#what can i say its free real estate

[todayisafridaynight]

uhhh something something 'the only time a yakuza should laugh with his teeth is when he's with family or in trouble' something something arakawa gradually doing so more and more when hanging around jo something something Uh Oh™️

[reasonsforhope]

Kamala Harris just announced that her vice president will be Minnesota governor Tim Walz. Based on the coverage so far I'm really reassured by this decision.

The Washington Post did an obviously great job of making a prepared article for each option, considering how long an article they had up 7 minutes after the announcement.

((Okay technically it's not an official announcement yet it's "according to three people familiar with the pick, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss a decision that is not yet public." But listen. I am 99% sure this is a weather balloon. (Meaning: a deliberate leak to gauge reaction.) Because the sheer weakness or incompetence on the part of the Harris campaign that it would take for three people to all confirm that within a few hours hours of each other and the planned announcement it is massive.))

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

Honestly this decision, from everything I've read and can tell, looks like it's brilliant politics.

Important Context: The vice president(ial candidates)'s job in an election is not to be similar to the president. The vice president's job on the ballot is very, very much specifically to be different from the president. Why? So they can cover each others' weaknesses. Especially regionally.

(Sidenote: I feel a bit ridiculous saying this. But genuinely if you want to get a stronger understanding of how US elections really work. Go watch seasons 6 and 7 of The West Wing. Genuinely, a lot of politicians have said - especially back in its day - that that was the most accurate depiction of an election they'd ever seen. Also specifically features an entire arc about a contested Democratic primary convention, so also very good if you're interested in understanding weird nominating convention shenanigans.)

From the article:

"Harris’s choice for a running mate was among the most closely watched decisions of her fledgling campaign, as she sought to bolster the ticket’s prospects for victory in November and rapidly find someone who could be a governing partner. In picking Walz, she has selected a seasoned politician with executive governing experience and signaled the importance of Midwestern battleground states such as Wisconsin and Michigan.

Walz’s foray into politics came later in life: He spent more than two decades as a public school teacher and football coach, and as a member of the Army National Guard, before running for Congress in his 40s. In 2006, he defeated a Republican to win Minnesota’s 1st Congressional District--a rural, conservative area--and won reelection five times before leaving Congress to run for governor.

Walz was first elected governor in 2018 and handily won reelection in 2022. Though little-known outside his state, Walz emerged publicly as one of the earliest names mentioned as a possible running mate for Harris, and in the ensuing days he made the rounds on television as an outspoken surrogate for the vice president...

“These are weird people on the other side. They want to take books away, they want to be in your exam room. … They are bad on foreign policy, they are bad on the environment, they certainly have no health care plan, and they keep talking about the middle-class,” Walz told MSNBC in July. “As I said, a robber baron real estate guy and a venture capitalist trying to tell us they understand who we are? They don’t know who we are.”

Walz also has faced criticism from Republicans that his policies as governor were too liberal, including legalizing recreational marijuana for adults, protecting abortion rights, expanding LGBTQ protections, implementing tuition-free college for low-income Minnesotans and providing free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren in the state.

But many of those initiatives are broadly popular. Walz also signed an executive order removing the college-degree requirement for 75 percent of Minnesota’s state jobs, a move that garnered bipartisan support and that several other states have also adopted.

“What a monster. Kids are eating and having full bellies, so they can go learn, and women are making their own health-care decisions,” Walz said sarcastically in a July 28 interview with CNN when questioned whether such policies would be fodder for conservative attacks, later adding: “If that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the [liberal] label.”

Walz also spoke at a kickoff event in St. Paul for a Democratic canvassing effort, casting Trump as a “bully.”

“Don’t lift these guys up like they’re some kind of heroes. Everybody in this room knows--I know it as a teacher--a bully has no self-confidence. A bully has no strength. They have nothing,” Walz said at the event, sporting a camouflage hunting hat and T-shirt.

Walz has explained that he felt some Democrats’ practice of calling Trump an existential threat to democracy was giving him too much credit, which prompted his decision to denounce the GOP nominee instead as being “weird.”

“I do believe all those things are a real possibility, but it gives him way too much power," Walz said on CNN’s “State of the Union” regarding the Democrats’ rhetoric. “Listen to the guy. He’s talking about Hannibal Lecter, shocking sharks, and just whatever crazy thing pops into his mind.”

If Walz is elected vice president, under state law, Minnesota Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan (D) would assume the governorship for the rest of his term. Minnesota Senate president Bobby Joe Champion, a Democrat, would become lieutenant governor."

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

--

This guy. Sounds like. fucking Moderate swing-state/rural/Midwestern/southern/"heartland"/working class white voter catnip. He sounds like he's also a very smart politician and strong campaigner. And he's apparently genuinely a good guy with a good record, too.

He sounds like he's going to do a really good job of appealing to voters in several of the big deal swing states without being from any of them specifically. Which means it doesn't feel like pandering to one of the states involved (and thereby spurning the others), which is also great.

(Also he was the one who started "weird" @ conservatives and I think we should take that seriously as a very good political instinct/move. Judging in large part by how it has so clearly hit an actual nerve with conservatives like so little else. Also hugely relevant: that post going around about how part of why conservatives are so upset about "weird" is because in the Midwest, "weird" specifically also implies anti-social or harmful behavior.)

Officially feeling more optimistic about Trump not winning in November

[bigweldindustries]

me, the man who specifically requested that my sleeve not come down onto my hand so i can still hide all my tattoos with long sleeves: hm. i kind of want a neck tattoo

[marthawrites]

Between the Covers

Modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part two to Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

About: During a cozy night in at your place, Aemond discovers your new taste for “literature”. Upon confronting you about it he makes a deal. Part of you wants to say no… but, you ultimately agree to his terms.

Includes: Established relationship, fluff, teasing, banter, and smut featuring breast play (reader is implied to have sensitive breasts), minor vampire play, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, Aemond loses his mind at the mention of blood sucking, dirty talk, vaginal sex, and reader and Aemond say 'I love you'

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be ooc for Aemond but it's ic for the Aemond in my heart! My heart and pussy wrote this so if you have a problem with it up take it up with them!! Reader is non-descript! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic ♥

Autumn turned to winter, then winter to spring, and things with you and Aemond were better than ever. According to Aegon the two of you were “disgustingly cute”, and Helaena, on more than one occasion, admitted how she’d never seen her little brother so happy. 

