter. Not your mother’s daughter. Not anything at all, really. 

This he seems to know, since he can’t figure out a purpose for you either. Grogu throws him side eye when he so much as thinks about the most obvious solution. Your body in a gutter would clean up his problems without much effort.

But no. His son seems to think you’re worth keeping alive. Din is a little concerned that Grogu thinks you’re a pet of some kind, the way he slips between the bars to share a snack or pat you on the knee. It’s harmless, really, and you’ve proven too listless and lost to be a threat.

So in the cell and his mind, you stay.

You are no one’s daughter, and he is no one’s son. 

What this means is that no one comes to look for any of you when the ship falls from the sky. No one, of course, but the TIE pilots who shot you down. 

When you come to in the wreckage, you’re alone. There are no signs of the Mandalorian or his little green baby. The bars of your cage, which you braced yourself against during the fall, are mangled enough that you’re incredibly lucky twice over. Not only do you have room to escape, but you managed to somehow avoid being impaled by 2” thick durasteel rods. Not that you’re in mint condition, but you’re alive.

And free.

The two TIEs are sitting parked nearby. Just parked. No defenses, no lurking troopers. You could fly a TIE in your sleep. 

Your fingers twitch toward the panel, but you can’t seem to focus enough to punch in the override code. You can’t even think over the damn buzzing—

The buzzing.

The baby.

You’re following the sound, the sensation, before you realize you’ve turned away from the ship. It guides you, some invisible… force, through the outskirts of town into the bowels of a thrumming city. 

Until it doesn’t. 

When the buzzing stops, you don’t notice right away, haunted by its reverberations. When the silence sets over your shoulders like a shroud, it scares you. You can’t make it make sense, but nothing does anymore, anyway. 

You are nobody’s daughter, but he is someone’s son, and for some reason, this matters more than you could ever explain. 

When you find them, they look dead. Technically, you find the pilots first, and they are dead. You liberate them of their credits and blasters and weave your way into the alleys, following a trail of blood.

The trail turns to a river, at the mouth of which you find the Mandalorian. The streaky neon bounces off the beskar, and you can’t tell what’s a reflection and what’s actually blood on the armor. 

Worse is the baby’s little body, face down in the soil beside his father. His soft little coat is soaked in blood, and you can only hope it is the Mandalorian’s. 

Not that you care, or anything. 

Familiar cold detachment sets in, allowing you to quickly assess the situation. The baby is breathing steadily, unconscious but alive. He has no visible wounds, and the blood is only on the outside of his jacket. One down, one to go.

The Mandalorian is not so fortunate. His pulse is slow and stuttering. The wound on his abdomen seeps sluggishly, not because he’s healing, but because he’s running out of blood to bleed. 

In the end, you dig through the pouches around his belt until you emerge victorious with a single bacta patch, slapped sloppily on the split skin. 

It does occur to you, then. To walk away. 

This time, you can’t blame the baby when you tuck his sleeping body into the blood-soaked bag and heft him over your shoulder. You can’t blame his magic mumbo-jumbo when you heave the Mandalorian’s heavy boots up and under your arms, dragging the beskar-burdened behemoth behind you. 

The credits stolen from your former coworkers buy you a week in a hostel. It’s little more than a bunk, but at least it has a door. The small compartment’s ceiling is too low to sit up fully — meant only for sleeping, but here you are, performing a small surgery in the cramped space. There’s just enough room for your three bodies, and you have to rob the Mandalorian to get enough supplies to keep him alive.

When he wakes, though, he doesn’t return the favor. His blaster is at your temple before you even realize he’s conscious. 

“What did you do?” he growls, the pistol knocking at your already-aching head. 

“What did i do? I saved your scudbucket ass,” you snap. 

But he’s not even paying attention. The blaster is still debossing a little circle into your temple and he’s not even looking at you. He’s checking on the baby. 

“Explain,” he says, once he’s affirmed that the little green bogwing is just having a nap. You think. It seems a little more than a nap, but he had a pulse, so you had focused on the giant sack of bleeding beskar instead.

You recount your day from waking up among the wreckage until now. He pulls the blaster away and holsters it. 

“And,” you say, glaring, “you’re heavy as all hells. I think I threw my back out.”

He snorts. “Probably. Kriffing stupid to try to carry someone three times your size.” 

You’re not sure that’s accurate, but given the weight of the karking armor, it might be close. 

Silence fills the little bunk. He tries to shift to give you more room, but lets out a grunt as it aggravates his wounds. 

“I didn’t take it off,” you say quietly, unsure why you need to assure him. But he speaks in time with you.

“Why didn’t you leave?” 

You both pause. 

“I know,” he says after a moment. “There’s blood in here.”

You groan. “I better not have wasted all that time and money just for you to die from a head injury. I am not fit to be a parent to your baby sorcerer.”

“It’s superficial,” he says with a shrug. “Wait, what money?”

“Your money,” you say callously. 

He watches you, helmet tilting just enough to make you uncomfortably aware of your ragged appearance and every movement.

“Why didn’t you leave?” he repeats.

You close your mouth, teeth grinding as you chew on your answer. Finally, you just say it. The wretched thought that’s been seeping into the vestiges of your resolve.

“A father is a hell of a thing to lose,” you mumble, gesturing vaguely at the kid. 

The Mandalorian stays still and silent for too long, setting your nerves on edge. Finally, he looks away.

“That it is,” he says quietly.

[pinkmirth]

I think we need some headcanons of cowboy Reiner

— ( save a horse, ride a cowboy! )

༉‧₊˚. — synopsis: just a cluster of fluffy and smutty headcanons for none other than the love of my life, cowboy reiner!

