#the wise men parade

[thereisnoafter]

7:46 am. Ready for the Three Kings parade. 😄

7:46 am. Listos para ver la cabalgata de los Reyes Magos

[useless-catalanfacts]

Bona Nit de Reis! Happy Three Wise Men Night!

Tonight (January 5th), the Three Wise Men will be arriving to every town and city. Their arrival is celebrated with a parade where children go to greet them. Tonight, children must go to sleep early, after leaving some sweets and drink for the Three Wise Men and their camels. When they wake up tomorrow, they'll find the presents that the Three Wise Men left for them.

Photo: arrival of the Three Wise Men in Alcoi, central Valencian Country. Photo by Comunitat Valenciana.

[harmonysanreads]

Thinking about being shared between Yandere!Dr Ratio and Yandere!Aventurine.

But instead of being locked up in one room, they let you roam free—or at least, as free as two of the most overbearing men will deem fit. These two have no disagreement in terms of their intentions concerning you and can communicate almost seamlessly in this regard. Be not mistaken though, neither of them are particularly fond of this arrangement, but they'd much rather shake hands on the fact that their cooperation will be mutually beneficial instead of partaking in pointless feuds.

And their theory on this is quite credible ; Aventurine is more spontaneous and inconsistent with his affections while Ratio is more grounded. Albeit, Aventurine's job contributes to this, being out on missions and tasks when the IPC demands it. As such, when he does have you all to himself, his pent up frustrations and adoration rain down all at once. He's the most susceptible to your whims, just mention the name and he'll present it to you through any means. Never forget to thank him with a kiss or something similar within the first hour though, does he not deserve it?

Consequently, you end up spending most of your time with Ratio. He prefers to keep you in his vicinity at any given moment, though hardly do you end up conversing about menial topics. If his work involves sitting down for a prolonged time, it is a rule that you must perch atop his lap and remain still. If he's heading to a bath, you must accompany him, regardless of which hour of the night it is.

You're either seen silently sitting by the side in Ratio's lectures, serving as damage control if his temper has been tested beyond limit ; or, hanging by Aventurine's arm as he flaunts you as his ‘lucky charm’ in casinos and parades you around in shopping malls.

You are not a mediator in their arguments, for you do not match their heights in intellectual factors. You do not have the final say in your cuisine or clothing if you're going out with them, though they might ask for your opinion once-in-a-blue-moon. You're constantly tossed back and forth, but you're not allowed to have a favorite, even if they may entertain the idea in playful moods. Behind one another's back, they slyly lure you to vent about how suffocatingly the other has treated you. You'd be wise to understand that it is nothing but a trap.

It's not so bad, if you have no problem being treated as a pampered pet more than a human being with autonomous thoughts, that is.

tldr: the crack image i have of this au is reader sitting very still while ratio tries to make a sculpture of them and aventurine showering money on them to piss off ratio

[cinnamonest]

//slutshaming

Thinking a boy with a horrid case of retroactive jealousy, especially with a slut!darling… this obsessive boy who can’t stand the thought of knowing you’ve been with other men, let alone many.

Really, most men just don't think about those things, they know it's better they don't know. But he’s neurotic about it. He can’t just push the thought away. He has to know. Know exactly how many boyfriends you’ve had, how many hookups you had, every act you’ve done. It’s horrifically embarrassing, having to recall, having to talk about it, the words you have to use.

You’ve been in this man’s captivity long enough that your instinct is to placate him, to avoid upsetting him… yet in this situation, there’s no good way out. If you’re honest… well, you don’t want to think about that. You know you’ve been around the block, so to speak. But you know you can’t lie to him — he’s been through your phone, he saw the outfits you paraded yourself around in back when he watched you from a distance (it’s what caught his attention in the first place), he knows it’s got to be a lot.

You try and placate him with avoidance, tell him it doesn’t matter right? You’re with him now, you try to sputter out, and you’ve forgotten about it all anyway and the past doesn't change—

—and then he puts his hand around your throat before you can finish.

Tell me.

He asks too many questions. You try and say as little as possible, but he presses you until you say everything, keeping your eyes to the floor the whole time. You have to recall a chronological series of events of your life, every encounter, every guy, every act you’ve done.

Did you ever sleep with a guy within twenty-four hours of knowing him? Taken it in your throat, your ass, between your tits? Let some guy cum inside you? Been choked? He’s really focused on those details. Have you ever done this, or that, or done it in this position or that, or done it this way or that. Which, for his beloved darling, the answer is usually yes.

It irritates him that he can’t be the first of anything. You just had to go be a whore when he was eventually destined to come along and love you. How could you do this to him? You had to know you’d have a real lover eventually. Didn’t you consider his feelings at all?

The only thing that can make him feel better — what you owe him, for what you’ve done — is to have him override all those memories with himself.

He has to replicate everything.

You’re not sure what the logic is exactly, but it’s cathartic for him, and you know that the wise move is to comply, not wanting to further upset this crazed man that keeps you trapped in his home. You have to prove that you love him, is what he says.

So he treats it like a checklist. Every position and every act, barring the circumstantial pieces he'd have to take you outside the home for. And you know what, you're probably still not telling him everything — dumb little slut — so he'll just have to do every single thing he can think of, over and over and over. Each and every day.

You'll get a lot of variance in your sex life, at least. Bent over every surface, in every position he can think of. Treating you like a little ragdoll to play with and contort into any position. Treating your ass and throat as interchangeable with your pussy on command (you love him don't you? Then you won't mind), squeezing your body so tightly you can't breathe. Keeping his cock inside you at every opportunity for as long as he can even after he cums.

If he can't be the first, he'll just have to be the most. Do it more than you've ever done with anyone, harder than you've ever had it, deeper, faster, more brutally, more degrading and humiliating, carving his significance into you in the only way left available — the only way you left available to him.

Yes, it's your fault. He wouldn't have to be so rough if he was the only one. He only has to make it hurt because of you. This is the only way that he can be certain that he matters more than anyone, be sure that he occupies your every thought and that you can't think of any kind of sex without thinking of him first — and if you really love him like you say you do, surely you'll understand. Maybe even apologize for not taking him into consideration. That would be nice.

But of course, those guys wronged him too. That's why, if you love him, you'll tell him their names.

What? Why, you ask? That shouldn't matter. You don't still care about him, do you…? You're not such a little whore that you’re thinking about someone else that way, are you? No? Then you won't care why, you'll answer and be happy you have someone to care about you so much.

[deantfwinchester]

Love Me Right

Part 1: Henrietta’s

Pairing: ConstructionCEO!Joel x Waitress!Reader

She's eventually gonna be a teacher again bc let's be real, i'm a one-trick pony.

This is a Millionaire Joel AU x Most Eligible Bachelor Trope

Summary: Joel Miller, CEO and Co-Founder of Miller Construction, hasn't been dealing with an Empty Nest very well. His family and friends have tried their best to cheer him up since Sarah left for college in the fall, but the storm cloud above his head remains. On top of that (or perhaps because of it), he has just been named one of Austin's Most Eligible Bachelors.

What will that mean for the new-in-town waitress he meets in his favorite diner? As far as she knows, he's just an average contractor.

Warnings: age gap (reader late 20s, Joel late 40s); family-centered trauma and conflict; lethal levels of fluff otw

A/N: Bear with me for this one y'all. My imagination is ambitious and my brain is obstinate. Title inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s Short ‘n Sweet - bc i can’t stop fckn listening to Juno 🫣

Word Count: 4.6k

_______________________________________________

“Tommy, there ain’t a chance in hell that’s gonna happen. Why on earth did you bring this to me?”

“Well they talked to Joanna at the front desk first. She said wasn’t going to bring it up to you, but I couldn’t just let it slide,” Tommy raises his eyebrows at Joel, shooting him a mischievous look. “Because one - I wasn’t gonna pass up the chance to see this look on your face, and two - would a little publicity be so bad?”

“Who in their right mind is gonna choose a fuckin contractor from the goddamn ‘society pages’?” Joel bristles at his brother’s amusement with an unwavering scowl.

Tommy stares right back, but the playful nature of his expression is unmarred. “Most men won’t Joel - but their wives will.” Tommy’s salacious grin is damn near wider than Joel’s ever seen. Christ, he’s loving this.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Joel says plainly, rolling his eyes.

“Come on brother, think about it - plenty of busy men in this city with bored housewives in need of a project. He tosses her a few thousand to redo the dining room - well who’s gonna do the job? She hasn’t got a clue where to begin and then BOOM! She sees the list of Austin’s Most Eligible Bachelors in the paper - where she finds a photo of the distinguished CEO and senior founder of Miller Construction—”

“Senior, seriously?,” Joel deadpans at him. Tommy ignores him, continuing to wax poetic.

“And can’t help but wonder if the rest of his staff is as dashing as he appears to be,”

“Flattery’s cheap Tommy.”