Alys, despite her best efforts, had been fully removed from the picture after the last big fight that had you and Aemond taking a long self-reflecting break. 

Perhaps the universe really did do you a favor by making you face an ugly side of yourself–jealousy, distrustfulness, suspicion. Was it fun to look at in the eyes? No. Absolutely not. But, it made you realize things about yourself which ultimately lead you and Aemond to give the relationship another chance: a real honest chance. 

He too was far from perfect and had his own baggage and scores to settle. But at the end of the day you two were fucking wild for each other. And that’s all that mattered.

While your third floor apartment wasn’t anything compared to the sprawling Targaryen estate, it was cozy and located in one of the nicer neighborhoods in King’s Landing. Any city had its slums and dark underbellies, but thankfully you didn’t have to deal with either of those. Inwardly you were convinced that if you did live in one of those shady places that Aemond would swoop you away to his own private quarter in his family’s mansion. The idea of moving in together had been hinted at a couple times and each time your belly–and heart–did flips. One day, sure, maybe. But, now? You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. Moving in together was a huge commitment.

Perhaps something to consider for your three-year plan. 

Or, one-year plan.

You both had a free day tomorrow, so Aemond took advantage of it and stayed the night. After dinner you took a shower and he waited in your bedroom, searching for something to watch. 

There were so many choices. Why was there always so many choices? It made it such a challenge to actually decide on something!

When you came out with damp hair and your favorite pajamas–a big shirt and cute underwear–you proclaimed, “I saw an A24 movie last night I think we’d both like!”

He looked over at you from where he lay lounging on your bed in black sweats and a white tee, barely contained amusement plastered on his face. “As much as I love those, I’m less interested in movies now that I’ve found this,” he said, holding up the latest book you’ve been reading. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Did you forget to put it back on your shelf? Warmth flooded your face. “Baela was talking about it and she talked it up so much I had to check it out!” You admitted a little too quickly, hiding an embarrassed smile behind a hand.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked. “Vampire smut? If you’re so bored by The Two Towers all you had to do was say something.”

Your eyes–no, your whole face–brightened with shared amusement. “What! No, it’s not smut. There’s plot!” You said defensively (perhaps not convincingly, though, with the giggle), as you hopped on the bed and straddled him. His slim hips fit so easily between your bare, soft thighs, it was almost criminal. Mischief sent his eye twinkling. You took the book from him and cleared your throat, preparing to read the synopsis on the back. “Listen, ‘kay? This explains it really well.”

“Already read the back,” he said, sly. “And comments on goodreads. Seems to be extremely popular with women. There were… lots of caps, exclamation points, sweaty face and fire emojis… rave reviews.” Sometimes when he smiled–really smiled–he had little dimples; they were out on full display, now. He ran his wide, warm palms up your thighs, thumbs skimming dangerously close to that delicate space between your thighs he loved so, so fucking much. “Do you want to know what my favorite part is though?” He asked as if it were a secret.

Goosebumps tickled your skin as he teased you. You didn’t bother to put a bra on and you suddenly became acutely aware of your t-shirt’s texture as your sensitive nipples tightened beneath it. How easily your body reacted to his. “What’s your favorite part?”

He took the book from you and opened it. Smirking, he read Baela’s note she left for you on a post-it sticky, his voice an octave or two higher: “‘chapter 32 might be the hottest thing I’ve ever read in a book. It will change your life.’” He peered up at you with an arched brow. “Have you got to chapter 32 yet?”

You were blushing and giggling and trying so hard to not rip the book from his hands and smother his taunting face with one of your many pillows. “Oh my gosh shut up you are terrible!”

He laughed. “You’re the one reading vampire smut!”

“There’s plot!”

Aemond flexed beneath you and the next thing you knew you were on your back beneath him. His long silver-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and it hung over his shoulder threatening to tickle your face. “My pretty girl still hasn’t answered me,” he said as he pinned you down, lowering to nip your earlobe. “Or will I have to use compulsion to get it out of you, hm?”

You felt his grin against your neck, heard it in his question, and before you could stop yourself a little moan escaped your mouth because he bit you. Really bit you. His teeth, clean and sharp, clamped around a mouthful of your neck. He drew it into his mouth, sucking, and–fuck it was hot–you then understood why women in silly vampire books gave in so easily to the predator. You knew your pulse had to be jumping right there in the flesh he held between his teeth. All those giggles from before vanished and were replaced with small gasps. You squeezed your hands over his shirt-covered shoulders, answering, “n-no… I haven’t read that far yet.”

He relaxed his mouth and licked up the same bit of skin he’d been biting, kissing it softly. “Good,” he replied. “You can read it out loud to me now.”

That perked you right up. “Oh my god Aem! No!” 

“But I’m sooo curious to know what happens when she goes inside the castle. I skimmed the last chapter you were on. Something about him loving the smell of her blood, barely able to control himself around her, and she’s stuck there with him now?”

You were laughing again. “You’re such an ass!”

“Those are very important plot points,” he said smoothly, matter-of-factly. “And it’s chapter 31. So all the tension will lead up to the famous chapter 32.” He kissed you as he spoke; your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone, whatever he could reach.

You were still laughing, but his kisses relaxed you, too. You pushed your hands up beneath the front of his shirt and gently scraped your fingernails over his abdomen. His chest. You felt his muscles quiver slightly beneath your touch. You loved how his body reacted to you. While stroking between the patch of hair at the center of his chest, and the trail of hair below his navel, you asked, sheepishly, “what if I get embarrassed?”

It was his turn to perk up. Pulling back, he looked down at you with a mixture of deviousness and softness that had your heart flipping. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Why am I have scared to hear this deal? But… okay, let’s hear it,” you replied, smiling and biting your lip.

“As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep eating your pussy.”

Yet another wave of heat rushed to your face and along your spine. You really, really hoped Aemond couldn’t see the blush of your features. Knowing him, however, he probably did… or at least saw the spark of desire, excitement, and embarrassment in your eyes. “You really wanna hear me read this stupid book?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I wanna eat you too. So, why not both?”

