#or if it does if it still occupies the place in history that it does IRL. since the piper kind of replaces it

[freyafrida]

wwii era poster featuring "in flanders fields" and the wwi vimy memorial

[celestiamour]

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving you a piggyback ride after a date┊0.4k words

contains: fluff, established relationship, mentioned age gap & size difference

➤ author's note: a little short one before i finish the longer ones ^^

he’s gonna huff about how he told you to wear comfortable shoes and will roll his eyes when you insist that the heels you chose match better with your outfit, but he secretly loves it when you climb on his back and allow him to carry you home. maybe you’ll tease him about being unenthusiastic because you’ll hurt his back like the old man he is, giggling in surprise when he bounces you up a few times acting like he’ll throw you off if you misbehave.  

with your strappy black heels in one hand and his barefoot lover on top of him, he’ll attract quite a few looks walking down the street (or at least, more than usual since it’s difficult not to notice him). it gives him a strange sort of pride. he frequently questions if he’s doing enough as your boyfriend when he struggles to express himself and has a long history of trauma that still hasn’t been fully exposed to keep you safe from the horror, but he knows for a fact that he’s doing this correctly, making sure that you don’t need to walk down the street limping from pain and discomfort and being strong enough to have you rest in his grasp. 

if you weren’t blabbering on about whatever topic occupying your mind (he only grunts in response, but trust me that he’s listening to every word), fiddling with his swoopy hair tufts, and placing a gentle kiss anywhere that your lips could reach, he could have forgotten you were there since he barely feels your weight on him. perks of having an adamantium skeleton and being ripped as hell, but he does need to check in on you every now and then to ensure that you haven’t fallen off or something (it has happened once and he still hasn’t forgiven himself since then).

sure, he kinda looked like a scary guard dog with his rugged appearance, towering bulky frame, and general intimidating aura, but it just signals to everyone with eyes that you were taken and tells anyone who has the thought of having you as their own to ‘fuck off’. 

the only thing about it that he hates is being unable to see your sparkling smile while you gawk at how different everything looks while at a higher height, yet the vision of it in his head makes his heart warm with adoration and affection.

[hurtspideyparker]

The team learns about Peter's stress baking fairly quickly after he moves into the tower.

"Why does this place smell like cookies?" Tony asks suspiciously, "Pepper put an end to homemade care packages after that Cap incident."

Steve protests from the dining table. "Hey, that fan seemed totally normal. Y'know in my generation you do not mess with baked goods, that's sacred."

Natasha pats his back comfortingly as she joins the conversation.

"They came from the kid. They're actually pretty good, here."

Nat hands a still-warm cookie to Tony, who bites it curiously.

"Damn, it melts in my mouth like buttery ambrosia and still has a perfect crunch around the edges. Is that a nutty aftertaste?"

"Yes!" Peter yells from the other room, a clatter sounding before his head pokes around the wall, oven mitts still attached to his hands.

"I brown the butter, it really deepens the flavour!"

"Good on you kid. What's the occasion?"

Peter stutters, "uhhhh, no occasion. I just like cookies!"

He disappears around the corner again, and Tony sends a confused glance towards his teammates.

Steve shrugs his shoulders, mouth still full of cookie, and Natasha sends him an arched brow. Tony isn't sure what that means, but feels intimidated enough to exit the room anyway.

* * *

The baking lasts the rest of the week, until Peter comes home yelling, "I aced my calculus midterm!!!" running out of the elevator with a stapled set of papers in his hand.

"So no more baking?" Nat asks neutrally.

"Nope! Woohoo!"

Just like that the kid is gone, jumping down the hall towards his bedroom.

Tony looks at Nat quizzically.

"It was midterm week. He baked 3 dozen cookies, 2 types of muffins, and a cheesecake."

"So he stress bakes?"

"He stress bakes."

* * *

It becomes a "thing" in the tower.

Sam eats toast from freshly baked bread one morning while watching Bruce quiz Peter on his upcoming AP history test. Each slice is cut, toasted, and buttered to perfection by Peter while he explains sectionalism in the 20th century.

* * *

Bucky grates carrots while Peter mixes a bowl of dry ingredients furiously, the boy mumbling to himself non-stop.

"Has he gone insane?" Clint asks from the doorway.

"Spanish oral exam," Bucky replies.

"Ay caramba."

"Tal vez pueda sobornar a mi maestra con glaseado de queso crema..." Peter starts mumbling. (Maybe I can bribe my teacher with cream cheese frosting...)

Bucky and Clint share a concerned look.

Clint approaches the boy, "put down the spatula Pete, let's talk about this."

Peter looks up in alarm.

"In English! Just English!"

* * *

"What's up kid? It's spring break, what could you possibly be stressing about."

Today Tony walks into a full kitchen; Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper are occupying the space while Peter pours something creamy into a metal bowl.

"He's asking MJ out tonight, so he's making cookies and cream ice cream in case it goes wrong." Natasha crosses her arms when she replies to him, eyes focused on Peter's mixing.

"Does ice cream even count as stress baking? The very meaning of 'bake' is to put under heat. But I suppose it does feel wrong to call it cooking."

Peter looks up, his brown eyes large and sad like a baby cow, "I still baked the cookies from scratch."

"Yeah he's a real Nara Smith!" Wanda adds enthusiastically.

"Oookay... I'll pretend I know what that means. And since when do we have an ice cream maker?" Tony points to the fancy hardware out on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, I got that for him. We lacked a lot of the tools for basic baking recipes," Pepper informs him.

Tony ponders how ice cream machines count as a basic baking tool, and decides not to argue with three powerful women and their favourite lovesick teenager.

Peter picks up his bowl and moves it into the freezer, clearing away a couple frozen pizzas and a bag of peas.

"Should I even bother with the cones?" Peter asks with a pout.

"Pete she's gonna say yes! Also if you're wallowing in misery with a tub of ice cream we still want our cones so we can emotionally support you with a crunchy treat," Wanda says with a supportive smile.

The others nod along.

"You're right!" Peter agrees before turning around and grabbing an honest-to-god waffle cone maker, with the cone shaping kit to boot.

"Why..." Tony begins to protest, "y'know what, I don't care. Let me know how it goes kid."

The man is ignored as he moves through the kitchen to grab a banana, the women coaching Peter on his manners, flirting, and first date ideas as he exits the room.

* * *

Thor hums around the delicious treat.

"Mmm. You know young Peter, you could have a shop for your creations. Is there a Stark Industries for baked goods?" Thor asks the young lad, crumbs falling from his mouth as he chews the cookie bar.

"I didn't invent the blondie Thor. I was just trying to explain what it is, a cookie brownie! I did decorate them all by myself though," he says with a satisfied grin.

"Ah yes," Thor lifts up another blondie by the pretzel stick Peter put in the squares, attached with a bit of melted chocolate so they're shaped like Mjolnir, "now you are all worthy of the hammer. Ha! This is funny, I'm sure the others will find your talents equally amusing."

Peter picks up his own mini-Mjolnjr and waves it around, "it is I, son of Odin. Don't worry puny Midgardians, I will protect you with my mighty hammer and beautiful hair!"

Thor laughs thunderously at the impression, clapping.

Bruce walks into the room, enticed by the laughter.

"Ah! My friend, Peter has made edible Mjolnirs so you, too, may be worthy. It's delicious and hilarious. Imagine Banner wielding my hammer, ha! Ridiculous," Thor is all too amused by the situation.

Bruce gives Peter an offended look as Thor continues laughing with himself, the younger just shrugging. Bruce takes one of the treats anyways, pointedly not holding it by the pretzel stick.

"Y'know Pete, have you ever considered opening a bakery? You are quite talented. I think the Avengers alone would keep you in business," Bruce asks politely.

"Well I only like to bake when I'm stressed. That wouldn't be a very stable business model," Peter points out.

"True. Although running a business can be quite stressful, so maybe you'd have a continuous supply?"

"Hm. Efficient and unhealthy," Peter nods like it's the perfect plan.

"Wow you really are Stark's intern."

Thor bursts out into another bout of raucous laughter.

"Imagine Stark wielding my dessert hammer," Thor barely gets the words out, "Stark being worthy-AH HAHA."

Bruce and Peter share a look of wide-eyed alarm before joining in on the laughter.

They all share the moment before Bruce straightens up a bit to ask, "what are you even worried about anyways Peter?"

Peter wipes a tear from his eye, "I forgot to call Aunt May this morning like I always do and she only let me move here if I promised I wouldn't neglect her. So now I'm too scared to check my phone."

"I see," Bruce sympathizes.

"Yeah, baking is good for procrastinating. I pretend I'm being productive while also creating comfort food for after my breakdowns."

