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daenystheedreamer · 2 days ago

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please tell us about alysannejonquil..... you've intrigued me

ok so. jonquil is utterly totally irrevocably devoted to alysanne. her very shadow. nothing is more important to jonquil than alysanne. alysanne is the maiden made flesh. alysanne is a true princess a true queen the most beautiful the most kind the most gentle.

alysanne loves jaehaerys with all her heart, he is her soul she is his heart. she also loves jonquil, as her truest friend. she's like her hand; an undeniable part of herself. alysanne could be bisexual if she knew that existed but truly has no thoughts on this matter.

jonquil knows she is a lesbian and can identify her sexuality. she is also a bastard daughter and a woman knight. she can never be a true daughter nor a true knight.

there relationship is one of meaningful touches, where it is thoughtless and whole-heartedly given by alysanne and obsessed over and greedily, starvingly kept by jonquil. an empathetic pat on the knee. braiding jonquil's hair so it's out of the way. tying the ribbons on alysanne's dress.

alysanne says oh you are my jonquil then i must be your florian. jonquil is gripping her sword white-knuckled. haha yes your grace of course your grace. jonquil thinks about alysanne the maiden in the pool the true jonquil.

alysanne is 15 when the attack at maidenpool happens and i like jonquil at 18 because it mirrors brienne and it means she did her mystery knight tourney at 16 like lyanna. they grow up together. jonquil is beside her for the births of all her children, from daenerys to gael.

jonquil sees the king and hates. and then she repents, because he is the king and if alysanne is the mother then he is the father made flesh. but he puts alysanne in that birthing bed and makes her bloody and still alysanne loves him still alysanne praises him for giving her children.

ok dramatic prose over it got too much. anyway i think jonquil is sort of a weird aunt figure in the lives of alysanne's kids. she's literally been there since birth. ill put her opinions on the kids below the cut. i think alyssa, saera and viserra specifically all catch on and identify exactly what jonquil's deal is and i do believe they each tease and harass her over this. alyssa in a fun and flirty way, saera in a pointed and cruel way, viserra in a simultaneously careless and egomaniac way.

jonquil being the one who physically restrains saera and forces her to watch jaehaerys behead her lovers. Layers. layers to this. saera is an insult to her mother a wicked wicked girl. jaehaerys IS the father IS the king. alysanne must be protected.

jonquil loves the order jonquil loves the system. she believes herself an aberrance and repents over this.

also i think jonquil would get jealous when gael becomes alysanne's bedmate. layers layers layers. she liked daenerys because daenerys died before she could become a disappointment.

i want jonquil surviving alysanne and sticking around at court. like barristan. a shadow once more. i want her to see alicent. i want her to see another faithful girl in the flower of her youth caring for jaehaerys and jaehaerys mistaking her for his daughters for saera. i want to see it. she has a stroke and dies at a sept lying at the foot of the maiden. or mother idk could be either.

i dont like alyquil ever consummate. i mean i can enjoy thinking about it but like in this timeline/au/interpretation of canon/fanon whatever i think its not unrequited its just unconsummated. jonquil knows alysanne could love her, does love her, doesnt understand sexuality, but she could never. but she wants to. and has to apologise to the gods about it.

DAENERYS - cute kid, dies young so jonquil never has to see her become a wicked sort of woman

AEMON + BAELON - she cant tell the difference between them. they are their father's sons. they will be her king one day. Layers.

ALYSSA - i like to think she taught alyssa some swordfighting since alyssa is mentioned as playing with wooden swords as a kid. jonquil has complex feelings on alyssa's early non-conforming gender stuff. i think alyssa genuinely likes jonquil but also likes teasing and flirting with her. unlike her mother alyssa can identify her bisexuality. when alyssa settles down (with her brother) and becomes a good wife (to her brother) jonquil is like. im not going to think about this more than i have to. she is a little disgusted and then feels disgusted for feeling disgusted because aly and jae are sister and brother and aly can do no wrong which means to feel disgusted is to make aly less of an ethereal angel. is broken up by alyssa's death, never wants to think about it ever again.

MAEGELLE - the other good daughter. chose the order chose the system. kind and gentle and sweet like alysanne. faithful and good.

VAEGON - just kind of weird. doesnt like fighting doesnt like fucking. does not entirely fit his assigned gender role, which jonquil should relate to but she's not ready for that cognitive dissonance.

DAELLA - the last of the good daughters. jonquil thinks she's a weakling but then repents for thinking that because women are supposed to be weaklings. sad for alysanne when she dies.

SAERA - the wicked evil WHORE of a daughter. a demon who is a stain on her angel of a mother. of course she turned to prostitution. saera for sure was sexually harassing jonquil cos she thought it was funny. definitely like "awww mummy isnt gonna fuck you but you can settle for me ;)" and jonquil is like. im going to fall on my own sword.

VISERRA - another disappointment daughter. im not sure if i want to go full jaehaerys-abused-his-daughters in this but like. idk your mileage may vary. but no matter what jonquil is still going to be a little misogyinst about it and judge her drinking judge her self destruction. jonquil may hate jaehaerys but if alysanne loves jaehaerys than jaehaerys can therefore do no wrong sort of thing.

GAEMON + VALERION - the kids themselves dont matter but the difficult labours that alysanne went through definitely affect jonquil. she gives the king the silent treatment for a while. curses him and then repents over it and doesnt feel guilty and has to repent again.

GAEL - good daughter, in a way, but jonquil has deep jealousy over how alysanne finds comfort in her. when gael gets doomed jonquil is, deep down, a little relieved and happy because alysanne finds comfort in jonquil once more. lots of praying over that one.

bonus

AEMMA ARRYN - she likes aemma because aemma is nice and gentle and kind (just like alysanne therefore good. a worthy inheritor of queenship) + born from one of the good daugthers

DAEMON - she looks at him and sees saera

RHAENICENT - her head explodes about this

#tw weird targ dynamics #tw jaehaerys csa mention #this is a dramatic adaptation of my DMs with tyriongirl. we went a little crazy about alyquil a few days ago #sorry for the long post dude there's so much alyquil in my head #alyquil #jonquil darke #alysanne targaryen #Anonymous #ask

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miumiumandoodz · 4 months ago

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The thing that I love so much from Vendetta and Death Island Chris is that he clearly went to therapy... and he smiles a lot. The horror persists but a Redfield stays afloat. I love that man so much, he's wrecked and destroyed but comes back twice stronger and somehow he's still able to smile. I love him. I love him so much. I love him so so so so much you don't even know.