“Of course then she meets with me and the deal is sealed.” Tommy smiles smugly now that his story is complete.

“Boy can you paint a picture,” responds Joel, rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics. “So you wanna parade me around like a two-bit hooker, huh?

“Whaddya say — can I give ‘em a call?”

“If you’re so hell-bent on ‘marketing’ why don’t you do it?” Joel says flippantly.

“Well I’m not a bachelor anymore, am I?,” he grins brightly at him. This time, it’s sincere.

“Don’t break your arm pattin' yourself on the back, Tommy. Maria mighta said yes, but there ain’t a ring on your finger yet. She’s still got a few months to wise up,” Joel challenges, his tone playful.

Tommy glares at him, but then gives a sobered nod. “You’re right about that. I know I’m a lucky fucker, and I’m not interested in testing that luck - even for a charity auction. Sorry to the dogs, or the food bank or — is it old people?”

“Hell bent on it, and don’t even know what it’s for? Christ - it’s a Make-A-Wish thing Tommy, damn,” Joel replies, looking bewildered at his brother’s callous and cavalier response.

“And isn’t your attention and concern for the bigger picture just what they need in volunteers?” Tommy retorts, expression still smug but eyes hopeful. “What, ‘s it gonna kill you to go out for once? It’ll be a formality at worst and maybe even a good time if you loosen up a bit.”

“I can think of a number of other ‘worsts’ than a formality,” Joel muses

“You’re gentleman enough to handle it just fine,” Tommy continues.

It has been quite a while since Joel’s been out of his house for much other than work or routine, and even longer since he’s been out with anyone other than Tommy, Maria, and the guys from work here and there. He’ll admit, he hasn’t been dealing with an empty nest very well. He’s done a pretty terrible job of keeping busy since he dropped Sarah off at school back in the fall. She’d gotten in exactly where she’d hoped, and made friends fast - for this he was over the moon - but he misses her like crazy. He’s been swimming back and forth in swelling pride and stabbing grief since September, ecstatic and aching all at once. He knew Tommy’s intentions were relatively pure, business interest aside. He knows they’ve been worried about him for a couple of months now - they haven’t exactly been subtle — they’d started having him over for dinner damn near once a week.

This newfound hobby of Tommy’s, cooking like a grown-up, had become the ruse en vogue for getting Joel out of his house. As Maria’s caseload grew at the law firm, Tommy wanted to make sure she had a real meal to eat when she finally got home — so he started cooking. Joel had to admit it was real sweet, watching his brother dive headfirst into learning a new skill just to take care of his bride-to-be. He claimed it only made sense with his far more flexible schedule, but Joel knew it made Tommy proud to be able to do this for her, and the very fact he wanted to made Joel proud as well.

Once Sarah left for school, however, Tommy quickly discovered his brother’s less-than-satisfactory habits of microwave dinners or forgetting to eat in general. He was a fair chef in his own right once upon a time, but without his little girl there to feed, bothering to make a balanced meal fell by the wayside. Joanna, a kindly woman in her seventies, had been one of the first to notice the change in Joel’s demeanor and the drawn nature of his features. Not much younger than the boys’ mother would be today, Joanna worked at the front desk of Miller Construction, greeting clients with a maternal warmth that, Tommy had to admit, was in part strategic. Disarm a client while they wait with a smile and you’d be able to pry open their hearts and their pockets.

Joanna was not unaware of the role she played in this game, though she did not approve. She’d informed Tommy of her concern for Joel, and the regular dinner invitations followed suit. This, accompanied with Joanna’s tugging Joel along to a nearby diner for lunch a couple of times a week in November had practically pulled Joel through the fall slump and into the new year. The holiday visits home from Sarah had helped a great deal, as well.

Joel wasn’t blind to his friends and family’s kahoots to help him through this patch. Though he sometimes grudgingly obliged to Joanna’s pestering him out the door because she hadn’t “seen you eat a bite all day. Four cups of black coffee don’t count, and you know it. Up!,” or Tommy’s employing Maria to send a text herself inviting him to dinner after he’d tried and simply received the finger, he was grateful for their efforts and care. Sarah was too, but he didn’t need to know that. Those lunchtime diner visits soon turned into breakfasts — a preemptive measure on Joanna’s part to add some time out in public to Joel’s routine of home — office — work site — home. Eventually she’d pavolv-ed him into it, and Joel was at the diner for coffee, breakfast, and one of the only physical newspapers left in existence every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at first following behind Joanna and eventually on his own.

Joanna had been with the Miller brothers since the business was far smaller, just a few years after its inception, when they started needing a receptionist/secretary/assistant, just someone who knew how to manage their slowly growing demand. She’d been a friend of their mother’s and had taken up some of the slack when she’d passed, grieving alongside her friend’s sons and looking after them in her wake. She’d been one of the only reasons Joel and Tommy had been able to build the tiny Miller Bros. into its current position as Miller Construction, multi-million-dollar contracting firm, and the largest in the Austin Metro area. Joel’s practical thinking and creativity combined with Tommy’s ambition and idealistic hopes of grandeur got them into successful meetings with investors that Joanna quietly set up via her husband’s business contacts. Their vision reminded her so much of their mother’s optimism she couldn’t help herself. She’d keep an eye on Sarah when Joel needed and ensured they were taken care of in the moments they would have needed their mother around.

As the boys’ surrogate mother figure and Sarah’s Aunt Jo, it came as no surprise that amid Joel’s season of empty-nested loneliness Joanna had begun encouraging him to “get back out there” and claimed that she “won’t be around forever” and “would like to see him settled before I go.” Classic maternal guilt-tripping, and Joel told her each time that he hears 70 is the new 50. She told him to try that again in a few years when he hits the real 50.

Truth of the matter was, Joel had been alone for a long time. He’d seen people on and off while Sarah was growing up, but it was a rare occasion, and no fling had ever lasted more than a couple of months. With Sarah at home, it never mattered much to Joel — he had someone to care for who was the best company he’d ever had right in front of him. She’d needed him a little less as she’d grown up, but he always had a purpose.

Joel was a natural-born caretaker — between brotherhood and fatherhood, he took to it like a tadpole to water. With Sarah away at school and his little brother engaged, however, he couldn’t figure out where to put all that love, and so it crackled into grief like a blackening candle wick, blooming into a flower of ash that nestled in his chest. The cloud of soot hovered around him for a while as he went through the motions of his everyday. Tommy, Maria, and Joanna all wanted to see him find his way again, as did Sarah when she received honest reports from her family members after some prodding. He always put on his biggest smile for her, never wanting her to worry, but she could see something hurting in his eyes, just below the surface.

While it may have been blatantly out of his comfort zone, Tommy and Joanna jumped at the opportunity to convince Joel when the Most Eligible Bachelors’ Auction came knocking. He needed something to disrupt his routine, with the added bonus of his coming out into the social scene like a plaid-clad debutante with a few extra crow’s feet.

After rolling the last few months’ events around in his mind for a couple of minutes while Tommy answers a phone call, Joel is broken from his reverie. Tommy’s standing in front of him again, waving a hand back and forth.

“Hey ground control - you with me?,” he asks before Joel’s eyes focus on him once again. “Can I give em a call?,” and this time Joel notices the concern in Tommy’s eyes as his joking facade flickers with hope. It’s more than just publicity, and he owes it to them to give it a shot.

Joel releases a measured sigh, relenting. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but sure, fuck it. Call ‘em back,” he says rolling his eyes, resigning himself to whatever nonsense his participation will entail. He reminds himself it’s for charity, and returns to his computer, refocusing on his work as Tommy darts out of his office to return to his own, reporting his success to Joanna along the way.

_______________________________________________

You got lucky with this job at Henrietta’s, with its flexible hours and fairly livable wage, you had time to settle into your new place and get to know the city. You spend your off days wandering around, doing research on local schools and prepping your applications for summer school and the new year.

Never had you pictured yourself leaving students mid-year, and having to do it hurt like hell. You missed the kids you left behind every day, but when a friend caught wind of an acquaintance needing a subletter for a little studio within your price range, you didn’t have much of a choice. You needed to take up the lease starting in January, or you’d be starting over at square one. It had been a long time coming, this encroaching need to run and start over somewhere new. Staying in your hometown was no longer an option — work may have been a saving grace, but the other areas of your life were suffering. You knew healing couldn’t begin without separation. You needed to be far away from everything — it was the only way you could picture trying to feel whole again. Grad school had ended the previous year, so you fled.

With each mile you put between you and your family, you started to feel like your lungs could fully inflate once again. The oppressive air of scrutiny and memory that swam around you at home dropped off piece by piece with each passing mile marker. You’d put a few states between yourself and your parents once it was all said and done, and while it was scary, starting from scratch all over again, it was invigorating. You’d done it at eighteen when you left for college, you could damn well do it again with eight years’ more life experience under your belt.