༉‧₊˚. — contains: (2k words of…) cowboy!reiner x fem!reader, (black coded), fluff, nsfw/smut, modern au, southern setting, established relationship (married), fantasies of having a child, breeding kink (‘cause this is reiner we’re talking about duh!), mentions of pregnancy, bondage kink, oral (m!receiving/blowjob), cowgirl position, doggy-style, creampie, reiner calls himself “daddy”, use of the petnames (mama, sugar, darling, honey, cowgirl), reiner calls you “woman” once, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

༉‧₊˚. — mira’s note: oh absolutely, nonnie! here are some thoughts I have on cowboy rei-rei 💕 (check masterlist for other reiner fics!)

this man is always covered head-to-toe in classic cowboy attire— embroidered cowboy boots, blue denim jeans with a lasso hanging from his belt loop, and a trusty old cowboy hat. he’s got the whole getup, and he looks even sexier in it every time you see him! though, his best look by far is the shirtless one. it’s the highlight of your day when whenever it gets too warm outside, because he’s soon to peel off his top. from across the farm, he can feel your eyes burning into his lightly-tanned skin as he does the most mundane chores. his muscles tense and flex with every move, pecs gleaming with sweat. he shoots you a smirk, folding his arms across his bare chest. “y’like what ya see, honey?” you pray the weather’s even hotter tomorrow.

it warms his heart whenever you come around to watch him do his daily chores around the farm. your presence motivates him to work harder, so he can continue to provide for you and sustain your comfortable lifestyle. you try not to be too much of a distraction, but you can’t help wanting to be closer to your husband; so you tug at his leather belt and pull him in for a kiss. that gets him giddy like nothing else. “ya know how much i love it when y’do that… gimme another,” he puckers his lips, and you giggle. “i don’t wanna keep you sidetracked for too long, rei. you were busy before i got here,” you caress his stubbled cheek and he pouts in response, leaning forward to receive another pillowy kiss. “jus’ one more, mama.”

cowboy reiner loves to cook and bake! he often goes on farmer’s market dates with you, walking hand in hand as you help him pick out the freshest ingredients and spices. you chat and laugh amongst one another, dropping carrots and apples into the hand-woven basket that reiner made for you. after arriving back home, he allows you to relax in yours and his shared bedroom while he whips together a hearty southern meal for the two of you. he shouts from across the house, adorned in nothing but a short pair of checkered boxers and a flimsy apron, “supper’s ready, darlin’! come on down ‘n eat!”

he’s great with animals! reiner cradles an adorable month-old horse in his strong arms, feeding milk to the baby with a soft smile. it’s just about the sweetest thing you could ever see! all the little foals follow him around the ranch because they love papa reiner just as much as you do <3 he’s built something of a connection between himself and his beloved herd, which is why he’s able to bring the horses over to their stables with no hassle whatsoever. this man could practically be a veterinarian with all the animal knowledge he has!

he’s a locally known rodeo champion! reiner wins the prize for longest bull-riding every single year. he should allow someone else a fighting chance, at least 😭 but he’s just effortlessly good at anything he puts his mind to! he skillfully rides the beast with such ease, leaving the crowd in awe. courtesy of his natural-born strength, he hardly ever gets tossed off. reiner’s got medals galore hanging on his wall from every competition.

as a southern man, he’s very family-oriented. his loved ones are of the utmost importance to him, and he’ll always put family first before anything else. he utterly adores you, and can’t wait to start a tiny lil family of his own with you <3 when I tell you this man cannot wait to be a papa, I mean it! there’s no denying that reiner would be an amazing father, considering that he’s so caring and attentive. he knows the best tickle spots to target, and the silliest faces to make to get a child cracking up (both of which he discovered through spending lots of time with gabi when she was small.) he constantly daydreams about dressing up his little one in tiny boots and overalls and carrying them up on his shoulders. (yes, I’m pushing the daddy rei-rei agenda on this fine weekend!)

cowboy reiner has manners like none other— the epitome of a true gentleman! he’s a great listener, is always so patient, opens doors for you, pays for your things without hesitation, gives frequent massages, carries you when you begin to feel tired; the list goes on! he’s just so kind and selfless, and never fails to show it. cowboy rei-rei is truly the perfect husband. “your feet hurt? well c’mere, sugar. i’ll carry you. it ain’t too much for me, y’know i can handle ya! jus’ hold onto me. i gotcha, okay?”

cowboy reiner is a grown man who can wholly appreciate your body and every striking detail about it. he scrutinizes the small dotted beauty marks scattered across your skin, your cutely patterned stretch marks, the curves and crevices of your soft tummy and thighs, and he fucking loves it all. makes it a habit to kiss up and down your body, just to give you a well-needed confidence boost. this man right here surely knows how to make a woman feel special! “listen t’me— you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, y’know that?”

(nsfw) — reiner loves when you treat him to a surprise blowie during work. he’s up to the usual, arranging things around the barn and tending to the animals. you then make your entrance, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him from behind. your plump lips curve into a sensual smile as you ask him, “can I steal you for a moment, baby? it won’t be for too long, I swear it.” in an instant, he's allowing you to pull him away from his duties, unknowing of where you’re taking him, but also uncaring because he’d allow you to do whatever you please. he follows you with the goofiest smile plastered on his charming face, because he knows that he’s about to receive the most knee-buckling blowjob of his entire goddamn life. you bring him into the hayloft, pushing him against the red-painted wall until he’s flat against it. you drop to your knees and bring his jeans down with you. “fuck, darlin’… kiss the tip ‘fa me.” he moans lowly. you do as he wishes, suckling on his cockhead with the most beautiful, glistening eyes. you’re so eager to please, and it makes him throb on your tongue. with a hand at the back of your head, he guides you further onto him until you’ve swallowed the entirety of his fat dick. reiner ruts his hips, fucking into your wet mouth. you always know just how to make him feel so good, so loved. he adores you like nothing else. “oh, that’s it, honey, right there… atta girl.”

(nsfw) — the bondage kink on this man is insane, I tell you! cowboy reiner loves to keep your hands tied behind your back and watch you squirm against the rope. “rei,” in a breathless whine, his name falls from your plush lips. you wiggle your ass in the air for him, anticipating his next move. he takes you from the back, raw-dogging your pussy with a merciless pace. you truly wonder where he gets all this unparalleled energy to drill you into the bed, especially considering all the hard work he puts into maintaining the farm every day. one large hand of his stays planted on your waist, hastily grabbing, while the other holds onto your tied hands for leverage. he delivers harsh, deep-reaching thrusts, with his firm hips sharply smacking against you from behind. your wrists struggle against the rope, and he can tell just how desperate you are to touch him. his gaze is fixated on your soft body; every jiggle of your ass and ripple of your thighs is more hypnotizing than the last. you mewl for him, stuttering out something along the lines of ‘t—too much!’ … reiner leans down until his chest grazes the arch of your back, so that he can say, “quit alla-that whinin’, woman.” he clicks his teeth, flooding your ears with that sexy southern drawl of his. “y’can take it all, you’ve done it before.”