* * *

Tony steps into the dining room one afternoon to find Peter slicing apples while Steve sits across from him cutting intricate patterns into pie crust. There is an array of leaves and flowers set out on the flour-sprinkled table.

"So is the ornamentation necessary, or is Cap also developing a delicious self-soothing habit," Tony inquires.

"I was just talking to Peter about pie recipes from the 40s and he asked if I could help make his prettier," Steve smiles up at his companions, "it's actually a lot of fun, I can't say I've ever used food to make art before."

"He's a natural talent Mr. Stark!"

Tony agrees with the quirk of an eyebrow and cheeky sideways nod. He observes for a moment before asking something that's been bothering him recently.

"Pete, I gotta ask. Why baking? You inherited your Aunt's terrible cooking skills, and it's not like you're built for other domestic duties. Your room is a mess. What gives? How are you so... refined?"

Peter pauses his chopping to look up incredulously.

"It's science Mr. Stark. Baking is just chemistry! I'm great at chemistry," he says with a grin.

Tony thinks about it.

"Huh. I guess you're right. So, what has you stressed this time? Girl troubles? You get too good a grade in P.E. and Flash is suspicious? Decathlon competition?" Tony lists off some of his previous turmoils.

He hopes it's the decathalon again, those butter tarts were divine.

"Um. Can I finish my apple filling before I tell you? I'll lose motivation if you start yelling at me..." Peter says with a hopeful smile, strain lying underneath it.

Tony's eyes narrow.

"Okay so I maybe blew up your test tubes when trying to develop fire webs and Dum-E may have covered your entire lab in fire supression foam."

Tony's jaw clenches, "I'm gonna let you stew in fear for a bit longer because apple is my favourite - if this was pumpkin you'd already be squashed - but best believe I'm not done with you yet." Tony slowly takes a deep breath before pointing a finger at Peter. "Never change kid, never change."

Tony leaves, distinctly in the opposite direction of his lab, and Peter goes back to slicing apples, now with a genuine smile on his face.

[pandapetals]

Photo

Xavier shows you a photo of the X-Men from their younger days.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Xavier’s office was usually a place for quick meetings, somewhere you and Logan visited only for mission briefings or occasional check-ins. But today, while waiting for the Professor, you found yourself lingering, letting your eyes wander over the collection of old, leather-bound books and the intricate wood detailing that gave the room a cozy, timeless charm. It felt like stepping into a library from another era, filled with the scent of aged paper and polished oak.

"Admiring the place?" Xavier's warm voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him wheeling himself in with a small smile.

"Sorry, Professor," you said, slightly sheepish. "I didn’t mean to snoop."

He chuckled, waving a hand to dismiss your apology. "It’s quite all right. I must admit, it’s rare to have you in my office for longer than a moment."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?"

Xavier’s smile grew, a fondness lighting up his face. "You’re a busy woman. And Logan… well, he seems rather determined to keep you occupied," he said with a soft laugh, his tone carrying a hint of mischief.

You laughed too, nodding. "He does have a habit of dragging me into all his projects. Says he’s teaching me ‘important skills,’" you replied, making air quotes with a smirk. "Last week it was ‘how to change the oil in a motorcycle,’ which turned out to be mostly him showing off while I handed him tools."

Xavier's expression softened, his eyes filled with a quiet pride. "You know," he began, his voice gentler now, "He was… rough around the edges when he first joined us. Lost, even. But you…" He paused, searching for the right words. "You’ve helped him find a part of himself he didn’t even realize he had."

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words. "I think he’d say the same about all of you, Professor," you replied softly. "This place… the X-Men… you’re his family."

Xavier nodded, his gaze drifting to a framed photo on his desk. "We are, yes," he murmured, then reached over and picked up the frame, holding it out to you. "But it’s different now. I think you’ve made him realize he’s allowed to want more than that."

You took the frame, looking down at a photograph that seemed to capture a moment frozen in time. It was a group shot of the original X-Men—Jean, Scott, Ororo, Hank, and Xavier. They were all smiling, looking so much younger, full of energy and purpose. There, slightly to the side, arms crossed and brows furrowed was Logan. He looked much younger too, but even then, there was a touch of that familiar gruffness in his stance, a man who hadn’t quite found his place.

"He hasn’t changed much," you said softly, studying Logan’s face in the photo, taking in the wild hair and the faint scowl. "Still has that brooding intensity."

Xavier chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Indeed. Though I think he’d deny it if anyone pointed it out."

You handed the photo back to Xavier, your heart full as you thought about the man Logan had become and the quiet way he had opened himself to you over time. "Thank you for showing me this, Professor."

"It was my pleasure," he said, his voice warm. "And thank you, truly, for making him the man he was always meant to be."

Later that evening, you found Logan in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with a half-hearted grumble about there never being enough beer. You leaned against the counter, watching him with a fond smile until he finally noticed and turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

"Why are you starin' at me like that?" he asked, his tone suspicious but amused.

You bit back a smirk, crossing your arms as you studied him, letting your gaze linger on the familiar lines of his face, his scruffy beard, the hair that always had a life of its own. "I was just thinking," you said, feigning an air of innocence. "Xavier showed me an old photo of the team today. You know, back when you all were young and fresh-faced."

Logan rolled his eyes, closing the fridge with a sigh. "Oh, here we go," he muttered, clearly bracing himself for whatever you were about to say.

"You had… quite the hairstyle," you teased, grinning. "Those wild sideburns, that brooding glare... Honestly, you looked like the cover of some 80s rock album. I half-expected to see a guitar slung over your shoulder."

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah. Real funny, sweetheart," he grumbled, though you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Didn’t realize I was signin' up to be mocked for my ‘youthful looks’ when I married you."

You laughed, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Oh, I’m not complaining," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. "In fact, I think I would’ve fallen for you back then, too."

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking down at you with a skeptical smirk. "You? Fallin' for the cranky loner with bad hair? I don’t buy it."

You shrugged, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. "What can I say? I have a type," you teased. "Apparently, I’m a sucker for brooding, wild-haired men with a mysterious past."

He let out a soft chuckle, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer. "Well, lucky for me, then," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Guess I did somethin' right if I managed to get you to stick around."

You looked up at him, your hand finding his cheek, your thumb brushing over the familiar lines of his face. "You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted, Logan," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "Sideburns and all."

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes, and you felt his hand slip into yours, squeezing gently. "Love you, darlin’," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

[secular-jew]

Jews are indigenous to Israel. Period.

Today is a good day to remind the Islamists and their supporters that Jews are from Judea (Israel) and the Islamists are the invaders and occupiers, not the other way around.

In 70 CE, Romans destroyed the Jewish temple and attempted to banish the Jews from Jerusalem. Simply because the Jews would not go silently into the night, dared fight back, and attempted to thwart the most technologically advanced army the world knew at that time.

We Jews commemorate this Roman invasion and colonization, by observing the Tisha B'Av annual fast.

This proof of Jewish indigeneity is literally carved in archaeological artifacts and in this case, carved in stone, depicted the Frieze on the Arch of Titus in Rome. This arch depicts Roman soldiers carrying the relics and loot, stolen from the Jewish temple. Look at the Menorah. Jews still use the same candlesticks and symbols.

So what is "Palestine"? Roman Emperor Hadrian renamed the land (Judea) to "Palestine", to attempt erasure of any connection with the Jews.

Muslim identity and religion was created more than 500 years later (in 600 CE). And Muslims started calling themselves "Palestinians" only much much later.

There is absolutely no way to twist history so that Palestinians appear before Jews. But it doesn't stop some people from trying...

Does indigeneity matter? Do Native Americans deserve their own land, or that might makes right, and European colonizers should be allowed to displace them? Native Americans have 56.2 million acres of land, governed by Native American Tribal nations that own them. This colored to about 4.8 million acres of land administered by Israel.

If you do not believe that indigeneity matters, if you believe who co where'd last is what counts, then guess what? We still arrive at the same place.

[centaurianthropology]

One thing that I think a lot of Disco Elysium meta misses (likely because a lot of it is very clearly written by young Americans writing from an intensely American-centric cultural perspective without even really realizing it) is that one of the singular and central themes of the game is massive-scale generational trauma in a home that is economically collapsing as its resources and people are being drained by an occupation.  People have noted that no one tries to help Harry, despite the fact his mental illness is incredibly obvious to everyone around him.  He tells Kim that he completely lost his memory, and Kim politely asks him to focus on the work.  He tells Gottlieb that he had a heart attack, and Gottlieb tells him that if he’s still alive it couldn’t have been that bad.  That he’ll drop dead sooner or later, but then so does everyone.

