#teach and support the people of the country instead

[simplydnp]

fuck

[romanovthinkver]

pov: you’re scarlett johansson’s wife // sfw headcanons

scarlett knows you’re in love with New York and despite having drivers that can easily bring you to one side to another of the city, she knows you prefer taking the subway. you’re favourite is the Q train where you can see the best landscapes as it’s an open train space. your wife always makes sure to pick up a spot by the door, she always says “i want to see that beautiful smile on your face the whole ride” and as you watch the train going from Manhattan to Brooklyn, scarlett wraps an arm around your waist and looks up at you with pure love.

scarlett loves how you adore your county despite its bad sides. you’re here for work so you don’t go back home as much as you would want. the last time was at christmas two years ago with all the family. little pieces of your culture are spread in the house tho, through the food, the flag you hung in your home office, some products you buy at the authentic drug stores owned by people of your home-country. you also started to teach the kids your childhood traditions, your favourite meals, your native language even. sometimes you go out in typical restaurants, or the one that claims to be typical when they’re not, and your wife has to listen you ramble about how they couldn’t make a simple dish of your land and instead ruined it. “can you believe baby? they ruined it, look at this: chicken. why? there’s no chicken in the original recipe and yet i see chicken here, why you americans put chicken everywhere?” scarlett would laugh and sometimes record your little grumbles. the kids loves when you, their mama, cook home land dishes of a culture they’re starting to feel like theirs. your wife loves when your accent rolls off your tongue when you’re tired or pissed, sometimes even when you two fuck roughly; it send her over the edge in no time. however the thing she likes the most is when you speak in your native language giving her or the kids pet names or when you whisper “i love you.”

you’re the biggest supporter ever. the way your eyes shine when you stand beside scarlett at movies premiers, it’s unmatched. you always buzz around your wife when she’s being prepared by make-up and hair-stylists taking extra time to snap some phots of her proudly. you make sure her dress is always perfect and adjust it often during the carpet. you make sure scarlett is always hydrated, not only with alcohol but with water too!, and fed because these things are stressful and your lady has to be healthy. you step back when she poses for paparazzi photos even tho she insists to have you beside her, she would softly place her hand on your chest clothed by the black jacket and shares smiles and little whispers. “you’re so beautiful, baby” or “i can’t take my eyes off you” these are the words that you find to whisper to her in that moments when your eyes are glued to her form, your hand gently cradles her back. you in the end step back giving your wife the deserved moment in the shiny flashes of the photographer’s bulbs, she poses and you look at her, sometimes you would snap a few picture too of her beside the paparazzi. scarlett would peck your lips amidst the event, they reassure you like a warm blanket and she softly pass her slender fingers to wipe her lipstick off your lips. you watch the movie with rapt attention because despite everything, before meeting her, you were and are a fan of her movies. in the end you always hug her and pepper her lips and cheeks whispering “congratulations my love, you were brilliant!”, “i can feel the oscar baby, can i start your campaign now?”, “i’m so incredibly proud of you, you’re a movie star” or “look at that baby, they’re all clapping and cheering for you, you’re so inspiring.” at the after party you both dance, engage in conversation with people and sometimes only seat at the bar together. you make sure to drink only safe drinks and let your wife party as she deserve. you take care of her and by the end of the night she’s not much sober but you steady her holding by her waist, your suit jacket always ready to shield the woman from the cold gently rest on her shoulders and her heels accomodate your feet while she wears you’re much more comfortable shoes.

scarlett started a skin care brand line with her friend and co-founder, kate foster. you, despite not knowing a thing about skin care, started to be supportive since the first day. however you didn’t know your wife would make you be a tester. you forgot how many times you ran around the house to dodge her “c’mon baby let’s try this eye cream, i swear it will be good for your eyes!” or the times she would let you sit on the bathroom sink with a blue argyle mask on your face, a hand band with the brand logo that would definitely make your curls frizzy and messy. you would groan and grumble a lot but your wife is always quick to kiss you. in the end you fell into a routine of doing this pampering ritual every night. slowly you started to learn a lot about skin care and your wife’s work. you also would crash often at her office to just bring donuts and coffee or sneak to spend more time with your wife and the team. and much to your dismay, scarlett will never stop treating you like a tester, she’s already planning on dragging you at the offie to record some funny videos of her putting on your face brand new face creams.

talking about videos, you hate cameras and photos. oh you’re the opposite of your wife in this department. you’re a diplomat, an ambassador specifically, so you barely stand in front of cameras and address speeches, a safe way to do what you love without struggling with the media press. however since you got into a relationship with your wife and got married, you quickly became a target to paparazzi’s cameras. you awkwardly stand beside your wife when you’re taking photos at the event she has to attend, but scarlett is always there to calm you down with soft touches, whispers and little pecks. “it’s okay baby, focus on me, everything’s is alright”. when they catch you in the street you go protective over the kids and wife putting your discomfort aside. “little one it’s okay, look at mama, everything is okay. scarlett, baby, come closer to me. it’s okay”. when you’re alone, you just hide behind a hoodie hood. you rarely talk to the microphones and usually only offer politely smile and shield your anxious eyes.

scarlett never saw you crying in the years you’ve been together and probably she thought she would never. this until your wedding day arrived. oh, boy! the moment you saw her walking down the aisle you started crying for her endlessly beauty and the overwhelming love you have for her. after that you cried again, much harder, when your little girl was born. scarlett loves teasing you a lot about it. you blush rolling your eyes playfully and dismissing her with a groan.

you rarely fight but when you do, and it’s always for silly things, it doesn’t take much to crack the hard shell. one of you crawl in the arms of the other not much more than 1 hour later. you’re an ambassador so your job is to make peace, after toxic experiences in your past relationship, your communication level is high and you’re lucky enough to have found scarlett that is on the same page as yours. scarlett would hold you close and kiss the crown of your head. “i’m so sorry my love, i promise to work better on these things.” you would kiss her knuckles and whisper “i’m sorry too, baby, we’ll work on them together.”

at the end of the day it’s just you and your wife. you softly sway in the gold sunrise painting your skins. scarlett arms wrapped around your neck cradling the glass of wine between her hands while she leans to ghost your lips. your hand on her hip, the other hold your glass of wine close to the chest. you both hum the song that is putted on the background while behind you food cooks on the stove and mixes with the noises of the city. it’s peaceful, it’s a paradise, it’s you and the love of your life in a life that isn’t perfect, but has a glimpse of perfection shared together.

a/n: pt.2? nsfw part?

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

A couple months after Kate joins the Tornado Wranglers, Tyler uploads a video to their YouTube channel. But instead of it being him and Boone in the truck, it's just Tyler sitting in a motel room by himself, and addressing the camera full-on.

"Kate Carter is one of the smartest people I have ever met," he says. "She figured out a way to disintegrate tornadoes, do you guys know how huge that is? Do you know how important that is? It's amazing. She's amazing. And yes, you have the right to your own opinions, but a lot of those opinions that I see - that we all see - in the comments seem to be based on very face-value judgments. Because if you really knew her, if you took the time to learn how awesome she is and what she's done - and is continuing to do - for this world then you would not be making comments like that. You think we don't really know what being a "Kater" means? We know you're not fans, we know you're literally "Kate Haters" so let me just say this - it will not be tolerated. Myself and the Wranglers LOVE our fans, and we love that you help spread awareness for our causes and you share our videos to help teach people about tornadoes and tornado safety, and that's awesome. But Kate Carter is one of the Tornado Wranglers now, and that is not going to change any time soon...not unless she ever wants it to. And I hope she never does, because she is a great asset to our team. So if you care about the Wranglers, you will recognize that Kate is one of us, and if you don't like her, or don't like somebody else on our team, that's fine. You're entitled to your opinion, but don't go filling up our socials with hateful comments when all we are trying to do is make this country and the world a better and safer place to live in. Yes, Kate and I are dating, but that is nobody's business. She doesn't like her private life to be made public on social media and neither do I, which is why this YouTube page is about chasing tornadoes and not a video diary about what we do on the weekends when we're not driving in those trucks."

"...Growing up in Arkansas, my mama always raised me on the rule that if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." he said. "Show us your support by showing respect, or just leave the comment box blank. If you feel it, you should chase it - but you don't always have to say it. Stay safe out there and we'll see you on the next ride."

This video became one of the Wranglers most shared videos and in the weeks that followed Kate got such a huge outpouring of love from the fans (including a few fan pages dedicated personally to her) that she was brought to tears (happy tears) more than once.

[pencopanko]

Antisemitism and Islamophobia are very similar (if not the same), actually

So I was scrolling down the #palestine tag for any updates and important information, and I came across this:

And I think we need to sit down and talk about this.

I am a Muslim. I live in Indonesia, a country that is predominantly Muslim and a lot of Muslims here also support the Palestinian cause. Hell, even our government supports it by not only allowing Palestinian goods enter the country without fee, but also by taking in Palestinian refugees and even acknowledging the status of Palestine as a state while not having any political ties with Israel. The topic of the Palestinian tragedy has been spoon-fed to us at schools, sermons, media, etc., so your average Indonesian Muslim would at the very least be aware of the conflict while non-Muslims would hear about it from their Muslim friends or through media.

However, there is a glaring problem. One that I keep seeing way too often for my liking.

A lot of them are antisemitic as hell. The sermons I would hear sometimes demonize Jewish people. Antisemitic statements are openly said out loud on social media. Some are even Nazi supporters who would literally go to anime cons and COSPLAY as members of the Nazi party. This is not just an Indonesian Muslim problem, no, but this is a glaring issue within the global Islamic community as a whole. Today, this sense of antisemitism is usually rooted in general hatred towards the Israeli government and its actions against the people of Palestine, but antisemitism amongst Muslims are also rooted in certain interpretations of verses from the Qur'an and Hadith mentioning Jewish people and Judaism (particularly the Bani Israil), but in a way that is more ridiculing instead of life-threatening when compared to how antisemitism looks like in the Western world.

As someone who prefers to become a "bridge" between two sides in most cases, I find this situation to be concerning, to say the least. While, yes, it is important for us Muslims to support Palestine and fight against injustice, we must not forget that not every Jewish people support the Israeli government. A lot of them are even anti-Zionists who actively condemn Israel and even disagree with the existence of Israel as a state as it goes against their teachings. A lot of them are also Holocaust survivors or their descendants, so it is harmful to think for one second that Hitler's actions and policies were justified. It's just like saying that Netanyahu is right for his decision to destroy Palestine and commit war crime after war crime towards the Palestinians.