(nsfw) — we all know it, the entire goddamn fandom knows it: cowboy reiner has a massive fucking breeding kink! he wants nothing more than to get you pregnant by stuffing your pliant womb with his thick loads of cum. giving you a creampie makes him go completely wild; he watches his seed drip down your slit with hitched breath. a sight such as that is enough to get him hard all over again. the lust takes over, and he’s thinking with his dick for the next three rounds. plowing into you and rubbing at your puffed clit with calloused fingertips, reiner asks, “want me to come inside you? hm?” he gently holds onto your chin, directing your gaze to him. you dazedly look at your husband, pulsing around his thick cock. seeing how fucked-out you are makes his chest swell with the utmost pride. his greatest achievement is being able to please you. “tell me how bad y’fuckin’ want it, baby.” he rasps. your pleading moans urge him to release for you. his warm, pearly arousal seeps into you for the nth time that night. all he wants is to fill you up until you’re walking funny, with your leg shaking from all the stimulation. or, at least until that little stick comes out positive one day. having you grow plump with his child is his ultimate fantasy. “you’d look so stunnin’ as a mama, carryin’ my baby… don’t’cha think so, sugar?”

(nsfw) — reiner likes to let you wear his cowboy hat while you ride him. mounting onto your husband with your legs on either side of his hips, you straddle him. your dainty hands are planted on his broad chest for balance. he pulls off his iconic hat, hair cutely tousled from wearing it all day, before sitting up to place it on your head. “since you’ll be the one ridin’ tonight. giddyup, cowgirl.” he teases with a slick grin. you tip the hat with a breathy laugh before sinking down on his fat dick, maintaining sharp eye contact with him as your throbbing cunt takes him in little by little, until your clit’s grounded and snug against the dark-blonde tufts of his happy trail. his warm palms rub along your body as you swivel your hips, slamming down on all nine girthy inches that he has to offer. he watches your tits bounce, one manicured hand of yours squeezing at your left boob while the other holds onto his hat that rests upon the crown of your head. you rock back and forth with fervor, and he swears he can feel every spongy ridge of your contracting pussy. he throws his head back onto the pillows and gazes at you with the prettiest set of honey-golden eyes, hooded and lust-blown. gravelly moans fall past his agape lips as he spurs you on, giving your ass a thorough smack, “bounce on it, jus’ like that— yeah, fuck daddy’s cock.”

[nochilforthechuck]

OKAY PEOPLE HEAR ME OUT

I’m usually an AU machine and Dungeon Meshi doesn’t escape its fate, so HERE GOES, modern days au, ice skating

Chilchuck is an ice skater, but he can’t make it professionally cause his small stature keeps him from clearing the minimal jump heights required in figure skating. He could however, compete in ice dancing (which scoring system is different and the required jumps are lower) BUT also because of his own height, no one really wants to partner with him. He’s also somewhat of an asshole, so he doesn’t exactly have the best rep around here.

Nonetheless, he trains tirelessly, hard at work and hoping to be able to enter competition one day. He’s friend with, and trains at the same rink as famous ice dancers couple on and off the ice Falyn Touden and Marcille Donato, 4 times world champs.

Everything change when Laios, Falyn’s brother, comes back home after living abroad, after being banned from figure skating competitions, because he keeps USING WEIRD, FORBIDDEN MOVES like the back summersault or shit like that. He did, before that, win several prizes (2 internationals gold medals and 1 world bronze), but now because of his weirdos antics he gotta retire from competitive figure skating. He visits his sister and her partner/wife, and immediately takes an interest in the lonely tiny guy who is cleaning flawless jumps and spins (chilchuck’s speciality is the axel, especially the triple, which is a notoriously difficult one) in a corner of the rink, and still laios never heard of the guy despite his level. Falyn and Marcille explains the situation to him and now he only has one idea: partnering with chilchuck for ice dancing competitions.

Chilchuck is A LITTLE weirded out by the new guy (he wants to throw him in a fire ring or something, the fuck is wrong with this dude), but after some (a lot) of insistence from laios, he accepts.

The great thing about that is that thanks to laios’s massive corpulence and strenght and chil’s super light frame they can do couple figures usually VERY hard to pull off, if not impossible, making them a force to reckon with in competition.

And somewhere along the lines, they fuck, and fall in love. (In that order)

I HOPE THIS ISN’T,,, CRINGE (eng dub chil’s voice), I genuinely adores making up aus and I love ice skatings aus and THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES….. all the nices poses to draw laios and chil, laios holding up chil in intricate and beautiful position on the ice…

If you like it, i’ll draw more 🥹

Also, yes, most of those are modeled after Yuzuru Hanyu, because he has exactly the body type i picture Chilchuck with for this au.

[magicfootballstuff]

Silver (ona batlle x reader)

The weight of defeat in the World Cup final pins you to the grass. Your head is pounding, a rush of blood in your ears that drowns out any sound around you, until a familiar voice cuts through it all.

“Mi amor, you have to get up.”

You fling an arm across your face, the crook of your elbow covering your eyes. Today was always going to end with one of you winning and the other losing, but you don’t know if you can face Ona right now.

“Can’t,” you say, but even that one word takes a huge effort to choke out.

A hand finds yours and you peel back your arm to see Ona crouching beside you.

“Let me help,” she says, locking your hands together in her grasp and using her strength to haul you to your feet when you’re too exhausted to do it yourself.

Your England teammates are starting to congregate nearby, Sarina beckoning the players over, and though you know that nothing she says right now will mend your broken heart, you still have to join.