And that’s the most important thing: so does everyone.  Look at Martinaise.  Look at the world in which Harry lives.  It is not our own, but it is adjacent to ours.  More specifically, it is clearly adjacent to the states of the Eastern Bloc: overtaken and occupied by a faraway government that clearly doesn’t care about Revachol or its people.  And that is obvious in every tired face, every defeated citizen, everyone trying to eke out a little happiness or meaning in spite of the overwhelming trauma and damage around them.  The buildings are still half-destroyed.  The bullet holes are still in the walls.  The revolution was decades before, but it still feels to the people there like a fresh wound.  The number of men of Harry’s generation who are not alcoholic or otherwise deeply fucked up are very few.  Some, like Kim, hide it better, but the deeper you dig into his history, the more you realize how damaged Kim is.  He’s more than a little trigger happy, and hates that about himself, but he is a product of his environment: Kim’s entire life is seeing people he cared about shot and killed, so his instinct now is to shoot first himself, to protect those few people left who still matter to him.

Harry is not unique in his trauma.  He is a distillation of an entire culture of people who tried to rise up and make something beautiful, and were instead routed and occupied.  He is trapped between the occupation and the people on the ground, along with all the rest of the RCM.  Their authority comes from the occupying government, but it is implied that they were formed out of the remnants of the citizens militia which sprung up from Revachol itself as a way to try to mitigate some of the horrors being committed on its streets.  The Moralintern sure as hell wasn’t going to get their hands dirty, so they happily conscripted (and therefore could better control) this group, who are only recognized in certain places, and whose authority mostly amounts to giving out fines.  The RCM is corrupt, but it is corrupt in the same way its culture is.  Bribes are considered standard with them, not a moral failing, but a necessity, so long as those bribes are correctly logged as ‘donations’.  It’s how the RCM stays afloat, and the rest of Revachol completely understands that.  Everyone would take a bribe if it meant they kept eating.  Everyone would take a little under-the-table money if it meant keeping a roof over their heads.  The officersof the RCM certainly don’t make enough to see a doctor.  They have an in-house lazarus, and if he can’t fix them they just die.  Mental health care?  What mental health care?  Harry doesn’t get it for the same reason no one else does: it doesn’t really seem to exist.  There are no counselors, no psychologists, no psychiatrists.  How would they even start?  If the world is what is broken, if everyone is suffering a similar catastrophic amount, it makes sense that Harry’s trauma would simply get rolled up with all the rest.  Kim asks him to get on with the job because Harry’s suffering is not remarkable in Revachol.  He is one of an entire generation who have an astronomical number of orphans from the revolution, and so many younger people are left more or less orphans as their parents drink themselves into oblivion like Cuno’s father.  So Harry’s truly unique attribute is embodying all that trauma, having it all inside of him, filling him to bursting.

To really engage with the themes of the game, engaging first and foremost with the reality of Revachol is imperative.  Imposing our own reality onto Revachol, particularly if coming from an American perspective (which tend to have the habit of both viewing the world through an American lens and not realizing they’re doing it because they’ve never experienced a different lens), will always feel shallow to me because of this.

All that is to say, I would love to hear some more explicitly European meta about this game, and especially Eastern European meta.  If anyone can point me to some good, juicy essays from that perspective, I would be grateful!

[riovidalupdates]

LAST GIRL STANDING - ii.

previous part

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, rio vidal x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person—because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?

warnings: minor cursing.

a/n: apologies for taking so long for an update. my job is about 10+ hours for four days and on my off days i'm working on set designs so i'm usually sleeping when i get the chance. please go back and reread the first part of this series as i had revised and edited parts of it while adding more to it. I will be adding a taglist soon, if you wish to for me to add you, let me know! with that, enjoy!

You headed to the library, your mind still racing with the remnants of your conversation with Wanda from last night. You had a few hours before your film history class started, and you needed time to clear your head before facing Agatha, the insanely attractive TA, who had unknowingly occupied a corner of your heart for the past semester. You didn’t really know Agatha well enough (or at all) to say much about her, aside from the occasional conversation about coursework. Yet, you had spent countless hours thinking about her, imagining what it would be like to know her beyond the confines of the classroom.

There was a familiarity to her presence that was both reassuring and nerve-wracking. The few times you’d spoken outside of lectures never seemed to work in your favor. You were unable to get more than two words out before something catastrophic occurred like spilling coffee on yourself, stepping in a pile of dog shit, and maybe tripping over a tree branch into a pit of mud(you are not god's favorite).

You'd scurry away before Agatha could do anything. In fact, you'd just barely hear a quiet but polite, "Goodbye?" You only glance over your shoulder when you were far enough away, seeing the outline of her body still in the same place but with her stare directly at you.

Getting lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the presence of another leaning over the table and whispering, “Careful, y/n. If you think any harder, you might accidentally unlock the secrets of the universe.”

You blink, glancing up and see Wanda. “Or I might just discover where all my missing socks go. That’s probably a more realistic goal.”

The redhead giggles, pulling out the chair next to you and sits. “Hey, I’d argue that’s an even bigger mystery. You’d probably get a Nobel Prize for solving that one.”

“I fear that will only end with me having more mismatched socks and even more questions. And maybe a headache.”

Wanda smiles, tilting her head to the side as she always does when you humor her. You can’t help the warmth of blush creep up on your cheeks and ears. It was a habit when you had that type of attention from her. It was never necessarily a bad thing. More so, weird because you don’t completely understand it. You do, yet you don’t at least.

You continue to watch the way she falls into a fit of giggles as she scrunches up her nose and leans forward, causing her hair to cascade over her shoulders. There was always elegance surrounding Wanda. Wherever her presence was, it followed.

You are never one to deny how objectively gorgeous the shorter girl is, but there’s more to her than just physical features. More to Wanda than what you and everyone else around her knew, though, her soul radiates an amplified aspect of exactly how natural her beauty is. What you may not know, may be the one thing that fuels it all.

“So, what’s got you in a deep thought?” You hear her ask.

“The fact that we as humans grow limbs. We start off as an egg and then we grow. We grow arms, legs, fat, eyeballs, bones. Everything. We do that. We start as nothing and then boom! We have these…” you frail your arms around in front and Wanda has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“How about we go get some snacks before you head to class? I hear thinking causes hunger and existential crisis.”

You smile, nodding your head. “I think you need to start reading again. All those romcoms are getting to you.”

And so what if you’re are going through a form of crisis? Wanda is here. It may not be as easy as flipping a switch, but her presence is enough for you to feel 2% of sanity.

-

Today is no different. You stayed after class, lingering just long enough to ask Agatha a question about the upcoming exam, hoping it might lead to a longer conversation.

“Do you have any suggestions for additional reading?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Agatha looked up from the papers she was grading, her expression thoughtful. “There’s a great essay on sexuality and gender within horror films if you’re interested in some extra insight. I can send you the link if you’d like.”

“That would be great,” you replied, and for a moment, your eyes met in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

But then, just like that, she turned back to grading, and the moment was gone. It was always like this—brief glimpses of something deeper, but never enough to grasp. You couldn’t tell if you were reading too much into it, or if there really was a chance that Agatha saw you as more than just another student.

It really shouldn’t be much of a shock to you. The two of you are nothing more than just a student and a teacher assistant. You aren’t friends. She has no need to delve into her personal life with you.

While Agatha has checked out from the conversation, you hadn’t. There’s more that you want to say. Though, the longer you stand frozen in place, the longer the moment has passed. It would be weird to say anything else now.

“Have a good day,” you bid. While leaving the classroom, you  tried to shake off the disappointment that seemed to linger, refusing to be ignored. It had been easier when you could write off your feelings for Agatha as a simple crush, a harmless admiration for someone who probably didn’t know you existed beyond the realm of academia.

You weren't sure what you wanted from her, exactly. A part of you longed for more than the polite interactions, yet another part feared what would happen if that boundary was ever crossed. The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you found yourself second-guessing if you should do anything.

“If you would hold for a minute, L/N!”

“No.”

You’re halfway out the building when he steps in your line of vision. You grip onto the strap of your bag, clutching it close. Must he always act like you two are buds?

Vision chuckles, stopping in front of you and a bit too close than usual. Then again, he’s never been good with boundaries or personal space. He’s like a parasite. Constantly attaching himself to someone and sucking the life out of them if it benefits him, he happens to have a talent of hiding it well enough for it not to be noticed.

While you have negative emotions towards the man, you don’t entirely resent him in ways you wish you did. So what if he does forget about the dinner plans that you spend hours on for him to impress Wanda? Or gets too annoyed for how much time she spends with you (ya know the person who walked in diapers with her)? Or when Wanda mentions that she doesn’t need riches, she only needs sincerity and he gifts her a new car?