You’d walked into the diner on your second day in the city. You had some money saved up from time living at home, but knew it would dwindle quickly with rent to pay and no salary coming in on the regular. You would need something to keep busy and pay for necessities until the end of the spring semester. When Diane, the manager caught sight of you, bright-eyed and looking like a deer in headlights, she welcomed you with a warmth you’d only read about in books. She interviewed you then and there and offered you a job on the spot, waiting tables on the breakfast and lunch shifts at least four days a week. She told you your “sweet smile and wide-eyed look will do wonders for you in tips, precious!” You think it’s probably just teacher face you can’t shake, and hope she’s right — maybe it could do you some favors until you get back in the classroom where you belong.

Diane’s rounded face was accentuated with wonderfully deep crow’s feet and smile lines that suggested a lifetime of sharing this warmth, and her dark hair streaked with gray around her hairline and temples rested atop her head in a frazzled bun. She made you comfortable out the gate, and had set you up with a uniform immediately. More aptly, she handed you a t-shirt and an apron to go over your leggings. You were thankful for the relaxed dress code, knowing plenty of other establishments required a much more specific ensemble. Once you’d changed she introduced you to your shift lead, Reggie, and the line-cook-on-duty, Tony, patting you comfortingly on the shoulder and insisting they welcome you, hoping to keep you around to solve their persistent staffing issue.

While Diane was quite a bit older than you, somewhere in her mid-fifties, Reggie and Tony were younger, floating between mid-thirties and early forties, if you had to guess. Reggie was a slim black man you’d put in his thirties, and he greeted you with a smile and an exclamation that he was more than ready to gossip ad nauseum with someone so much closer to his age. He’d been the one to fill you in on Diane’s immediate taking to you, letting you know with little ambiguity that you were just a few years younger than Diane’s daughter, who had moved out of the city about a year ago, and that you favored her to boot. Reggie had called this particular gossip session your orientation.

“Don’t get me wrong honey, Diane’s a sweetheart. But never have I seen her offer a position on the spot. I think having you here may do her some good,” he’d said, before turning to fill you in on Tony the line cook. “Yeah Tony’s hot, but he chain smokes like a chimney and doesn’t care at all when I ask him to keep his second hand smoke to himself on the days I have a performance!,” he shouted pointedly at Tony, who only looked up long enough to give Reggie the finger and wink at you. Tony was a muscular Italian guy in his forties with tattoos of a sort that didn’t quite match up with the gold chain and cross pendant hanging around his neck. When your eyes went wide at the wink, Reggie giggled a bit and leaned toward you. “Don’t worry, Tony’s a little sleazy but harmless. He’ll hit on anything in a skirt, but as soon as you tell him you aren’t interested he’ll back off and won’t bring it up again. He’s a good guy, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Over the course of your shift you discovered that Diane’s been at Henrietta’s for fifteen years, Reggie is a drag queen and lounge singer by the name of Wizz Tiria at a few different clubs around town, and Tony has a few other business ventures he mentions on and off (the details of which he keeps to himself), but never misses taking his Mom to church on Sundays. You share a good bit about yourself as well in exchange — what brought you to Austin, why now, and where you may go from here. It doesn’t take long for you to make yourself at home among this eclectic little bunch, and for the first time in a really, really long time, you’re content with the peaceful monotony of these early winter days.

_______________________________________________

It’s a brisk February morning when you walk into the diner for your shift. You’ve spent the last month working in the cozy little greasy spoon, so you’re still getting to know the regulars, but you’ve caught on pretty quick. You’ve been working the Tuesday, Thursday, and weekend shifts, but when Diane loses another server, you’re eager to pick up the slack — extra pocket change and keep your mind busy. The company’s pretty good too. Thus, you find yourself walking into the diner at 7 AM on a Wednesday morning with a hoodie over your t-shirt and a scarf to ward off more of the wind cutting into your cheeks. You head to the staff room to remove your hoodie and don your apron and emerge, finding the diner a bit colder than it had been up to this point. You’d kept a light jacket or a cardigan on you previously, but today’s need for something heavier led you to selecting a favorite hoodie to throw over your work t-shirt — which you didn’t quite think through until you came into the dining room and felt a chil run up your spine. Diane catches sight of you before you can still yourself.

“Sweetie, what on earth fo you think you’re doing?,” she asks like you’ve done something obviously egregious.

“Huh? What is it?,” you ask innocently, but you know the answer. She can probably see the goosebumps you feel rising on your arms.

“You need somethin’ on under that, you’re gonna freeze in here today!,” she chastises.

“Yeah, I brought my hoodie, but forgot I’d be taking it off. It’s not so bad in here, I’ll be alright,’ you tell her reassuringly.

“Absolutely not. Wait, hold on a second - REGGIE! We got any more o’ those long sleeve souvenir shirts in the case?!” she hollers after him.

“Hold awn!,” he hollers back, Southern twang taking center stage when he yells, just like the rest of them. After a few seconds he emerges with a few in hand. “Got a few left. Ugly as hell, probably why they’re still here. Watcha need ‘em for?”

“Sweetie, go on and change into that before the rush starts. Not the staff shirt, but the branding’ll be fine in case Jason drops by,” she says, rolling her eyes. She pats you on the shoulder, nudging you toward Reggie to take one of the shirts. They’re bright green with a gaudy design on them that makes you laugh when he hands it to you. Jason’s the owner of Henrietta’s, and so you’ve heard, the bane of Diane’s existence. You’ve only heard tale of this rotten Jason thus far, never quite laying eyes on the mythical beast. You really hope today in this goofy shirt isn’t the day you do.

You return to the dining room a few minutes later clad in the neon green monstrosity, tugging at it in a futile effort to make it look better. “Happy now, Diane?!,” you holler as you enter, only to find her standing directly in front of you at the hostess stand, face to face with a man you’d never seen in here before — who you almost run right into, not looking where you’re going. He’s tall and broad with dark brown curls laced with grey streaks, and gray patches in the short beard that frames his jaw. He catches you when you nearly bump right into him, and you look up to meet the deepest brown eyes you’ve ever encountered. Your cheeks go red when you realize what you’ve done.

“Whoa there,” he says, smiling down at you as you stutter out an apology. “It’s alright, no harm done,” he responds, voice gentle but deep. It’s true, he didn’t even budge when he caught you, and you’re fairly certain if you’d fallen, the outcome would’ve been the same.

“Sorry about that Joel. C’mon, your table’s ready,” she says, patting Joel’s arm and leading him forward, not before turning back to you and saying, “Certainly am. Now go grab some coffee for Table 7 for me, will ya sweetie?” with a smile. You’d just run almost smack into a customer, and she wasn’t upset with you or anything. You shouldn’t be surprised, that’s just Diane, but you’re used to much larger reactions to small mistakes. You just nodded and breathed a sigh of relief, but your eyes are drawn once again to the man she’s leading away. He’s looking back at you with a smile that sends a shiver down your spine, one you’re certain has nothing to do with the chill in the air this time. He’s wearing a plaid button-down and a utility jacket, with cheeks and a nose tinged pink from the cold. You tear your eyes away anxiously and head for the coffee pot.

You’ve got your hand around the decaf pot, pouring another cup for the regular at the bar counter, when your eyes find Table 7, your next destination. You see the man, Joel, Diane had called him, with his back to you, facing out the window, newspaper in hand. You steel yourself once again, switch coffee pots, and head for his table.

You approach from the side, hoping not to spook him as he’s engrossed in the paper he has in hand. Christ, when was the last time you saw a physical newspaper? It’s kinda cute, you think, seeing someone reading one on a cold morning with a cup of coffee. So picturesque. Especially someone as handsome as he is, and you find yourself staring at his broad shoulders and dark curls again before he looks up from his reading.

“Hey,” you start, a little shaky, “sorry again, about before. Don’t know what I was doing, not looking where I was going,” you smile a little, shaking your head at your mishap.

“Really, it’s fine. You seemed, uh, preoccupied,” he says, looking down at the offending design on the tshirt you’re wearing, before looking back up at you. “It’s certainly a change from the regular uniform, huh?” he says, smiling at you. The way his eyes crinkle as he does plants a warmth in your chest you aren’t expecting. It’s been so long since you felt it, it’s almost unfamiliar. Your cheeks warm as you smile back at him, hoping it comes off as embarrassment from your wardrobe rather than bashful attraction. You’re about to tell him it’s certainly not a permanent solution, when he speaks again. “So, Sweetie, huh? Haven’t seen you around before — that what they call you in here?” he questions, smirk playing at his lips.

You laugh in response and introduce yourself, and tell him this isn’t your normal shift, but you’ll probably be around for it moving forward. You take his breakfast order, and tell him you’ll let him get back to his paper.

You don’t converse much more when you bring Joel his breakfast, just quiet thanks when you refill his coffee cup. He looks so peaceful, you almost hate to interrupt each time. You ask Reggie about him when you both have a minute behind the counter.