#chris redfield #resident evil #resident evil vendetta #resident evil death island #not doodle #text #also just he portrays the complexity of humans are and how advanced they are #all your negative emotions and experiences do not negate your positive ones #they can exist simultaneously and that's ok #I think he made peace with that (after therapy probably)#I love him for that

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crookedfivefingers · 2 months ago

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3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

#doctor who #tenth doctor #martha jones #david tennant #freema agyeman #(good god. without even meaning to I went into 'psycho stream of consciousness tagging' mode. whoops)#always thinking of that one post #where OP mentions how the writing tries to make it seem like Ten looked right through Martha/etc #which is a good concept for demonstrating his grief. but also isnt what we really see throughout S3 #(not saying he wasn't a grieving MESS because he was. but he's a multi-faceted character and he can grieve AND value Martha simultaneously)#but we see such fierce protective instinct+trust; a bond between them that obviously isn't some one-sided affair #+ his clear intent to impress her/be admired and respected by her (apropos the post that inspired this sentiment)#but RTD obviously isn't the most infallible of writers #*cough* [list of reasons I cut down b/c long] *cough*#He can make Martha say “he's not seeing me/he doesn't look at me” but then you just watch with your eyes and you get a different story #It's like the opposite of when Moffat tries to make you believe someone is super important through bold claims without showing his work #instead RTD tries to make you believe Ten is functionally blind to Martha's existence while showing numerous examples of the contrary #then bring in the novels+myspace blog+cartoon that he all signed off on. Which tie together to create a canon backdrop #basically I said all of that to say this—#it's the whole reason I had to make this blog to get this sort of stuff off my chest (even if it's just for me sometimes)—#Ten not only SAW Martha—he trusted+respected+enjoyed+adored her. And it's a good thing #it doesn't cheapen his grief. I feel like people must think it does which is why I constantly see bad unnecessary takes about them #it just means that Martha was SO important to him and it's ok. they had a killer friendship outside the unrequited minutiae and it's ok #there's even a comic where 'someone' makes him believe she's Martha and he makes her change her appearance because “it's still too raw”#Just saying you don't say that sort of thing about someone whose existence you're all blasé about #Martha already gets fucked by the narrative in enough ways without people totally missing her significance in the Doctor's life #you don't have to ship them to appreciate them on a deeper level #anyway. fuck. if you actually read all of these then I'm so sorry #creating this blog has taught me that there are only like two people who feel the same way about tenmartha matters and it’s fine 😂#but if I didn’t give myself an outlet it would probably form a tumor SO there we are then

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ziracona · 2 years ago

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I know I say this every time I read my own work, but Speak for the Dead really is the best chapter in ILM.

“Well, you know for the first time in a long time this actually feels like fall?”

Jane Romero was smiling at him, sitting propped up against a tree in what had sort of become her usual ‘therapy’ corner in the past almost two weeks. And she was right, it did feel like fall. The air wasn’t as sharply cold as normal, and honestly ‘sharply’ cold was a nice break in and of itself when it happened—usually the weather here was somehow just cold—cold with no adjectives attached. But today it was nicer. It was the kind of waiting fall cold that came when it wasn’t biting outside yet, and it was almost pleasant. A promise of a change in the seasons. Tapp wondered why.

The trees hadn’t started to change color with it, or fall in piles, and as far as he’d gathered there weren’t seasons in here. Everything looked the same. Tall, thick woods, undergrowth and moss and rocks and fallen logs, a slight breeze on and off. Dark sky overhead, full moon, at this point long since throwing off everyone’s idea of what day and night were supposed to mean. All the usual. Except, somehow, the kind of cold in the weather. Who knew, maybe nothing had changed. Maybe they had just started to feel better.

LIKE. Those opening lines mean nothing but environmental flavor when you read them. But they’re a lead in for the thesis of the entire chapter.

“Well, you know for the first time in a long time this actually feels like fall?” - A promise of a change in the seasons. - Who knew, maybe nothing had changed. Maybe they had just started to feel better.

Like that’s it. Speak for the Dead is about a lot of things, but at its heart it’s about healing. It’s about forgiveness and healing, that exists between the living and the dead. It’s about how you can only speak for them, by speaking for them. Not how you want to punish yourself or live for them, but by how you know they would forgive you, or would ask you to live. Very little other than exchanges of information happen, but so much happens at the same time. All of it significant. It’s hope. It’s about how Tapp (and Meg) have spent every day here fighting in their own way to cope with the agony and failure of their lives, and the loss of people they couldn’t save, and have only dug their wounds deeper. About love. About nothing stoping the lambs from screaming except accepting that they want to let you go.

#god I love this chapter so much. literally I can start reading ANY part of it and get hooked. Me every time I re-read the one time in my #life I hit script perfection for an entire chapter straight: 💕💕💕💕💕#in living memory #in living memory (fic)#Speak for the Dead #I’ll never write something that good again maybe and that’s ok. perfection is perfection god I love that chapter #there so much said and so much unsaid. the way he buries Mandy. Adam trying to help. the fact literally never after in the story /does/ Meg #find out that she almsot died in a Jigsaw trap because she was judged for cutting? never. not post fic either. Ace and Tapp silently both #decide to never tell and she /never/ has to know. the way Meg asks if Michael knew Tapp loved him more than the job and that question is #not answered. she just says ‘he loved you’ and accepts that as a more significant one. the whole Jane discussiom. the way Tapp says ‘yes’#/only/ to ‘did it haunt you?’ when asked serious questions and usually just says ‘I don’t know’ if it’s probably true? the way he talks #about himself? the Saw references??? the dead people’s actions existing like ghosts in the script helping charcaters on a meta textual level #bc I only wrote Tapp surviving with a pen tracheotomy bc Peter Strahm did it? the The Silence of the Lambs thing?#all the ethical discussions that are so conceptual and simultaneously concrete in different ways. even the ethics are the dead and the #living mixing together. the way Tapp’s argument the only thing you can do for the dead is to finish their story for them-to do what they’d #been trying to do—doesn’t change? just what that means to him does. the way the entirety of In Living Memory itself is Philip finishing #Vigo’s story because Vigo is dead? and ILM literally /is/ Vigo’s ghost in the void chronicling these events to watch over and to tell this #story about how Philip is a good man. in which he is fulfilling Philip’s goals for him when Philip no longer can. the entire book is about #love and loss and no chapter in as deep a way as Speak for the Dead captures that on such a literal level #the book is the living speaking for the dead. and the dead speaking for the living. & a hope from that. a promise of a change in the seasons #literally. when they make it in V.S. from the eternal october. to finally November.