Okay, maybe he’s got one too many poor attributes to his character, however, there are aspects that make him not inherently the douchebag you desperately want him to be.

Like—“You are rather a chirpy one, aren’t you?”

You stare at him with no amusement written on your face. “My interests lies anywhere but you.”

He shares the ‘boy next door’ charm of a smile, shoving his hand in his pocket, and kicks the toe of your shoe. “I am here to request a favor,” he starts, “I have upset Wanda by overstepping her boundaries. Before speaking your mind, I have apologized to her this morning—“

“—what is your favor?” You asked annoyed.

“I wish to give Wanda a formal apology. Do you recall when she and I were to attend that music festival a couple years back and then we were unable to for unforeseen circumstances?”

You nodded your head, motioning him to continue on.

“Well, I remember you had mentioned that you knew one of the bands performing because you have a friend apart of it. I just-Wanda was and still is a massive fan. You know our 3 year anniversary is coming up-“

“—you can’t buy tickets?” You snickered.

You could tell he was getting slightly irritated by your interruptions. Good. He should for disrupting your semi-peaceful state of mind.

“Forget it. You’re such a nuisance.” He huffs, walking off and all you can do is give him a wave.

You knew what he was going to ask and you weren’t sure if you would have said yes to it or not..

[comicaurora]

Sorry to drop a hella irl-political question on your mostly webcomic blog, but have you/any of the OSP gang heard of/been participating in the week-long strike for palestine that's been (presumably) all over tumblr/the internet?

For some background info: Following the attack on Oct. 7th by the hamas militant group (a terrorist org. Or resistance group, depending who you ask), the state of israel (which is practically a mass colonial settlement on Palestinian land since '48) has taken the attack as an excuse to indiscriminately bomb the homes of thousands if not millions of homes while forcebly displacing almost all of the ~2.3 million people crammed in the gaza strip with no escape.

'Israel' has also tightened it's blockade on the strip of land such that a growing majority of people there are experiencing catastrophic starvation, disease from sewage-infested drinking water (as water aid is too scarce). Soon even deaths by preventable causes such as diabetes will occur since insulin pens for children have been blocked from entering by israel, who controls gaza's borders, water, power, food supplies, and shoreline. Civilians in Gaza are very frequently and indiscriminately killed often in places they were told were safe zones to evacuate to. It's agreed upon by both experts and laymen worldwide that what is happening (and has BEEN happening before Oct.7th) is nothing short of genocide.

In the occupied Palestinian west bank, where there is no hamas whatsoever to use as an excuse, Palestinians are still arrested without a fair trial for years, abused, prevented from using certain roads, shot, and often straight-up have their houses stolen by armed or military-backed israeli settlers (many of whom have no ancestral connection to the land at all) in a system often compared to or outright stated to be apartheid.

Very recently, a journalist in Gaza by the name of Bisan Owda called for a strike from January 21st to January 28th. The conditions of the strike can be paraphrased as:

Cease all unnecessary purchases or payments, avoid generating ad revenue when possible

Do not go to work or school if you can possibly avoid it

Pay for things only in cash if you must

Use social media exclusively to flood the internet with palestinian voices and resources about the ongoing genocide against the palestinian people

Attend protests if you can

Be visible.

It's the 26th now, but joining late would be far better than to not join at all and stay silent.

I figured I'd ask since since OSP has covered various topics about history and/or politics and we're kinda watching some awful history unfolding, the kind of history where neutrality doesn't really work and a side needs to be taken.

Opinions? (Sorry if I'm coming across as condescending! I just really want my favorite blogs to be aware and take a stance rather than being silent hhhghf)

Okay, here's my answer.

OSP has been supporting calls for a ceasefire for months, and we were fundraising in direct support of it via Doctors Without Borders all through November and December. Total, we raised over $30,000. If we include the UNICEF fundraiser we ran on the Spider-Man streams, the total is over $40,000.

During our charity livestreams, we have made our positions clear – we support a ceasefire, Israel is perpetuating settler-colonialist violence and has been for decades, Hamas is a terrorist organization that endangers Israelis and Palestinians alike, the innocent people of both Palestine and Israel deserve safety and peace. We concluded that the best thing we could do under the circumstances was empower those who are in a real position to actually help by providing funding for their work. We believe this is significantly more beneficial than adding Another Angry Internet Post to the pile of insular outrage on Internet Land. Fundraising for the organizations with boots on the ground feels like it does a lot more good than being loud online for the benefit of other online people.

This is not the first time I've heard reference to the strike, but it is the first time I've seen the parameters of the strike laid out, which to me indicates that it wasn't spread as widely or effectively as it could've been.

I understand and appreciate why you sent this ask, but your premise worries me. I know this may surprise and startle us denizens of the internet, but being extremely loud on the internet is not the only or the most effective form of activism, and people not being extremely loud on the internet with every account they have is not the same thing as silent complicity in war crimes, and people acting like those two things are the same thing has been unbelievably frustrating to watch.

If we act like everything is a binary moral choice between "scream your loudest, most angry opinions online every time you feel angry about them" and "not doing that is literally the same thing as participating in genocide", we are creating a very strong pressure to flood the internet with our angriest, most unformed thoughts, lest we be branded as complicit in war crimes. Social media sites live and die on engagement, hence why twitter has rapidly trended towards doomscrolling and encouraging inflammatory clickbait - angry shouty people are traffic and traffic is money. The cynical part of me is utterly unsurprised that social media encourages the idea that the only true form of activism is being loud on social media.

It sounds like you had the feeling that sending me this ask was weird and a boundary overstep, and you were correct. My platform is not world-changing or in any way politically powerful beyond our ability to create charity fundraisers for causes we believe in, and we are doing what we can to help in the tiny ways that we can from halfway across the world, from a position of absolutely zero political weight beyond emailing our representatives. You are just asking me to also shout about it online loudly enough that I measure up to an artificial loudness metric, because my existing shouting was not already loud or omnipresent enough.

You are not entitled to know every thought in my head or every action I take in my life. I am not online to perform outrage and live up to an arbitrary moral standard of Shouting Enough. I am especially not online on my fantasy webcomic blog to do those things. Please understand that what you see of me is what I choose to share, and I am under no obligation, moral or otherwise, to share more.

[axelakim]

Broken Pieces

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader (20 ish something)

Genre: angst and angst 

Warning: age gap, not proofread, use of Y/N

Summary: You got a crush on Logan while he is still overshadowed by Jean's death. The love journey between you two gets on a bumpy path.

Xavier school has been busy because of the new entrances. Young, hopeless mutant which Professor X found out through Cerebro. The teachers feel a bit overwhelmed by them. It is kinda hard to control the youngsters to face their fear. Fear of losing control. Ororo, Raven, Hank, Logan, and Professor put so much effort changing the youngsters mindset. Saturday night feels a bit lay low now, the students are partying in Xavier's backyard, including you. The only class five mutant student in the school. telekinesis, energy manipulation, and some form of neuroelectronic interfacing power

all united in the body of an 18 year old girl. 4 years ago Professor accompanied by storm came to your house offering a safe place, you'd call your second home now. What about the parents? they still visit you once in a while. At the beginning you thought they were the one who called Professor to take you out but turned out wrong. Charles who's the one tracked you. They never abandoned their little girl, the reason why your mom and dad let you go is for the reason that you will be able to accept your gifts and harness it for the better use like X-Men did. So here you are now. Being an exemplary student after 4 years of practicing in this gifted school.

Logan is one of your favorite teachers. He teaches history. You two share quite strong bonding whether in usual or defense class. Always has his eye on you, protecting you even though he knows it's just a practice. That's how you develop a crush on him since last year. After Jean's death, Logan has been a different man, he mourns for almost 6 months fully. But when he was told to teach history to fill his days by the professor he got better. That's the moment he met you.

The party is almost done, several of your friends went back to the dorm already. You and Gina and Hector are left behind. Enjoying each other's company till almost midnight. 

When you got back to your room, you saw logan and Ororo chatting in the living room. They didn't hear you coming, you were about to say hi but it stopped your intention when you heard Miss Grey's name in the conversation.

“So how you feeling logan?” ororo asked

“Great, the kids are quite a handful but i always manage it i always do”

“No, not the kids. I mean jean. Still dreamed of her?”

“O-oh yeah still the same. It's always about the wars and her, every night”

“You have to move on logan. That was not your fault. Try to make peace with it. I hate to see my friend suffer” she sighed

“It is what it is storm. At least I get occupied with the kids. Leave me struggling just at night” he answered while sipping the beer

You were still there, knowing it was wrong to eavesdrop on your teacher's conversation. That's all because of Logan, your curiosity increases when it comes to him.