“Yep, that’s Joel. Gorgeous, isn’t he? Started coming in a few months back with an older lady, then more regularly by himself. She’s with him once in a while, kinda seems like a mom vibe, but she doesn’t look like him. Anyway, I think he works construction or something, always coming in with those boots on looking like a lumberjack,” Reggie says flippantly. “Heard from the older lady one day when he was in the bathroom — his daughter went to college back in the fall, they’ve been trying to get him out ever since,” he said, looking sympathetic at the thought.

You feel your heart do a little squeeze at this newfound tidbit. A fresh empty nester. You know how hard it’s been for Diane, so much she’s taken to parenting the staff in her daughter’s stead. Staring at Joel’s back as his head is bowed reading the paper, you begin wondering more and more about him. His daughter’s probably around eighteen, so how old is he? You’d guess he isn’t married, and you didn’t see a ring. Who is he? Why does he come here to read his paper each day? And most importantly — how soon can you find out the answers to these questions? You don’t want to ambush him at all and scare him off, but you’re drawn to him, and so very curious.

Meanwhile, Joel is stealing glances at your reflection in the diner window in front of him, watching you laugh with Reggie and the customers at the bar, smiling sweetly when someone makes a request of you. He needs to get out of there before he starts feeling creepy, he thinks. He rises and walks to the counter to settle his bill with Reggie at the cash register, glancing at you when he does so, futilely trying to balance showing interest and being weird. He leaves a nice tip in the jar for all of you to share, but just before he turns to go, he looks back at you, locking eyes.

“Oh uh, Sweetie?,” he says, smirk on his face. He looks almost bashful when he speaks next, like he’s working up the courage. “Glad you’re picking up. Look forward to seein’ you again,” he smiles. The look on his face when he says it is so sincere, you could melt on the spot. He was nervous about his joke, you could tell, but recovered when you laughed in reply.

“Looking forward to it too, Joel. Enjoy your day,” you say, smiling wide in return. He gives a little wave to everyone before grinnig down at his shoes and walking out of the diner into the crisp February air. Your eyes follow him out to the pick-up he hops into, before looking back over to Reggie and Tony, staring at you devilishly.

“And I’m looking forward to seeing this story unravel,” says Reggie, looking over at Tony and grinning, like something juicy has just unfolded before their eyes. The two are laughing while you smile and wave them off, wiping down the counter. Diane emerges from the office at the sound of their hearty laughter, reading glasses slipping down her nose, notepad in hand, and stares back at the three of you.

“What’d I miss?!,” she asks. You’re smiling too much to respond with anything genuine, so you return to your wiping, and let Reggie take the lead.

[beautiful-basque-country]

Kaixo ~ I’m curious what are holidays or dates that see important to Basque people?

Kaixo anon! Thanks for your ask 😊 I guess there are more local festivities or special days for other people, but I guess these are the most general ones:

St Thomas' fair: a very important date for Basque people since today is the day when winter officially starts - some people think this fair was originally dedicated to the solstice - and also the Christmas holidays: children have their last day of school until January and it’s a day of general celebration. A very big market is set so people can buy their ingredients for the Xmas Eve dinner, and the most traditional thing to do is to eat talo- a toasted cornmeal flatbread - with chorizo or txistorra, a Basque speciality similar to the former, but thinner and juicier. Of course you have to help that food go down with cider or txakoli, our traditional white wine. It's always CROWDED:

Xmas celebrations: more or less like in any West European city tbh, but here we have two parades for the kids. The one of Olentzero (our very own xmas gifts bringer) on Xmas Eve:

and then on January 5th, the parade of the Three Wise men, that's also celebrated by more Iberian nations:

And last but certainly not least, the summer festivities in the capitals: starting with Sanfermines in early July

.. then the festivities in Baiona in mid-July...

... moving on to Maria Zuria celebrations in Gasteiz in early August...

Aste Nagusi in Donostia mid-August...

... and Aste Nagusi in Bilbo to finish the month...

For me they're the Holy Trinity of the special days for most Basque people. Of course there are more local special days and more events that gather many like regattas, 1st Monday of Gernika, Ordizia Cheese Championship, Korrika, several races, Chocolate day in Baiona, Lanterns Parade in Gasteiz, etc.

But these ones mentioned are the biggest ones.

[itsguysnightitsironic]

Cavalcade of Magi (the magic idiots, put the seatbelts on!)

Bona Cavalgada dels Reis Mags (or Three Wise Men Parade) and I think Santa Claus? Is Santa coming tonight?

Look, there are three rich men outside who will throw candy to the people and give gifts while they follow a shiny star, I NEED THAT CANDY.

[coffeebooksrain18]

It's probably an unpopular opinion but i'm glad Aemond killed Rhaenys. I remember everyone crying about it when the episode came out and i was one of the few people cheering lol. It's a great moment for TG (ignoring what happens to Aegon) and it establishes Aemond as a powerful and smart dragonrider. Sad about poor Meleys though😞Tbh i don't even have anything deeply personal against Rhaenys, and Eve Best definitely has sth to do with that because she has a great screen presence. But i do think that it's lowkey weird how she still chooses to support Rhaenyra after she gets her son killed (which ofc they changed to make Rhaenyra look good). Not to mention how she keeps parading her bastards around as legitimate heirs, which 100% shames House Velaryon since EVERYONE can tell they're not Laenor's children. Overall, it just looks like Rhaenys didn't really think too deep about the consequences of supporting Rhaenyra because in a way she was trying to get justice for herself after being passed over as heir which i kinda get. Although it's also very hypocritical of her (and the fans) to straight up not care about killing hell knows how many innocent civilians when leaving KL because ''she had to'' or because she's ''one of the good guys''

I personally didn't cheer nor cry, well I cried a bit but only for Meleys. I'm pretty indifferent to Rhaenys, she's a wise character but they seem to always down play that so she can kiss the ground Rhaenyra walks on like everyone else.

She also doesn't like that the Strong Boys are bastards but let it go so Rhaena kinda had a chance to rule Driftmark. Which then pissed me off why no one thought of Rhaena when looking for the new heir to Driftmark, like we did Baela and then we jumped to Alyn it didn't make much sense to me.

And yeah Rhaenys really felt like she was vicariously living through Rhaenyra, like she doesn't even seem to like Rhaenyra at all but she follows her even though she told her "men would sooner but the realm to the sword than let a woman ascend the throne" so that doesn't make any sense either why she would follow Rhaenyra.

And the whole Meleys scene was only to make TB look badass, in the book Aegon climbed on Sunfyre after his coronation and did a fly around KL. But they changed it cause we can't let TG look badass unless they are being portrayed as villains.

[serendipnpipity]

The hottest couple on the dance floor... 🔥🌋

Drafts and design explanation under the cut!

Designing dnp masquerade outfits, I had some criteria going in:

Dan had to be in a ballgown.

Phil had to have a deep V-neck.

They (obviously) had to coordinate in theme.

After a brainstorming session with @bewareofthenewphannie, I settled on a play on "danisnotonfire" for Dan's dress, figuring I could do a lot design-wise with the flames aspect (think Katniss' dress in Catching Fire, for example). The shape of the dress was taken from the live action Cinderella (2015) movie, and that's what inspired the wide neck and the sleeves on the bodice that billow out over the shoulders. I shaped the sleeve ruffles to imitate tongues of fire, flickering at the top of the dress. And this is "I-only-wear-black" Dan Howell we're talking about, so I also added some darker ~charred~ elements to the skirt that blend nicely with the black corset piece on the bodice that visually funnels the fabric of the orange center up and out to the sleeves.

Great, now Dan is done. But what about Phil?

Like I said, I wanted the two to coordinate, so I settled on ideas that seemed to go well with fire. At the top of my list were two instances: "red-hot-phil" which is a fitting, fire-themed social media name just like the inspiration for Dan's dress, as well as that one time Phil said *it would probably feel nice to touch lava. For the first second or two.* That's how the lava-inspired outfit Phil wears was born. I wasn't vibing with putting him in a ballgown for this image for some reason, although I'm sure he would look stunning, so I opted for a simpler shirt and pants pairing instead. I didn't want to just do a boring tuxedo though, so I typed "ballroom outfits for men" into Google and luckily found a flowy satin/silk (?) shirt that fit my style criteria (slutty emo V-neck!!!) rather nicely. The folds themselves reminded me of how lava ripples over itself as it flows, so it fit perfectly with the theme.

The pose they're in for the digital and sketched couples' picture is taken straight from a Cinderella still, of course substituting the Prince and Cinderella for Dan and Phil, respectively. (x)

Ultimately, I decided against the masquerade masks in the final version because I got too attached to the way I drew their faces on digital, but they exist in the concept sketch, so it's still on theme!