“We’ll talk after, okay?” Ona promises you, her hand finding the back of your neck and affectionately playing with the wisps of hair that have escaped your ponytail, before you part ways to join your respective huddles.

After turns out to be much later. The ceremony seems to drag on for an eternity, but you move through the whole thing like a zombie. You doubt you’ll remember much of this later and a small part of you wonders if you should be soaking this in more, not just the occasion of having played in a World Cup final, but also of losing it. You hate losing, hate the feelings of inadequacy that are consuming you right now, but it’s moments like this that you’ll want to look back on next time you’re in a final, to channel that into winning the next one and never having to feel like this again.

Eventually, with a silver medal around your neck, you find yourself back on the confetti-covered grass, seated this time, with your knees bent up to your chest and your weight supported on your hands behind you. The stadium is still half full, mostly joyful Spanish fans but you can see some England flags still flying proudly, and that’s when it hits you. Second place when you were so close to winning the biggest prize in football hurts, but it’s still something you should try to be proud of and the fans who have followed you to the other side of the world and still show their support are what makes the pain worthwhile.

“Can I sit down?”

In your appreciation of the moment, you don’t notice Ona until she’s standing over you, her jersey now decorated with a star over the crest and a gold medal around her neck.

She’s waiting for your permission to sit, so you give it with a single nod, and she plants herself on the grass beside you, immediately draping her arm around your neck. You sink into the touch, leaning into her side and resting your head on Ona’s shoulder.

“It hurts so much,” you admit, your eyes stinging with tears again.

“I know,” Ona replies. “And I wish I could take that pain away.”

“I just wasn’t good enough,” you tell her. “I’ve let so many people down. I’ve let an entire country down.”

“Hey,” Ona says, cupping your jaw with her hand and tilting your head to look at her. There’s a little crease between her eyebrows as she frowns at your self-deprecation. “You haven’t let anybody down. You were good enough to get to the final and you gave us a tough game today. That’s something to be proud of.”

Her fingers rub soothing circles on your shoulder through the material of your blue jersey. You nod and try to swallow back the lump in your throat.

“And I know it probably doesn’t help much but I’m so proud of you,” Ona continues, her brown eyes full of warmth and adoration. “So proud.”

You want to tell her you’re proud of her too, of the medal around her neck and the trophy she got to lift, of the performances she’s given on the pitch throughout the tournament and the fact that she’s now shown the entire world how good she is. But you can’t find the words.

It’ll take you a few days to find those words, but you will find them. You’ll tell Ona on a beach as you take a much needed break together for a few days before you start preseason. You’ll tell her during a lazy morning in bed right before you have to fly back to England. You’ll tell her again on FaceTime the night before she makes her Barcelona debut. It doesn’t matter if you can’t say it now, because Ona understands.

She presses her lips to your temple, a simple gesture that conveys way more than words ever could.

“T’estimo,” you murmur.

Ona’s lips still linger against your skin and you feel the smile as she hears the way your own mouth stumbles slightly around the foreign words of her native tongue.

“I love you too. Always.”

[niranjandotus]

Top Ukrainian female Scientists, Doctors, Mathematicans, Economists, Artists, Athletes, Leaders, Astronauts, Military Leaders, etc.

The Ukrainian mathematician Maryna Viazovska who won Fields Medal — the highest honor for a mathematician.

Selected few famous Ukrainian scientists 

We decided to talk about outstanding Ukrainian women who've changed and continue to change the world of science to show that girls can do anything.

Maryna Viazovska, a mathematician

Ukrainian scientist, doctor of natural sciences. Ukrainian mathematician Maryna Viazovska, who currently works at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology, received the Salem Prize 2016, which is extremely prestigious for mathematicians. The commission awarded the prize to Maryna Viazovska for her world-class discovery. Ukrainian solved a problem that scientists have been working on for more than 400 years, i.e. packing spheres in 8-dimensional space, and co-authored the one in 24-dimensional space. Previously, the problem of packing spheres was solved only for spaces with three or fewer dimensions.

Yuliia Bezvershenko, a physicist

Ukrainian scientist in theoretical physics, popularizer of science, public figure, Ph.D. of physic and mathematical sciences, Yuliia Bezvershenko is included in the list of TOP-20 Ukrainian women in STEM for 2018-2019. Yuliia deals with mathematical methods applied to the problems of dynamics of quantum systems in external fields and control of quantum systems. She is convinced and proves that one can practice theoretical physics with passion.

According to Yuliia, at one time she heard an important thing from her mentor: you can be yourself in any field! Therefore, one shouldn't be afraid of stereotypes and prejudices of others.

If you're a girl, a woman, no matter where, no matter how old you are, and your heart is in science, don't be afraid. Go there boldly. After all, nothing will stop a woman, ready to work and conduct scientific discoveries.

Mariia Bailiak, a biologist

Doctor of Biological Sciences, Associate Professor of Biochemistry and Biotechnology in Vasyl Stefanyk Precarpathian National University. Scientist Mariia Bailiak studies biochemistry and researches the influence of various plants and substances on the aging process. Mariia Bailiak's discoveries concern, for instance, the increase of stress resistance and the general condition of living organisms (and therefore, us and you, and it's good news: stress resistance doesn't hurt anyone), and anti-aging substances. Thanks to her intensive work, Mariia is in the Top 10 successful Ukrainian women scientists.

Olha Brovarets, a biophysicist

Ukrainian biophysicist, Doctor of Physic and Mathematical Sciences, winner of the Scopus Awards Ukraine in the nomination "Best team of scientists who achieved significant scientific results without Western collaborations" and the President of Ukraine Award for Young Scientists, and a leading researcher in the Department of Molecular and Quantum Biophysics Institute of Molecular Biology and Genetics of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine. Olha is the youngest doctor habilitatus in Ukraine; she became a doctor at 29. Olha is now 34 years old and she continues to study biophysics: her discoveries give an understanding of the mechanisms of cancer and many other diseases caused by mutations. It was Olha who calculated the pattern of mutations in DNA leading to cancer and many other diseases.