As Muslims, we also need to remember that Jewish people (the Yahudi) are considered ahli kitab, i.e. People Of The Book along with Christians (the Nasrani). The Islam I have come to know and love has no mentions of Allah allowing us to persecute them or anyone collectively for the actions of a few. While, yes, there are disagreements with our respective teachings I do not see that as an excuse to even use antisemitic slurs against Jewish people during a pro-Palestine rally, let alone support a man who was known for his acts of cruelty toward the Jewish community in WW2. They are still our siblings/cousins in faith, after all. Unless they have done active harm like stealing homes from civilians or celebrating the destruction of Palestine or supporting the Israeli government and the IOF or are members of the IOF, no Jewish people (and Christians, for that matter) must be harmed in our fight against Zionism.

Contemporary antisemitism is similar to (if not straight up being the exact same thing as) contemporary Islamophobia, if you think about it; due to the actions of a select few that has caused severe harm towards innocent people, an entire community has been a target of hate. Even when you have tried to call out the ones supporting such cruelties, you are still getting bombarded by hate speech. It's doubly worse if you're also simultaneously part of a marginalized group like BIPOC, LGBTQ+, etc. as you also get attacked on multiple sides. This is where we all need to self-reflect, practice empathy, and unlearn all of the antisemitism and unjustified hatred that we were exposed to.

So, do call out Zionism and Nazism when you see it. Call out the US government for funding this atrocity and others before it that had ALSO triggered the rise of Islamophobia. Call your reps. Go to the streets. Punch a fascist if you feel so inclined. Support your local businesses instead of pro-Israel companies.

But not at the cost of our Jewish siblings. Not at the cost of innocent Jewish people who may also be your allies. If you do that, you are no different from a MAGA cap-wearing, gun-tooting, slur-yelling Islamophobe.

That is all for now, may your watermelons taste fresh and sweet.

🍉

Salam Semangka, Penco

[election2024-2028]

Some things to do if you live in the United States as a queer person or a woman:

Learn self defense. You don't know whether someone will harm you. The idea that someone might is not far-fetched.

Stock up on contraceptives. Shelf life of plan B is four years. See this list for information about condom shelf life. These may become banned.

Buy queer books. As many as you can afford, starting with trans books. These may be banned soon.

Stock up on HRT medication if possible. This will likely be quickly banned when Trump becomes president. HRT meds have a shelf life of 1-3 years depending on the kind; check on the container! Read about DIY HRT here.

Read about what Trump and his followers are planning to do about abortion and other reproductive healthcare (i.e. contraception, etc.).

Read about what Trump and his followers plan to do about trans healthcare and rights for same-sex couples (I say same-sex instead of same-gender because they don't care about gender).

Teach your children (if you have any), siblings, friends, family, and especially other queer people and other women around you.

If you are too afraid to remain in danger, register for a passport as soon and look into countries you could move to. Look at what you'll have to do for jobs, living, a visa, citizenship, etc.

You may want to stock up on educational materials about prejudice, slavery, Native people, and other materials that may be censored.

As a reminder: This won't necessarily become a necessity. But based on the many things Trump and his supporters have said about the issue mentioned within this list, these actions will, unfortunately, probably be needed. Don't avoid taking these actions until it's too late. Do these before it's too late. Start now.

[stil-lindigo]

Hey, I just wanted to share something with you, as someone who's so invested in the Palestine conflict, I hope it might inspire hope, even a little.

I was born and live in Egypt, a very conservative and religious country. These days I deleted my Tiktok and rarely ever use Twitter, as I'm in my senior year, and seeing the constant deaths and torture was getting into me so much that I couldn't even eat or drink properly, nevertheless properly study. I honestly am not proud of myself for doing so, but there's comfort in the fact Egypt is so Pro-Palestine. There's a lot to be done, and even for people like me, we can help.

My school has been donating food, clothes and blankets to Palestine. The McDonald's in here have been trying to distance themselves, claiming they're "100% Egyptian", only to get mocked and insulted. I go by the local McDonald's, there's a lot of schools where I am, around 5 in two blocks, and where before they were constantly so full, these days they're so empty. I can only see maybe 3, 4 people in there. A lot of people in my school are on a complete strike, against every American product. We've resorted to buying and getting local products instead. Egypt is doing very poorly economically at the moment, but there's still a lot of effort into knocking out American products, even if not by the companies, by the youth and the children. I can't go a single class without one of my teachers openly supporting Palestine. My Arabic teacher constantly uses the people in Gaza to teach me grammar, calling them brave and courageous. My geography teacher denies Isreal, and has been in league with others to get more donations and aid. Egyptians believe so truly that Palestine will be free that it's hard not to think so too. I've had classmates openly agree that if they could, they'd join the army to help fight for Palestine, I've seen more people than ever mocking the current regime, I've seen more people than ever falling out of the American illusion and seeing it for what it is. I've spent a lot of religion classes being taught Arabic brotherhood and chivalry, when previously, the lessons were stereotypically conservative in nature and I used to despise them for it.

Yes, the government sucks like every other, but there's an air of open support in here. No one is losing their jobs for stating the truth, homes and shops are waving the Palestinian flag. Even the antisemitism, which was rampant, has seen a noticeable decline. People in here stand for Palestine.

I want to also let you know you've been an inspiration for people, or at least, to me. I want to be able to participate more, and I see your reposts and reblogs and I want to do even more than what I did at the start, which was retweeting and reposting and sharing what I can to my friends. Unfortunately due to my current living situation and my terrible memory, I missed being able to donate to the school, but they have stated to open up donations again soon, and I'm preparing in advance for that one. I was not raised Zionist, but I was raised warned against participating in political affairs, saying I'd be put in more trouble, and even could be killed. But I see you and I see so many Americans losing their jobs and being branded criminals and as moral failures for speaking out, and I find it harder and harder in me not to also speak out. And even if I'm not constantly retweeting and reposting, there is something I can do. You helped me realize that, and I'd like to thank you.

I hope this cheers you up even a little, I've noticed your posts these days expressing how much this has been upsetting you. It's been upsetting to all of us, and I want you to know that it's not fruitless, no matter how many western countries and how many bootlickers make you feel otherwise. This ordeal has taught me the world is a brotherhood, politics and money are never a reason for why we should not stand together, and why we shouldn't speak for those having their voice silenced.

Please excuse me if something comes off wrong or unnatural. Like I said, I was born and I live in Egypt, English is not my first language and I still have issues communicating my personal thoughts in it. Please never don't stand for Palestine. Please never lose hope for it, like the Egyptians never have and never will. Please never let people make you feel hopeless and insane.

Thank you for listening to me, thank you for caring about Palestine when it would've been easy not to. Thank you for using your platform, and if you found it in you to read this thing, thank you for giving time to a brown Arab, when the world so strongly encourages you not to. Please continue to inspire justice, and I hope the world one day continues to inspire hope for you.

😭 anon, I cant explain how much I appreciate you sending this message. I know there is hope for Palestinian liberation, I know that we will see freedom for Palestine. But god do I need the reminder sometimes that we aren’t all just shouting into the void. My country of Australia shamefully takes a cowardly stance on Palestine, always deferring to the US to guide our foreign policy, and yet always claims moral superiority over other countries such as yours. Thank you, really thank you so much for sending this message. I feel so so honoured to have earned an audience that includes you. I believe an audience does reflect an artist, and to know I have done you proud in any way makes me feel full.

And please don’t ever feel ashamed of your English, you are eloquent and have a wonderful, compassionate voice, and you have inspired hope in me for yet another day.

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Epilogue

Joel makes good on his promise to date you, at least once.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Just a slutty lil farewell to our resident Jackson masseuse and her grumpy-arse maybe sorta boyfriend, smut, vaginal fingering, sexy times, stockings that are far too thin for early Spring. Minors DNI

A/N: Another thank you for your support of this little story that ended up being a bit bigger and more complex than I expected. I went there because of your encouragement. Thank you, always.

Part Eight | Series Masterlist

The season was turning, but there was still a chill of a nighttime. It had been six weeks since Joel returned to Jackson, the medical supplies he and the second expedition managing to find and defend ensuring a healthy and safe Jackson for at least another two winters. The whole energy of the place, the optimism, was back in the community, and you had thrived in it, started to bloom alongside the wildflowers dotting the pathways into town.

You’d spent the time working, teaching Ellie, occasionally hanging around Joel’s place while he convalesced, first in his bed, then on the new-ish couch Tommy had found and dragged in through the back door. It wasn’t leather like his old one, and the springs stuck out in the centre so that you had to be very careful where you sat, but it was better than the rocking chair, and it was enough for him to sit still in for at least a few weeks.

He kept promising that he was going to date you, at least once if you’d let him, and each time you’d fobbed him off, telling him he had to get better first, that he was no good to you limping, that you wanted him marginally less grumpy if he could manage it. You weren’t sure why you were stalling, other than that you felt you were toes to the edge of a precipice.

When you were little your little family of four had driven out to the Grand Canyon, and you’d stood on the edge of the red dirt and been totally overwhelmed by the size of it, of all the negative space, the absence. You’d found yourself, aged eight and a half, ready to cry and even now, thirty years later, you remembered the howling wind, the echo of it.

You thought about the beauty of it, now. Now that you had seen so much worse, so much more, you reminded yourself that people used to travel entire countries to see the Grand Canyon. In your mind’s eye you entered your memories and stood beside yourself, your child self, and took her hand. You pointed to the sky, drew her eyes up and away from the ground beneath. Felt her pulse race under your touch as you showed her that the magnitude of it was the beauty in it, was the point of it all.

You accepted Joel’s invitation for the next Friday night. Then you ran to Maria’s to find something to wear.

--

You were supposed to meet at 8, a respectable time after dinner so as not to feel like you needed to have a meal; a more casual time, a more intimate time, when you could drink and chat and only stay an hour if you found it wasn’t working. It was both an in and an out.

Except that you were late, your last client having not only stored muscle tension in his fascia but emotional tension as well, and as soon as you had pushed into the glute he had unleashed years of mourning, of loss, of fears. You had stopped, wrapped him in a towel and pulled him upright, stood back and let him shake with the force of it. It wasn’t new, that people would come with muscle aches and discover trauma aches instead, but you lost track of time trying to put him back together again, trying to assure him of his safety. Tommy was right; sometimes it doesn’t come out until you feel safe enough to let it.

But it meant by the time you were pulling your door open you were about forty minutes late. Your cheeks burned with the shame of it, your timekeeping one of your strengths in the before-times, in the times when you had no other responsibilities other than the hell of being 15.