“I see you close with Y/N. You two seem to share a special moment in every class you taught. Would you tell me about that?” 

“Y/N?” he chuckle, “Nah she's a sweet kid but I just care for her as a student”

“Maybe caring for someone can mean something logan. You act differently around her I can see that. Smile more often. She able to dissipate your scowl face instantly and the school is not against it let me tell you”

Little did you know,you smile hearing her chatter

“No storm, she wasn't even near to Jean” logan almost snapped and bowed his head in frustration.

You've heard it all. Heart breaks into pieces knowing he doesn't feel anything for you after all he does the whole damn year. Feeling you shouldn't be there since the beginning, you stupidly stepped back, hand hitting the vase on the table near you. The vase breaks into pieces resembling how your heart feels right now. Logan and Storm are taken aback with what happened. You ran fast but carefully to your room, hoping they would not see you in the first place. 

“What was that?” logan asked

“I don't know. No one's here. The hall is empty too” while looking around

“Maybe the pets did it” she adds

“Yeah maybe. Let's just clear this up” was the last thing you heard from your room.

Crying silently, you want to stop but you just can't. There's agony and rage inside of you.

“Why you feel hurt Y/N? Why? he's just try to be a good teacher, nothing more. Accept it, accept it you stupid pathetic girl. You're not Miss Jean Grey” talking to yourself like a lunatic. 

The crying is getting uncontrollable. You become bad at controlling your power if you were filled with so much negative energy but forcing the dark power inside to not come out is hard. You don't want to wake everyone up. So, you decide to go to the backyard in a hurry. Near the lake u keep trying to hold it all but your body can't lie. Your face is numb, can't feel anything. Body floating in the air and is circled by the red light which is your power. You were struggling, and couldn't catch a breath.

Professor woken up by the energy of yours. He awakened all the teachers and told them to go to your room but you're not there. All of them went directly to the backyard but they found nothing, you were drowning in the lake at that moment. Logan saw a vague red light from the water. He knew it was you, he jumped into the water to save you.

You are all wet and unconscious. Storm doing CPR so that the water you swallowed spat out. You woke up for a moment and saw everyone.

“Jesus kid, are you okay?” he asked, full of worry in his voice. 

“I'm s-sorry i…” said you faintly

Before you could continue you ran out of energy and blacked out. They finally bring you to the lab. Logan was the one carrying you there without you realizing it.

I will make several part of this story. I've rarely seen angst for Logan, so I try to write it myself. Let me know your thoughts about this. Hope you guys enjoy it!

[hopeless-avo]

AU | SY Transmigrates as Someone Else | WQW Edition

ヾ⁠(⁠*⁠’⁠Ｏ⁠’⁠*⁠)⁠/~

In this world, when attempting to transfer SY into SQQ, the system glitches.

This glitch happens as the ‘SQQ villain’ role is still occupied, meaning SQQ would have still been present in his body, probably being able to counteract/treat the Qi deviation when it started, as he had some magical herb or another that he had on him due to his previous occurrences and history of bad deviations, so he survives.

SY is just there in the system’s waiting room, watching this screen and text glitch out.

He questions this malfunctioning system on wtf it wants him to do /who he would have become, cause come on, obviously he was gonna be isekai’ed and has suspicions on where he would be going as of what he was going off about and the voices he heard before he expired.

He chooses to shelve his panic and grief for later when he has time to process and mourn once he removes himself from whatever the fuck this situation is, cause like duh, he is dead he’ll never see his family againohmygod-

Anyways, he finds out that he would have been placed in SQQ’s body and nope what the hell do you want me to die?!?! and tries to see if he could be anyone else, ‘cause like come on, it’s PIDW!

He wants to at least be able to see all the cool flora and fauna if he has no choice of what world he will be living in, and although living as a woman may mean he gets to live longer, there is the threat of the heavenly pillar and the sudden transition of living as a man to a woman would be just too jarring.

So! After the system sorta relents at seeing that this guy is giving it another way to operate as well as saving its ass from being taken to see its higher-ups, it gives a list of potential other people that he can become that sorta has similar power and potential to affect the plot as being SQQ would have granted, although never as much given SQQ’s natural predisposition.

SY gets given the choice of LQG, QQQ, The Old Palace Master, Gongyi Xiao, and a few others.

Given his desire of wanting to live a relatively alive existence, he forgoes the more plot-present characters, such as Gongyi Xiao and The Old Palace Master, as well as LQG (cause he does not want to get shanked by SQQ, please and thank you), and due to previous arguments and reasons, he forgoes QQQ.

He looks over the remaining names and sees WQW, a character that doesn’t actually appear or get mentioned much in PIDW, is known to be the peak lord of the sword-forging peak, has massive muscles and has literally, like, one line when LBH got sent over and picked up Zheng Yang.

Additionally, the guy owns that sword that can tell if someone is possessed, so he would only have to stay away from the thing if the system doesn’t ensure that he can’t be ousted as such.

With this, SY as WQW would be living his best life as this guy bc he can fly on his sword all day and stay away from the plot while planning his escape when Cang Qiong Mountain Sect sets alight!

So with his choice made, SY, now WQW, wakes up half-disorientated, his forearms aching and the sounds of crying children and concerned/panicked teenagers.

After he gets dragged to Qian Cao Peak, the still-glitching system gives him the rundown of the situation of how he entered his new body; apparently Original!WQW got caught up in trying to stop a disciple from experimenting with volatile sword materials and the forge blew up as he tried to do damage control after he got everyone out, gaining a head injury and leaving him with plausible temporary amnesia, in addition to a sort of broken/glitched OOC lock that gradually corrupts over time till it's gone due to the vague understanding of the guy.

SY|WQW [we’ll just call him WQW from now on] realised that he was placed in PIDW a few months before the disciple choosing where LBH officially enters the sect, gets picked, and then is abused by SQQ [future him problem!!!] and although he doesn’t want LBH to face all those injustices, the system will not let him take purposeful actions to change certain plot points in the face of system punishment.

After he is fully released from Qian Cao Peak, he is expected by both the sect and mandated by the system to attend the disciple choosing.

While watching the poor children climb the massive staircase and start digging their hole to the best of their ability in an attempt to become a part of the prestigious sect and change the course of their life which they would most likely wish they didn’t join when LBH sets this place on fire…and sees what he thinks is a smol fluffy girl who has the determination and a spark in her eye attempting to dig a massive hole meticulously to catch the eye of a peak lord.

He runs through each wife in LBH’s harem to see if he can match this cute jie-jie with, and can’t seem to match her.

Looking around, he takes note that the other peak lords are overlooking her, seemingly disinterested or glancing her over with slight disgust at her thoroughly worn-through but obviously meticulously cleaned-up/washed clothing.

His eyeing had caught the eye of a little girl, most likely NYY who stood next to who he could only assume to be SQQ. She asks SQQ something about having a new martial sibling, which draws the attention of both SQQ and LQG to the girl.

Obviously having changed something as now NYY is eyeing this girl instead of her future demon harem husband system don’t punish me, as well as placing this jie-jie in the lane of SQQ, who is eyeing her with an unnamed but obviously not good look cause this cute girl is in front of a lecherous man as well as in the sight of LQG who wow has such a womanly visage I'd have thought that he would be more gruff who is set to die off in a few years and is peak lord of a boyish and brutish peak which he doesn't think that such a pretty jie-jie should be on, there is only one thing he can do!

So, at the end of the day, he ends up picking this smol bean before these ppl can get their hands on her, as obviously she wasn’t accepted in the original PIDW and if she had lived would have most likely ended up as a harem member, cause no way would such a cute bean not grow up and not catch the eye of LBH!

Obviously he won't let her suffer such a fate or leave her in the hands of SQQ. This causes some of his martial siblings to side-eye him, as he has a history of choosing more well-built candidates and not skinny dirty runts that look like death-warmed-over.

This smol jie-jie has sparkles in her eyes as she gets called over by one of WQW’s runners, which light up more the closer she gets to her new to-be-Shuzin!!! HIM!

WQW feels proud of his choice and decides that that is enough of tempting fate and the system, so he turns to leave, promising himself to ensure this little jie-jie lives her best life away from the plot [and LBG and his harem] on his peak!

…not seeing the system glitching and erroring to hell and back, not able to punish him as it was not a purposeful choice and raging in its system space at the hell that its higher-ups would put it through.