Nana Voitenko, a biologist

Professor, Doctor of Biological Sciences, neurobiologist, head of the department of sensory signaling of the Bohomolets Institute of Physiology of NAS of Ukraine. Nana Voitenko has been researching pain for more than 20 years. What do we know about pain? For most people on Earth, pain is something they'd like to get rid of as soon as possible if they feel it. Nana Voitenko deals with the nature of pain, as it occurs and spreads in the human's central and peripheral nervous systems. In the laboratory, Voitenko and her colleagues managed to develop an experimental treatment that affects only those cells involved in pain syndromes. Besides, Nana Voitenko is actively promoting science: she's a lecturer at the "Days of Science" initiative, was a lecturer at TED-x Kyiv in 2013, and the organizer of the "Week of Knowledge about the Brain." Science is close, and it's accessible to everyone.

Ella Libanova, an economist

Scientist in socioeconomics, demography, and labor economics, academician of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine, Doctor of Economics, Professor, Honored Economist of Ukraine. Ella Libanova is an academician-secretary of the economics department of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine and, by the way, the first and only female member of the presidium of the National Academy of Sciences for 102 years of its work. She teaches social statistics at the Faculty of Economics of the Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv; introduced a method for measuring human development at the region level, used by the State Statistics Service of Ukraine for annual calculations.

Nina Virchenko, a mathematician

Professor of the Department of Mathematical Analysis and Probability Theory, Doctor of Physic and Mathematical Sciences Nina Virchenko is one of the most famous Ukrainian mathematicians. She is the author of more than 500 scientific and methodological works, including 20 books published in Ukrainian, Russian, English, and Japanese. Nina Virchenko is recognized not only in Ukraine but also abroad; she's a member of the Australian, American, Belgian, Edinburgh, London mathematical societies. In the end, it's not surprising, because mathematics knows no boundaries and recognizes all the achievements, wherever you obtain them.

Nina Virchenko's fate wasn't easy: at 18 in 1948, she was sentenced to 10 years in the Gulag camps for preparing a "political conspiracy, revolt" and participating in the "Ukrainian-nationalist gang." Years in the camps didn't stop the future doctor from achieving her dreams. In 1964, she defended her Ph.D. and her Dr. habil. dissertation in Kyiv in 1988.

Nataliia Vynohrad, an epidemiologist

Epidemiologist, professor, doctor of medical sciences, Nataliia Vynohrad manages the Department of Epidemiology of Lviv National Medical University. She's an expert of the World Health Organization in responding to epidemic threats and the Ministry of Health of Ukraine on epidemiology, an adviser to the Ministry of Emergencies of Ukraine on anti-epidemic protection and biosafety. Agree, you can't find a more relevant profession in 2020-2021. Once an ordinary girl from a village in the Khmelnytskyi region, and now the author of 305 scientific papers, and 8 copyright certificates for inventions and patents of Ukraine, proves that nothing is impossible for a girl who knows what she wants.

Nataliia Polonska-Vasylenko, a historian

From the early 20th century until the end of her life in the 1970s, our first heroine studied the history and archeology of Ukraine, both in Ukraine and later in exile in Germany and the Czech Republic. In a historically troublesome time for Ukraine, she became one of the leading representatives of the state school in Ukrainian historiography, that is, she promoted the idea of ​​independence and continuity of the Ukrainian historical process. Nataliia Polonska-Vasylenko is the author of almost 200 scientific works on the history of Zaporizhzhia and Southern Ukraine, which remain relevant to this day.

Valentyna Radzymovska, a biologist

One of the most prominent names in our history is Valentyna Radzymovska, a professor, doctor of medical and physiological sciences, founder of the Ukrainian school of physiologists and biochemists, and a public figure. The Soviet authorities repressed Valentyna Radzymovska for her political activities and participation in the Union for the Liberation of Ukraine in the 1930s. However, it didn't prevent her from becoming the author of more than 60 works on biochemistry, pathophysiology, pediatrics, psychoneurology, physiology, and phthisiology. Like the previous scientist in our article, she left Ukraine in 1945, emigrating first to Germany and then to the United States.

Radzymovska contributed hugely to the study of tuberculosis and its treatment in children.

Nina Morozhenko, a physicist

Although the sun is the closest star to us, it still hides many fascinating mysteries. Ukrainian astronomer, helio physicist, doctor of physic and mathematical sciences, author of 56 scientific works, Nina Morozhenko devoted her entire life to studying the structure of our guide light and the processes taking place on it. After all, everything happening on the Sun affects many areas of human activity. Without studying the sun, it's impossible to understand not only what the future holds for our civilization but also what is happening in space, i.e. on the distant stars the humanity is so eager to reach. Nina Morozhenko's scientific works on solar prominences were the first in the world and gave rise to scientific research by helio physicists from many countries. The Ukrainian researcher's significant contribution to the physics of the sun once again demonstrates that physics isn't a purely "male" science.

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper - Supernatural AU

Pairing: Poly! Task Force 141 x you/ female reader

Content Warning: Fantasy Violence, Nogitsune, betrayal. If there is something triggering in this, I have not tagged. I suggest you read at your own discretion.

Words: 1024

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: You are known for taking on a human form. Taking joy in tormenting, tricking, and possessing humans.

You are a Nogitsune. The translation for this is wild fox.

Alternate names for you are Yako, Yakan.

Yakan is more archaic. Its origin lie elsewhere. Predominately in a different animal.

Many local variations of your name exist. Only known to those in those areas.

Your habitat is located amongst the fields, forests, and wild areas.

Your diet? Omnivorous. You particularly like wax, oil, lacquer, women’s life force and blood. You are quite happy with your appetite. Only going out of your way to eat when it suits you and your own hunger.

Often referred to as Yako. A type of kitsune. A breed of magical kitsune to be more specific. You wander the East Asian territories amongst your kin.

You do not have a divine soul. Not only that, but you are not a messenger of the gods. You do not serve the Inari.

You are known for taking on a human form. Taking joy in tormenting, tricking, and possessing humans.

A keen sense of danger. Strong disliking for bright light. Hiding from the sun during the day. Scared of swords and knives. You do not do well with bladed objects. An intense fear of dogs. As soon as you smell one. You are already gone. Hiding.