- Ser 🧡

**I PHORGOT TO ADD THE FREAKING LINKS**

Ser's Oufits (bedsheets, phouseplant)

danisnotonfire & red-hot-phil

Phire & Ice Outfits

Paper Faces on Parade (Chapter 1)

@phanniemasquerade

[thereisnoafter]

5 de enero de 2024.

Al otro lado de la farola.

Esperando por la cabalgata de los Reyes Magos.

[lord-of-the-margins]

Recent thoughts on Transgenderism

Tumblr, I think it’s time we approach the gender talk.

I’ve been very angry at liberals since about 2022. Before that (2019-2021) I was terrified of them. I grew up as a liberal in a very liberal area. I knew one moderate conservative. All I’ve known is liberal perspectives and ideologies for most of my life. I went to Evergreen State college for years (super senior). I lived in the epicenter of woke.

I’m not going to be a liberal ever again. Being around a lot of liberals, like in a city, makes me nervous. That’s how bad things have been in my little world. All the bridges have been burnt and every knife has somehow found its way into my back. I’ve since taken them out and re-calibrated my expectations.

Still, I have gender issues. They’ve gotten a lot better. And gender shit is still consuming society for no real reason other than to spread misery it seems.

Because of how horrifically poorly liberal society handles the issue of transsexualism and transgenderism, I’m scared to share the new insights I’ve made regarding gender dysphoria. The way the left fetishizes and commodifies mental illness is truly disturbing. The teenage impulse to commandeer and mimic mental illness for attention is never discouraged at any point. Not even in fully grown adults.

If I tell you what I’ve discovered, I’m afraid you will destroy yet another portion of the DSM in a misguided attempt to validate me. It is not validating. You are harming people. I needed the DSM to figure out what was happening. I needed psychologists to push back on my impulses. I’m glad they did. They can no longer do so without fear of being slandered as transphobic.

I look at the work you’ve done on behalf of the trans community and it reads as a collection of demons trying their best to fix society.

So yeah.

I like Tumblr for reasons other than politics. I don’t really want to talk about politics on here all that much. But this national gender dysphoria the younger generations all seem to have is hard to ignore. It can also be offensive. I’ve felt as offended by Zoomers and Alphas trying to be inclusive as I did from Gen X trying to hurt my feelings. So that’s been a fun little discovery I’ve made about myself and the world. Maybe you just can’t escape it. It’s part of life either way. And if you’re fucking around with gender, it’s inevitable. Maybe constant offense needs to happen just to make this demented form of self-expression that less attractive. Because a trans identity is not an attractive endeavor. It doesn’t make for attractive men and women. If you must do it, you need a thick skin just to look at yourself in the mirror let alone to hear what anyone else has to say about it. It’s signing up for a lifetime of disappointment and can only be explained through mental illness.

To conclude, what I found behind the mental illness was even more mental illness. Given liberals’ inclination to celebrate, imitate, and capitalize on mental illness, I don’t think it would be wise for me to tell you about what I did to make the pain of gender dysphoria go away.

What I will tell you is that I had to recognize that I suffered incredible abuse growing up. Truly exceptional abuse. I’ve been studying books on the matter on and off for about four years now. I had to learn a lot of new things and it was very overwhelming at first. It changed how I saw myself and even how I view reality. It’s been quite a journey.

None of the resources I used were made by anyone in the trans community. None whatsoever. All the people who helped me wrote their books in saner times. Your big gay trans social justice movement didn’t help me one bit. Just like feminism has never really helped me personally. Because exceptional people don’t need a parade to get their foot in the door.

Whenever I get close to woke people, I get nervous. I’ve gotten better at sensing that malevolent energy. Since I grew up with it, it took some time to suss it out. It took a massive fuck up, followed up with sticking to my convictions, to feel about fifty knives in my back before it finally sank in.

A lot of damage has been done and yet there are people under the left’s banner I could still care for. People who make uplifting art that has truly helped me. If I hadn’t found them, I wouldn’t have bothered writing this. So I guess this is for the innocent, the clueless, the kind.

I would only consider seriously talking about gender dysphoria with the public if and only if the DSM once again recognizes transsexualism and transgenderism as mental illnesses and the American Psychological Association allows its practitioners to discourage transitioning.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In The Dark (BuckTommy Whump)

In The Dark (14,612 words) by NeverlandPoet Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Tommy Kinard, Vincent Gerrard, Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Ravi Panikkar, Maddie Buckley Additional Tags: Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt Tommy Kinard, Internalized Homophobia, Racism, Canon-Typical Violence, Firefighter Evan "Buck" Buckley, Firefighters, set after season 7, Character Study, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Major Character Injury, Fire, Slurs, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Good Sibling Maddie Buckley

Summary: Working under Captain Gerrard again is a shock for the 118, especially as they are supposed to be present at this year's Pride Parade. Tommy is the only bright spot for Buck that day, but when they suddenly receive an assignment, he realizes that Tommy, of all people, is in the middle of it…

Finished! Chapter 1 is under the cut, full fic on AO3. Come say hi if you liked it ❤️

We will burn in the fire We will be branded in flames We will have to rise from the ashes From the fires of our own mistakes

Getting ready for shift, day 2 under Gerrard, who’s counting? You can do this.

Buck watches Ravi roll up the hoses. His fingers are itching to ever so slightly adjust the other’s angle of work, but with his distracted mind, the moment passes. Bobby will get his clearance soon. He will, he must.

“This is my first Pride,” says Ravi, “I mean, the parade. What to expect?”

Buck checks the equipment for the third time, but even the third time, everything is where it should be.

“Well, it's my first time too,” he replies with a shrug.

“Huh, were you off last year?”

“What? Oh, no.”

Buck slams the flap shut with a jerk. Sheepishly scratching his ear, he adds, “I mean, this year I’m... uh, this will be my first time as a... Anyway, Tommy and I have different shifts, we can't go, but there are still a lot of parties in the evening, maybe we can make it to one of those.”

“Keep the details about your fag lover where they belong – your underpants.”

Gerrard steps around the fire engine, smug grin on his face, provocatively running a finger through his moustache.

“Done checking? We can't wait forever for you guys.”

He looks at the two of them challengingly, but actually, Buck feels, Gerrard’s only looking at him. Ravi straightens up, he doesn't know the man, he’s just the current captain to him. Buck can't blame him, Ravi has learned that it pays to prove yourself, that it pays to make an effort. He’s learned that, like all of the 118, under Bobby. But Bobby’s not here.

“H... hold on, you can't say that.”

Even if the words dance on the tip of his tongue, Buck's gaze is firm. Gerrard stares at him, a gaze like a laser beam; but Buck is equipped with an invisible shield, and he returns the look.

“I can't tell you to do your job, Buckley? Really?”

“No,” Buck replies stubbornly, “I mean the other thing. The slur. You can’t say that, Gerrard.”

“Captain Gerrard,” the man corrects him in a deceptively soft voice. “You want to start with political correct language, do it in every respect. Pajeet here will agree with me, won't he?”

Gerrard shots a gaze at Ravi. Ravi's cheek muscles twitch, Buck knows he’s stifling a reply. He never thought about it, but how many times has Ravi heard things like these? How many times did he have to listen to bigoted, white men hurling insults at him? Buck clenches his fists. Anger is rising in him like an inextinguishable fire, and it's not wise, he knows this. He knows it, but there's Gerrard with his stupid grin, head slightly tilted as if to say, yeah, hit me boy, I'm waiting for it.

Hen appears at the truck, “There's plenty of bandages, Captain,” she says, as if she's read Gerrard's mind.

Gerrard wrinkles his nose as if Hen's appearance is some kind of stench that you just can't get rid of. But for now, he drops it. He slaps the fire engine; to Buck, this looks like he's slapping a woman's butt, and somehow, the analogy suits Gerrard. He's old school, as these guys like to say. They’re calling the vehicle baby, they’re joking about the hoses and involuntarily grab their crotches when a hydrant spurts out before the connection is made. None of this is unusual. A bit on the verge of extinction, and Buck can't exactly boast that he's never done anything like this. It's not great, but also not unusual. Gerrard, however… he’s a special sort of player.

They occupy the truck, and Buck just hopes his last glance at the interims captain is ice cold. Gerrard is sitting in front, now he can only pierce him with his eyes from behind. Hen looks kind of worried, so Buck nudges her.

“Hey, it'll be fine.”

“Huh?”

She adjusts her glasses, even though they’re absolutely straight. Following Buck’s gaze to Gerrard, she shakes her head.

“I don't know, just having a feeling,” she says.

Gerrard continues to stare ahead, but his ears are good for an old geezer, Buck thinks, as he interjects, “Feelings have no place in a fire truck.”

Hen ignores him, only giving Buck a warning glance as he frowns, clearly pondering about some fierce retort.

“Because of today’s job?” Ravi interjects.

“Oh, right,” says Buck, “Ravi was asking what to expect from the parade.”