All because SY|WQW didn’t take note of the child’s outerwear. :)

[bfpnola]

ID: Instagram post by @/letstalkpalestine. The slide reads: "Let's Talk: 8 things to know about what's happening in Palestine." End ID.

ID: "#1 This is possibly the largest ever Palestinian liberation operation in modern history. Never before have Palestinians succeeded in taking back so much of their land and breaking out of the segregated ghettoes in which Israel has concentrated them." End ID.

ID: "#2 This was an 'attack' [the word attack is striked through] response. Anyone would fight back after a decades-long process of colonization, after they have been turned into stateless refugees, expelled and concentrated in tiny ghettoes, imprisoned, or killed for daring to resist. For 15 years Israel has besieged Gaza with snipers stationed all around it, drones occupying its skies 24/7, and navy patrols shooting at any fishermen who venture too deep. If this happened to your city, wouldn't you fight back?" End ID.

ID: "#3 Palestinians didn't 'infiltrate israel." Most Gazans are not actually from Gaza. 70% of them are from the same surrounding lands they liberated yesterday morning." A map is shown of the area, overflowing with orange pins, with only a few red pins near the Mediterranean Sea. "Each orange pin is a Palestinian village that israel wiped out and ethnically cleansed. Most Gazans are from these places, fighting to return home." End ID.

ID: "#4 Hamas has enough israeli prisoners to free every single Palestinian hostage held by israel. Typically, israeli-held Palestinian hostages are only released through a swap with israeli prisoners. The last Hamas-israel prisoner swap was 1 israeli soldier for 1,027 Palestinians. Hamas has more than enough israeli prisoners for a deal that would free every imprisoned Palestinian based on past ratios." Two boxes are shown on each side of the slide, one that reads, "36+ estimated israeli prisoners," and another that reads, "5,200 estimated Palestinian hostages." End ID.

ID: "#5 The Fall of the Gaza Wall In a historic moment already reshared millions of times online, Palestinian bulldozers have brought down parts of the israeli wall and fence that surrounds Gaza and traps in its residents. This comes as Palestinians have finally regained control of parts of the border, including the crossing in & out of Gaza. This is a historic achievement."

ID: #6 israel has never made concessions to Palestinians without pressure. Palestine can only be liberated by both violent and peaceful resistance, like any colonized nation in history. The only time in history israel gave up land was when it returned the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt. This was only achieved after the 1973 War when the Egyptian-Syrian attack showed israel that it couldn't sustain its occupation of the territory, contrary to its prior belief." End ID.

ID: #7 This marks a new phase in Palestine. Palestine will not be freed overnight. Liberation is a long-term process. But the resistance's unprecedented achievements and strength have proven that even if Israel temporarily beats it back, the Siege on Gaza is coming to an end sooner rather than later. This does not mean that Gaza will be fully liberated and independent, but that Palestinians will likely gain more control and that israel can no longer treat Gaza as it has for the last 15 years." End ID.

ID: #7 Continued. Beyond Gaza, israel will be deterred from escalating its occupation against Palestinians in places like Jerusalem. Hamas has conclusively proven the effectiveness of fight back against the occupation, in contrast to the diplomatic means of resistance which -- while still important -- on their own have proven to be futile in the face of israeli rejectionism. This will likely shake up the Palestinian political scene, as the Palestinian Authority, which collaborates with the israeli military and refuses to defend its people, will now face even more challenges to its rule." End ID.

ID: “#8 What will happen now? Palestinians have never responded to israel with such a large operation. israel's actions will be more violent and intense than anything we've ever seen before. The Palestinian death toll is climbing faster than expected -- at 320 at the time of this publication. israel is considering a full-scale land invasion of Gaza, which guarantees higher death tolls. We need to keep sharing, educating and protesting in solidarity in order to pressure our governments to end their support for the israeli regime." End ID.

[lunarriviera]

Hi I was wondering did you see this interview of tan jianci and jinshijia discussing the relationship between shen yi and du cheng, they are basically saying the relationship between those two in s2 is like a compass, regardless of how far shen yi explores or how big the circle he draws he is still firmly held by the center of the circle (du cheng) and his exploration depends on this fact, I found that really interesting https://m.weibo.cn/status/5110711277585719?wm=3333_2001&from=10EC093010&sourcetype=weixin&s_trans=3182113252_5110711277585719&s_channel=4&jumpfrom=weibocom#&video

HI HEY HELLO yes I DID see it and am gonna embed it here, for readers who maybe can't access Weibo (thanks to all our fabulous governments who get along SO WELL, and their idiot firewalls), and my (very bad, HSK2.5) translation of Tan-laoshi's comments:

interviewer: The character outline [in promotional materials, maybe?] says the relationship between the two of you is like a compass: Du Cheng is the foot of the compass, and as long as he stays in place, Shen Yi can draw a wider circle. Do you agree with this statement?

TJC: Shen Yi keeps exploring, more and more. But no matter how far he explores, whether it's a small circle or a wide one, he never goes far from the center. That's the relationship between the two of them.

interviewer: Jia-ge, are you willing to be the one in the center?

TJC [teasing]: Can you use your actual voice [to answer]?

JSJ: [laughs, says nothing]

What I especially love about this (in addition to Duoduo chattering away as he does, and Jia-ge sitting there like he's physically in pain) is the idea that Shen YI and Du Cheng have evolved this system of working together over time. We get to see them in s2 so far from where we left them; at the end of s1 they'd barely concluded their enemies to husbands speedrun and were still newly acquainted. They'd cleared a handful of cases together, including a very big one, but it had still only been at most a few months since Shen Yi showed up at the Beijiang precinct and smiled wryly and said 好久不见.

So now here they are at the start of s2, having developed a working relationship with much greater trust. Du Cheng knows to listen to Shen Yi when his eyes get big and starry and he has some insight that sounds initially bizarre and involves art history, because it will invariably pan out. And for his part Shen Yi knows in his bones that Du Cheng is reliable like sunrise and will show up when he needs him, will always come in clutch with his service weapon and his bike rack.

It's not that they don't still clash—s2 shows us crucial instances of them each failing to pick up what the other is throwing down. But overall they seem to have accepted the role the other occupies. Du Cheng knows that Shen Yi's sharp-eyed observational skills will pick up what he would otherwise miss, and Shen Yi knows that Du Cheng will believe him, whatever intuition-based theory he throws out there.

There's a scene that illustrates this beautifully, actually, in s2 ep7:

Here, Du Cheng and Shen Yi question a witness (while Shen Yi enjoys his froufrou little caffeine drink), and Shen Yi immediately gets distracted by, it turns out, some relevant Gauguin reproductions. But see how Du Cheng doesn't even notice that Shen Yi just randomly gets up from the table and wanders away. He's not only used to it, he takes it for granted—he assumes there's a point to Shen Yi's curiosity, and that he'll tell him all about whatever it is he observed, afterwards.

This shot offers a literal visualization of the foot of the compass holding still and steady, while the point of the compass is free to describe a wide arc around it. It's them. And I think that's beautiful.

[oliverljones]

~to be updated when I post a new fic, so I have them all in one place~

you can find me as bucksclipboard on ao3 💕 kudos and comments make my day!

buddie fic masterpost here

clear the air (G, 1.8k) | ao3

After the basketball incident, an injured Eddie (on heavy pain pills) can’t stop worrying about Buck. Tommy knows how important they are to each other, even if he only met them a few weeks ago. So, he convinces Eddie to give him Buck’s address.

or: missing scene, set right before tommy shows up at buck’s loft (7x04)

nobody compares (G, 1.3k) | ao3 | (ambiguous bucktommy/buddie)

"Sorry", Eddie said and scrunched his nose.

"No, you’re right", Tommy admitted. "I don’t want that. I want to give him something he’ll love."

"Well, then not a gift card. Look, I’ve been a terrible gift giver in relationships, so I’m not judging. But you look like you’re getting a migraine, so maybe… let me help you?"