Able to recognise human activity even though you hide from humans. Whenever you get the chance to. You are nowhere to be found. Which you generally enjoy. Sneaking around to steal some of your favourite foods like; wax, candles, lamp oil, lacquer, alcohol, and fried tofu. A feast for you. A delicious feast no other could compare to.

Some kitsune are viewed as holy creatures, magical foxes serving as messengers to the gods. You are not one of them. You are a low-ranking member. Furthermore, you do not act as a messenger. You do not serve the Inari. Despite all of this. You seem relatively comfortable with your low ranking. You don’t aspire to increase your standing.

In order to change your shape, your form, you requite a bone from a horse or a cow. It requires all of your concentration, your magical focus of some form or kind.

This went on for a while. Long enough for a task force 141 to find you all the way out in the English countryside. Resting on dry hay inside an abandoned stable. Clutching onto a worn-out pink teddy bear. A giant one. Big enough to cover your entire body. Engulfing it in a warm beacon of safety.

You knew this day would come eventually. People hated monsters. Monsters would always be stomped out by those who are deemed better on a biased moral compass. You wished you are back at home with your older siblings. Yet you were all the way out here. No way back. Lost and alone.

What you deserve and what you get are two separate things.

You deserved to be home. Instead, you were tricked into coming all the way out here by a person you called 'friend'. A friend who was a liar. A snake. A false promise. A deception. A deceiver. Unworthy of being your friend.

You’ve been running from them for months. You were too tired to put up much of a fight. If any at all. You didn’t hear the stable doors creak open or the footsteps of crunching gravel. “Are you here to kill me?” You asked. “To slay the mighty beast in order to receive a medal and pat on your back? Spare me the hypocrisy that is your kind. Werewolves like you don’t know anything beyond your own kind. Well done. You got your prize. You won the fight. You get something while the beast is slain. How noble of you.”

Noble? Pathetic. Bowing down to the needs of the whims and wants of others. Look at you. Tamed and bound by an entity who would discard you the moment they found something better. I know these things better than you might think.

No wonder you smell. The dog smell. Putrid. Horrid. Disgusting. The dog crate smelled of hundreds of dogs. The putrid smelling seeping into your clothes. The smell stung your eyes to a new level you hadn’t experienced before. Stench overwhelming as you were muzzled to keep you from biting them.

Scared. They’re scared like little pups. Whinging. Whining. Wanting more than what they deserve to get. I don’t care about what they want. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care about anything they could possibly want from me. Their whims and desires can go fucking drown in a river for all I care.

Along the road to the military base full of people marching around in military fatigues. You must have passed out on the way there. Snoring like a bear. A giant bear. A big bear. A big, big bear. They tried prying it from you.

You gave them growls. Snapping at their fingers. Gaz got bit a few times. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to ward him away from you.

Your eyes held a luminous glow to them. Even if they were only open for a few seconds before falling back asleep. Stretching a bit before breathing a steadily.

Lowering the air conditioning between 12 degrees to 17 degrees depending on your mood at the time. Keeping the room you were kept inside. Cold enough for you to keep you comfortable. Not them.

Laswell looking in the crate with flashlight as the dog crate presented to her like an offering to a god who knew little of your kind. The urge to strike. To bite her burned inside your soul.

Those fucking naïve bitches. Dangling a snack in front me? Tempting me to eat her, are we? Idiots. Morons. Just a bite. A nibble is all it takes to get to the sweet red nectar beneath her flesh. To gorge myself on her blood like it was ordained by my nature.

Grim.

Grim.

Grim Reaper.

A new name.

For a new place.

Mine.

All of it.

MINE.

Once they ask for my name.

It is all they shall get from me.

A small kindness for their pathetic interference.

[bits-and-babs]

꒰ ‧ 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 ‧ ꒱

୨୧ ⇠ main masterlist | request guidelines | request here ୨୧

——————— total works : 9 | requests closed ———————

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

» THE F WORD ⁞ 18+ ↳ Photographs from a gangland crime scene just beyond Mexico's border send Ghost into a spiral. As his superior, you feel it is your duty to bring him down from delirium by any means necessary.

» ODDS ON ⁞ 18+ ↳ you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒

» PIXELATED ⁞ 18+ ⁞ camgirl!reader ↳ a new client sends a request for a solo-cam performance. his lack of detail and scarce details leave you unprepared.

» I BET YOU THINK ABOUT ME ⁞ 18+ ↳ you give ghost a parting gift before a mission

» WIRE TAP ⁞ 18+ ↳ prompt: "call me that again" — a solo op takes you away from 141 and away from ghost. You're both at your wits end.

» TAKE AIM ⁞ 18+ ↳ prompt: “that’s so fucking hot.” — paired with ghost on a 'drill' mission, you get to witness his sniping prowess first hand.

» PULL YOUR WEIGHT ⁞ 18+ ↳ prompt: “you can take more than that." & "we might get caught. does that turn you on?" — your ridiculous innuendoes in the gym with soap go too far for ghost's liking.

» POMP ⁞ 18+ ↳ prompt: “if we weren’t in public right now, i'd have my head between your legs.” - simon gets bored during a very special medal ceremony. chest candy isn't exactly what he's after when there's something much sweeter between your legs.

» SAUCY ⁞ 18+ ↳ prompt: “shall we put that mouth to better use?” — a particularly crass comment over the radio almost exposes your secret situationship with ghost.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

coming soon

[pikxelbit]

Turbo (Wreck-it Ralph) Character Analysis

I wrote this while I was sleepy so perhaps a few things I wrote might not make sense. Just wanted to understand him a bit more, or at least have an idea of who he is.

Getting attention for the first time was something Turbo could not forget. So, becoming more competitive he became a bit more materialistic, thinking very highly of medals, trophies and even prizes that he could win. He associated the good feeling of being recognized by these materials. Not getting enough attention could force him to do something drastic, to get the attention back.