“Well, when you put it that way…,” you mumbled in agreement, grabbing your book and opening to where you last left off.

Aemond shuffled triumphantly and smiled one of those smiles that if he did indeed have fangs they’d certainly be showing. He kissed your throat as he pushed the bottom of your shirt up, grazing his fingertips along your belly as he did so, not stopping until the softness of your breasts melted against his palms. Squeezing the sensitive mounds, he gave your neck one last little nip before lowering to your bared tits. He made a noise in his throat at the sight of them–your pretty nipples peaked with need–and he held each in a hand. Looking up at you he asked, "how long do you think you’ll last reading?” He squished your tits together so your nipples were as close together as they could be. Hot mouth wrapped around one and he sucked, greedily drawing it into his mouth. He relished the sensation as well as your gasp of surprise. He relaxed his mouth and let your tit free only to repeat the motion to the other one.

Fuck. He’d barely started, you hadn’t even begun reading, and you already felt warm tension pull in your belly. Your breasts have always been sensitive. Sometimes when you were feeling especially needy, and Aemond especially wicked, he’d suck your tits until you came. Part of you wondered if he meant to do that now with how he lavished them. “Shit–Aem! Not long if you keep this up…!” You moaned, biting your lip again as your eyelids trembled closed. “Haven’t even let me start yet..!”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “You’re right…,” he said, slowly circling his tongue around and between your nipples. “Go ahead and start reading then, baby. I’ll get nice and comfortable between these thighs.” 

True to his word, he did. Your boyfriend meant to murder you. Without a fucking doubt. Straight up murder.

With a shuddering breath you began to read aloud.

Aemond kissed over your covered pussy, not yet bothering to move your underwear aside or take them off. He wasn’t trying to be especially distracting yet, but he loved knowing you were wet and eager for him. He kissed the insides of your thighs–that impossibly soft dip where your thigh met your pelvis–and even the underswell of your asscheeks as your legs spilled open. He knew right where your clit was. He licked over it through your panties. Teasing. Coaxing. Hoping to hear your voice warble with want.

It did. There was no way you’d be able to keep this up for the rest of the chapter as well as the next chapter. The main female character, a human, had just re-dressed into something suitable for dinner. In this case, a gown that complimented the color of her skin and shape of her body. And the main male character, a vampire, was waiting for her to finish. Before this, the tension had indeed been all over the place. Blood, desire, lust, everything sinful about the undying charisma of vampires. At the end of the chapter she walked downstairs only to make him utterly darken with lust. And, at the end of the chapter, Aemond pulled the front of your panties aside to finally give the full length of your pussy a hot, slow lick. You gasped in time with the main female character’s gasp.

“Think he sinks his teeth into her pretty neck and finally takes what he wants?” Aemond asked, low and somewhat muffled, as he turned his gaze up to your heated face.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You half thought he was joking about the whole thing! But… then again, you knew Aemond pretty damn well by now and knew he wasn’t the prankster type. You moaned softly at the slow, wonderful feeling of his tongue on your clit. Then, you answered in a shaky breath, “it’s the temptation. He worships her. Or… at least her blood. He won’t tear her apart. He needs her.”

He made one of his classic little ‘mmm’s in thought. “Keep reading, baby. I’m dying to see what happens.” Another lick, another kiss to your most sensitive bud, and a gentle suck. 

Fuck–if he kept this up?! Pleasure rippled up your body in goosebumps and your voice shook as you read into the new chapter.

Somehow the book tension intensified even further. Between that, and how Aemond continued to slowly eat you, your head felt dizzy. Really, honest to God, you didn’t know how much more you could take. Then, the next line started to crumble some of that tension: “The vampire lord kissed the top of the lady’s hand, and when he did his fingers grazed the delicate webbing of veins on the underside of her wrist. Her scent bloomed beneath him. A perfume. His jaw ached with the need to consume. To consume her.”

Aemond picked up pace, too, as did your pulse. He balanced you on the edge of bliss and wouldn’t yet let you go. 

You began to stammer over words. You even left some unfinished. Because now you read a scene that was strikingly similar to your current situation. The vampire had his lady laid back and sprawled on the staircase, her skirts bunched high, his starved tongue feasting between her thighs.

Aemond groaned appreciatively. He worked you higher and higher, selfishly making it harder for you to read out loud, and savored each and every little dip and rise of your voice. His good girl. So fun, and playful, and willing to entertain his silly ideas. God, he loved you. He memorized all the signs of orgasm in your body. He could hear them. Feel them. He knew you were getting close, but he didn’t want you to come yet. There was still more to be read. Right before climax could claim you, he stopped.

“Aemond!” You squealed, near breathless. You looked down at him, accusatory, blissful eyes glaring. “Not fair!”

“Did I forget to mention I’ll only let you come when I want you to? Sorry, love, my bad.”

“How convenient of you,” you retorted.

“Do keep going though? I have a feeling he’ll need a taste of her blood now that he’s tasted her cunt.”

Begrudgingly, you did. And, as luck would have it… (did he read ahead while you were in the shower!?): “The vampire lord’s cock strained in his breeches, throbbing with a pulsing need that sent his mind to delirium. He never craved anything so badly as he did her.”

Aemond made more of those ‘mmm’s in agreement as he started to slowly work you up again. He pressed his tongue into you and let his nose rub against your clit. His hands rubbed and squeezed over any part of your body he could. Waist, belly, hips, thighs, anything; he loved all of it. He could lay here and do this all fucking night–vampire smut or no.

It became harder and harder to keep reading. Between little moans, whimpers, and firm bites to your lip, you kept trying. By now, the chapter progressed to both of them in various stages of undress on the staircase. “The vampire lord claimed her body with his hot, rigid manhood. At the same time he filled her with his cock, he sunk his teeth into her neck.”

After that you were no longer able to make words. A finger replaced Aemond’s tongue as his mouth lavished your clit. You dropped the book and neither of you seemed to care anymore. One of your hands gripped into his hair–more than likely making the sleek pull back of his ponytail a mess–while your other hand played with your breasts. Seemingly effortlessly, a second finger joined the first and your hips rolled in a desperate need for more. “A-ah yes!”