He emphasizes Ravi and parade while carefully watching the back of Gerrard's head. This time, however, the man stays silent, and Hen turns to Ravi.

“It's not that wild,” she replies warmly, “people are generally rather peaceful. Sure, there’s the usual drunks falling into the shards of their own bottles. The odd brawl on the sidelines...”

“One year, a fire-eater accidentally set himself on fire,” Buck interjects, gesturing broadly. “Singed the eyebrows of three people who were standing a little too close.”

“Dumpster fires,” Chimney offers. He was the last to enter the truck, missing their earlier conversation with Gerrard, but he, too, seems kind of tense. They all are, actually. And it’s neither because of the parade nor because they’re missing Eddie, who has called in sick at short notice. Eddie isn't absent because of Gerrard, of course, but Buck wouldn't blame him if that were the reason. He himself had been feeling unwell this morning simply thinking about the captain, and thinking about what he’d done to Tommy. How he made him act. That guilt is still apparent on Tommy’s face, whenever Gerrard manages to creep into their topics.

“Hm,” Ravi replies with a frown, “nothing we couldn't be called in for, should it happen. Still not getting why we're ordered directly at the place, practically like a fire station for the day.”

“It's a madhouse, that's why.” Gerrard, of course.

“Statistics show that the presence of fire departments at the start of major events has a preventative effect,” says Hen, ignoring the captain. “Significant reduction of accidents, actually.”

“27 percent,” Buck throws in, and the other’s astonished looks bore into him. “What?”

“Less fire starters,” Hen nods. “One theory says people are more attentive because the presence of firefighters boosts their sense of community.”

For a moment, a discussion breaks out among Buck, Hen, Ravi and Chimney as everyone seems to have an opinion on this, but Gerrard's sharp voice interrupts them.

“Shut up, chicken coop. We're here for a job, not for your private bullshit.”

His gaze rests on Buck, and he feels his own fingernails clawing into his thigh. Bobby wouldn't want you to do anything rash. It’s his mantra for the rest of the ride.

[aj1dordinary]

y'know, im something of a roman empire myself actually

platonic!Johnny Cage x platonic!gen-z!reader; neutral!Kenshi Takahashi x platonic!reader; platonic!Raiden x platonic!reader; platonic!Kung Lao x platonic!reader; platonic!Lui Kang x platonic!reader

no beta reading we die like men. here’s another chapter even though i have like 3 papers due within 2 weeks.

after stepping out of the portal, your eyes catch first the palace setting. how its stone and marble material reached towards the sky and provided a sturdy foundation for your feet. there was clear signs of royalty with the hues of gold and purple that mingled with the color of natural scenery.

however, the view was interrupted when the armed guard replaced it. stern and well-postured, you straightened your back to replicate the menacing look. liu kang had educated you well enough before leaving so you could differentiate the two princesses among them.

johnny whistled, prepared to ruin the scenic moment immediately with that mouth of his. you elbowed him again, “not now” you mouthed.

“you should listen to your assistant more,” raiden said as Earthrealm’s chosen defender. “i’m sure she goes through a lot to keep you out of trouble.”

liu kang hummed in agreement before bowing before the princesses, addressing them as mileena and kitara. the rest of the group’s actions followed after the god.

as he went around, he introduced everyone. well, everyone except you, you stood farther back than the hand-selected fighters. but, your presence did not go unnoticed.

“and the girl?” mileena raised her eyebrow.

liu kang pursed his lips again before speaking, “a spectator, at the request of johnny cage. i assure you that she is of no threat.”

you inch back a little farther behind the pack as the attention seemed to have shifted to your meek form. thankfully, conversation was more focused on the battles that were to take place.

“i hope you are prepared raiden. our champions are determined to win.” kitana smirked.

“myself included, it’s been too long since Outworld has hailed victory.” mileena held her head high in confidence.

before you could also disgrace the group with your quick retorts, the conversation was interrupted by a guard, but clearly one of a higher ranker or importance. tanya, the future empress called her, declared that you all head to the capitol and without further hesitation, you all moving once more.

you made sure to be out of sight, realizing now just how out of place you really were in terms of stature and build. to keep your mind off things, you took out your phone and quietly did the job you were hired to do: vlog.

so as you guys paraded through the city, you whispered amongst the group and took shots of the Outworldian city. 

“so raiden give us a little pre-game interview. how do you feel as earth realm’s champion fighter? surely, everyone is gonna want a piece of you.” you shoved the lens into his face again in true paparazzi fashion. 

he flushed, you could tell the attention that he has been getting as of late was new to him, but he entertained your antics anyway.

“definitely a little nervous, but also confident. i won against three other of lui kang’s handpicked fighters so i know i have the ability.” he rubbed the back of his neck as confetti had begun raining down.

“a great insight to have raiden. i implore you to keep that same energy throughout our time here.” liu kang spoke like a proud father.

“and you kangaroo?” your low-attention span now shifted. 

the nickname always seemed to catch him off guard, so with a recollected sigh, he spoke, “pleased.”

“kung fu! ken-doll! get in on all the fun! we’re being celebrated right now.” you yelled, eager to ramp up the energy within the group.

“we are being celebrated, you just happen to be here also.” kenshi brushed past you, unwilling to give you anything else. ouch. but johnny was quick to replace him, shaking his fist like an angry old man at kenshi’s insult.

kung lao and johnny matched you energy-wise as you all declared that when raiden wins the tournament, you’d order mountains of food and create content to entertain the fans back in Earthrealm.

once a little more composed, you took notice of all the different kinds of beings there were in outworld, you also took in how it felt to be celebrated. mileena seeing the curiosity in your eyes began recanting to raiden about the history of Outworld. she even mentioned about her late father.

you cut liu kang off in the middle of him performing his diplomatic duty, “i’m sorry for your loss. must be difficult.” you provide a flat smile.

“i appreciate your gesture, but you have nothing to be sorry for. not as much as this one here…” she mutters. she stops the carriage to get off and approach a figure in the distance. in the mean time, liu kang is not ignorant to the interaction between you and mileena.

“you have lost your father too.” he spoke, his tone sympathetic. you look down, the camera no longer recording. there was no escaping the conversation with the all-knowing god.

“my mother and sister too. a home-invasion gone wrong. i wasn’t home. i never was, always afraid of missing out. so i blew them off that night when they wanted to watch a movie in favor of partying with friends.” 

silence hovered over the group despite the festival music still playing in the background. you made quick work of wiping your tears before apologizing again, scared of dampening the mood. johnny, who knew of your story when he hired you, just provided a comforting arm around your shoulder.

“so your humor is a cover-up, huh?” kenshi muttered.

“really, you want to do this right now?” johnny stood from his position in the carriage. kenshi also stood, making the carriage a little wobbly.

kung lao and raiden replaced his spot on either side, providing you with shoulders to lean on.

“now, now. we will not make a display of ignorance.” liu kang intercepted immediately, a stern tone taking over. “kenshi, now is not the time or place. johnny, not every altercation needs verbal and physical offense. i order you both to sit back down and let us carry on to Empress Sindel’s palace.” 

and so it was. mileena returned and the parade carried on as she muttered “li mei and those damned tarkatans” under her breath.

you collected yourself at the palace and stood amongst the group discussing tactics for the fights raiden would be enduring. suddenly, silence took over before johnny pushed you behind him, “red alert. stock villain incoming.”

he spoke in reference to what you would classify as demon split the crowd. his tall stature definitely struck fear deep within you. maybe now would be a good time to start praying. liu kang introduced him as general shao. his goal clear, to antagonize and belittle the group of Earthrealmers that stood before him. the others remained tall before him, but you were kept behind them out of necessary precaution.

the princesses returned and sat on their respective thrones beside Empress Sindel. there was no pause or hesitation for further introduction. she immediately began setting the stage for which raiden would take alongside his enemies.

you begin twirling your hair out of anxiety when his first opponent was introduced. the same li mei that mileena seems to distrust. you found out soon enough in empress sindel’s “motivation” speech.

then the battles commenced. each one menacing than the last. but each time raiden came out victorious. the first part of the tournament was adjourned and true to your goal, you, raiden, kung lao, and johnny made the most of the dinner that was provided. you couldn’t help but feel giddy despite the emotions you let loose earlier. maybe the relationship between Earthrealm and Outworld wasn’t as bad as kangaroo made it seem. you watch as johnny flirted with every woman at the party, as kenshi remained unbothered, and kung lao finish plate after plate. raiden and liu and seemed deep in conversation. 

that’s when the feeling returned. the one of doubt that sat deep in your stomach and extended into your throat. everyone here had a place, even in this new world. you begin picking at the remnants of food on your plate.

“i never got your name warrior.” 

you look up and notice that it was princess kitana. as instructed by lui kang, you bow before her.

“no need,” she paused. “i just want to know who you are in relation to everyone.” she sat down in the empty chair next to you.