Joel was coming up your path and you stopped, nearly dropping the jacket you were still trying to pull over your shoulders. You couldn’t read his expression in the dark but his eyes were on you, and he was coming up, fast.

‘Joel, I’m so sorry,’ you started, as he strode towards you and up your porch. ‘I got caught up with a client, I couldn’t leave until they were…’ his hands were on you then, gripping you to him, your jaw resting in his warm palm.

‘You OK?’ he asked you, his eyes searching yours.

‘I’m fine, of course I am,’ you said, flustered, under the intensity of his inspection. ‘I just couldn’t…he was so sad, Joel. I had to stay.’

He nods at this, his jaw ticking. You resisted the urge to reach up and sink your fingertips into the masseter. ‘Were you worried about me, Joel?’ you asked, and he narrowed his eyes at you, then, suddenly freezing up.

‘Thought you weren’t coming, or that you were…thought maybe something had happened,’ he said, and you felt yourself soften.

‘I’m fine. And I would never stand you up,’ you said, moving to hold him around his waist, to circle him in your arms, only able to reach halfway around him, broad as he was. He avoided your eyes, the worry etched deep into his brow.

You still hadn’t kissed him. All of the things he had done to you, the way he had pulled you apart under his hands, his mouth, spread around his cock, nothing so intimate as a kiss.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said again, low and velvet in your throat. ‘I really like you, Joel,’ you went on, and he finally met your gaze, again. The naked vulnerability in it making you pause. You wondered how many people had ever seen this side of him. You suspected he could count them on one paw.

‘It’s late,’ he said, and started to pull away from you. ‘Maybe we should try again some other time.’ To your dismay he had nearly turned his back to you, and without thinking you grabbed him around the middle and tried to turn him back.

‘Wait,’ you said, and he hissed then, his muscles seizing. You let go of him, horrified.

‘M’ok,’ he muttered, raising his hand to stop you from rushing toward him. ‘Just…still gettin’ there, is all.’

‘Come in, please,’ you said, not touching him, not moving towards him, hoping your voice would be enough to get him to stay. ‘It’s cold, I have a bottle of whiskey Tommy slipped me when you were in the hospital, I can…’

‘You needed whiskey, baby?’ he said, and he had that lopsided grin on his face again, and you wanted to lick it off him. ‘Were you worried about little ole me?’

Never mind, you wanted to slap it off.

‘Oh for fucks sake,’ you said, rolling your eyes and turning back to your door. ‘Don’t get all cute just because I got scared when you nearly died,’ you said, and you heard him chuckle. You entered your house and turned to him, one hand on the door. ‘In or out?’ you asked, and you knew that you were talking to the both of you, knew that he wasn’t the only one facing the indecision, knew that you palming the responsibility off onto him, that you would accept his decision even if it meant never talking to him again. He hesitated, but only for a moment.

--

He was back in your kitchen, on the same chair from a more recent before-time, from before he’d found a place for himself somewhere under your skin. You were both sipping your whiskey, listening to the crackling fire in the other room, letting the silence seep out and blanket you. He was still enormous, still took up nearly half the space, and you ceded all of it to him.

‘Ellie speaks the world of you,’ he said, after a while, and you knew that this was important to him, that first and foremost he was her dad, her keeper and her protector.

‘She’s a lovely kid,’ you said, and then corrected yourself. ‘Not a kid. She’d fucking kill me if she knew I said that.’

He chucked into his glass. ‘Won’t tell her,’ he promised.

‘How’s that healing?’ you asked, gesturing to his wrist. It wasn’t in a splint anymore but it was still tightly bandaged.

‘S’just weak, aches in the cold,’ he said, and you nodded. You reached out and pulled it towards you, lay it on the kitchen table between you. You slipped the bandage away, watched the blood rush back in and pink up the flesh underneath it.

‘You need to stretch it, keep it strong,’ you said. ‘Bones probably healed but now the muscles’ll be lazy.’

‘Yes, doctor,’ he said, and you glanced up at him, at the crinkles in his skin and the warmth in his eyes as he teased you.

‘I mean it,’ you said, pretending to be offended, using it as an excuse to slip your hands around his wrist, his forearm. You felt the chords of the muscles there, the sinew and the veins. You rubbed your thumbs in firm circles, like you had shown him to do on your knee, all those weeks ago. You blushed at the thought of it, at the echo of the pleasure he had wrung from you not ten paces away.

He grunted a little, shifted in his seat, and you pulled his arm up at a right angle, so that his elbow was resting on the table. ‘Here, do this,’ you said, and you slipped your fingers between his, rested your forearm against his, leant in a little to ease your combined weight onto the joint.

‘I’m going to try and push your hand backwards, you push back,’ you said.

‘We arm wrestlin’?’ he asked, smiling again.

‘We will if you don’t behave yourself,’ you shot back, and he grinned.

‘Tell me when,’ he said, and you nodded your head. He grimaced at the strain through the joint, but you felt it stretch, felt it working under the force you were applying to it.

‘That’s good,’ you said, without thinking, ‘doing real well.’ He sucked a shy little breath in through his teeth. You stopped pushing, looking up into his pink cheeks. You continued to hold his hand, your eyes fixed to his.

‘Say it again,’ he said, and your mouth went dry.

‘Doing real well, Joel,’ you said, and watched as he blinked slowly, drinking it in. ‘Doing so good.’

He pulled you then, by the arm, out of your chair and into his lap, his mouth finding your neck and suckling, hard, as you struggled for purchase on his thighs. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, the pulse of it pushing into your cunt as you settled yourself down on him, your thin little stockings under Maria’s borrowed dress doing absolutely nothing to provide a barrier against his throbbing for you.

He gasped, looked up at you as you perched above him. His pupils, blown wide with want, mirroring the ache you felt between your legs and in your heart for him. He tasted like peppermint toothpaste and you wondered idly if he’d brushed his teeth before heading to the Bison, if he’d hoped this would be the end result of the night or if it was just habit. You smelt the leather of his worn jacket. You reached up and let his salt and pepper beard scratch at the skin on your fingertips.

‘So good to us, Joel,’ you said, and you heard the gentlest whimper catch in his throat. ‘Looking after the town. Keeping us safe.’

‘Want to keep you, baby,’ he whispered, his eyes dropping to examine your lips. ‘Keep you tucked up all warm and safe, keep you under my roof where I know you’re protected.’ You shivered, at the heat of it, at the sincerity in it. ‘Be the one to shield you. All sweet and soft in your little kitchen. Wanting me, waiting f’me.’ He finished, biting his bottom lip.

‘I want you,’ you said, simply, feeling his cock jump underneath you.

‘Yeah?’ he asked, and you nodded.

‘Been waiting,’ you bit out, realising for the first time that it was true.

‘M’sorry baby,’ he said, playfully goading you. ‘Where did ya want me?’ he whispered, tucking his head under your chin and licking a stripe up your neck, chewing idly on your earlobe. You shivered again, a shuddering little thing that also came with a whimper. You took his hand from your waist and dropped it to your pussy, pushed his fingers to cup you there, gasping when he ran a fingertip along your seam.

‘Everywhere,’ you whispered, and he grunted, shifting his weight. With one warm hand splayed across your shoulder blades he leant you back, his eyes running up and down your body, devouring you. He kept his hand on your cunt, idly running a finger up and down where you ached the most for him, and you worried for a moment that he would feel how wet he’d made you just with his gaze.  

His breath was warm across your cheeks when he exhaled. He took the hand from between your legs and cupped your breast, rolled the nipple through your dress, made you whimper.

‘Joel,’ you whispered, and you watched as his eyes lit up, as the sparks caught on kindling and turned into a forest fire, as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the strain. You wanted to run your tongue over his bottom lip, nip at it.

‘Sssh, baby, I know,’ he said, pulling you up off his lap to stand in front of him, your knees shaking. His arms bracketed your hips, gripping the table behind you, so you were surrounded by him. He remained seated, watching you from under heavy eyelids.

‘Take it off,’ he said, and you felt your pulse in your neck, thunderous.

‘Which?’ you asked.

‘Maria’s dress you don’t think I recognise, those silly little stockings that ain’t doing nothin’ to keep out the cold.’

He leant back on the chair again, kicked his legs out so that you were standing between his ankles now, leant his arm on the back of the chair and scratched at his beard. ‘Well, go on,’ he said, and you felt so exposed to him then, vulnerable in the heat of his stare.

‘Help me,’ you said, feigning not being able to get to the zipper, just for the excuse of turning away from him, from his eyes that were taking you apart atom by atom, from his hands resting on his thigh, from his thick fingers you wanted to slip into your mouth, let him push down on your tongue and suckle at him.

You felt his hands on your back, the zip coming down, the way he slipped the dress from you like he was unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. You leant over a little, trying to slip your stockings off and you heard him moan, felt his hands on you again, his warm paw on your lower back pushing you into a deeper bend, the other pulling on your hips to bring you closer to him, his hands gripping you, positioning you. You heard his sharp inhale when you slipped the stockings over your bottom, felt your cheeks blaze when he reached up and slipped your panties off along with them, bent over and completely exposed to him, wet and glistening in the light of the kitchen, the sound of your gasped little whimpers mixing with the ever-present whir of your forty-year-old fridge.

‘Oh, my girl,’ he said, and you wanted to launch yourself at him, seat yourself back on his lap and bury your head in his neck but he was running his hands up and down the back of your thighs, edging himself closer on the chair, pushing you forward so that your breasts rested on the kitchen table, your cheek flush to the cold wood.

He bent his head and placed a single kiss at the base of your spine and you worried your knees would buckle, worried you would collapse onto the kitchen tile. As you gasped he brought his hands up to cup your bottom, spreading your cheeks enough to slip a thumb into your cunt, probe the warmth and feel the wet collecting on his fingertip. You startled, trying to buck away, trying to buck towards him, circling your hips to capture him inside you, and you heard him chuckle, felt his lips dip lower to your tailbone as he twisted his hands, his thumb still inside as his fingers came around to cup and rub at your slit, your poor little aching clit caught between his fingertips.

‘Jesus,’ you cried, finding religion despite never having set foot in a church.

‘Want to keep you full of me,’ he muttered, sitting back down on the chair again and pulling you with him, spreading your legs over his so you were open wide, obscene and dripping in his lap, pulling your legs apart with his and whispering filth in your ear, cupping your breast with one hand and the other sliding into your heat.