A soft dark laugh rumbled from him as he watched you from below. “You’re so fucking wet your pussy just sucked my finger in. I barely had to move it. Getting close again, my love?” He asked as those two deft, long fingers worked your inner walls with blinding precision. “I love how you were blushing and fumbling with your words when you read. Fuck–you’re so pretty with my fingers in you.”

A familiar tightness began to build in your legs. The inside of your thighs started to tremble. Your head, fuzzy as it already was, buzzed with your body’s anticipation. Pleasure. So much pleasure. Your fingers tweaked your nipples for that extra little push, and apparently that’s exactly what you needed.

Aemond’s tongue was on your clit again, quick and light compared to the harsh way he fingerfucked you. This time he didn’t edge you along.

Orgasm, beautiful and consuming, swallowed you into a starless dark. When you came back to yourself your head was heavy. The tips of your fingers tingled. Everything felt light. Like you weren’t quite inside your own body yet. “What the fuck Aems…,” you whispered, smiling like a dork.

That was one of the best orgasms and he fucking knew it. He had to know it. 

He carefully rolled away from you to let you catch your breath. “Better than the book?”

“Without question.”

He grinned as he watched you regain yourself. Once he was sure you were okay he pulled you on top of his naked form. When did he take his clothes off? “Always so sweet to me,” he said with that same grin. “I can still taste you on my tongue and need to feel you on my cock. Now.”

You didn't need to be told twice. Your body was ready for him as soon as he moved you atop him. He looked so good, so handsome, so devastatingly perfect as he sat there against your headboard, your bodies meshing together so well. His lean arms wrapped around you, nails scratching down your back, as you lined up with him.

The stretch was unfuckingbelievable. 

Moaning in unison, he rolled his hips up into you with one hand gripped on your waist. Your breasts squished against the firm planes of his. Your scent, your skin, your lust all around him. The squeeze of your cunt around his entire length had him half crazy. There wouldn't be any more teasing. 

You ground onto him, desperate to fuck him as silly as he had fingered you. 

One of his hands gripped the hair at the back of your head and tugged downwards, exposing the fullness of your throat to him. Your neck. He bit you again–all but sinking his teeth into your flesh–and fucked up into you with added fervor. 

“God!” You squeaked, whimpering through your surprise. “Yes, yes, yes, keep biting me..!” You pleaded, bouncing on him in time with his upward rolls.

That's how you both stayed–his teeth on your neck, your fingernails leaving pink scratches on his pale skin, grinding and fucking each other with raw desire–until climax washed over both of you.

You were both panting, a little sweaty, and intoxicated by each other.

A couple minutes later, amidst pillow talk and teasing one another, Aemond asked, “would you read more to me another time?”

You looked at him cheekily. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m very interested in the plot,” he said with obvious innuendo. “And I don’t think you quite understand what you saying words like ‘cock’ ‘cunt’ and ‘blood sucking’ does to me.”

That sent you into another fit of giggles. “You’re insane!”

He rolled on top of you and smirked down at you. “Well?” He asked, grazing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I will.”

Pulling the blankets up around your bodies, you turned on the movie you mentioned earlier. Aemond laid on his back and scooped you against him, legs immediately intertwining with one another. Sated. Happy; even as your skin pleasantly burned where he left dark hickies behind.

“Thanks for that. It was a lot of fun,” he whispered against the crown of your head.

“Yeah it was,” you agreed. “I love you, Aem.”

“I love you too.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

See comment section for my main taglist and Aemond taglist! To be added or removed from either, please hit me up!

[embrosegraves]

𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣

Oscar Piastri x Horner!Reader Oscar finds that having a crush having less than platonic feelings for your boss's only adult daughter is apparently free real estate for some of F1's biggest gossips

Warnings: As per, explicit language and grammatical errors.

dates on tweets don't exist, right? they're all just fake??

series masterlist | previous part | next part

AustralianGP

imessage

instagram.com

liked by yn.horner, rubenholtt and others

oscarpiastri A week full of sim training, rage rooms and relaxation before going home for a p1 on the podium (hopefully) (max let me have this i beg) tagged: redbullracing, yn.horner

view all comments

logansargeant did I not tell you rage rooms were the coolest ever -> oscarpiasrti yeah yeah keep bragging 🙄 -> logansargeant well since you gave me permission-

fan38 at least its a controlled environment to deal with your emotions -> yn.horner thank FUCK i convinced him to do this instead of what Ruben wanted -> rubenholtt what was wrong with egging and tp-ing her house? -> yn.horner uhh everything???

maxverstappen1 I'm not gonna go easy on you just because you grew up 10 minutes from the track -> oscarpiastri BOOOOO 🍅🍅🍅

twitter.com

instagram.com

yn.horner has posted a new story!

replies:

user358 make him wear them!!

oscarpiastri The glasses are NOT the issue and you know it. -> yn.horner What you think I don't look good with facial hair? -> oscarpiastri Hey don't put words in my mouth -> oscarpiastri I just wasn't expecting you to pick up looking like THAT

imessage

instagram.com

liked by yn.horner, maxverstappen1 and others

redbullracing The face of a man that snagged P2 AT HIS HOME RACE, channelled his inner Elle Woods ("What, like it's hard?") and then proceeded to not elaborate any further tagged: oscarpiastri

view all comments

oscarpiastri What can I say, I'm just built diff 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️ -> liked by author

danielricciardo We stand on business here -> oscarpiastri And that's on what? -> yn.horner PERIODTTTTTT

user325 AND NOT A SINGLE DISQUAL IN SIGHT -> danielricciardo 😢😢 -> user325 sorry Danny -> danielricciardo 😒🫶

JapaneseGP

twitter.com

imessage

instagram.com

oscarpiastri has posted a new story!

replies have been turned off

twitter.com

ChineseGP

instagram.com

liked by gerihalliwellhorner, oscarpiastri and others

yn.horner having matching plushies always helps me feel better when i'm away from home

tagged: @ Note Giver

view all comments

oscarpiastri what names have you chosen for yours? assuming that whoever they match with has named theirs -> yn.horner their names are confidential i'm afraid -> oscarpiastri boooooo no fun :(

user549 wish my boyfriend did this for me -> user550 babe, we're literally on our way to go buy jellycats -> user549 ok and???

imessage

twitter.com

twitter.com

if you see this, know that you WILL be getting the next update after the Imola GP i promise.