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orcelito · 2 years ago

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Honestly I have realized that 99% of my shipping of vashwood comes from trimax. Yea I vibed with it while watching tristamp but trimax is what took my utter heart and soul

It's to the point where I just don't rly enjoy tristamp vashwood that much anymore hfkshfjd like. OK? Those sure are some dudes. Not My dudes tho, sorry.

#speculation nation #i'll still reblog the fanart if it's good. but yea it just ain't what im about anymore.#i feel like the worst vashwood perceptions r found within tristamp only fans anyways #(this post tangentially related to the post i just reblogged)#tristamp only fans see these two and are like 'this is the Angry Buff Dude and the Tiny Pixy Man'#which pretty much erases like everything they stand for? while also supporting racist caricatures.#not all tristamp only fans do this btw but i have definitely seen it much more around there.#meanwhile trimax vashwood is just like. this is an old married couple. theyre so hopelessly Goofy.#the angst is off the CHARTS. the love even more so.#they very genuinely love each other in trimax In Canon and that's what really gets me.#plus theyre pretty similar in height and build. Adult Men!!!! i like this ship for Adult Men!!!!!#idk this also relates to that post i made yesterday about fandom perception of vash being an innocent uwu virgin #despite being 150 or so years old. & they'll also make wolfwood some sex god or whatever #when comparatively hes been an adult for a MUCH shorter time than vash. my dude's still a pretty young adult ok #and you wanna tell me he's got more sex experience than the 150 year old dude????? ok...#lol im just complaining at this point. i have very specific views of my ideal version of this pairing #and a lot of fandom portrayals are starting to bother me bc of it.#so im just writing my own vashwood my own way. rn focusing on vash being a rounded person #yes having some childish aspects. but also some mature aspects. he's a goofy adult. it can exist simultaneously.#looking forward to when wolfwood finally comes in. i hope to do him justice.

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6mayhem · 2 months ago

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many philosophers are posers as fuck they're like ohhh what if. but don't even feel it themselves. unlike me. i feel and truly believe every asinine theory about the world i post on here. aahh. aaaah. aaaaaahhh i'm scared lol

#the humble delusion enjoyer waking another day to come up with another theory about how it all works to keep him alive #no two truths can exist at the same time btw :/ I've been told. so yeah you can't respect other religions otherwise ur not a true believer #luckily I'm not religious #I see religion as a cultural symptom of meaningless. but it may also be a narrative interpretation of a very real force we are all #perceiving simultaneously. which would explain why soo many religions are so similar despite developing independently #either way I believe atheists to be quite stupid and annoying #ohhh I only believe what I can see with my own eyes. ok smart guy who gave u those eyes tho #how can u know they do not deceive you. dumbass. mf hoe

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boreal-sea · 2 months ago

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“Murder is bad” and “I’m not sorry that asshole died” are two things that can exist simultaneously because humans are complex.

And it’s also ok if you personally DO feel sorry. But stop acting like everyone else is pro-murder just because they’re not in mourning.

#united healthcare

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dw-requests · 5 days ago

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can you draw a smol comic?? :3

ok. so ginger is existing, and then theres a speech bubble from cosmo saying "ginger look!!!"

and then twisted cosmo looking real happy and saying "I have a bite mark just like you now!!!" pointing towards the ichor on his face

thank youu :3

I have never seen a prompt more simultaneously angsty and wholesome, like wtf /pos /silly

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paper-mario-wiki · 6 months ago

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How do you deal with the bad feelings you get from being too broke to donate to the Palestinian fundraisers, but at the same time using your money on stupid things like art commissions?

well you don't, you just get to feel bad.

like, the position of "i know problems exist in the world but i am not going to be the one to help solve them even if i can" is a moral contradiction that occurs to people all the time, and has for as long as we've been able to empathize with problems that do not affect us directly. and like, i dont think you're going to hell for spending your money like that, but you dont simultaneously get to do that AND get a pat on the back saying "no its ok bud u didnt do anything wrong <3". the exact price you pay for knowing you didnt take action, is knowing you didnt take action, because you didnt.

#anon

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kazzeyy · 1 month ago

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Ok I’m tripping. If you genuinely believe the term “Zionism” conflates with genocide and ethic cleansing, you do you.

But do you genuinely, GENUINELY, believe that the 90+% of Jews who identify as Zionists are going by the same definition that you are…?

Because it seems to me this is about semantics now.

Every Zionist Jew I know (which, as far as I know, is all of them), are peace-forward humans who, like most others, have critical opinions about government systems and strategies, while also believing a Jewish state (not ethnostate, there’s a difference) in our ancient homeland is not inherently evil. and that having a Jewish state is important for our continued survival.

So don’t you think that if most Jews have an entirely different definition of the term than the one you have (and that term, after all, is most relevant to Jews, so I would imagine our definition holds more weight than yours) that maybe you should come up with a different word?

And do you genuinely believe that a country with a 20% non-Jewish population (and growing) is an enthostate just bc of the term “Zionism” being attached to it? I mean, I can name several countries with nearly no ethnic or religious diversity, that are by all definitions real ethnostates, that are not having anyone calling for their destruction en masse.

Are there kahanists in the current Israeli government? Um yeah. And most Israelis want them out. Their government has a ton of shit in it—not unlike my own government. Is there a horrific war going on that the Israeli government has handled in a way that hasn’t even prioritized the lives of the hostages as much as it should?Yeah! And Israelis know that and are angry about it!

But since when does a country’s current shit ass government determine the entire country’s right to even exist?

Like fuck, the IRI is one of the most evil fucking regimes on earth and i sure as hell do not want Iran to cease to exist because of them and their actions. Arab imperialism has all but erased the indigenous Persian culture from your collective minds, but I sure as hell still don’t want Iran to cease to exist just bc it’s current form is that of an imperial power.