‘Want to keep you here, my pretty girl all safe and warm in my arms, full of my cock and my fingers, crying out for me when I’m not there.’ You were gasping, your vision narrowing, barely able to concentrate on anything except for his words, for his fingers stretching you, his legs pulling you impossibly wide. ‘Won’t let nothin’ hurt ya, baby girl,’ he grit out, and you felt a sob rip through your throat, the pleasure he was drawing out of you mixing with the comfort, with the intoxicating allure of him protecting you, of him standing between you and so many terrors.

In your right mind you wouldn’t have believed him. Would have known there were things out there even the great Joel Miller couldn’t topple, that there were threats known and unknown, seen and unseen, things out there wanting to spill your blood, the blood of the people you cared the most for. But Joel was inside you, in your cunt and in your ear, and his words were chipping away at your resistance, sliding under the door long ago locked tight. You were far from your right mind. You surrendered to the seduction of it, of the intoxication of it, of the myth this man was peddling that you would buy again and again and again.

‘There she is,’ he said, as you came on his fingers, your cunt gripping him and your hips rolling, his face pressed hard into your neck as you twisted into the agony of it, your mouth open and gasping, your face turned to the Gods.

You felt his fingers underneath you, one hand wrapped tight around your torso to hold you steady as he released himself from his jeans, and you felt him then, pressed against the back of your thigh, the velvet heat of his length, the thundering throb of it. You had barely caught your breath, had yet to fully come back to yourself, before he was pushing himself into you, pulling you onto him, your neck caught in his teeth as he bit down on the nape, tried to stifle the groan blooming in his chest.

He felt bigger this way, the stretch even sharper despite his best attempts to prepare you, and your walls fluttered, fought to accept him. You shuddered, the sudden sting slamming you back into your body, and you gripped his hands to stop him, to pause. He stilled immediately, his breath hot and gasping.

‘Give me a minute,’ you gritted out, leaning back onto his shoulder and burying your nose in his jaw, panting, placing a placid little kiss to the salt and pepper patches there.

You felt him reach around you, his finger finding your clit and gently circling it, collecting your slick and pushing it over the nub to rid you of any friction. You groaned, arching your back against him, your hands digging into the meat of his thighs underneath you.

‘So beautiful like this,’ he whispered into your ear as you felt the pleasure overtake you, the throb in your cunt synchronised to your thundering pulse. ‘Can feel you gripping me,’ he went on. ‘Stuffed fulla me, baby.’

‘Stop,’ you gasped, the moment suddenly too intense, a fear gripping you then that if he kept talking you would give him anything; the shirt off your back, the blood in your veins. He chuckled, watching you struggle to take the pleasure he was pushing into you, through you.

It was wrong but you couldn’t figure out why, because it still felt so fucking good, and you wanted more but couldn’t figure out how it was possible, not sated by him seated fully inside you, not close enough to him as you pressed your body entirely against yours. You huffed, frustrated, standing before he could stop you and pivoting to face him, straddling him again in the chair and sinking yourself down on him in one swift motion, so that he gasped and then groaned when the heat of you enveloped him, joined you in a harsh cry when your clit met his hipbone and you settled there, shifted your hips to press into the nub.

‘S’better,’ you said, and you watched his lopsided grin emerge.

‘My girl miss seeing me?’ he asked, and you rolled your hips to shut him up, watched any semblance of cogent thought leave him when you gripped him there.

‘Say it again, Joel,’ you said, sliding your hips forward and back in a way that you knew wasn’t enough for him, but was making your clit throb when it grazed over his skin. He grunted, suddenly finding it hard to think clearly, and his brows saddled.

‘Keep you safe?’ he said, uncertain but meaning it anyway, and you shook your head.

‘Keep who safe?’ he asked.

‘You,’ he answered, still not following, and you planted your feet on the floor, raised yourself up just to bounce back down again.

‘Who am I, Joel?’ you asked, nearly breathless, and finally, finally he understood, his little huffed out laugh sending a thrill through you as he reached down between your bodies, felt where you were joined.

‘My girl,’ he said, finding your clit and edging his fingertips across it, sending fireworks up your spine. ‘My beautiful girl, so tight and wet, so needy for me, cryin’ out for me in her kitchen.’

You groaned, feeling him grip you around the middle with one arm, lifting you up and down on his cock, rocking into you and always, always, always watching your face, nibbling at your chin when you leant back to gasp for air.

You were going to come. It was too fast. You still had so many other things you wanted to say to him, wanted him with every atom of you, with every fibre, the neurons in your brain lighting up just for him. Wanting to live in the torrent of pleasure he brought out in you, wanted to twist and writhe in it. You felt, again, on the edge of tears, but not for wanting, this time. Not for the losses.

For the having. Of Jackson, of the wildflowers on the paths pushing past the cold. Of the little family you had eked out at the end of the world, of Ellie, of Tommy and Maria and Robin. Of this man under your body and on your kitchen chair, calling you his and promising to keep you safe. Of this man, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion and clinging to him, willingly readying yourself to cascade over it.

‘Want you right here, always,’ he grunted, and you keened, felt it then, that you were wanted, that you belonged.

You didn’t have the words for it, vowed in that moment that you would spend the rest of your life trying to find them. For right now you did the only thing you could think of, leaning over and gripping his jaw, angling his face to you as you landed your lips on him, kissed him as you felt a tear streak across your cheek and onto his skin, as you shuddered and felt your cunt milking him, as he spilled into you and you joined him, the ecstasy and the pleasure and the warmth of it. In your little house in Jackson, behind enormous walls, to hold you.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

@anoverwhelmingdin

@pedropascalsbbg

[where-dreams-dwell]

Dexter is a cautionary tale of the need to accept discomfort as a part of life, with Emma as his contrast and aspirational example.

Throughout the show Emma embodies determination and self assurance. The only reason she thinks she can change the world is.. because why couldn’t she? In contrast Dexter has no idea what he wants and kind of resents having to even think about it, hence his jumping between careers and looking for purpose for the whole show.

While Em knows what she wants emotionally (the satisfaction or having made a difference, the achievement of doing what she always wanted) but isn’t sure on the specifics of what that will look like (I’ll write plays, no write poetry, no I’ll teach, okay no I’ll write a book), Dexter knows the specifics (I’ll be rich and famous) but doesn’t know what he wants emotionally (‘what will that look like?’ ‘I don’t know’).

While Dex is always running from uncomfortable feelings Em faces then head on and comes out the other side, able to learn from them.

As Dex is travelling to put off making long term decisions, Em has taken the first opportunity to do what she wants: writing, be it books, poems or in this instance plays.

On holiday Dex can’t allow himself to admit that he fancy’s Em and to leave it at that, he has to run from the honesty and vulnerability of that moment by adding on ‘but I pretty much fancy everyone’. In doing this you could argue that he looses his chance with her for several years, where as Emma’s confidence could have resulted in them getting together much sooner.

Dex misses his mothers last birthday because he doesn’t want to face reality. Instead of reacting to the fear and anger and pain of her diagnosis by spending every moment he can with her, or sitting down to have heart to heart talks with her, or helping her out in any meaningful way Dex runs away and numbs himself with substances, and is passed out for the little time he is in her presence.

When he’s nervous people won’t (or already don’t) like him on TV he again turns to substances to numb his feelings, and (instead of taking Em’s advice to ignore them) looks for reassurance from hangers on who don’t actually know him that well. He can’t sit in that worry/fear/discomfort so he finds a way to stop feeling.

When Dex’s marriage falls apart we see him running away to Paris to visit Em. And sure there are ulterior motives here (his hope and assuming that this could be the start of their romantic relationship) but the writer shows him literally traveling away from the country where his failed marriage, child and previous life were as he is show to be angrily talking about his divorce. As an image it appears like he’s running away from the reality of the divorce or running to Em for a distraction. It definitely supports Ems assumptions that he’s not serious about a relationship with her; she’s seen this behaviour in Dex before.

It’s even funny how in small ways we don’t see him handle upsetting things until the very end. Talking about his first marriage and the production the day became? Dex admits he didn’t want to rock the boat so he didn’t fight anything/reject anything/ have much say at all in his wedding. Sylvie drops off Jasmine? Dex is still at the cafe so Em is the one managing slightly awkward small talk. Jasmine practising her violin? We get a brief moment with Dex too but mainly it’s Em sitting through the recitals. In that last episode when they’re struggling with fertility, Em is the one who sits down and talks out her anger and fear and worry, where as Dex (who probably knew what the root of it all was) was happy to leave her to process it how she need to and support her while she did. If she hadn’t brought it up he wouldn’t have said anything.

That’s not becisarily a bad thing (Dex could have known that Em needed to process it herself before talking to him) but it is interesting that the writers engineer Dex to avoid all these moments of emotional discomfort. It reinforces his characterisation of being avoidant when confronted with conflict.

In contrast we kind of constantly see Em having to face hard moments and working through them.

Don’t know what to do with your life? Move to London to try and aim to work in your dream field. London life and restaurant job not going the way you planned? Commit to Dex’s suggestion of teacher training. Time to confess a secret? Here’s a hugely personal one about my past feelings for you. Past crush admits he kind-if fancy’s you? Stick to being honest about your past feelings and don’t take the opening to downplay them. You feel shit about your life and your secret affair? Well let’s turn that into motivation to finally write that book.

Not happy with your long term partner? End the relationship.

Emma’s whole confrontation with Ian is a masterclass in facing difficult conversations and emotions, being vulnerable and open and honest about your feelings, and finding empathy for another outside your point of view. And look what she gains from facing that hard in comfortable conversation? Closure, and a kind of friendship, one that lasts even after she dies.

When Dex confessed that he hoped they would start a romantic relationship in Paris, Em sits him down and starts that hard conversation about how she doesn’t think that is 1) what he even wants and 2) would work between them. She doesn’t brush off of hide from the conversation. And then when she has more information and time to think she commits to Dex.

Even after they sleep together there’s a scene of Em laying the ground rules, making it clear to Dex what she will and won’t stand in this relationship. That’s an awkward conversation to have but Em doesn’t hesitate and makes sure he knows from the get go what she expects and deserves. The writers are constantly showing us ‘Em doesn’t run from uncomfortable feelings’.

And then the tragic twist of fate: Emma is gone and Dexter finally has to learn to live with emotional discomfort. He can’t keep running because there is no escaping this, not like he did with his mum. Like he says to Imaginary-Emma ‘why would time change anything’. He is going to feel like this forever, there is no escaping it. Finally he is learning to face it, manage it, and work through it.

Of course Emma is far more than a literally device and is her own layered and well established character. But in this regard for Dex it’s almost as if she’s the final lesson for him to work through to grow up enough so he can eventually choose to return to the place they met.