I've been in a really odd spot in my life where I haven't been very motivated to do any writing (or even just creating in general) for long burst of time, which means that any requests I have been sent previously have been sitting in my drafts half finished because I cannot for the life of me find any inspiration to write anything.

I count myself lucky that I had enough motivation and energy to start pre-planning for the rest of this series. If you take a look at the series masterlist you'll notice that there are numbers next to the current chapters and beyond. I've decided that the entire series is going to be 14 chapters in total with a bonus chapter for Oscar and Y/n's shenanigans at the end of the 2024 season.

I can't thank everyone enough for being so incredibly patient with me as I try to work through this writing slump. Slowly but surely I will start uploading fic reqs again

-- Embrose xx

[dedalvs]

When will humankind learn the lesson of its hubris and begin to heal itself? Also can you recommend any undergraduate or graduate level resources (textbooks etc.) for learning about fiction? I already read Writing Fiction by Burroway. Thanks in advance

January 14, 3182. Make a note of the date and return to this post when it comes.

To your second question, I've never read anything on writing fiction, only writing in general. I've found something valuable in every book on writing, even if there were things in the book I found less valuable. For example, I read Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg, and while there was much of it I didn't care for, there are some passags that have stuck with me 22 years later. When it comes to writing guides, I think the best thing to do is read what interests you while understand that what you are really doing is building your own writing guide inside you. You're absorbing what you find personally meaningful and using it to create your own personal styleguide that, like it or not, you'll be following for the rest of your life. Rather than rejecting that, and trying to decide which text will be the text that tells you how to write, embrace it, realize that you are going to do what you're going to do, and then try to work within that framework. That is, if that's what's happening, how will you approach a styleguide? What will it mean to you to read a very didactic text (i.e. "All serious writers must do x; no serious writer every does y") vs. a loosey-goosey one (e.g. "Dance naked in the garden of your creativity and allow your flowers to bloom!")? What are you looking for in these texts and what will you do with information or strategies that you find valuable?

Returning to Writing Down the Bones, I have to say I found the book to be mostly woo. It was more a kind of self-help/empowerment book than a book on writing, in my opinion. But there is something in there that I'm sure I'd heard before but which finally resonated with me. Specifically, it was the way she articulated that it really, truly doesn't matter what you put on the page when you're drafting. Drafting is not the time to reject. Even some idea comes to you that you find absurd, illogical, thematically inappropriate—whatever. It's not the time to push it away. Indeed, it's wasted effort. Editing and revising is the time to question. If you're writing, you shouldn't let anything stop you—even your own brain.

Why it took till then for this idea to take root, I don't know. It could be how she worded it. It could be that it came at the right time. Perhaps I was more open to new ideas when I was reading this book. It may also have something to do with a transition that had taken place for me in writing. After all, when I started high school, I was not regularly using a computer (we'd only just gotten a computer that stayed at home). When I started writing, I wrote by hand—on paper. It's a much, much different thing to edit and revise when you're writing on paper than it is on when you're working on a computer! I mean, digital real estate is cheap. When you're writing by hand, it can literally hurt to write seven or eight pages—and then to discard them in editing! Right now I'm working on a novel draft where I've decided an entire section needs to come out. If I'd written that by hand?! I can't even imagine.

I guess the tl;dr of it is I don't have a specific text to recommend. Rather, I encourage you to look around and grab anything that interests you. In doing so, though, I encourage you to approach it differently, focusing on what in it you find valuable, without either wholly rejecting it or feeling you have to follow it to the letter like an Ikea manual. I even found something valuable in C. S. Lewis's The Abolition of Man, which I honestly can't believe I read.

If you'd like some fiction advice that may be generally useful no matter what you're writing, this is what I can offer:

A valuable skill to hone is being able to read your work as if you have no other knowledge of it. In other words, you need to be able to read your work like a reader. One of the most difficult things to do with fiction is to cut. You usually have a lot more characterization, a lot more plot points, a lot more detail, etc. than end up on the page. The important question is if you cut something, will the reader notice? Will it actually feel like something's miss it, or will a reader never notice? Mind, I'm not saying that as a writer you can't tell if something is superfluous, or that anything you cut will be superfluous. I'm saying sometimes even if you cut something important a reader will still get the impression that what they are reading is whole and unedited. That isn't a good thing or a bad thing: it's a neutral thing. The question you'll have to answer is what is this whole that the reader is getting, and is that whole something you're satisfied with?

Get multiple rounds of feedback from many different readers. I say this not because it's vital, because beta readers are important, because you have to have multiple perspectives on your work, etc. None of that. Getting feedback from many different readers is a form of self-care on the part of the writer. I was deathly afraid of feedback as a young writer. I welcomed praise, sure, but anything else felt too painful to bear. This changed when I took a short fiction class at Berkeley. Suddenly a short story of mine wasn't getting one round of feedback: it was getting fourteen. And not just from the professor, but from fellow students. This was a minor revolution for me in terms of accepting feedback. If I were to take, say, one round of feedback, certainly there would be some praise, but there would also be notes like "awkward phrasing", "why did x character do y?", "this is unclear", "too much description", etc. These things would burn me. I would seethe reading them, and it would hurt so deeply. But! Imagine that one of them circles a paragraph and writes "too much description" and then the other thirteen readers say absolutely nothing at all about that paragraph—maybe one even puts a smiley face next to it. THAT puts the criticism in its proper context. Maybe your writing isn't too bad! Maybe there isn't too much description. Maybe that particular reader just wasn't vibing with it, and maybe that's okay. And then let's look at it from the other perspective. Say thirteen out of fourteen papers have a sentence marked and all of them say things like "huh?", "what's this mean?", "confusing", etc. Guess what? The sentence is probably confusing. And for some reason if everyone's saying the same thing it hurts a lot less. It means, yeah, you probably made a little mistake, and that's okay. It's not one person singling you out, and it's not the case that they don't know what they're talking about. I can't emphasize enough how freeing it is to look at reviews of your work if you have a handful or more to draw from rather than just a single good friend.