And since when does a messy and violent nation building event (which has happened countless times in the last 100 years) mean that that nation in present day is not valid?

Does a violent independence automatically negate a right to exist? Bc if so, there are many many other countries’ dismantlings you should be simultaneously calling for (maybe even your own?).

So tbh, call for bibi’s head for all I care. Call for the removal of the kahanist crazies from the Knesset. Call for land back for families who were removed during the 1948 war. Call for settler violence in the West Bank to be punished more seriously. Things that will actually improve the lives of Palestinians in and around israel.

But why TF are you calling for the destruction of the Jewish state as a whole?

A country that has one of the most diverse populations by religion and ethnicity in the entire ME. A (flawed) democracy that is a safe haven for sexual minorities in the region. The only country in the entire world where Jews are the majority and dont have to live under Christian or Arab rule (like tbh I personally think that the US is a Christian country that just pretends it isn’t, so…).

You don’t call for anything that would actually improve the situation for the Palestinians. You ignore (or praise!!!) any other regime or government doing just as much or more harm to them. You conflate every Israeli civilian (sorry, Jewish civilian) with kahanist beliefs that they don’t have. You don’t bother to learn about the countless other messy and violent nation building that has happened anywhere else in the last 100 years, or debate about their right to exist. You spend so much time absorbing instagram reels about this one country’s wrong doings (real or not) that it has become your whole personality, while your own country is likely currently or has recently done something 100x more horrible (speaking as a US citizen).

All you care about is the complete destruction of the Jewish state.

I think I know why.

Some people say they are antizionist in that they want a “free Palestine where all religions can live freely together”. So…it would be a democracy? Which Israel currently is (it needs some work, but who tf am I to talk as an American with a fascist president about to take office).

And it would be a non-religious country? So…Palestinians who have largely always wanted to live in a Muslim country would do what or go where, exactly?

Or, would it be an Arab country where Jews can live equally under the law? (That’s literally never worked before in history, but sure let’s live in fantasy world for a minute.) So that would be like…just the inverse of current Israel? lol.

I genuinely don’t understand what it is you want that doesn’t involve the disenfranchisement of Jews.

#jumblr #antizionism #makes no sense to me any way that you put it babe #Zionism

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quirklessidiot · 1 year ago

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title: Y/N and her boys [sneak peek] pairing : Upper classman/popular kid!Gojo Satoru x F!reader, Exchange student!Eren Jaeger x F!reader, MMA Fighter/Celebrity!Ryomen Sukuna x F!reader, Childhood Bestfriend!Aki Hayakawa x F!reader, Varsity football player!Itoshi Rin x F!reader (use of she/her pronouns) Genre: Alternate Universe-University setting, romance, fluff, angst (if you squint), slice of life, drama, all cliche romance genres unite! (Based on the Manhwa, Bunny and her Boys)

Summary: Y/N’s denied the existence of pretty boys and god forbid she’d ever end up dating one yet with one horrid break-up, she decides that relationships aren’t just meant for someone stupid like her but the problem is — five of them suddenly appear and god, why does it seem like they can’t get enough of her?

General warning for the story: mild sexual content, cliche tropes (help), mahito is his own warning, minor character death, mentions of depression, a lot of second-hand embarrassment from y/n's part (shes not a cool girl, SHE IS A BUBBLING MESS AND THATS OK <33), insecurities, bullying, and mentions of cheating Notes: english isn't my first language! (dont judge me) this multi-chaptered story will probably be 20-30 chapters (idk) in ao3. you can totally tell this story is rooted from self-indulgence LMFAO. Im not sure if i should cross post it but im leaning towards ao3 more either ways, can't wait to release this on friday!

also can u guess who she ends up with :P rb’s are appreciated yay FULL VERSION IS RIGHT HERE!

SNEAK PEAK

“Maybe…Maybe we should break up.”

There's another round of silence between you two, and you know that you can’t exactly take it back anymore since you had said it loud and clear, “Woah, woah, I told you I wasn’t with Misa.” his voice turns louder, and the background noises are good as gone as if he had left the noisy place, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you-”

“I said,” you try to control the stammering of your voice, trying to avoid the stares of the people who cast odd glances, “We’re done. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.” and before he could let another excuse out of his mouth, you end the call. It is only now that you notice how your legs have been quivering and your mouth has gone dry, seemingly like a pup who had just been born and trying to walk. You lose your footing and sit down on the dirty pavement.

No tears were shed at that very moment, probably because you were only stupefied, and it was written clearly on your face that this wouldn’t be something you’d recover anytime soon. Heck, you couldn’t even grasp the idea entirely that someone you’ve been friends with for years and, eventually, a lover would do that to you.

Was it as easy as a snap of a finger?

“Miss? Miss?” someone calls out, but it only bounces back to him like an echo in a cave. You remain still, eyes blinking rapidly while the rest of your face is slack. Everyone around you continued to move, but you remained there like a decorated statue.

“Miss? Christ, you’re about to be–” the husky voice also stops, and it’s only now that you look up to find a man. He seems stocky but, simultaneously, smaller, as if he didn’t want to come off as intimidating when he maintained eye-to-eye contact.

He is incongruous with everyone who walks by since he desperately tries to hide his features with a baseball cap and a dark face mark. The only thing you can see are strands of his bleached hair, his eyes that resemble the sunshine that peeked through the glasses of whiskey, and the swirls of ink becoming visible underneath his coat when he stretches out his arm.

If this were any other day, you’d run in the opposite direction because he looked like an unscrupulous loan shark, but your body remains in a state of unknown fatigue that you just wanted to stay still.

You watch as his face softens, the lines on his forehead somewhat disappearing when he watches the color bleed from your face. “...Alright…” he stops, squinting as he crouches to your level. His thick thighs encompass the rough expanse of his straight jeans, and you wondered if he had been an athlete or something. Aside from his built, his presence was rather invigorating, “oh…” he continues, “Sorry, you-uh…” The confidence he had to throw you off is gone like the evening dust as he motions his index finger up and down his face.

At that moment, you feel something wet running down your cheek. It seemed like the waterworks were late.

You didn’t want to be a pity party in front of anyone, and you’d expect there to be only bystanders, not ‘good samaritans’.