He became a bit of a gloater after a while, his own ego becoming a bit too much for people to handle. His unwillingness to accept defeat paving his own dramatic reactions when he didn't get first place. It's alien to him. Once first place gets taken away from him, an unfamiliar feeling would flood over his senses, and since he hasn't truly managed to process these feelings that deeply, he turns to simply becoming upset, refusing to think deeply of things as he's inexperienced and by this time he couldn't really open up anymore as he simply just can't open that easily.

Becoming more swallowed by his own mind, he doesn't think it's worth it to think things through (at the start). Letting his emotions take over a few times, thinking he's right all the time as all he's done until now worked. All his winnings are because of him. If he didnt win then, it wasn't his fault. It was the players.

Pressure could also cause him to act more carelessly. Being put down from his peddestle was the most hurtful thing to happen. Right at the start, he already got praise and attention and for him to suddenly stop getting it makes him so confused. Slowly, pressure would slowly build up as a few would lightly tease him of how the new game is becoming more popular than him.

With an internalized pressure that fester inside of him. Everyone used to think he was the star, and now, all because of a new game he just wasn't all that good anymore? It confused him to no end. Mind you he isn't that developed as a character yet. Although 'human' his understanding may be different. And when he figured out this new game truly would be able to defeat him, he turned to the option of trying to take over the game.

He can't live without attention. He can't live with having little to no attention as he's already gotten used to it at the start. And now that it's getting taken from him, he'll do anything to get it back.

After only a few weeks, he just couldn't handle it anymore. Striking when no one is at the Game Central Station, he drove right into the new game with no remorse. Not really recoding anything. He tries to take over, thinking perhaps if he could just wedge himself inside the game, then maybe he can become something to marvel at. He drives through the screen, wanting so badly the fame he once had.

[berrykis]

Another story of Ace x Sabo Badminton 🏸 AU by @februairy 🩷

Wedding planning + few bonuses edition :D

After Ace and Sabo had done their best in the Badminton Olympics and received their medals, they finally sought to plan their wedding. On the airplane ride home, they held hands, sharing a silent but profound connection. The medals they had won were tucked safely in their bags, but the real prize was the journey they were about to embark on together.

As the plane soared through the clouds, Ace gently took off his engagement ring from the chain around his neck. Sabo did the same, their fingers brushing against each other as they exchanged a meaningful glance. With a shared smile, they slid the rings onto their fingers, a symbolic gesture that felt even more significant in that quiet moment above the world.

the rings engraved their initials of each other. hmm.. A x S <33

Together they were sitting in the airplane seats. Shanks couldn’t do anything to separate them, which he shouldn’t ever, after that switching up their room partners instead of the engaged couple staying together as Sabo stomped his foot and pouted that it should’ve been done that way. He found no way to refuse them. They announced their engagement! won their tournament in the Olympics!

What more does shanks want to excuse from them not being together? LOL but it’s not like he’d get away with it if he does. A bratty blond princess would go out him way to fight him if he dares to separate him from Ace again.. Ace would just stare and stand from afar with a smirk and hands on his hips like, “yeah, You go babe! You tell em!”

Hehe, now back to the scenery and airplane back home with ace and sabo :)

Ace looked out the window, his eyes reflecting the endless sky, while Sabo rested his head on Ace’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. They whispered to each other, their voices soft and intimate, sharing dreams and plans for their future. Their words were a private symphony, only for their ears, filled with promises and love.

Around them, fellow companions and friends couldn’t help but notice the palpable connection between the two.

There was always something magnetic about Ace and Sabo, a spark that went beyond their success and skills on the badminton court. Friends and teammates who’d spare a few glances on them both looked on with admiration and awe, touched by the lovebirds bond between the couple.

It held a sweet atmosphere in the airplane.

Ace leaned closer to Sabo, his voice soft and cool as he spoke. "I can't believe our wedding will be soon..you’ve done most of the planning our wedding, didn’t you?” He smirked a little while remembering how Sabo would sit infront of him in bed while scolding him about how they wouldn’t have a “all you can eat” buffet because of their budget.. but eventually Sanji and his friends agreed full heartedly that they’ll (Sanji’s former co-worker/friends who’re chefs) do the cooking and food for their wedding. Best of all kind!

Sabo huffed and replied with a slight annoyance in his tone, "Ace, your ideas were starting to sound like Luffy's birthday party plans. A meat-themed wedding? No way, I'm not letting that happen on our special day." Glancing up at him from where he still rested his head on Ace’s shoulder. Still holding onto his arm as well.

Ace chuckled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Okay, okay, I get it. No meat-themed wedding. We'll go with something more elegant and fitting for the occasion."

Sabo just smiled cheekily, with his cute lil fangs showing off.. something Ace loved about his face.

something he’ll sometimes slide his tongue to when they’re kissing.. (with tongue..HAUAH I’m sorry 😭!! The intimacy here is needed!🫶)

Their kisses were always something special, like their first time kiss. Sweet, tender. Ace kisses Sabo with a mix of heat and tenderness. His lips move slowly, savoring each moment, while his hands gently cradle Sabo's face. The warmth of their breath mingles as Ace deepens the kiss, making it both passionate and intimate.

The way their lips meet and part, with soft, lingering touches, creates a sensation that is both electrifying and deeply loving. Sometimes.. saliva connects from them both when they pull apart. From the tip of their tongues.

~

Sabo grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Alright but now that we already have most of our plans already listed, we should be able to have this wedding like..” pausing to think about it while closing his eyes and counting his fingers to calculate it in his mind.

With a hum and a slight frown forming, Sabo perked up and softly clapped his hands not to wake anyone asleep. “Right! Maybe byy..February 14th?” Glancing at Ace for approval.

Ace's amusement was clear as a cute blush formed on his cheeks. He chuckled, "Valentine's Day, huh? That's actually sweet."

Not.. what he expected but he nodded, blushing.

Sabo made a slight pouty face, his own cheeks turning a bit red from embarrassment. "Well, I thought it would be romantic," he mumbled, trying to hide his flustered expression. How ironic.. <3

Sabo connected their hands again. Missing his warmth.

Sabo looked down at their interlinked hands, gently rubbing Ace's knuckles with his thumb. "It's also between our birthdays, so it holds a bit of meaning despite the holiday it falls on," he said softly.