It's okay to write the fun part first. You may have a plot device you're really excited about, but to get there, you have to introduce your characters, have them get together, have them go to a place, meet someone else, etc. And it may take time and energy to write all that. You may feel pressured to get through that before you get to the part you really want to write. You certainly can, but you do not have to. I don't know if younger writers can appreciate exactly what it means to have a computer. You can write a little bit now and literally copy and paste it into some other document later. Try doing that with a typewriter! You can write something like "Insert paragraphs later of characters traveling to x location". You can even drop a variable in there so it's easy to find with the search function later (e.g. "ZZZZZ insert scene description here"—now you just need to search for "ZZZZZ"). You can put it in a different color on the screen so it's easy to find when scrolling. You can paste a freaking photo into your document! It's extraordinary what you can do with a computer that you couldn't do in years past. You've got a ton of options. But most importanly, when your work is done, no one will know what order you wrote it in.

In fiction, nothing has to happen. Villains don't have to be punished; heroes don't have to win; characters don't have to have a specific arc that comes to some conclusion. Honestly, one of the tropes (if you can even call it a trope) that I find most frustrating in sequels for movie franchises is after the characters are introduced, they take a few character and assign to them the major story conflict, and then for the rest, they give them a mini arc. It's like, "Mondo 2: Exploding the Mondoverse sees our hero Larjo Biggins take on new villain the Krunge as the very core of the Mondoverse is threatened with destruction! Also, Siddles Nuli learns its okay to be left out sometimes and she shouldn't get her feelings hurt, and Old Mucko learns that even though technology is advancing, sometimes good old fashioned common sense is just what the doctor ordered!" If you get to the end of your story, and you feel it's done, you don't have to panic if you suddenly realize we don't know whether Hupsi ever made it to Bumbus 7. It's okay if Story A is resolved but Story B is not.

I don't care if you used Trope A in your new story even though you used Trope A in your past seven stories and neither should you. Seriously, you think anyone was complaining when Agatha Christie put out another mystery novel? "Oh. Mystery again, huh? Gee, we were all hoping you'd write a book about the struggles traditional fishing villages are facing in the wake of industrial modernization." No we fucking weren't!

I hope you find some of this useful. Whether you did or not, though, be sure you enjoy what you're doing. If you are, you're doing the right thing.

[waldau-archived]

husband — lee seokmin | 1,220 words | fluff

this one is dedicated to lee seokmin's smile :)

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

"no."

"what do you mean, no?" dokyeom asks, manspreading. the exasperated eyebrow raise you give him doesn't deter him in the least.

"no, i'm not sitting on your lap to watch a movie."

"there's not much place on this sofa, though," he says, spreading his arms along the back of the sofa to emphasize his point. he really can take up a lot of space if he wants to.

"the floor is all free real estate, as far as i can tell."

"there's no way i'm letting my sweetheart sit on the floor when i'm on the couch."

"this is how your sweetheart can do it," you say, simply sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of him and fumbling with the remote to find some good movie. you barely have two seconds of peace before he scoops you up in his arms and pulls you onto himself, so you're exactly where you said you wouldn't be.

"dokyeom."

he gasps. "my whole name?"

"be thankful i didn't call you seok—"

"can't hear you," he says loudly, one hand coming up to your mouth to stop you from saying his real name. you shut up for a second.

"ew," he says a moment later, taking his hand away from your mouth like it's on fire. "you licked it!"

"be thankful i didn't bite it."

"i'm thankful for you! isn't that enough?" he whines, hand returning to its place around your stomach.

your retort dies on your lips. you're still not used to how open dokyeom is with his words.

"i guess," you say. the remote lies forgotten on the floor.

"so," he says, turning you to face him, "why don't you want to sit on me?"

"i paid for this sofa, silly. i should be able to sit on it if i want to."

"but you know you don't have to pay anything for me. i mean, unless you want to," he adds with a sleazy wink, and it makes you laugh.

"what about functionality?"

"what about it?"

"the sofa's soft. sitting on you is like sitting on a rock."

"all that workout and you call me a rock? at least i'm warm!"

"okay, but what about a headrest when i need one?"

dokyeom guides your head down to his chest. "how's this?"

"hm. your heart's beating a bit too fast."

"that's because you're so close to me."

you let out a fake groan. "why did i have to get stuck with the cheesiest husband in the world?"

the moment you actually hear your own words, even mortified doesn't begin to cover what you're feeling. dokyeom lowers you down to the sofa and sinks to the ground on his knees, looking at you like you've given him the best gift he could've ever asked for.

"stop looking at me like that," you say, but you're not trying to bury your face into the fabric of the sofa. part of you wants to know what he thinks about your words.

he has that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that's burned into your eyelids even when you close your eyes. it never fails to make you smile.

"i'm not looking at you like anything," he says, but one of his hands has snaked up to your face, tracing your cheek.

"you look like you're in love. it's embarrassing."

"you're the one that called me your husband. that's worse."

"is it?"

dokyeom looks at you with a softer smile before he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. you loop your hands around his neck, pulling him back in for more. you never do get enough of him, even on days you spend all twenty four hours by his side.

"i think," dokyeom says when he pulls back, having kissed you to the point where you've forgotten your name for a few moments, "being married to you would be the worst thing ever."

"yeah?" you ask, tugging him up to his feet and letting all his weight fall on you. it's not often that he lies on top of you, and you're reminded of how strong he really is.

"mm. you'd have to change your last name to match mine."

"what if i don't want to?"

"i could always take yours."

you smile. "oh? and how would the wedding be?"

"we could run away and get married, just the two of us."

"and what, have seungkwan curse us for the rest of his life?"

"our lives," he corrects, propping his chin up on your chest. "we could have a beach wedding, though. or a wedding at our dining table."

"who'd be your best man?"

dokyeom shudders. "not facing that headache till we actually get to it. your turn. what kind of a ring do you want?"

you pretend to think. "an adamantium one."

"funny," he deadpans. "i was thinking we could get married on the moon."

"you were thinking about marrying me?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

"isn't that what we've been talking about all this while?"