“firstly, i am no warrior, but my name is y/n. this is more of a business trip to me than one of diplomatic relations.”

“hm. a little disappointing. but, lui kang doesn’t bring just anyone to Outworld.” she swirled a glass of exotic wine before sipping.

you chuckle, once again fully aware of how out of place you were. you don’t respond though.

“have you ever fought before?” she raised an eyebrow.

“maybe when i was younger. i took ballet, gymnastics and karate, but i lost all passion for those beginning crafts when my family… i’m sorry.” you used the napkins provided to blot at your eyes.

kitana shared a look of understanding. she even placed a hand on top of yours.

“i think you should get back into it. not only is it an excellent outlet, but,” she extended the ‘u’ for emphasis and dramatization. “i’m surrounded by brutes on a daily bases and would love some feminine company. maybe i can show you something?” she leaned in, eyeing the space around you guys for anyone lurking in your conversation. 

and how stupid would you be to deny the princess’ request. with stifled giggles and rushed footsteps, kitana grabbed your hand and rushed off to the palace quarters. sindel watched in amusement, she had the same harmless suspicion as a mother watching her daughter and a friend do some secret activity at a sleepover. 

“i won’t go too hard on you, just show you moves you can do when someone invades your space in a manner that is distasteful.” 

it only took a couple minutes for liu kang and the rest of the quartet to notice your usual cheerful and sometimes invasive presence was missing. and how lucky, you did not have to witness mileena’s moment of weakness or when general shao insulted your boys or the plans he had that had yet to be unravelled.

when you finally returned to them later that night, you were a little bruised and definitely sore, but you wouldn’t rest until you could show what you learned on a real person, someone like… a drunk johnny cage.

“how did you manage to sneak off with princess kitana?” kenshi quipped, a little dismayed that it was you of all people.

“i didn’t do anything, in fact, it was her who rizzed me up. don’t be jealous ken-doll.” you wiggled your eyebrows to piss him off further.

“well don’t leave anything to the imagination. what happened?” johnny slurred. this time, he was cosigned by a similarly drunk kung lao, leaving a blushing raiden behind.

“yeah? you wanna know?” you egged them on, leading them to their impending doom.

they nodded eagerly. “well come closer, i can’t exactly say this with so many ears leading back to the empress.” you tease.

when they approach and lean down for you to whisper into their ear, you unleashed your attack. you provide a swift uppercut to kung lao’s chin sending him flying back before he composed himself. you then quickly drop down before swinging your leg around to knock johnny off his. kung lao, the ever so competitive, charged back. this time, you used your refreshed gymnastic skills from kitana to avoid his rapid punches.

round off after round off you avoided him until you could feel your exhaustion setting in, while on your hands, you bent your knees and elbows, trying to gain enough energy to push off and drive your legs up. your heels made contact with kung lao’s chin and sent him flying back. he did not get back up, succumbing to the contact and his drunken haze.

after you sent johnny to the ground, he made no attempt to get up, his drunken state rendering him incapacitated. 

you gracefully finish the round off and put both your hands in the air as if you as if you had finished an award winning gymnastics routine.

raiden clapped, clearly amused at the current state of his friends. kenshi rolled his eyes, but had a little smirk on his face. “since johnny was so adamant about you capturing everything, you should take a photo of them now.”

“omg ken-doll, that’s the best idea you have had yet!” you squeal and proceed to whip the device out to do so.

“i see that your confidence is back on the mend. i’m happy for you. i am also glad that you are no longer running from conflict.” liu kang chuckled and pat you on the back.

raiden picked up the unconscious kung lao while kenshi attended to johnny. you all then proceeded to walk to the quarters provided to you to settle in and prepare for the next day.

“i knew i had chosen right after all.” liu kang said.

“me? chosen? you flatter me kangaroo.” you smile.

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

(The Next Day)

raiden stood before empress sindel, though her daughters were missing from their standard positions. she commemorated him of his past victories and how he only had two opponents who stood before him.

you were back on the sidelines with johnny, phone already recording. you were trying so hard not to yell out “Out-Worldstar”. the jokes just write themselves really.

so imagine your surprise when she announced that kitana was to be his next opponent. slyly, you and johnny slid your phones back into your pockets and just started whistling. all of a sudden interested in the plants and decorations rather than raiders impending doom.

“come on guys, you don’t have any faith in raiden?” kung lao nudged.

“it’s not that,” johnny began. “it’s that he’s definitely going to feel it after,” you finished.

“and i will win.” kitana interjected. she looked over at you, you could tell by the crinkle in her eye, she was smiling, ready to show you what it meant to really be femme fatale.

their quarrel began and liu kang had to even stop himself from giggling as you stared at kitana with a wide mouth and a hint of fear in your eyes. she could definitely hold her own in kombat. she performed aerial flips and even put her magic skills to the test against his lightening. it was miraculous even that their fight looked as if they were floating, feet only touching the ground for a moment before attacking or blocking.

despite her flare and her fans, raiden defeated her in a split second moment of weakness. but it didn’t damper how you felt about the strength she exhibited, if anything, it only fueled the fire in you to get back into your hobbies that you discussed last night. you were determined to actually earn your position within liu kang’s entourage.

she congratulated his victory and with no moment of rest, raiders next opponent was introduced: general shao.

you, johnny, kenshi, and kung lao visibly and audibly gulped. kenshi even tugged at his collar a bit to relieve pressure. it seemed as if the ground shook as he approached the ring. you heard how he made a commotion last night by insulting Earthrealmers and their inherent weakness, so you knew he would show no mercy towards raiden.

you look around at your companions, while lui kang focused intensely on the oncoming battle, everyone else was face deep in a newspaper. this caused you to tilt your head while wearing a monotonous look upon your face.

“ok, i know we are all concerned right now, but maybe the least we can do is cheer him on during his final fight.” neurons began firing as you thought of ways to encourage raiden. then it hit you.

“no.” 

“ken-doll come onnnnn. you have to join in or else it won’t be authentic.” you begged, hugging his leg and refusing to get off despite his attempts to kick and remove you.

“i am not doing a pom-pom cheer for a fight.” he grit his teeth.

“come on man, its his last one. we either celebrate now or he dies without ever knowing we were there for him.” johnny wrapped his arm around kung lao and kenshi.

“we can be like the Jackson 5! raiden being michael, obviously” he continued.

“i can hear you guys.” raiden turned, almost embarrassed. 

“one time?” kenshi looked down at you, who was still holding on to his leg, returning his stare with puppy dog eyes, your lips wobbling.

you nodded feverishly. he sighed knowing that you have managed to knock his ego down twice now.

“ok.”

you hopped back up excitedly and immediately got your camera ready and positions set.

the kombat was long and brutal, general shao taking every attack raiden gave him and raiden doing the same. though, you do think your plan to increase raiden’s mood distracted the general at some points, allowing raiden to get some solid hits in. you could not lie, raiden’s usual shy demeanor did not match the one before you: a calm, composed, yet deadly storm. his movements also memorized you as his flash of lightning put on a show similar to that of fireworks.

and as general shao fell to the ground, it fell silent even as the ground trembled. you cheered and even entered the ring to give him a hug with the strength of a anaconda, lifting him off the ground some.

“you did it! you singlehandedly saved Earthrealm” you bounced with misplaced excitement.

“and she calls me kangaroo.” liu kang enters as well to also congratulate his champion.

sindel arose to also congratulate him before swiftly disappearing to someplace that would remain unknown to you.

“come. let us bid our hosts farewell and return to Earthrealm.” liu kang looked pleased at the state of his entourage before leading the way. 

[boneyardbob]

I need and carnally desire to read some nice old creepypasta fics!! Also I would’ve added more but I’m scared I’ll hit the word limit lmao I have so many different ideas for them so feel free to steal as many as you like pls tag me when you make a fic!! I also think sometimes for funsies (much to alot of the others creeps dismay) Nina has ( forces) them all a specific ritual of cleaning their nails (I think all creeps have super sharp nails no matter how long of short they are) or for fun when they hang out (Masky,hoodie,Toby and herself) one of the two (Masky and hoodie) are they line leaders and they all just follow each others footsteps for fun (I think Masky is usually the leader since hers bigger not in “he’s tall” but he’s just bigger idk how to explain it) that or they do elephanting in which Nina is the line leader (this only happens when they go out to flea markets/pulgas cause Jesus Christ they will be come separated and lost) another thing I think happens is that they and a few other creeps like using the fact they look human so they can have some small moments of normalcy :))

Tim/Masky is one of the bigger creeps bulk wise. Almost all the creeps are emo teens that are barely over 100 pounds but Tim and Brian are full grown men who worked blue collar jobs lmao. They’re both fully filled out like adults should be! The little parade idea is so cute and also TERRIFYING. I couldn’t imagine following a single pair of footsteps then running into 4+ people. Also yeah Brian and Tim are also some of the only creeps that look totally normal under their uniforms. They’re a special case for certain. I think they take on an older sibling role for all the creeps. Not only are they the oldest people there but they’re the first ever proxies to exist, and came before creepypastas as a concept. Btw if you couldn’t tell I’m mostly fixated on Marble Hornets so any fics I write are focused on that 💀 But I do plan to include the creeps as a B-plot for funsies

[miffy-junot]

"Aux Ministres Anglais", a poem by Napoleon Junot

Written by Napoleon-Andoche Junot in 1843 in response to the British's government's apprehension towards Queen Victoria establishing an 'entente cordiale' with France.