You sniffled, violently wiping the tears away as you felt your ribs were too tight when you took one long breath, “I’m fine…” you respond monotonously.

Who were you even fooling?

“Right…” you carefully watch him take out a handkerchief, “Fine, sitting on a dirty pavement near my car doesn’t make you look fine, Miss.” he prodded.

“Well, what do you care, anyways?” you tried to keep your voice from cracking, but the stranger showed no qualms of anxiety or fear, nor did he seem mad at your snappy attitude. The blue handkerchief is laid on his palm, waiting for you to take it, yet you exhibit no signs of accepting his kindness. Instead of forcing you through like the usual status quo, he returns it to his pockets.

The odd man.

“Well, for one, I don’t want to run your feet over since I’m parked over here,” he thumbs towards the black jeep that’s parked in front of you, “And my mom didn’t raise me to leave a girl sitting alone, crying her eyes out…”

“Well, did your mom tell you to mind your own business, as well?” your body remains heavy and distant from the stranger, not minding if it came off as rude, but you’ve always been wary of them, especially the ones who claimed to be nice. You wouldn’t be swayed even if you were in a vulnerable place.

He sucks in a deep breath, quite surprised that you had the energy to exchange a vehement response to him. Weren’t you just about to bawl your eyes out?

“Well, you honestly looked like you deserve some niceness after whatever happened.” he conceded, remaining suspiciously friendly, “Piece of advice, though, if it’s a guy, he’s not worth it.”

“I-what makes you think it’s a guy?” there it goes again, the unknown tightening of your throat and the way the gummy lids on your eyes would heat up as if a pipe of water was about to burst and flood the segways any moment.

“It’s always an asshole who doesn’t seem to know how to treat a woman right.” he lamely explains, and slowly but hesitantly, as if he was waiting for you to move away, he places one hand on top of your hand.

Unlike a while ago, you weren’t as hostile, but you were confused about why the stranger suddenly did this and didn’t seem to tilt away like you usually would, “So go home tonight, Miss. Cry it out and wake up tomorrow for yourself. You’ll be fine.”

You don’t even see his entire face, but the way he gently caresses your hair as if you were a long-time friend had your lips quivering, and without even realizing it, your torso bends forward. You bury your face in your arms, finding solace in your makeshift fetal position.

The stranger says nothing more; honestly, you didn’t even mind. His newfound presence is comforting.

#jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #csm imagines #aki hayakawa x reader #aot imagines #guess who the guy is lmfao #📝📝.y/n and her boys

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beartitled · 24 days ago

Note

ok i have non art related slay the princess ask, i was wondering if i could get your input on a route idea for slay the princess, i have the build up but idk where it would lead, and i wanna get opinions

You mean like any new route I can think of? Oc route¿?

Hehe sounds fun ✨

Well, the idea I came up from the top of my head

Let’s say

Chapter 1

> you took the blade

> you talked with the princess for a while

> all dialogue options are used, yet you don’t make any choice and just stay

> *insert awkward silence*

> you start talking with princess again

> you ignore Narrator’s and Princess frustration (Hero just sees ppl are getting angry and tries being a mediator)

> you keep talking

> the blade you had in your hand a second ago, now sits comfortably inside your guts

> “Everything goes dark.. and you die. Hope that can finally shut you u-“

Chapter 2

The Philosopher

> you find yourself in a forest with a bunch of columns

> you proceed to discuss a single column for about 5 dialogue options

(I dunno if we get a custom voice here 👀 I think any voice would work here, but if we go full on oc mode✨)

>The Voice of the Disputant engages in a column discussion

> you reach the cabin (after insufferable amounts of inner dialogue) that is covered with draperies

> you meet the Princess, which.. apologises for killing you last time! She had a lot of time to reflect you see and now

> you talk with the Princess

> you talk some more

> you keep talking

> it seems that your constructive discussion on the meaning of existence was interrupted by a inpatient Crowman

> “The wall of the cabin suddenly collapses on both of you.”

> how unfortunate

[I think it would be cool to have an alternative outcome, where you kill yourself to prove a point to Princess during at some point of your discussion. That outcome would lead to Chapter 3 The unexamined life is not worth living]

Chapter 3

I think, therefore I am.

> another day another cabin- oh wait. There is no cabin. Or is there? There are… stars… many stars in fact…

> you drift towards a cabin constellation, then you fly through a ladder constellation and then you see a brightest constellation in this starry sky, Her

> and of course you engage in a conversation

> and then another 🌠

> and then another 🌌

> the voices start to… talk less? Are they talking at all? Are they there? Hero even you are silent? How strange. It’s like you’re finally feel… liberated. It is quiet and- Ah no, here it goes

> slay the princess?

> at this point, does this echoing chatter even matters? When did you listen to this guy? Is he even a part of you? Certai n l y n o t n o w

> your body feels light.. as if you are the light itself…

peace.. you are at peace…

it felt like ages… maybe.. millennials…

you hold Her hands…

and let go

…

and yet

you don’t get to enjoy that

a hand takes a star… and then another appears and does the same.. and then another and another.. a tangled dance of hands just collected your Brightest Constellation and took it away

seems the voices returned and you find your consciousness in a familiar place

“This one is a confrontation for solicitude’s sake. The all knowing part of me that takes time to sympathise. She will make for an understanding heart.

Do not mourn her, for she has finally reached a satisfactory conclusion.”

[Your additional voice here could be Cheated or Paranoid. Cheated doesn’t get enough screen time in the main game >:D I let you decide which opinions they would have in this scenario. You as always could slay the princess, that would lead to the starry galaxy slowly dimming away as you both continue talking.. about anything, everything, and yet simultaneously, about nothing at all]

Chapter 3 /alternative/

The unexamined life is not worth living

> another day another cabin. A rock cabin to be exact? Hm, come to think of it, everything is kinda rocky

> your voices start to “slightly” panic as you collectively realise the world slowly turns to stone. Including you.

> oh wait, don’t you have wings?

> you hover in the air and it seems your limbs slowly return to normal. I guess no walking for you this time.

> as you glide through the air and breezed past the staircase, now fully covered in rocky texture, you see a statue in the middle of the room. Wait.