Ace hummed with a smile on his face, closing his eyes and letting his head lean back a little on the seat.

“Yeah, I’d love that..” Ace said, a little soft and low like a whisper but Sabo managed to hear him just fine because he was so close (clingyy)

From there, both fell asleep. Bodies touching each other with arms and hands interlocking and heads leaned on each other.

+

(Bonus)

After they woke up and got off the plane, Ace and Sabo were a little dozy from their sleep, oblivious to some of the giggles coming from behind them. They shuffled through the airport, their minds still foggy, as they made their way to the baggage claim.

Koala got them both coffee to try and wake them up somewhat since they looked a little tired even after sleeping together on the 10 hour plane trip. (Ace got a latte actually, he hates coffee while Sabo drinks it all like it’s the last thing he’s drinking after this)

Once they had their bags, they met up with their friends and shared warm, slightly sleepy hugs, bidding each other goodbye. The terminal echoed with laughter and well-wishes as everyone went their separate ways. Finally, Ace and Sabo stepped outside, the cool breeze waking them up a bit more as they headed home, ready to rest and recharge for the next step in their official wedding preparations.

At home: Ace sat crisscrossed on the floor, a bowl of mango bite pieces resting beside him. He popped another piece into his mouth, savoring the sweet flavor as he meticulously listed off names in his notebook. “Alright, so we’ve got Luffy, Makino, and Dadan... Did we remember to invite Koala and Hack?” he asked, glancing up briefly.

Sabo was lounging on the couch, a pillow on his lap and a laptop open in front of him. He was immersed in his own task, researching wedding flowers for their venue. “Yeah, I already let them know,” Sabo replied, his eyes still on the screen. “But I think we forgot about Izo and Thatch. I'll send them a message right now.”

Already typing on his laptop, seemingly doing exactly what he said he’d do.

Ace nodded, jotting down the names with a determined look. “Good catch!.. hm How's the flower research going?” he asked, curiosity piqued.

Sabo glanced at him and smiled, right back to scrolling through images of vibrant floral arrangements. "I found some amazing options for the venue. They’re the same flowers that your mom would wear. I think you'll love them," he said, his voice filled with excitement.

As Ace was about to reply after Sabo suggested the heartwarming idea, he was interrupted by the loud buzz of Sabo’s phone. A lot of it actually, seemed like they were spamming his phone. Sabo pulled out his phone and checked it, his eyes widening as he saw the notifications.

Koala had sent a pack of images of Ace and Sabo sleeping, leaning against each other, hands interlocked, and a small, peaceful smile on Sabo's lips. The sight was undeniably cute but so.. embarrassing! They’d taken pictures of them both sleeping in front of them.

Sabo let out a small yelp and blushed, catching Ace's attention. Curiosity growing, Ace loudly asked, “What is it?”

Sabo stammered, "K-Koala," his eyebrows hitched and a frown forming despite his still-blushing face. Ace tilted his head and crossed his arms, "Koala? What about Koa—" Before he could finish, Sabo accidentally dropped his phone, sending it sliding across the table.

Ace quickly picked it up, his eyes widening as he took in the images. "Oh. Oh?" he murmured, a smirk forming as he placed a hand on his chin, looking closely at the pictures.

<3 :D

Eventually, Ace convinced Sabo to post one of the taken pictures. When they posted their Olympic pictures of them playing in their final badminton match and pictures of them with their medals, the last few slides on the post included one of them kissing and the picture Koala and the others took without their notice. (via instagram)

Caption; "From the court to the heart. I would’ve never done it without you. 🏸❤️ I love you, @sabo.xo"

Fin!~ (for now, maybe soon in the future I’ll add more to this amazing Au) plus I rlly like bratty sabo so I tried to write him that way.. hope u noticed☺️

Thank you sm if u guys enjoyed😭🥹 I love this Au so very much so it’s fun to write and share what kind of ideas I have. Please read the comics @/februairy draws! They’re so good and cute <3

(This was in my drafts for a bit before I finished right up after a wave of motivation.)

[radiojamming]

My apologies if you've already answered this somewhere, but do we know what Charles Hartnell did for a living/what his life was like after losing his older brothers?

Hi there!

Charles Hartnell trained at Chatham Dockyard for several years and ended up becoming a shipwright like his father, grandfather, great-grandfather etc. At one point, in the 1881 census, he was a lead shipwright at the yard.

He married Hannah Owen in 1852 when he was 24 years old and had five children with her, including his son Thomas (!!) who worked as a steam engine draftsman at Chatham. In the census records, it shows that all of his children were educated (listed as 'scholars') and one of his daughters became a schoolteacher. I've heard that Charles seemed to prize education and was insistent on his children being literate and making something of themselves.

As to what his life was like after his brothers' deaths, it's hard to say. I do know he wrote quite a few letters to the Admiralty which are currently held by his family and not available to the public. The letter declaring John's death and debt was delivered to him personally, and Thomas' Arctic service medal was also delivered to him. He seemed to be the most insistent on preserving their memory, as his descendant Donald Bray was the one who provided the "may we be spared to meet on earth" letter to researchers and his other descendant Brian Spenceley was the one who served as photographer to his great-great uncle's exhumation and provided a painting of Charles as an adult.

(HARTNELL NOSE! REDDISH HAIR! YEAH!!!!!)

Here's an article from 2014 about Spenceley talking about his family and seeing John Hartnell's body in person, as well as showing the picture of Charles.

I do wish we knew more about him and his thoughts and feelings about his brothers. All we currently have are a few comments from his now-famous letter (which includes a phonetic spelling of his Kentish dialect!):

Dear Brothers  This comes with my kind love to you hoping it find you both in good health as thank god it leaves me at present. It is nearly three years since we parted but I hope it will not be that time before we meet again. There has [written as 'their as’!] been great changes taken place since then. [...] But if I tell you all the news now I shall have none to tell you when you come home which I hope will not be long as three long years have nearly passed away[.] [...] I wish you a prosperous passage to return safe home as no more at present from Your Affectionate Brother Charles Hartnell