A deep sigh escaped him. "How?"

or: eddie helps tommy shop for buck's birthday gift and inadvertently makes things worse

to be loved is to be seen (E, 2.1k) | ao3 | rebloggable

"Right now, Buck was standing in front of the window stark naked. The curtains were drawn wide open, but he didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

Tommy had heard bits and pieces of his Buck 1.0 history, he knew he wasn’t as shy as their first encounters had made it seem. Still, this was a surprise."

or: tommy learns that buck doesn’t mind being seen at all

fond at first sight (T, 1.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

“Aren’t you off the clock, Kinard?”, a confused voice called after him. Technically, he was. His shift had ended about 30 minutes ago and Tommy was free to go home – however, he couldn’t. He had promised to stick around in case he was needed.

or: 7x03 missing scene – buck and tommy’s first meeting

kiss in the kitchen (like it's a dancefloor) (T, 1.6k) | ao3 | rebloggable

When Buck realizes Bobby is going to be ok, it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. Tommy insists on coming over and keeping him company – and for the first time, they make dinner together.

or: maybe buck and tommy get a little distracted

(set before their scene in 7x10)

born to make you happy (T, 1.8k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck kept thinking of that Parks and Rec quote. “If I keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.” He smiled to himself as he opened the door to his loft, exhausted and ready to collapse on his couch but feeling somewhat accomplished. He had spent the morning volunteering at a dog sanctuary, and then raced home to take a quick shower before going to his annual checkup and to get a haircut he didn’t really need but hey, why not. It was his birthday after all.

or: tommy surprises buck on his birthday

more under the cut

written all over your face (T, 2.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

A completely smitten Buck decides he wants to keep Tommy all to himself for just a while longer. When an accidental goodbye kiss exposes their new relationship, the 118 wants to be respectful – but when has that ever worked?

or: buck and tommy try to keep their relationship a secret and fail adorably

let me hold your hand (T, 1.1k) | ao3 | rebloggable

They could’ve lost their jobs over the unauthorized cruise ship rescue – instead, they’re receiving medals. Buck and Tommy arrive at the ceremony together and share a sweet moment before going in to join their crews.

or: buck and tommy can be professional AND hold hands in public

better than revenge (E, 3.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck is having a hard time adjusting to Captain Gerrard’s reign of terror. After weeks of keeping his worries to himself, he tells Tommy – and they get their own kinky version of revenge.

or: does this qualify as revenge sex?

series: I think we'd feel good together (4/4)

the fics can be read in order or as standalones

you talk to me like lovers do (M, 2.3k) | ao3 | rebloggable | (1/4)

After that beast of a fire, Buck makes sure Tommy is taken care of. He brings him home to the loft – not only so he can kiss him some more but sure, that too.

or: tommy shows up for buck and buck shows up for tommy

you better come get your man (T, 3.2k) | ao3 | rebloggable | (2/4)

Buck and Tommy bask in the early stages of their relationship – but there’s one concern Tommy just can’t seem to shake. He decides to confront Eddie about a careless comment he made and learns more than he bargained for. In the words of Chandler Bing: can open, worms everywhere.

or: tommy tries to understand the 118 dynamics and gets a little overprotective

oh what a beast, oh what a man (E, 2.2k) | ao3 | (3/4)

Tommy doesn’t want to pressure Buck – and Buck has been holding back for his own reasons. One night, he decides to take the next step and ask for what he wants.

or: buck finally gets to have sex with his beast of a boyfriend

it's in his kiss (T, 3.4k) | ao3 | rebloggable | (4/4)

Buck finds out Tommy confronted Eddie about the comment he made, and it leads to the first fight in their relationship. It’s time he learns: This is what it feels like to be someone’s priority.

or: I hope buck gets a kiss on his birthmark every day

if you made it to the end of this post: thank you so much for reading!

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

politely humbly asking if is it time for nick valentine headcanons? :)))

It sure is! I absolutely adore Nick, and while I definitely understand the "peepaw" thing people seem to prescribe to him (he does certainly ooze Old Man Vibes), I think the fact that he's also incredibly sexy is sometimes overlooked. Very unfortunate about the whole "cop" thing, but hey, my guy wants for the good of society and he's a menace when I need him to be, so he's husband material to me!

Nick Valentine (FO4) Headcanons

SFW

Physiologically, he gets absolutely nothing from smoking cigarettes, but human Nick Valentine was a 1-2 pack per day smoker back in the day. Granted, only about 20% of those cigarettes are smoked from beginning to end; both then and now, they're moreso the noir version of a fidget toy, something to occupy his hands or fret away at between his teeth as it slowly smoulders away to nothing. Without access to his cigarettes, Nick doesn't necessarily get grouchy, but he does get noticeably more antsy, clearly a little uneasy and unsure what to do with his hands. Still digs into his pockets every five minutes unconsciously.

Doesn't sleep, but keeps a shaky-framed old bed in the agency's office and actually uses it. Sometimes he likes to crawl into it and lie down with his eyes closed for a while, using the quiet time to ponder things, go over evidence, study connections in his mind. He feels a bit embarrassed by it when you ask him if he ever uses the old thing, but the act is nostalgic, even a comfort on an especially bad day.

That old duster he wears means a lot to him, and helping him repair it (or even replace it if something really terrible happens to it) will earn you major points with him. Checking up on him, in general, showing concern for him and his wellbeing will do so. He isn't used to someone caring for him so much, treating him like a regular man from the jump.

Art and art history enjoyer, as well as a good opera recording from time to time. Any time he comes across any kind of art museum or a place that would have once sold or stocked holotapes, he has a look around. Usually he turns up nothing, sometimes he ends up with new holes in him, but every once in a while he sees something, scrounges something up or sees a fairly intact piece of art that reignites feelings in him that he can't quite describe.

NSFW

Nick is a patient, almost overly generous lover. In fact, you'll be hard-pressed to even get him to allow you to touch him in turn early on in your intimate relationship. He's slick about it, using the weaknesses he's discovered against you to keep pushing you to the edge over and over again until you're too exhausted to even coherently think about reciprocating. It's nothing to do with you and everything to do with the daily struggle he fights against his own self image, his own existential thoughts. He also still regularly struggles with mourning Jenny, even though she was never really his to begin with, and he knows that. Unfortunately, that knowledge doesn't stop him from hurting, and it makes it difficult for him to be vulnerable in situations like that.

You can't hide anything from the man; if you have any kinks or interests that you're sitting on for whatever reason, he will sniff them out. Doesn't matter if you find it embarrassing; whatever it is, he'll get it out of you eventually if he notices signs that you like something. It's not like you can stop your face from flushing, your heart from racing, or your panties from dampening.

The seams between the panels that make up his body are very sensitive, and once he feels comfortable enough with you that he'll open up his shirt, it will drive him absolutely crazy if you run your fingers (or tongue) very gently along them.

Practice caution, though; you can easily hurt yourself sticking your hands and fingers and other appendages into certain crevices or panels in his body, and your experimentation can quickly turn painful, ruining the mood. He hates to see you in hurting and it makes him acutely, agonizingly aware of just how inhuman his body really is. Puts quite the damper on his spirits, unfortunately.

He doesn't cum, at least not traditionally, but if you get him (literally) hot and bothered enough he can have a sort of overheating-induced power cycling that's pretty much the closest thing he has. He enjoys it, but he'll only let you get him that far if he's in one of a handful of positions, because he often goes completely lax when it happens, and his body is heavy enough to hurt you if he just falls on you.

Surprisingly dominant in bed. Well, it surprises you at first, once he lets that side of himself show, but it fits in your mind eventually. He likes rules, and he likes enforcing what happens when those rules are broken. Big fan of orgasm denial, but also a big fan of edging you until your mind nearly breaks. I mean, parts of him vibrate, and quite strongly. He will use that against you.

[paperstorm]

From Somewhere in a Song chapter four, posting tomorrow :) I may not get around to reblogging all your lovely wips given it's Christmas but please still tag me in them!!

-

He rolls back onto his side and forces himself vertical, bare feet on the bristly hotel carpet. He stretches, spine cracking as he arches his back and raises his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders back a few times and letting his head loll back and forth to work out the stiffness in his neck. The bed was plenty comfortable, it’s a nice hotel, but a good mattress is no match for a sleepless night.

Carlos showers and dresses, trying to occupy his mind with the plot of the movie he’d watched on the plane and the lyrics to favorite songs from his youth and naming all the obscure colors he can think of – anything to keep his brain from focusing on the one thing it wants to think about. Crimson, wenge, cerulean. He brushes his teeth, runs some gel through his hair, does 30 push-ups even though his shoulders are still sore, dresses in jeans and a green t-shirt and regrets that it’s barely 7:30 by the time he’s finished all that.

Not wanting to sit alone and mope in his room anymore, Carlos pulls on his boots and heads for the breakfast room near the lobby. He nearly jumps in an exaggerated startle as the elevator doors open and the last person in the world he wants to see is standing on the other side of them. TK’s wearing a yellow hoodie with the hood up and black sweatpants, and he’s holding a large take-out coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Oh,” he says, sounded as dumbfounded as Carlos feels.

“Hey,” Carlos says. It comes out flat and unfriendly, and Carlos isn’t sure he cares. They do an awkward dance as they switch places, Carlos entering the elevator car as TK leaves it.