> you greet the Princess. Podium sure suits her elegant figure. Yet, you realise that you don’t have much time to appreciate her beauty, as her body slowly but surely, turns to stone.

> you try to help with no avail. But it seems that Princess is.. unfazed? She doesn’t seem to even want escape, she just wants to… talk with you. Again.

> you engage in a conversation

> and then another

> take the princess’s hand?

> oh well, I guess nor you, nor the voices, wish to be turned to stone. You fly back a little and watch the Princess give you a comforting, yet.. a sad smile.

> you are left alone.

this world feels cold, as it is lonely

or maybe, lonely as it is cold.

you left in silence for a moment.

Narrator, apparently, being delighted by the unfolding events, breaks said silence.

You and the voices have nothing to say to him now, so you just let him talk.

And he talks.

And talks.

Until…

He seems to be getting progressively quieter.

So you just wait.

The white hands appear.

Gently and delicately they pluck the Princess out of her righteous place in the ground.

seems the voices returned and you find you consciousness in a familiar place

“This one is a moment frozen in time. Her soul has accepted the inevitability of disagreement. She will make for a tranquil heart.

Do not mourn her, for she has no need in it.”

[Your additional voice here could be Cold or Hunted. Cold advocating for leaving the Princess turn into statue as well as being comfortable in the new stone world, accepting it in a way. Hunted on the contrary, full on discomfort and advocating to take her hand. You could also do the nice option and take her hand, which would lead to you both turning into stone as you chat, Shifty would take the Princess right before you both turn to stone]

OH BOY

I apologise if there are a million mistakes here (and nonsensically long sentences lmao)

Hope it was fun to read ❤️

Non art related ask 💥 Man look at what u did

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godihatethiswebsite · 7 months ago

Text

Everything's Perfect

✽ Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!reader

You find yourself learning a painful lesson in futility when a possessive romance becomes too stifling

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

This small bit of madness was partially inspired by this post from @shotmrmiller. Thank you for your constant barrage of depraved juicy thoughts that feed us mere mortals!

Trigger warnings: stalking, unhealthy relationships, minor smut, pet play?

You’d planned it perfectly.

A couple months' careful preparation finally come to fruition as you shoved the last of your precious belongings in your oversized purse and headed towards the front door, ignoring the pang in your heart and the tears building behind bloodshot eyes as you cast your gaze one final time over the place you’d called home before departing the space forever.

You never thought you'd see the day you'd walk out on Simon Riley - simultaneously the best thing that ever happened to you and the unfortunate reason for your abrupt upheaval. The man you would have surrendered your entire being to…

…until the avid eagerness with which he wrapped your pliant form around his meaty fingers became far more predatory than it was enthralling.

At first you’d loved that about him; his borderline obsession granted you the freedom to be as clingy as you liked without overwhelming or smothering his own flames of passion. He let you express your need for him in ways that would’ve sent lesser men running for the hills. There was no judgement for the amount of affection you practically drowned him with - whether that be the hours long phone calls or back to back text messages. How you always felt the compulsory need to be physically attached even when the two of you were merely existing separately in each other’s presence.

How you craved the nights laying cock drunk tangled in soaked bed sheets, far too shattered and dumb from overlapping orgasms to do anything but take what he gave you, whimpering like a broken toy as his wide hips battered your abused and messy quim with still no end in sight. Even overstimulated and far past the point of exhaustion, you couldn’t slake the insatiable voracity to be pumped full over and over again.

You’d ignored his own flags too, viewing them in a positive light instead of the much more sinister undertones they held. How quickly he’d moved all your belongings into his flat. The possessive grip he held on you in the presence of others. The need to know where you were at all times and showing up unannounced on the rare instances you’d forgotten to text him.

He had you apologizing for it bent over the kitchen table when you got home that night, manicured nails adding to the already bountiful collection of claw marks scratched into the polished wood.

To you, all those things were just the little ways he showed how much he truly cared.

You would’ve kept on ignoring it if not for the worried looks your close friends gave you each time you showed up to a weekly get together covered in fresh marks and bruises from being well loved. It grew frustrating having to submit to their scrutinizing over and over again. Quite honestly it had you rethinking your affiliation with them over their refusal to just drop it already.

No, he hadn’t really choked you last night. ‘But think what would happen if he did. He might not know his own strength!’

Let me ask Simon if it’s ok for me to come that weekend. ‘You shouldn’t need his permission to live your own life!’

That was just a happy coincidence that he noticed Sarah’s car out front and decided to pop in the other day. ‘How can you not see he’s stalking you?!’

It was easier to disregard their warnings than to heed them. They didn’t get Simon like you did, hadn’t spent enough time in his orbit to understand the intimate connection that tethered you to his very existence. With him there was no pretend at moderation for normalcy’s sake. Just the unimpeded loyalty that went beyond the acceptable standards of polite society.

That was just us… wasn’t it?

For as much as you protested otherwise, slowly but surely your friends’ words chipped away at your head, speaking into a subconsciousness that had been long shoved to the back in favor of romance and happily ever afters. Situations were analyzed from every angle for a hint of foul play. Spoken words were picked apart letter by letter for ulterior meanings. His once soothing touch now resulted in goosebumps that had nothing to do with the dampness of your gusset.

You couldn’t deny the validity of some of their claims, the growing unease at the way he treated you. The curiousness of how he hinted to you about events that transpired that morning you hadn’t yet brought up. You hadn’t wanted to discover if that glint peeking out from behind the leaves of your fern on the top shelf of your bookcase was merely a trick of the light.

It was getting harder and harder to unblur the lines between devotion and obsession.

Friendly gatherings that used to be a time for unwinding and giggling over mimosas turned into laying out intricate battleplans for how best to escape him safely, keeping in mind his uncanny abilities as a soldier and the connections that came with it.

It would have to be done while he was deployed, when he was stuck out in the field with no way to follow. Cash only, no debit. A new phone number. Renting out a secluded place under a fake name. The girls would put a duffle bag together for you that they would keep locked away in one of their closets. Most of your stuff would have to be left behind, only grabbing and smuggling out whatever you could easily carry in your purse. Your friends would all pitch in to provide the rest.

That’s how you found yourself standing in the threshold of the home you once enjoyed together, precious memories ghosting through rooms pulling at emotions you weren’t allowed to feel anymore.