"what else would be terrible about being married to me?"

dokyeom is the one who pretends to think now, his chin digging into your collarbone. not that you mind. "i'd want to be around you all the time. i'd make you call me your husband every time we meet someone. i'd spend so much time trying to find houses we'd like. terrible, no?"

you press a kiss to his forehead. "horrifying. would you marry me if i asked you to, right now?"

he looks at you for a moment more before hiding his face in your neck. "i hid something in the knife drawer that says yes," he says, voice muffled.

"the knife drawer?" you ask. "of all the places you could possibly..." dokyeom really does have the annoying ability to steal your breath, both with his kisses and words; your words dry up when you realize what exactly 'something' means.

"i learned it from the boys," he says, looking at you again, all proud. "you never know where to expect the mafia to hide their money."

you're not listening to him. it's the way he says it so easily. you were just joking about it, not even intending to say it, but the fact that he's had it in there since who knows when...

"kyeom, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

dokyeom looks up at you with wide eyes. "are you saying that just because i have a ring for you?"

you snort, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "no, silly. i love you. i know i don't say it enough."

"you don't need to," he says, gentle. "i know you do."

both of you lie like that for a while, your hand gently scraping through his hair.

"so if i ask you to marry me right now..." you say again, because you just want to hear his voice.

"ten more minutes and that ring is yours. but it's not adamantium."

"what a shame."

you can feel his grin against your skin. "what did we even want to watch?"

you can't be bothered to remember. "i don't know, but i want to watch you."

dokyeom snorts. "stop trying to be cheesier than your own husband."

you don't think you're ever going to tire of hearing that.

[phantomdreamgirl]

Whispers of Desire

(Soft) smut with OldMoney!Steve Harrington x reader

18+

A chill creeps up your spine as your boyfriend leads you down a never-ending hallway. The blistering heat of the day is all but forgotten within the hallowed halls of the Harrington estate. The coolness of the stale air doesn't feel refreshing. It feels ominous.

You try not to think about it, as the only thing you want on your mind is the impossibly handsome man who's guiding you through a labyrinth of wood paneling and eerie family portraits.

Finally, he reaches a door and grips its ornate handle with his free hand. You barely have time to breathe a sigh of relief before he pulls you into the room and presses your back against the swiftly closed door.

He kisses you urgently, hungrily, making your head spin. Your hands grasp at his chest, with your fingers curling along the collar of his shirt. Your knees are already trembling from the intensity of his affections. You sigh his name into his mouth as his right hand cradles your face while his left has a tight hold on your hip.

"I couldn't go another minute without kissing you," he whispers. "I missed those pretty lips too much."

You smile dreamily as he pulls away just enough to admire you.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he then laments.

He leans in for another kiss that has you gripping his shirt even tighter. A whiny moan escapes your lips as he pulls away.

"We have to be quiet, angel. We can't disturb the ghosts," he then playfully scolds.

"You know I don't believe in all that," you challenge, breathless.

"You say that now, but I can assure you they're real," he counters, nuzzling his nose against yours. "They lurk in the shadows, always keeping a watchful eye on the inhabitants of their house."

"Do you really believe all those ghost stories you were told as a child?" You ask, pulling away slightly.

"There's some truth to them, y'know. This house is over a hundred years old, so there's bound to be some lingering spirits still roaming around..."

He leans in to kiss you again, but you gently push past him and walk further into the room. It's then you realize that he's brought you to his room. You turn around, but before you can speak, he pulls you into an embrace. He gently grips your chin between his thumb and index finger, silently guiding you to look at him.

"The past has a way of revealing itself to all who reside here," he quietly begins, leaning in close. "You'll find that out soon enough, but at the moment, all that matters is the here..."

He pauses to press a soft kiss to your waiting lips.

"...and now."

You whimper into his second kiss as he presses more of your body into his. You're soon laying on his bed with him on top of you, kissing you slowly, as he's savoring the taste of your lips. Your hands move from his hair to the buttons of his shirt.

You manage to unbutton what you can, considering he had already left the top few undone, just enough to tease you with a glimpse of chest hair. You longed to glide your fingers through it, but also along his broad shoulders and toned biceps. He groans into a kiss when he feels your fingernails lightly graze the tops of his shoulders as you try to push his shirt out of the way.

You smile as he sits up only to fling his shirt to the floor before he's almost crushing you under his weight again.

"Touch me, angel, please..." he practically whines, against your lips.

He already sounds so wrecked and it has you reeling.

You quickly oblige, pressing your palms to his back before gliding your fingernails across his skin, trying to connect all his freckles from memory. He shudders and you feel how painfully hard he is through his dress pants.

His kisses are desperate as he grinds himself against you. You're not sure how much more you can take, as you shift your hips, moving them upward to match his movements.

"Steve, please..." you whine, reaching up and slightly pulling his hair.

A small whimper leaves his lips before he settles his hazy eyes on yours.

"What's wrong, angel?" He asks, still managing to be infuriatingly smug.

You gaze back at him, eyes nearly watering from frustration.

"I need you," you softly answer, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

"But I'm right here," he smiles.

"You know what I mean."

"Do you think you can be quiet for me?"

You nod. "If you're really that concerned with not disturbing your 'ghosts...'"

"Not so much that, as I want to see if you can do it," he clarifies, while his lips move to your neck. He lowly hums into your skin as he collects remnants of sweat on his tongue with every wet kiss.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, not wanting to give him the added satisfaction of hearing how weak you are for him.

"Why challenge me when you're usually the loud one?" You counter, now with a wry smile of your own.

He glances up at you while a look of faux hurt flashes across his face before he smirks.

"That's technically true, but I'm a man of many talents, some of which you already know..."

"I think you should remind me," you reply, watching as his eyes darken.

"Take off your dress, then," he quietly instructs, before sitting back on his knees.

He watches as you slowly sit up then kneel in front of him.

"Will you take something off, in return?" You sultrily ask, as you wrap your fingers around his belt.

"As if you have to ask..." he replies, while his large hands cradle your face.

He leans in for another kiss before you each climb off the bed. You undress simultaneously while he unashamedly stares at your bare chest, once your dress falls to the floor. He palms himself through his briefs, continuing to watch as you peel off your sticky panties.

"You alright over there?" You inquire, with a smile, while laying on the bed.

"Never better," he answers, before quickly taking off the last article of clothing keeping him from you.