 “Hey, man, I didn’t …”

Carlos looks at him. TK’s eyes are squinted into a wince and if his hands weren’t full, he looks as if he’d be wringing them cartoonishly. His body language communicates an appropriate level of guilt for his accidentally overheard backstage remark, but he doesn’t say anything, and Carlos is hardly in the mood to absolve him of something he won’t even admit to.

“Okay,” he says, unsure of how else to respond. He presses the button labelled M on the inside panel and only avoids jamming his finger into the ‘door close’ button because TK would see him doing it.

“It’s just – what I said last night, I didn’t mean that you were –”

“It’s fine,” Carlos interrupts shortly, really not wanting to hear it. He’s saved from having to by the elevator doors closing in TK’s face. He shuts his eyes and wishes he were in a hooded sweatshirt of his own so he could hide inside it like a turtle retreating into its shell.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe

@reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @lemonlyman-dotcom

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@hereghostslive @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian

@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

@emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @chicgeekgirl89

@carlossreaders @ladytessa74 @denizoid @everlastingday

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[dummiebrat]

𝗢𝗯𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘃𝘀. 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲

Teacher! Mistress!Agatha Harkness x Student! Brat!Rio Vidal x Teacher! Daddy!Nathasha Romanoff x Student! Good girl!Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 1,1 K

Summary: Agatha’s discipline and patience with her brat, Rio Vidal, contrasts sharply with Natasha’s devotion and nurturing approach toward Wanda Maximoff.

Notes: Power dynamics, brat taming, discipline, devotion, age difference. Rio and Wanda are in their 20s.

Author’s Notes: I really enjoy talking about the difference in dynamics, it becomes something interesting to explore. And although I'm more familiar with being a brat, I think the complete submission is very beautiful, although boring. Rio is a reflection of the author, and through these stories I am sharing a little of my experience with you. Plus, I have two remaining paths I'd like to take from this story here. Then I'll change, just a little bit.

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗜. 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗜𝗜𝗜.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThe room was bathed in the soft amber glow of late afternoon light filtering through tall, arched windows. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beams, creating a haze that gave the old university office a timeless quality. The walls were lined with bookshelves that held an eclectic mix of ancient tomes and modern literature, each meticulously organized, reflecting the dichotomy of the women who occupied this space. It was a room that spoke of secrets, power, and intellect, a place where the weight of history lingered in every corner.

At the large mahogany desk sat Agatha Harkness, her posture regal and composed, a study in control. Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant twist, not a strand out of place, her eyes a piercing blue that seemed to see straight through to the soul. Across from her, leaning back in a leather armchair with an air of relaxed authority, was Natasha Romanoff. Natasha was all sharp angles and poised grace, her lips curved in a subtle, knowing smile that rarely reached her eyes. Where Agatha was a force of restrained power, Natasha was pure, unbridled confidence, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it.

Between them, the air was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that crackled like a live wire. They were colleagues, equals in many respects, but their methods — particularly when it came to their personal lives — could not have been more different.

At their feet, in stark contrast to the formality of their mistresses, sat Rio Vidal and Wanda Maximoff, two students caught in a web of power dynamics far beyond their academic studies. Rio, ever the brat, lounged carelessly on the floor, her dark hair falling into her eyes as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. She was a spark of chaos in an otherwise orderly room, her expression one of playful defiance. Next to her, Wanda knelt with perfect posture, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes downcast in a display of obedience that bordered on reverence. There was an air of quiet contentment around her, the serene submission that came with being Natasha's "good girl."

The silence stretched, filled only by the ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. It was Natasha who broke the stillness, her voice a rich, smooth purr. — It seems your little mischief-maker is rubbing off on my Wanda. — she remarked, her gaze sliding to where the two submissives sat.

Agatha arched a brow, her lips curling into a faint, amused smile. — Is that so? I suppose it was only a matter of time before Rio’s... influence became contagious. — She looked down at Rio, her eyes narrowing slightly. — Though I wonder, does my little brat have something to say for herself?

Rio grinned, unfazed by the stern tone in Agatha’s voice. — What can I say? Life’s too short to be boring. — she quipped, tossing a wink in Wanda’s direction. Wanda, ever the dutiful submissive, stifled a giggle behind her hand, casting a quick, apologetic glance at Natasha.

Natasha’s smile was cool, almost predatory, as she observed the interaction. — Wanda. — she said softly, her voice a velvet command, — Do you think it’s amusing to follow in such rebellious footsteps?

Wanda’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, her eyes wide as she quickly shook her head. — No, Daddy. I only — I just thought... — Her voice trailed off, the words faltering under the weight of Natasha’s steady gaze.

— You just thought you’d try being naughty, hmm? — Natasha continued, her tone deceptively gentle. — Tell me, how did that work out for you, darling?

Wanda’s eyes lowered, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. — Not very well. I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.

Natasha’s hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Wanda’s face with surprising tenderness. — That’s my good girl. — she murmured, the praise like a balm to the anxious submissive. — I prefer my pets obedient, not... spirited. — she added, casting a sidelong glance at Agatha.

Agatha let out a low, throaty chuckle, the sound rich and full of dark amusement. — To each their own, Natasha. — she said lightly. — There’s something... invigorating about taming a wild spirit. Isn’t that right, Rio?

Rio met Agatha’s gaze with a spark of challenge in her eyes. — Maybe you just enjoy the chase... Mistress. — she teased, earning a sharp look that sent a shiver down her spine. Agatha’s punishments were legendary, after all, and Rio had danced dangerously close to the line.

— Perhaps. — Agatha mused, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. — But you know what happens when you cross that line, don’t you, my little troublemaker?

Rio’s grin faltered slightly, but she held her ground, biting her lip as if to hold back a retort. She thrived on pushing Agatha’s buttons, testing the limits, but there was a fine line between playful disobedience and outright defiance.

Natasha watched the exchange with a faint smile. — You have far more patience than I do, Agatha. — she remarked. — I find that obedience is best nurtured with a firm hand and clear expectations. Isn’t that right, Princess?

— Yes. — Wanda agreed softly, her eyes shining with adoration as she looked up at Natasha. — I want nothing more than to please you.

Agatha’s gaze softened just a fraction as she observed the dynamic between Natasha and Wanda. It was a different kind of power, a relationship built on unwavering devotion and trust. She respected it, even if it was not her style. — And yet. — Agatha countered smoothly, — there’s a unique satisfaction in turning defiance into devotion. A brat can be broken... or better yet, transformed.

— Is that a challenge? — Natasha’s eyes glittered with amusement, her competitive streak flaring. — Shall we see who can train the other’s pet first?

Agatha laughed, a deep, melodic sound. — As tempting as that is, I fear you’d be wasting your time. Rio is incorrigible, and I wouldn’t have her any other way. — She leaned back in her chair, eyes dancing with mirth as she watched Rio’s smug expression.

— Well. — Natasha said with a sigh of exaggerated patience, — I suppose some of us prefer the chaos. — She turned her attention back to Wanda, her hand resting possessively on the younger woman’s shoulder. — Fortunately, my Wanda knows the value of discipline.

Rio snorted, rolling her eyes. — You mean the value of being boring. — she muttered under her breath, earning a swift, reprimanding glance from Agatha.

— Watch your tongue, pet. — Agatha warned, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. — Or you’ll find yourself spending the evening in a much less comfortable position.

Rio’s bravado wavered, but only for a moment. — Sorry... — she conceded, her voice a whisper, but the mischievous glint in her eyes remained.

Natasha shook her head, her expression one of bemused disbelief. — You really do enjoy the headache, don’t you?

Agatha’s smile was slow, predatory. — What can I say? I like a challenge or bad girls.

The conversation ebbed and flowed, a dance of power and control, each woman holding firm in her own philosophy. And all the while, Rio and Wanda sat at their feet, two submissives bound by different rules, each yearning to please in their own way.

As the meeting drew to a close, Agatha stood, her movements fluid and commanding. — It’s time we returned to our respective quarters. I have some... behavioral corrections to attend to. — Her gaze flicked to Rio, who bit her lip in anticipation.

Natasha rose as well, pulling Wanda to her feet with a gentle but firm hand. — And I believe Wanda and I have some quality time planned. Don’t we, darling?

— Yes, Daddy. — Wanda replied, her voice soft and filled with devotion.

As they left the room, the contrast between the two dynamics was stark. Agatha’s sharp commands and Rio’s playful defiance were a world away from the quiet, adoring submission that Natasha nurtured in Wanda. But in the end, each found their own version of fulfillment, their own path through the intricate dance of dominance and submission.

And as the door closed behind them, the old office was once again left in silence, a sanctuary of shadows waiting for the next chapter in the story of power, control, and the delicate balance between chaos and order.