All that had to be in the past. Your future wasn’t his anymore.

After half a year of sharing your life with a man you had one day hoped you’d share a lifetime with, you sent him one last text of remorse for the unforeseen situation, wished him the best and begged for forgiveness with the closing line ‘don’t come looking’.

It killed you to lock the door behind you and walk away from it - from him - pathetically leaving your key under the mat and getting in the taxi parked out front which would take you to the first of many destinations.

You hadn’t been involved in the planning aspect of this part, the girls taking care of all arrangements to keep anything from potentially popping up in your browsing history. They didn’t know what types of programs he had access to so high up in the military - the kinds of connections he’d made that would give him full access to every millimeter of your life.

Were your electronics being hacked and monitored for suspicious activity? Was there a hidden tracking program running in the background on your phone? Cameras in your rooms invading your privacy?

There was an extreme amount of paranoia surrounding this whole endeavor. One false step and they could just be leading you right back into his awaiting and dangerous arms.

Part of you wasn’t entirely sure if that was such a bad thing. Even now, sitting on a train bound for the middle of nowhere, you didn’t really want to leave him.

It was a complex war between your head and your heart. For all his faults, Simon never made you feel inferior or worthless, a common complaint you had about past relationships filled with less than ideal treatment. He’d been supportive of your hobbies and dreams, not belittling of them. He didn’t blink at your weird quirks or have unexpected violent outbursts whenever you interrupted his private time. He took you out on dates and narrowed his eyes when you’d tried to bring your wallet with, taking exception to the notion of you paying before you explained you’d never not had to.

(‘just need a little fuckin’ to sort that habit right outta you’, he’d claimed afterwards with your knees pushed back to your ears and his girth pounding away at your insides)

But your friends said this was for the better. They had your best interests at heart, supporting you in your efforts to get as far away from London as you could to start anew, someplace far out in the open countryside where you had no family or connections to link back to you.

Two switched train lines, a crowded bus, and another cab ride later, you were finally holed up with your scarce belongings in a room half the size of your old apartment with three other roommates you didn’t know. It hadn’t taken long to unpack all your belongings, counting the money stashed away in a hidden envelope to see how much you had to get by with until you found yourself a proper job out here.

But hunting for that would start tomorrow. Tonight, you just wanted to sleep off the exhaustion after a full day’s worth of travel.

You ignored the overwhelming sense of loneliness curled up on a thin creaky mattress under a scratchy worn quilt, checking your new phone at the end of the night to read the various well wishes and best of luck’s from your friends, texting the group chat to let them know you’d made it safe and sound and would update them tomorrow morning. Just as you went to turn your phone off for the night, you noticed an unread message from an unknown number waiting in your inbox - odd, considering the girls had been the ones who bought it for you and put in all their contact info ahead of time. They should’ve been the only ones with access to this number.

‘Must just be spam’, you rationalized to yourself, moving your thumb to swipe it into trash… but hesitating. You didn’t know why you felt the need to click on it instead, a gnawing dread in your gut speaking against the denial in your brain.

You opened it.

The world came to a halt, stomach roiling with nausea as you whimpered in alarm, the hand holding your phone trembling as you read it over and over again, committing the words to memory. You shoved the phone under your pillow as if putting it out of sight would solve all your problems, yanking the covers up over your head and squeezing your eyes shut tight.

Sleep didn't come easy to you that night or any of the ones following - not as you were continuously haunted by the lingering shadow of the impossible message left for you by your now ex boyfriend.

‘I’ll see you in a month.’

What you thought was perfect at first glance was in fact dappled and moth ridden with substantial holes. What's more, you knew he knew it too.

The following month was spent in a state of constant terror, insecurity laced through your nervous system like a shot of fentanyl in your veins. Even from so far a distance Simon toyed with your fragile mind. Wanted you to fester in unknown anticipation, a stillness in the air that felt more like the deep breath before the plunge, the prelude to an eventual inevitability heralded by those six little words.

It invaded every aspect of your daily routine. Too paranoid of the foreboding message, you tried to leave your new abode as infrequently as possible, burning through your savings on first month's rent and utilities, the small percentage that went towards paying for groceries. Incorrectly assuming you’d have acquired new employment by now to cover your remaining expenses, you closed out the tabs for the job websites with a huff of anguished frustration, rough fingers combing through frazzled hair and faltering in the act of actually searching.

If you succeeded in landing a job then you'd have to subject yourself to a series of background checks, anonymity tossed out the window the moment you were added to an identifiable government database ripe for the picking. With that startling realization, everything you and the girls spent weeks trying your best to account for suddenly unravelled into a jumbled disaster of good intentions, second guessing your decisions made like a paltry amateur playing chess against a grandmaster.

Did you really think you could build a new identity in such a short amount of time, hiding in plain sight in a world under constant surveillance without the aid of black market assistance? Sooner or later you’d find yourself in a situation where you’d be forced to interact with society in a way that would put you on the radar and then what would you do? Hell, you couldn't avoid using a bank account or making online purchases forever, not in an age where technology was woven into the very fabric of our lives and required for just about everything.

You hadn't even made friends with the people you shared the modest sized dwellings with - so at odds with your naturally extroverted personality - for fear of showing up on someone’s social media page and making it even easier to be located. It drove you to isolationism, standing on the sidelines as you watched helplessly from behind an invisible wall as you slowly transformed into an anxiety ridden shell of the carefree spirit you'd been once upon a time.

As the days dragged onward, you grew more and more skittish, crossing off days on the calendar as if they were X's on a prison cell.

There had been no more messages, an ominous sign in and of itself. You knew Simon, knew what he could become - what he became after he walked in the door still dressed to kill from weeks spent bathing in gore, the remnants of decay wrapping around the edges and bleeding through the stark shell of his mask. He never turned that creature on you, but you could see it sometimes when he thought he'd tucked it away on a carefully controlled leash. Waiting for the next satisfying hunt.

That's what you were now. Prey. A fun little game for him to sink his teeth into, blissfully unaware of the impending danger until bloodied fangs shredded flesh and feasted away at your squishy entrails.

You’d wrongly assumed you were the type of clever rabbit to be tracked through thick mud and dense underbrush, something squirrelly and quick-witted who could easily outsmart the overestimating wolf’s salivating maw…

When in reality, you’d only ever been the kind of quarry he could just simply waltz out back and drag from her comfy caged-in bunny burrow of false security.