To The English Ministers

We have sometimes seen politicians, To remain at the helm of public affairs, When their frozen souls were full of fear, To present to the crowd a tranquil face, And, under a mask feigned audacity and courage, To parade with a big heart.

If they did not succeed in deceiving everyone, The wise man, who pierced the deep envelope Who, out of human respect, took their cowardice, Smiled and said: "We must take them into account Of these pretences of honour; for, perhaps, the shame Had they feared!"

And they were content with tacit homage That courage made their value hypocritical. This scoundrel, after all, allowed himself to be excused. But you, men without faith, ministers of England, It's not by forcing your fear to shut up That you want to deceive us.

No! into the dark abyss of cunning and falsehood Where your politics incessantly plunges, You find a new way of dishonour! You dare, like another to display his courage, While nothing in heaven makes us fear a storm, Proclaim that you are afraid!

You have, in order to serve a stupid hatred, You have prevented your young Queen from Had she become, in Paris, the guest of our King! Her confidence in us would become fatal to him, Probably! It cannot in our capital Rest on our faith!!!

And it is you, a nation master in felony, Who dare we thus throw calumny..... Ah! The abyss of time is not deep enough So that we don't know who is responsible for the insult. Europe has not, O perjured cabinet! Forget the Bellerophon!

But that is not what made you uneasy, My lords! you knew very well that among us, the Queen, As well as at Windsor, at the Park, at the City, Did not compromise her royal person, And that the old honor of loyal France Vouched for her safety.

Why then prevent the poor young woman To accomplish the plan she had in her soul? On our old grievances, why come again Throw this new offense brutally? Too much precaution sometimes is imprudence! Don't say anything: the lion is sleeping!

It is because in the shadow of the name of your Sovereign, Imitators of Pitt, heirs of his hatred, You took advantage of this opportunity To throw, without having to fear war, A vile suspicion, a gross insult To our great nation!

What you feared was that, as she passed, Seeing this strong people whom your mouth insults, The Queen in her heart said to herself: "They are lying to us! Those whose proud disdain in our court is degrading France, our ancient and powerful rival, Deceive their Queen."

You said to her, 'mylords': "France is exhausted! Insulting him is now easy for you! It has no ships, no cannons, no soldiers! Glory is a forgotten ghost! Victory Betrays her! Highlights of A Brilliant History In France, we don't remember!"

And you said to your young Queen: "France has become a bloody arena A prey to the fury of a thousand factions! It has kept nothing of its past splendour: this Queen, think no more of it: France is effaced From the list of nations!"

And when you saw that in our capital, Of all our greatness where luxury is displayed, Victoria came, and would see with her eyes, You have feared, my lords (that is your only excuse), That she did not perceive the shameful cunning Of your slanderous speeches.

Because you knew that, in a magazine, The victor of Toulouse would offer to her view, In our Champs-de-Mars, more than a hundred battalions, Intrepid soldiers, burning to enter the plain; Of a solid army in the eyes of a Queen Great samples;

You feared that hearing the people, in the street, Speak with respect and with an emotional voice, Of the frightful death of an idolized Prince, The Queen did not begin to feel any esteem For this people who know of a magnanimous Prince Love the sacred memory!

These are the real reasons for your feigned terror. I tell you here, you had only one fear, Robert Peel, Aberdeen! It is that Your Majesty Of so many falsehoods destroying the phantom, Do not say to you in a dry tone, return to her kingdom "Gentlemen, I know the truth!"

source

[cilil]

Hi, I come to seek your wisdom: how does one start writing smut without instantly combusting from embarrassment? I have a few Ideas (Uinen/Ossë anyone?) I tried to write and, while the scenario works very well in my head, I forget what words are the moment I try to write it down and start feeling so awkward even if I’m alone. (Also I’m ace and never had sex in my life so… that’s not helpful)

Thank you for any advice you’d have, o wise one 🫶

Hi anon! Ossë and Uinen, huh? Sounds lovely!😁 Anyway I gave this some thought and hopefully came up with something helpful.

Get in the zone. Now this may sound a bit redundant since you already said you still have trouble if you're alone, but something worth figuring out in general for all sorts of writing is "how is writing comfortable for me", "how can I stay focused" and "how can I set myself up physically to give myself the best mental space". This is different for everyone. Most people will prefer to be alone, for starters. Then there are other "environmental factors" you could consider, to name a few examples:

Does sitting at a desk or a table maybe feel too "formal"? Would sitting on a couch or your bed be better? Or lounging/lying down/standing/walking?

Does the writing program and device you use vibe with you? Maybe writing on phone is too strenuous or writing on a laptop leads to this big empty sheet that makes it hard to start, especially with "trickier" things like smut?

Does having a drink or a snack distract you or would the chewing/drinking actually help you keep your thoughts in motion?

These are going to vary wildly between individuals and also between genres you write, but heightening your general comfort with writing and/or looking to make changes to adapt to smut writing in particular can help with your ability to do so.

Take notes. I know, this sounds very... unsexy, but hear me out. Writing a scene from beginning to end, even if you have the scenario in your head already, can be daunting and at least for me personally it helps a lot when I let the scene play out first, take some fairly basic notes and then use them alongside the scene I'm picturing to write it all out. It will also help if you prefer to write non-chronologically because then there's less of a mess to put together later.

Watch & read smut. While this is something you'd normally think is mainly for inspiration (which, as I understand, is not the problem here) it can also help with getting you into the mindset, the mood and overall more used to the material. Maybe there are a few fics you read that you liked and didn't make you feel awkward about engaging with smut? Maybe there's a hot piece of art that makes your fingers itch to write?

Since I'm already at it, a few words about porn: It can help a lot with visualizing scenes and thus also make them easier to write, but I want to acknowledge that a lot of porn is made for and catering specifically to allosexual straight cis men which can make it not as palpable or enjoyable for everyone who is, well, not that (women, non-binary, ace, lesbian, gay, etc etc). It would be nice if there was more for us and I'm certain some awesome creators and sex workers out there are working on it, but... you know. Just wanted to say it's not for everyone and that is very okay and understandable.

No experience? No problem. To briefly get this out of the way: Is having real life sexual experience helpful for writing smut? It can be. You can absolutely draw from your experience to describe certain acts or sensations or emotions. But will it make or break your smut fic? Absolutely not and no worries! Not to rain on anyone's parade, but a lot of real life sex can be bad, boring or just... super casual so it's not very useful as smut material.

If you feel like this is an issue, treat it like every other aspect of writing where you lack personal experience and do some research and/or talk to someone you trust and feel comfortable discussing the topic with to get their input. Let things you enjoyed elsewhere inspire you (see above) and especially in this case feel free to just trust your imagination because:

About Ainur sex. Conveniently, we're talking about two Ainur having sex here which essentially eliminates any sort of necessity to stay true to the standard human sexual experience. Whatever you imagine, it pretty much can't be wrong because who knows how two married angelic spirit beings have sex. Go with your imagination and don't worry about accuracy or describing every single detail; in general you are free to adapt your smut writing to your level of comfort (the spectrum goes from fade to black to every single gross and nasty detail being put on display). Don't let audience expectations pressure you into anything either - there will be someone out there who will enjoy your take and your style.

Words not wording. Another big pitfall of smut writing is the, let's say, naughty vocabulary. It can feel awkward, cringe or generally uncomfortable to use certain words (for example for genitalia) and then there's also the matter of choosing which one feels right and hopefully doesn't make readers cringe. While there's never one right and perfect answer to this question, I offer you this survey as a resource. In it, preferred vocabulary choices for various body parts and actions are shown. I hope it helps with the writing process!

Lastly: Let it cook. I don't know what the scene you had in mind entails so this bit may be redundant, but if you don't feel comfortable jumping right into the smutty part you can have a sort of "prelude" to it and yes, it can be as long as you want it to be. Maybe writing a bit of talking and cuddling or whatever else you have in mind first will ease you into the writing itself and make it easier to write the smut because you're already in flow state; but that too depends on what kind of writer you are in general.

Sorry for talking so much, I just wanted to cover as many bases as I thought of over the last few days and add as many points as I can so hopefully this helps you and maybe other people as well. Wishing you all the best and lots of fun with your writing!💙