And it could even come across as a reward for him; in learning to live with those difficult emotions, his reward is being able to remember Emma fondly, and to return to the place they met to seek out those memories. The memories are bittersweet, but now he remembers Emma as she was and not how she never got to be.

Like his dad said, he is eventually able to ‘live [his] life as if she were still here’ but in order to do that he first had to accept that she was gone.

[lilly-chou-chou]

Evolution of Gyaru

Hello everyone the long awaited post is here!! Sorry for the delay I has gone back to my he country to celebrate Lunar New Year.

As we all know Gyaru was and still is one of the most important fashion movement in the history because it's roots of opposing the "good girl" and "submissive" societal views of women that Japan had imposed into them.

During 90's with Namie Amuro being the first idol ever to popularize the Gyaru culture created a huge wave of community in all over Japan which eventually created many subcultures under it, over the years gyarus blossomed for 2 decades heavily but around early-mid 2010's the culture slowly died because people were now really trying to shun them out of the society, gyarus was losing it's popularity and old gyarus were getting to age of finding jobs or trying to get married yet the culture is still alive. There have been multiple support and love coming from international fans too.

Egg magazine, which is holy grail for us gyarus followers is still up and running to this day <3

Today i'll show you just a little glimpse of modern gyaru. Hopefully this will help new followers too.

Gyaru of the past:-

So let's start with how gyarus are usually seen, pictures below are gyarus from their peak eras so definitely from 90's to 2000's. They are all different subcultures but they all have one thing in common the eye makeup, gyarus were and are still known for their beautiful luscious eye makeup. They are what you call

They were our guide, our mothers and everything! Gyaru has always been the most supportive community to ever exist, over here women were allowed to cuss, they were allowed to be brash, they were allowed to have male friends without the judgement of two goody shoes with insecurities, they were allowed to wear clothes that liberated them doesn't matter short or modest.

People often forget that gyaru exists more than manba, agejo and kogal, few of the modest and lesser knows subcultures are amekaji and roma gyaru, although amekaji is is blue eyed perfect grass is greener on the other side take of American inspired fashion. Either way it is one of the most fun subculture to exist.

We as gyaru followers ow everything to these past mother figures, without them and without brands like alba rosa, D.I.A and MA*RS we and egg Magazine teaching us what? How? And why? We would never thrive in this era. We owe it to them all even after decades and decades the magazines, scans and tutorials on YouTube by the OG gyarus have done it all <3

Modern Gyaru:-

The pictures below are the present models of Egg magazine. The last OG gyaru issue was stopped in 2014 which was Egg last physical print of magazine but in 2018 Egg came back as online magazine.

A lot has changed in gyaru world. Long gone are the days of owning specific clothing brand or even wearing clothes that resemble even the least of typical gyaru fashion. The only key point which hasn't changed is eye makeup because that is utmost necessary thing for a gyal to have.

Over the years of almost dying to again alive fashion culture the meaning of gyaru has changed a lot, from dressing like the OG gyarus we have now evolved to the whole "gal is mind" mindset, now in this era dressing up as gyal doesn't mean that much because you can still have pointy acrylic nails, iconic eye makeup, wear casual clothes and still be a gyaru.

These days even the gyaru slangs have changed so much like instead of poyo, atonsu, pachikoku now we use yarirafi, kyun-desu, daijuobu-so?, tobu-zo and so on.

Although there are egg models that still somewhat follow OG gyaru fashion like @ / mahiroisme (left) and @ / kae. 06256 (right) on IG.

Conclusion:-

By this post I just wanted to show that as time passes it is inevitable that everything changes and fashion changing is a no brainer. What is hate is companies capitalizing and making their own rules for lure in newbies gyals who would do anything to "fit in" and ring the nostalgia bell for old gyarus and all I have to say is that no, you don't have to spend 100-500$ on eBay trying to find the OG gyaru brands because you can definitely wear your own casual clothes and still be a gyaru because if egg magazine who raised whole generation of x gen, millennials and Gen Z of gyarus then who are we to judge them?

Although if you still wish to dress up like OG then I definitely recommend finding clothes that match the subculture that you want to follow for example I follow agejo, Tsuyome and kogal so I shop in Amazon, local stores, Instagram stores, I order clothes fr abroad the most helpful and fast way to do that finding a vendor and my vendors are all from Instagram. Hope this helps.

I will meet you all in my next post bye gyals <3

[rosegoldenatlas]

Fuck you *analyzes Stan and Ford even though everyone has done it at this point*

Friendly reminder that Stan is literally a traumatized genius. Like yeah Ford may have been good at science in school and did some nice notes on weird shit he saw but to build his portal he needed to get tricked by a demon whom he knew was super dangerous.

Meanwhile Stan taught himself how to build it ALONE in just 30 years when before he barley got by in school and he only saw A THIRD of the blueprints throughout most of building it. Stan was kicked out of his house due to an actual accident and due to that has some clear issues that lead him to a life of scams and crimes because he wanted to prove that he wasn't a failure. He went to jail in 3 countries and has successfully conned SO MANY PEOPLE. He ran a successful business of only fakes and cons for 30 years, hasn't paid taxes in who knows when maybe he never has paid taxes. He literally had EVERY ONE OF HIS CRIMES LISTED ON PUBLIC TELEVISION AND STILL GOT AWAY WITH IT. Also he is ballsy as shit. Like this man hasn't feared death in decades I'm pretty sure. Even though he has clear issues he still is able to be a good person (not legally but yk what I mean). He had been betrayed by Ford and his life was ruined since highschool due to that and his first instinct after hearing Ford call for help (just like he did when he was younger and being kicked out) is not to pull the curtains and look away but to go all the way Oregon and ask what he needed help with, saying that he will understand what's going on, offering support- and then is tossed aside AGAIN. He finds out that even though he made that mistake years an years ago Ford has been relatively well off and has a house and the money to build this giant machine. While Fords taking a blind eye to Stan getting kicked out ruined his entire life and shoved him directly into a life of crime without much of a choice.

Of Course he bitter. He was betrayed twice! So he gets into a fight and gets angry and makes his second mistake, pushing Ford. He didn't mean to do it. He didn't know how it worked but it happened. So he immediately tries to fix his mistake. This time he has to do it right. So he teaches himself Advanced science only learnt by one person from an inter dimensional chaos demon well enough to build the machine using a third of the blueprints and sheer force of will.

When he finally gets Ford back after 30 years he's expecting a thank you and being allowed to keep the shack that he's had longer than Ford at this point. Instead he gets a punch to the face and is being told off. Being told off by doing exactly as he was told 'just do something!' Ford had said before. And now he was being told that he shouldn't have? After 30 years of work? Yeah I'd be pissed too. But Stan holds it together for the twins.

When weirdmageddon happens he has one request, say thank you. He doesn't even care if its an actual thank you any more. He just asks for it and starts the ritual. He's angry and upset and he's always being cast aside as the dumb sibling and he thought he was away from that but Ford ruined it and Dipper was definitely thinking that Stan was the dumb one. But Stan mumbles on last comment and still does the ritual. And then- grammar Stanley. Its like spitting in has face and saying 'even after all of this, your still the dumb one, still the screw up. Can't even keep up with basic grammar and always angry always the dumb, strong one'. But now he's not even stronger because of Fords alien space dimension hopping trip. Now he's just the dumb one who cheats his way through life because he can't do anything the right way. Its a punch to the gut that after all he had done he got a half assed 'thank you Stanley' and then told in fewer, more simple words 'you're still the screw up of the family'. Yeah not the best time to be pissed but I completely agree with Stan when he lashes out and attacks Ford.

Then even after all of that he still says that he wishes Bill would go in his head instead. He says that he agrees that he's got nothing up there. And Ford doesn't disagree. He didn't comfort him. He just goes 'oh yeah but he doesn't want your stupid thoughts he wants mine'. And I don't care what anyone says, it was Stans idea to swap clothes with Ford. Stan is the con guy. He get his memory wiped.

In the last few minutes while everyone is getting their endings, Ford says that he wants to make the Stan o' War 2 and go off and sail. Its not exactly what Stan wants, he wasn't treasure hunting, of course he does. But anomaly hunting is all he knows he can get at this point. So he goes. He never gets told the things he needs to be told like 'you're not a screw up' or 'you're not stupid Stanley' he gets one thing. He gets 'you're our hero Stanley'. Which wow. Stanley gets to be the one thing he never got. He didn't have anyone backing him. He had Soos eventually, but Soos was always like a kid to him (hell yeah Stan adopt Soos I think its such a cool idea please). Dipper and Mabel technically have his back but they are literal children who do not need to hear their grunkles trauma more than they already have. Its always just been Stan watching out for all of them as best he can. He has Ford at the very end on the boat. But he still has a lot of issues to sort through.

While Ford, we don't have much on Ford. He isn't in the series a bunch and I haven't been able to get my hands on the book of bill yet, even then I don't know how much new stuff we learn about Ford other than the confirmation of his indistinct and ambiguous relationship with Bill. (I was right they so fucked). But I will try as hard as I can to sympathise with Fords side of things (I was one a fan of Ford before I started digging into Stans lore more).

-

In Fords perspective, Stan intentionally ruined his project to keep him in Jersey to finish their boat and treasure hunt. He doesn't believe Stan when he says that it was an accident because it matches up too well. Stan gets kicked out that night, Stan asks for Ford to help, but Stan had always been the stronger one. He would be fine. So he pulls the curtain closed. He goes to a different college than what he wanted to but still earns his degrees and even is able to get his hands on grants that most scientists would kill for. Its enough to build a house and keep him fed and well off for YEARS without a second job and even after all of that he still has enough for his gadgets (not to mention his giant underground lab that must've cost a fortune to build). He makes a friend and they work together trying to learn more about the anomalies. He hits a wall.

He can't find out any more that he already knows. So he summons a demon that he knows is OP as Fuck and can kill him. But the triangle called him smart and is telling him new things. So he listens. He doesn't question what he's building a portal to. He just makes it. Only when his friend gets irreversibly traumatized by what lies on the other side he begins to question, but its too late- he already fucked the triangle and the portal is finished. So he shuts it down and begs for help from the only person he knows would help- Stan. Sure they didn't part on good terms but Stan had always looked out for him.

When Stan arrives he's paranoid, Bill could be anywhere. Bill wants to be on earth. Bill will destroy everything. He shows Stan the portal and hands him the last of his journals he needs to hide. He tells him to sail far away, to keep him and his research safe. Stan is angry with him. Still? After all these years? He hardly remembers that part of the night. He remembered the morning more for obvious reasons. Stan is yelling at him, and for what? That was years ago and the fate of the world is much more important that a family spat.