You didn't fight him when he showed up a month later as promised, bag already packed and a letter sitting on the kitchen island for your roommates explaining the sudden departure, taking up nervous vigilance on the front porch steps leading to the house like an obedient dog waiting for its master. You didn’t try to make a last ditch effort to escape as the familiar SUV turned the corner of your street to where he knew you’d been hiding all along.

Simon didn’t say anything as he pulled up to the curb and stepped out of the imposing black vehicle, the very picture of casual arrogance as he walked around the car and strolled up the pavement as if his name was written on the deed. Immediately shooting to your feet and slinging your duffle over your shoulder, you met him halfway down the drive so as not to upset him further, the unrelenting weight of his gravity drawing you back into his marrow and shackling you to his heart.

You shouldn't have felt instant relief to be once again shadowed in his towering presence; gone misty eyed when for the first time in weeks you'd craned your neck up to gaze upon those pooling brown irises leering down at you with a stone eyed look of condescension. The scarred hand on your cheek felt mocking, the soft cooing at your pitiful whimpers and quivering lower lip sending you back into the welcoming headspace that - despite the warning bells going off inside your mind - had missed the serenity that came with his unbridled toxic love.

One could only guess at the harsh punishments he'd enact for this, the further restrictions he'd place on your freedom, the biting sting of his belt tanning your backside with mottled discoloration.

But he was here now. Things would be alright again. He'd retake the mantle of caring for your person and make things easy for your simple addled brain.

Just a dumb little bunny who realized a little too late that she’d never actually left the wolf's den in the first place.

The warm tantalizing scent of savory Italian cuisine wafted out through the doorway that led to the kitchen beyond, mouthwatering and succulent as it floated to where you sat curled up on the couch, absentmindedly itching at the still inflamed skin at the nape of your neck. Simon would have to put more lotion on the site later after dinner, not wanting to reopen the recently healed over scab.

“Tracker botherin’ you?” he asked as he rounded the corner from the kitchen into the living room with two plates in hand, perking up at his presence and smiling as he placed one in front of you on the coffee table. The Stanley Cup Playoffs were tonight and he was allowing you to watch it with him after a string of good behavior. Even went out and bought you your favorite team’s jersey for the occasion.

You eagerly dug into the homemade pasta dish, moaning at the taste of cheesy alfredo on your tongue and speaking through a mouthful of buttery garlic bread hidden behind your palm. “A little. Can I keep the collar off, just for tonight?”

He hummed in consideration as he took up his spot on the couch next to you, tugging you to his side possessively and brushing your hair out of the way to examine the irritated flesh. He’d neglected to put your collar back on after your shower earlier, a little treat for the game tonight. “Keep bein’ good f’me and we’ll see.”

You beamed up at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek once you’d swallowed your food. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy wearing the item in question - you quite liked the one he picked out for you after bringing you back home a few weeks prior, the way it sparkled in the light and the meaning of ‘his’ ingrained in every stitch. It would just be easier to get to sleep without the soft lining on the inside rubbing up against and chaffing the still healing skin.

But Simon knew best. If the collar came back on then you would wear it happily without a squeak of complaint.

After all, everything was perfect now that you were back where you belonged.

#godihatethiswebsite #spooky scary skeleton #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #this just came outta nowhere #brain bunnies went a little darker

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pumpacti0n · 7 months ago

Text

"...The Anarchist case against the State is pretty simple to put in Marxist terms. You have your dictatorship of the proletariat. But immediately there's a problem. The state is not, and cannot be the entire class. In order to have a state, you have to put a subset of the class in charge. Call it a vanguard, a party, what have you. Let's assume for a moment that the new party really is comprised of the proletariat and isn't composed of nominally allied intellectuals. Even in this best case scenario what you have is representation, not actual rule by the proletariat as a class.

"Well ok," says the Marxist, "that's not a problem, the representatives will just represent the interests of the class as a whole." But instantly you have a problem, your dictatorship of the proletariat is no longer a dictatorship of the proletariat, it's a dictatorship of the representatives of the class. For the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie this doesn't matter, because the incentives of the state align with theirs and you can be a member of the bourgeoisie while simultaneously holding office, in fact almost all representatives are.

But for the proletariat this is not true at all, the moment a proletarian take(s) control (...) they are no longer part of the class with no property, they have at their command the property of the state. This problem is exacerbated by any attempt to use the state to socialize the economy, the larger the share of the economy administered by the State, the more property the representatives now command.

Those representatives of the proletariat in the State now have their own interests: that of the management of the property of the state, that of the nation state itself, formerly alien to the proletariat as a class.

Furthermore, each passing day isolates the representatives from the proletariat itself. It isolates them physically, it isolates them psychologically, it isolates them in terms of mannerism and expectation.

And so every day the interests of the representatives of the proletariat drift further apart from their representatives until one day the dictatorship of the proletariat vanishes entirely and you're left with the dictatorship of an entirely new class produced by the State.

And this is the BEST case scenario, the one in which the representatives of the class are genuinely attempting to do their job. And then still the form of the state devours the dictatorship of the proletariat, that which was once its content. The state will not wither away because its existence produces new classes with their own functions and interests.

Lenin's State and Revolution demonstrates this problem: it calls for the state to become the landlord of the proletariat. Immediately, in a single instant, the pretense of the State as a special armed body of the class disappears. In its place is a new class of rent connectors whose interests have nothing in common with the proletariat.

This is just how the State works. The proletariat has nothing in common with the tax collector, the landlord, the manager, the planner. All of the functions of the old world absorbed and preserved by the State coalesce into new classes and socialists are left spinning their wheels, trying to abolish two systems, the State and the class system, with an institution (the State) that reproduces both of them.

Even on a theoretical level, even in the world of State and Revolution, where every state employee is paid a worker's salary and nothing more, the State would still produce classes and with it reproduce itself. The only solution to this is to destroy the State entirely and let the class as a whole form the dictatorship of the proletariat.

This is Anarchism. The propertiless masses rule themselves directly and destroy the property relations and the State institutions that comprise the conditions of their own existence as a class, thus ending at long last the nightmare of the class system with the new and radiant dawn of the classless society of communism."

[source]

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