Stanley takes out a lighter and pulls it to his journal. All of his research could be gone in an instant. Years of work all in a blaze. What if something happened and he needed that information? What then? So they fight and Stanley gets hurt by the hot brand on the side of the metal work table. All of his anger drains in an instant. He didn't mean to hurt Stan. He just- he didn't want all he had left to be destroyed and got angry (parallels, huh). Stan hits him. He's floating. He's going to- he going to go through the portal. He panics and throws the book back mid air 'Stanley do something'. And he goes through.

He spends years in space. We aren't told how it goes explicitly but he gets better at fighting, a lot better so we can assume there was a lot of that. But he remains the same person if a little tougher, there are no major scars or personality changes. So we can assume he is relatively (I use this very loosely) unscarred by this time.

When he's brought back he's still scared, if that's what is on the other side of the portal, what could happen of that came to earth? Stanley took a huge risk. He risked everything for what? Him to come back? That isn't worth it. Stan doesn't understand the risk he took opening that portal on purpose. He fights, he shuts down the portal, he disassembles the portal and catches the rift. Every precaution is taken. Stan doesn't understand what is happening, he doesn't understand the danger they're all in. And he wants to be thanked for it? For putting everyone at risk? Why the hell would he do that.

During weirdmageddon he prepares the circle, everyone is compliant but Stanley. Stanley is being childish. Asking for a thank you of all thing while the world is ending. But he swallows his pride, he is right but that doesn't matter now, not when the world is at stake. 'Fine, Thank you,' he mumbles and they grab hands. He hears Stanley spit out a 'see, between him and me I'm not always the bad twin.' And he had already lost so much today, he falls into an old habit 'between me and him, grammar Stanley.' Then there are hand on his throat, Stanley is shouting at him. He's ruining everything. This was childish! It was one comment! Can he not act like an adult for once in his life?

Bill arrives, their locked up, and Stanley crumples. Blaming himself. Ford says down next to him. He was the idiot who made a deal with Bill in the first place. Its not all Stanley's fault. They pass a flask between them. They toss around last second ideas. None of it would work. And then 'what I he went into my mind, its not good for anything' he laughs, it would never work. 'Its not your mind he wants' he sees something flicker in Stans eyes. An he suggests something, a new scam, a new way to cheat the system. Might as well try it.

It works. He had to erase stans mind but it works. After everything. After all of it. Stan is a hero and he doesn't even know it. They walk back to the trashed shack with tears in their eyes. Mabel is desperately trying everything she can, Dipper is dead silent, Soos is on the verge of a breakdown. He just feels resigned, he's lost a friend to the memory gun before and he's lost Stan before. Maybe he can get through this too.

Stan remembers. Stan remembers and he's back to how it was before, Ford is looking now, he sees the way Stan is clearly posturing for the kids, for everyone really. How had he not noticed before? The way Stanley was speaking and acting, it was kind of like their dad. Tough and stern and impossible to impress. But Stan was that at a level that wasn't suffocating. He was so different from the Stan from their highschool days, and he hadn't even noticed the change until now. It was disturbing how much was different from before that he hadn't even seen because of being in his lab. It felt weird not knowing this Stan. So he made up something on the fly, anomalies in the ocean he said, the Stan o' war version two he offered. The disbelief in Sans voice when he asked if he was actually asking this was saddening.

---+---

Anyways, my real reason for preferring Stan over Ford is this: Stan had a more fleshed out character, he had arcs and he didn't even need a redemption arc. We just needed to know more to see why he was acting the way he did. He isn't a bad person. He's just a person. Yeah he breaks the law but he is a kind guy. He has so many layers and he's much much more that was originally let on. While Ford was shown much less on screen, from what I did see I could tell that he thought he was better than Stan. He puts him down constantly and can't bother to build relationships by reaching out first. Dipper was friends with Ford because Dipper had to reach out again and again. Stan tried reaching out the olive branch to Ford but when it didn't work and he was 'betrayed' twice and insulted a lot. Ford didn't even try to fix this when it is clearly his responsibility to do so. If we had more time after the series showing character growth over time from Ford I might think different but alas.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Jenny Jugo (Victoria in Dover, A hopeless Case, Our Miss Doctor)—I just love her! She was an Austrian actress during the 20s & 30s & 40s who was among the big UFA stars. She was beautiful but still appeared to be natural and likeable. Often she played witty, smart, independent and confident (for the time) modern women both in silent and in talking movies. For example in one movie she's a maths teacher who has to prove herself to her male colleagues who doubt she is actually good at mathematics. And she ends up not only being successful at teaching the high-school graduates but even getting to lecture mathematics at university afterwards. (Our Miss Doctor) Or in A Hopeless Case she plays a young woman who is very superficial and spoilt at first but then decides against marrying the good situated man her father wants her to marry and instead is dedicated to successfully study medicine although everyone advises her to stop. She's really a great actress who I always enjoyed seeing in movies ever since I was a child. (Also she always appeared to have thick curly hair which was a great representation for little curly haired me because in movies you rarely see women with that hair type being considered beautiful as well.)

Mary Pickford (Coquette, Tess of the Storm Country)—"America’s Sweetheart”, “Queen of Hollywood”, her and Douglas Fairbanks were the og it couple, owned her own movie studio, had both a drink and a hairstyle named after her

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jenny Jugo:

Gifset

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Mary Pickford:

She was a pioneer in early cinema! She acted, wrote, and produced numerous films and was one of the founders of the United Artists film studio, along with Charlie Chaplin and her husband, Doug Fairbanks. At the height of her career in the 1920s there was nobody more famous. She was widely known as "America's Sweetheart." She won an Oscar in 1929 for her performance in Coquette (1929) and then a lifetime achievement Oscar in 1979.

She was an absolute pioneer in the very early days of feature films. She co-founded United artists and managed her career brilliantly.

Mary Pickford wasn't just a silent star, she was a huge historical figure for film. I really cannot emphasize how involved she was in creating and shaping the film world. She was completely passionate about the theater world (from a young age!) and still revered even after she lost relevance. Her tenacity, her beauty, and her intelligence is what made her the first actress labeled as "America's Sweetheart." She just has this glow, a wonderful sweet disposition, and warm heart. She often introduced other women to motion picture and helped them showcase their talent. She was an astute business woman, although when asked about this she said "Well you know this business angle is much exaggerated, because most people don't expect much sense of a woman 5 feet tall. If I were 5 feet 8 they would say I was a very poor business woman!" She was friends with Amelia Earheart and had terrible luck in love. Please just learn about or give thought to my sad small sweet girl.

[saltywinteradult]

Anon needs to understand there’s more than one way to be a bad parent, Viserys and Rhaenyra are proof of this.

Viserys enabled his daughter to extreme measures, all he had to do was send Harwin away the minute Jace was born but he buried his head in the sand instead. Rhaenyra wasn’t exactly discreet either, she was very openly sleeping with Harwin for the whole court to see and was emboldened to have THREE back to back pregnancies because she knew her father wouldn’t stop her. How is this good parenting? A good father would have taught his daughter actions have consequences.

Rhaenyra is no better, through her relationship with Harwin she shows her sons they can do whatever the hell they want with 0 consequence and this has long term repercussions. Luke openly mocks the boy he DISABLED, Jace breaks his betrothal to Baela, they do whatever the hell they want because they know their mother will enable them.

Say it louder for the people in the back, anon!

Viserys set a terrible example of parenthood for Rhaenyra. Considering that, it's not surprising that she would become just as much of an enabler to her own kids. The cycles do be cycling after all. That's a large part of this story. It makes me sad to see that aspect of the story, and of Rhaenyra's character, go ignored by her fans. Then again, the Team Black stans don't acknowledge that Viserys was a terrible father either, so I don't know what I expected.

Slight tangent here, but I would like to add that not only would a good father teach his daughter that actions have consequences, a good king would've taught his heir that actions have consequences.

As entitled as Rhaenyra is, her view of herself as exceptional isn't entirely unfounded. She's a princess. She's a dragonrider. She's the first female heir to the throne. She is exceptional in a lot of ways. But no one has bothered to teach her that that exceptional position 1) does not make her inherently better than anyone else, and 2) comes with responsibility. Viserys's and subsequently Rhaenyra's enabling would've been bad enough if they were just regular people, but they're the ruling family of Westeros. Their family dysfunction and infighting literally have consequences for the entire country. That means it's exponentially more important for them to not make decisions that lead to family dysfunction and infighting. That is so obvious I feel like I shouldn't even have to say it.

Viserys marrying Alicent and then treating her and their children like shit shows he clearly didn't understand this, so it's not surprising to me that Rhaenyra didn't learn this either. Hell, Viserys literally enables and supports Rhaenyra in breaking the law! Rhaenyra knows that advocating for her bastards, who everyone knows are bastards, to inherit over trueborn heirs is treason. Viserys knows this too and he supports her anyway. Why wouldn't Rhaenyra assume that she can do whatever the hell she wants? Why wouldn't she adopt that same mindset for her own children? Of course someone raised on toxic Targaryen exceptionalism and by an extremely enabling parent isn't gonna grow up to be a good person, a good parent, or a good ruler! Again, the cycles are cycling. That's the point. These are all perfectly realistic flaws for Rhaenyra to have and perfectly realistic mistakes for her to make. But they are flaws. They are mistakes. Not acknowledging that does her character and the story a huge disservice.

[k-s-morgan]

This is a belated post where I wanted to briefly address the outcomes of 2023!

While Ukraine mostly faded from the stage of world's news, unfortunately, the situation didn't get better for my people. Every day Russia kills, maims, and ruins everything it can touch. Every day civilians die from its imprecise missiles, random shootings and artillery, and outright executions. I often see that those living in other countries call this Putin's war, but it really isn't. This is the war sponsored by Putin and his regime, true, but first and foremost, this is the war of Russian people. It's hundreds of thousands of Russian people who arm themselves and go kill our defenders and our civilians. It's Russian people who fire from tanks and other deadly weapons to ruin the Ukrainians' homes, to scorch our land, to leave nothing but destruction instead of cities and villages. It's Russian people who build the missiles, load their bombers, and fly for 5+ hours to direct them at our cities, homes, factories, and even empty fields.

This is me during one of the latest massive attack that took place on January 2. At first, at night, 35+ Russian-Iranian drones bombed us. Then Russian people sent about 100 missiles at us, mainly at my city Kyiv.

Our air defense system managed to intercept the majority of them, but while it sounds like interception is an entirely positive thing, it might have terrible consequences. Because the parts of the missiles fall down randomly. They can kill any human or creature walking down the street; they can collapse on top of a residential building. There is no escape, no way to feel safe even with the best air defense systems surrounding the city. Here's one of many disastrous results of this attack.

Dead and injured people and animals. Damaged and lost apartments.

On December 29, another attack killed over 30 people in Kyiv alone. You can see their faces below. They deserve to be seen and remembered.

This is a short story of just two latest attacks that took place just within one week, just in one city. Imagine how many of them me and my people lived through during the entire year? How many more we will have to experience?

Actually, we lived through another one before I finished writing this post. It happened on January 8, and it killed even more civilians.

I know that there are good, sane, compassionate Russians. I have some relatives among them. One of them, my aunt, can't keep herself entirely silent: she's deeply religious, and a few weeks ago, in a church, she risked saying that killing Ukrainians is bad. Another man told her that she's scum and that if she dares to open her mouth again, he will report her to authorities. The headmaster of a school where my aunt teaches was imprisoned for 7 years for refusing to hold a Z-event among students. Living there must be a torture of another kind, where you are surrounded by zombies who openly promote terrorism and bless missiles sent to kill other human beings. The problem is that sane and compassionate Russians are the minority - the vast majority is happy to either kill us or they support those who kill us. Or they simply don't care, trying to claim that everything is complicated when in reality, there is nothing complicated about it at all. Russia is a terrorist state and the world allows its people and its government to keep being monsters.

Seeing the indifference and impotence of seemingly powerful countries makes me increasingly concerned and depressed. At this point, I don't think I'm simply affected by my experiences: the world is rapidly going to hell, with terrorist countries like Russia being allowed to revel in their blood-thirstiness and the other terrorist countries, like North Korea, or potential offenders like China, observing and taking notes. When a criminal sees that no one is punished for a crime, they escalate. More criminals appear. This is what I feel is going to start happening more and more, until half of the planet is plunged into death and destruction. I'll be so very glad to be wrong.

On a personal note, I lost my most beloved pet pigeon Daikiria in 2023. I love her and miss her so much that I still cry whenever I think of her. In turn, I acquired a red nightmare of a rabbit who eats everything, including my feet, and two more pigeons. Taking care of them brings me joy - I only hope that my effort will actually benefit them.

Here's a pigeon that I named Noveria the day I found her, in a video I made for my vet. Attacked by a cat, bleeding all over, with broken ribs and a missing piece of her wing, with no tail:

Here is she now. She is feeling much better, although unfortunately, she got sick because of her weakened immune system.

My kitties continue to be adorable dorks. Here's me sleeping with my cat Tom after one of the attacks - he's really scared of loud sounds, so he sleeps like a rock afterward, just like me.

My family stays strong, and I hope we will remain to be so.

Writing stories remains a huge source of relief and distraction to me, and your support, love, and care give me strength even when I feel like I'm about to run out of it.

Thank you to those who support me on Patreon and give me a chance to have a safety net shielding me from some of the horrors and insecurities - thanks to you, I can rest sometimes when I would have to work instead; I can afford some more distractions and to write more as a result. Thank you to those who leave comments, kudos, asks; thank you to my friends who never fail to message me with questions about my well-being. I love and I appreciate you tremendously, and despite all my fears and worries, I hope that we will get to see a better future still.

[laundryandtaxes]

It really highlights how deeply unserious, superficial, and functionally random the populist conservative bit is for Trump (the alternative explanation is being surrounded by enough real conservatives to tame his populist impulses, but I think Trump actually learned his lesson on that even by the end of his first term) that his idea of boosting American manufacturing involves just placing tariffs on basically everything Americans purchase day to day when the vast majority of Americans cannot afford the American made alternatives where they even exist. Perhaps a shift at McDonald's didn't teach him this, but it is obvious to me that the manufacturing capacity of the country itself is a fraction of what it once was- it's not that American goods are just being outcompeted in the global market AND in the domestic market, they often just don't exist at all, or are too expensive for most American consumers to consider purchasing (which they largely have to be, in order to support anything like a living wage for the workers who produce those goods because the person making your T shirt has to eat food).

If the end goal was actually just to make more stuff here, we could just pay people to manufacture here via financial incentives- carrots such as nearly free money. This would still not solve the math problem of the cost of making goods here, but it would mean more factories and workshops making shirts and boots and plates and such, and it would mean employment in those jobs. He could tax an incredibly small population of unimaginably wealthy people to fund it and even call it an "elites tax" if he wanted. He could run it through Congress and brag that it was bipartisan whether it needs to be (due to the makeup of the House) or not. And he could actually inject money, meaningfully and directly, into American manufacturing and its growth. And I genuinely think that would be great- even if it wouldn't solve high prices, it would mean new jobs and it's possible that prices could come down a bit on products if they became more widely purchased generally, and there are enough people interested and able to purchase American made to, I would guess, sustain real growth for those manufacturers.

But that would mean that Elon Musk and literally just 800 other people would be given a new tax burden, and we can't have that because it would squash innovation. Offshoring was an innovation, once. We just ended one of the longest periods of basically free money for them in my lifetime and have seen how much good that does for working people- none.

So no, instead let's give even more tax cuts to the corporations that intentionally decimated America's manufacturing capabilities so that they could pay almost nothing for labor and have almost no accountability for workplace conditions offshore. Thanks for offshoring the work that sustained whole communities and never got replaced in many places- here are some juicy tax cuts for you in return. It's actually a joke.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Ghostober - Day 2 [Phantom]

“Could you be happy here with me?” - 2k

CW: For some reason I used both Aeon and Phantom, sorry if that bothers you. Lil angsty, not proofread either (and it's late, oops)

⊹ Ghostober Masterlist ⊹

He wasn’t sure why today of all days he was feeling so sad. Phantom was normally bounding about and thrilled to bits if someone even said hi to him. He wasn’t summoned all that long ago and he was still figuring out the ropes. His pack was super helpful too. Swiss and Dewdrop opted to help him out the most, although he wasn’t quite sure why Mountain and Rain always looked so displeased.

He had just finished his first few shows with the band. They were all back at the Abbey for a couple days while they packed up, gathering all the things they’ll need before heading overseas for the North American leg of the tour. Aeon was super excited to see all the new people and explore new places and cultures. Ever since his summoning day he was like a sponge, soaking in every bit of information he could - both good and bad. 

Aether helped a lot with teaching Phantom the guitar before he was moved to full time work in the infirmary - a skill they were both surprised the young ghoul picked up extremely quick. Aether didn’t think they had made it to the end of the week before Phantom had mastered half the setlist, much to the excitement of Copia. 

Aeon was proving to be a very worthy summon, and an even more worthy replacement for the band. You never knew what kind of ghoul you were going to get out of a ritual. Sure you had a faint idea, since ghouls were drawn to the personality of those summoning them, but they could be quiet and shy like Rain, helpful and kind like Cumulus, or a huge pain in the ass like Swiss. On the best of days, it was a coin toss. 

On the day Copia called upon a Quintessence ghoul, he was just happy that he got a full quint. Unlike when Terzo tried to summon a replacement for Omega and ended up with Delta instead, who was half water, half quint. However, there were other factors at play that day of course.

Phantom had been in the den packing up his things, trying to make a mental note of what the others had said to bring. Everyone else was bounding about, laughing and playing like leaving the country wasn’t super scary. Of course it was no big deal to them, they had done this whole thing before. They were also quite a bit older than he was. He looked out to the common area and saw Swiss hanging upside down on the couch, messing with Aurora while Mountain made some muffins and Cirrus had Dew in a headlock - most likely for good reason.

Even Aurora was chilled out and relaxed. They were summoned together so she felt like a little sister to him, yet she fit into the pack dynamic so much faster than he did. Sometimes he wondered if he did fit in.

His thoughts were interrupted by Copia suddenly appearing at his side, nudging his shoulder, causing him to jump. When did he get here?

“What’s wrong, little one? The others have said you’ve not been yourself lately.” Copia says quietly, not wanting to embarrass the small quint.

Phantom just put on his normal goofy grin and wagged his tail. “Oh nothing! Nope! All good here, Papa. Just excited!”

Copia had been around enough ghouls to know when they were lying (although Alpha was always his weakness. That guy was way too good at hiding his true feelings; he almost felt bad for him, but that was his brother’s problem). Copia just wrapped an arm around the young ghouls shoulders and pulled him in for a supportive side hug.

“You have every right to be nervous. It is a long way from home, sì?”

Aeon hadn’t expected Copia to see through his facade, or at least not so quickly. He thought it was pretty good, it worked every time on the pack. “I was excited,” he admitted, his expression faltering as he looked at the ground, kicking his feet together. “I don’t know why it seems so scary now.”

Copia just nodded knowingly, guiding the quint to a quieter part of the den where they could talk in private.

“You can talk to me. Anything that I can do to help, you know I will do. Within reason of course.” Copia cracked a smile, hoping it would help him feel more comfortable to say what was on his mind. The last thing he wanted was his ghouls thinking they would be reprimanded for speaking about what’s bothering them. He made that vow the moment he stepped forward to take over the Ghost project.

“I know it’s only been a little while since being here, but Aurora has settled in so quickly and I feel like I’m falling behind.” He admitted quietly. “It feels like everyone is happy that she’s here, but I’m just some kit they can just push around because I don’t know anything. I want to learn, I want to know, Papa! I try to learn but the surface is so confusing.”

Copia runs a comforting hand along his back. “You are doing so well. I am so proud. I know they are proud too.” He motions towards where the rest of his pack were busy goofing around down the hall. “Aether was so proud of you too. He told me that you were his first choice for a replacement and that you would excel, and you have.”

“But I’m not him,” Aeon interjects. “I see it on stage, Papa. Dew always looks over to where Aeth used to be and sees me instead. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to get over that and I don’t know what to do. No matter how hard I try, how great I play, or how much I practice. He’ll never be happy.”

Copia just sighs. He knew exactly what Phantom was talking about. He had a long week of conversations with Dewdrop about the very same thing before the young quint was summoned. He had tried to get Dew to come to terms with the reasoning behind his actions, but he was having none of it. Eventually they had agreed that Dew would be amicable and act professionally towards Aeon, but that he never had to be his friend. For the meantime, that was acceptable for Copia. At least it would stop any fights or arguments while they kicked off the tour. 

However, he was realizing that the agreement may need amending now.

“Have you tried talking to Dewdrop about it? I can’t say I’ve noticed too much while on stage, but I don’t like getting involved in pack politics. I learnt long ago that it’s much better if we let you sort it out amongst yourselves, but I can step in if I must.”

Phantom just shook his head. “No I haven’t.”

“Would you like me to be there while you talk to him?” Copia offers. “I won’t step in, but I think it would be good for you two to get it off your chests before we leave tomorrow.”

Phantom twiddles his fingers in contemplation, his ear twitching as he tries to hear what’s going on down the hall. He liked to say he was an optimist, but somehow all he could think of is how this could go so wrong and ruin everything.

But Papa is here, he wouldn’t let anything happen. Would he? 

“I’m going to go get him, take a breath little one,” he affectionately ruffled the quint’s hair between the horns before he stood, almost certain that was his favourite spot. Copia would always see Cirrus and Mountain do it to him before rituals backstage, and Phantom’s tail happily starting to sway confirmed his suspicion. “I’ll be back.”

There weren't enough minutes between the time Copia left and came back with Dewdrop, who was already looking like he was being forced to the principal's office, to prepare little Aeon for the heavy conversation they were about to have. As soon as his violet eyes met Dew’s angry orange ones, he immediately wanted to cower and run away. There really was no other feeling like the one you get when your pack leader looks like he wants to tear you to pieces.

But he wasn’t going to run. He would do it for Papa. No more avoiding it.

On the other hand, he wanted to do it for himself too. To prove to Dew that he was worthy of this spot and he was worthy of being part of the pack in his own way.

The fire ghoul refused to sit, which was fine. As long as he didn’t walk out, that’s all Copia wanted. He had told Dew to just hear the kid out. 

“Okay, what? Speak.” Dew said sharply, arms crossed as he glared at Phantom.

“I know that you hate me–”

“Oh good–”

“Dewdrop.” Copia interrupted sternly, earning him a solid eye roll. “You can continue.”

Phantom took a shaky breath but squared his shoulders. “I know you miss Aether, I know you hate that I took his spot. I hate that I did too, but that was out of my control. I’m still learning how to be helpful up here. I’m still learning where I fit in… if I fit in anywhere.” He trailed off, trying not to cry in front of Dew or Papa. “What can I do to make this easier for you?”

Dewdrop would be lying if he said he expected that from the little bat. He wasn’t exactly sure what Copia had forced him into but this was certainly not what he was thinking. Maybe he had been a little blinded by his rage and took it too far. He was the pack leader now, it was his job to make sure everyone was looked after. And clearly he had failed.

He huffed before he answered, a little bit of smoke dancing under his nose, not wanting either of them to see that he was conflicted. “Just stop trying to be him. You will never be him. Just… be you.”

Phantom hung onto every word. He was ready to do whatever it took to make this right. “Do you think you could ever…. Be happy here? With me?”

Dew’s head tilted, contemplating what to say - something he wasn’t used to doing. “I suppose… if you started finding your own thing instead of stealing Aether’s - which you do horribly by the way- I could consider it.” He grumbled. “You have 2 months to figure it out before we get ba–”

Dew couldn’t finish his sentence before Phantom was engulfing him in the biggest hug he could muster, not even caring that the other could burn him pretty badly and stop him from coming on tour.

While Phantom had Dew in his embrace, subconsciously his Quintessence (which was unstable on the best of days) allowed Dew to see exactly how he felt. He could see every glare, every snide comment, every purposeful nudge on stage from Aeon’s point of view. Along with the heavy sense of guilt he carried that followed each and every interaction they had.

Had he really been that hard on the little guy?

“Well, I hope this means much more friendly interactions in the future, yes?” Copia smiled as Dew shoved him off, struggling to hide the small smile that forced its way through.

“You’re lucky he’s cute.” Dew mumbled, giving Copia the dirtiest look before ruffling the quint's hair as a sign of approval. In all honesty, he knew Phantom was coming long before Copia did. He had spoken to Aether about it weeks before. His only instruction he had was to look after him no matter what.

‘He’s young, he’s going to be lost and confused. Look after him for me.’

Dew would never admit it, but after talking with Aether, it was hard not to imagine Aeon like the son they never got to have.

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Sky/Prapai) 2/3

It took me much longer than expected to make it through the first two episodes of Sky x Prapai's arc in Love in the Air, but Prapai called Sky his boyfriend out of nowhere, so now I understand that he is Manifest Destiny-ing his way to love, and for the non-Americans, that's bad. Like real bad.

Let me be like Prapai and keep marching forward even though all the signs are telling me to stop.

In my first year of teaching, I was told I couldn't want the grade more the student did. I was reminded that some students don't want A's. Some students just want to pass the course, and that's fine. I need to take that approach with Prapai because he held Sky while he clung to him and cried for the nightmares to leave him in peace, yet in the morning, Prapai slings it back in Sky's face and makes it callously sexual. Clearly, Prapai doesn't want points for Slytherin. He does not want an A in decency. He does not want to pass "Go" on the board. Whatever he wants is between him and the demons he is fighting because obviously this ho does not want to be saved.

"Let me help you" - Look at that! As soon as you let men go, they wanna come back correct. Asking to help instead of forcibly inserting himself. Wow! So you are capable of not making everything aggressively sexual?

I'm watching you like a fucking hawk, Slytherin, which if you want to pass this course, you will note that hawks eat snakes, so basically I'm telling you I will devour you whole if you make another wrong move.

"That's all I ask," he says as he asks for EVERYTHING. "I will not restrain myself next time." "You cannot escape me." "Has he blocked this number?" Sky, babe, hon, bestie, rob this fucking man in his sleep. Take the watch off his wrist, the money from his wallet, and the audacity out of his mouth. These are the queer wrongs I'm trying to support this month.

"You should be spanked" - So 🙃 . . . IGNORING THAT! As a lifelong member and advisor of Greek life (fraternities and sororities are different for BIPOC), every time I see these university rituals, I always wonder what is the equivalent of a compliance officer in other countries because This. Is. Hazing.

And now Payu and Prapai are just hanging out at university activities like THEY DON'T GOT JOBS! Payu has a room in a garage, a room at his house with a toy car collection, and a terrified mechanic hiding under cars, so the man has got bills. Prapai has companies (plural) to run, and an overworked and rightfully annoyed (always in red) secretary holding down the fort, yet he is on a little vacay. Women in GLs - big bosses and screwing at work on company time. Men in BLs - FORGETTING THEY HAVE JOBS!

*Regina George has entered the chat* So you agree? You think you're a bad guy to Sky?

Every time Payu or Prapai mentions getting a reward (for not assaulting the boy they are chasing after especially when that boy is in a vulnerable position), I think of the conversation between Uea and King in episode five (part one) of Bed Friend when King asked for a reward and Uea said "The fuck you just say? Get outta here with that noise" then he left. Uea would eat these men alive.

The thinnest of ice, Prapai. I can see the freezing water rushing underneath. That's how thin the ice is that you are on, sir.

Because Prapai is confessing to sleeping with three other people since he began stalking Sky (no shame, as one slut to another, I'm actually very proud he admitted to it), can we get a STI test? We got condoms, so miracles can happen.

*squints* Is that a heart on your chest, Sky? No, I'm not angry. No, you're not in trouble. No, you're perfect. I'm just working through my own stuff, so I'm gonna need a minute to process this.

If you wanna live that chismosa life, you gotta be aware of your surroundings. Amateur.

Yeah yeah yeah, the wind needs the windmill or whatever dumb shit Dangerous Romance said. Now go make the lapel pin of it, and GET BACK TO WORK! This reeks of nepotism because there is no other way you would still have a job.

Prapai calls Sky by his name, no honorifics. Prapai sleeps on the floor. Prapai asks his mom for advice on how to care for someone. *squints* This is sus af.

And now he is swerving advances and doing his job. *squints even harder* Are you actually trying to pass this course now?

I, too, would be sad if rope was spewing out of my shirt like that.

Prapai just swindled a key to Sky's apartment without asking Sky for it. WHY DON'T YOU WANT TO FUCKING PASS THIS COURSE?! I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR ASS AGAIN NEXT SEMESTER!

I play with my ears when I get tired, so now I feel even more connected to you Sky, and PRAPAI IS KISSING YOU?! NOOOOO! STOP!!!!! HE'S TIRED! LEAVE MY BOY ALONE!

"I can't guarantee your safety if I stay" - It was a fake out, and I have lost years off my life because of this show. YEARS!

The first step is admitting you have a problem are the problem. *growth*

I'm not going to question the aerodynamics of riding with that project on a bike, but I will state that Prapai is the prefect example of the MAME Extremes I wrote about in the previous post because when he is good, he is really fucking good, but when he is bad, he is The Worst™ so can't we just find an in-between?

Don't you go pointing your scrawny finger at my boy like that! You're lucky he even still speaks to you. Shut up, five! A ten is thinking!

Prapai spending all his money on Sky. Prapai deleting all the numbers from his phone. Prapai getting the lapel pin. Prapai cleaning Sky's apartment. Prapai being honest about wanting Sky without being aggressive or crass. *squints so hard my head hurts* This is how Joe must feel with Ming in My Stand-In because I want to trust your ass, but my God, do you make it so fucking hard. I'm begging you to not screw up after this. PLEASE!

I've seen this scene eighty different ways from my dash, but hearing Sky tell Prapai to get bored with him quickly so he can move on while internally begging for Prapai not to get bored knowing what I know about his ex . . . it is salt in the wounds, poison in the wells, and the phone call from within the house. It is painful, deadly, and terrifying.

Prapai listening tentatively as Sky finally tells him what he actually likes to eat. Prapai responding with little tidbits he has learned about Sky along the way. Prapai giving shoulder kisses. Prapai asking about the ex. To quote RuPaul, "don't fuck it up"

Sig is the realest of all these boys, and I would give him the softest ear bites, the best thigh kisses, and the most amazing blowjob because that's what he deserves!

Prapai - Claim me. Own me. Mark me!

Sky - Gross.

While all of Payu's after scenes only made him look worse as he embraced the Manipulate-Mansplain-Malewife way into Rain's heart, all of Prapai's scenes make him seem like the biggest simp, and I am, once again, pleading for balance!

So now on to the next episo - - -

Wait a minute . . . I know this scene

This is where Sky gets in his head and distances himself, so Prapai breaks in and reads the journal. Oh no. Oh no no no.

*lays face first in a field of lavender*

I need liquor, ice, and a blender. They are all needed for different reasons. No, I will not elaborate.