He crawls onto the bed, eager to feel your hot skin against his. He presses his body to yours, noting to himself how perfectly you fit together. He'll always want you like this- with your eyes shining up at him with lust and infatuation. It's enough to ruin his stamina, if he gazes at you for too long.

Your hands find his shoulders again and you trace little patterns with your nails as he brushes his lips against your cheek.

He leaves a few wet kisses, before quietly asking, "Ready?"

"Yes," you reply, guiding him into a kiss.

With your arousal coating him and the sheets below, he's able to push himself inside you with relative ease.

Gasping, your body arches into his when his hips meet yours.

"That good already, huh?" He teases, while you glare at him.

You dramatically throw your head back, against the pillow and try to conceal a whimper from how you can feel him throbbing.

"You're so pretty like this, angel," he breathes, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

He pulls out almost halfway before harshly thrusting back in. It seemingly knocks the air out of you until you gasp his name.

"Don't stop, please..." you softly beg, earning another pleased smile from him.

"You need to stay quiet, remember?" He reminds, in a whisper.

You nod, reiterating, "I need you."

"I need you, too..." he replies, moving his hips. "...more than I've ever needed anyone, fuck..."

He settles into a steady rhythm once you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips cover yours, wanting to swallow all the sounds you make just for him. He likes having this power over you during something so intimate and primal.

"Tell me you're mine," he breathily commands, between kisses.

"I'm yours," you whisper, in return.

He groans, as he pushes himself even deeper. Your nails claw at his biceps while gasping his name.

"Tell me...tell me again..." he pants, pressing his sweaty forehead to yours.

"I'm yours, Steve... I always will be," you reassure, reaching up to caress his cheek.

His hips slow as he gazes into your eyes.

"You must really like me then," he smiles.

"I think we're past 'like,' at this point," you reply, voice laced with exasperation.

"I guess you're right..." he sighs as he starts moving his hips again. "I guess you could say... it's more like love."

"It is," you agree, with a smile.

"I love you," he breathes, against your lips, before kissing you deeply.

You struggle to reciprocate his kiss at first, momentarily stunned by the realization that you were both madly, hopelessly in love with each other. He notices and pulls away, worrying he's somehow said the wrong thing.

"I- you don't have to say it -"

You immediately pull him into another kiss. He softly moans into your mouth and you can feel him now pulsing inside you. You squeeze your legs even tighter around him.

"I love you, too," you breathlessly reply against his plush lips.

"I'm gonna buy you the prettiest ring, angel," he begins, thrusting a little faster. "Want everyone to know that you're mine."

You sigh his name as he sloppily trails kisses down your neck. You feel as though he's melting into you, as your body is covered in a mix of yours and his sweat. It's a deliciously intoxicating feeling that you never want to come down from.

"Oh angel, you're so good for me..." he praises, with his face still buried in your neck. "So fuckin' good and so fuckin' wet..."

Your hands cling to his slippery shoulders, barely able to hold on as he claims you as his. He attaches his lips to your skin, alternating between kissing and biting.

"Mine, all mine," he breathes right before his orgasm hits.

He quickly raises his head, pressing his lips to yours messily. Your release washes over you soon after, leaving you both panting into each other's mouths.

You dreamily gaze at each other, while he smiles.

"So, you really love me...?" He quietly asks, almost bashful.

"Yes, I love you, Steve Harrington," you also smile.

"Mmm, okay, future Mrs. Harrington," he replies, nuzzling his nose along your jawline.

You feel yourself actually blushing at him, referring to you like that. His warm eyes meet yours again, and it's then you know, with absolute certainty, that you'll gladly spend the rest of your life with him, ghosts and all.

[plutoenjoyer]

jooyeon — intervention

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

genre: fluff 𓇬 wc: 1.7k

tags: female reader, fluff, drabble, established relationship, face kisses, tickling, playfully teasing each other, jooyeon jealous over little things, not proofread lol

warnings: none

summary: you can't seem to stop buying merch of this little dog character, and jooyeon takes it upon himself to confront your addiction.

notes: "my next fic won't be jooyeon i promise!" I SAID, LIKE A LIAR. im sorry i had the worst writing block ever and this picture of him inspired me to write this silly little thing (it literally looks exactly like him). so i hope its still enjoyable even if its paced a little badly... i just wanted to get something out to make up for the absence T_T

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“y/n,” jooyeon enters your room with no announcement holding up your new purchase in his hand, looking more serious than he's ever been in his life, “this is an intervention.”

you quirk your eyebrow at him, putting down your phone and taking off your headphones so you can greet him properly, “hi?”

you're not surprised he's home at this time—you gave him a key so he could freely go back and forth between here and his dorm when he felt like it. so you're pretty used to him coming into your room and doing weird shit unannounced, like the one time he came in holding a gigantic platter of fruit which made you laugh because the image of his blank-looking, boyish face enveloped by the largeness of his black puffer jacket with a guitar slung over his back, a backpack over his shoulder, and sliced melon in his arms was not exactly what you expected to see that night. but you both just sat on your couch together while snacking, anyway. ”the nice auntie at the store gave it to me for free,” he had said.

you wait for him to explain himself as you sit comfortably amongst your sheets, blissfully unaware of his melodramatic torment.

“don't give me that look!” his over-the-top exasperation makes you break out into a smile even if he hasn't really said anything of note just yet, “this thing! this freaking thing!”

you sit up further, swinging your legs over to the side of your bed to take a closer look. not that you needed to, because it was plenty obvious what it was.

over the course of these past few months you've become increasingly susceptible to this cute little dog character. reason being … it reminded you of jooyeon. it had this head-empty cute innocent silly smile that you couldn't resist, and there were just so many variations that you've found yourself accumulating them over time with little purchases here and there … and well, it seems jooyeon’s finally noticed.

you pout at him. “what, you don't like him? he’s pretty cute to me …”

“no, it's not that,” jooyeon shakes his head. you gesture for him to hand you the plushie by holding your arms out, but instead he gets closer to you and holds out the toy in his arms without letting you grab it. you look up at him in amusement, waiting to see what else he has to say.

“it’s everywhere! seriously!” he vaguely gestures to the … oh yeah, the giant version of the dog that's laid cutely on the left side of your bed. that one was a bit of a splurge purchase. you don't like to think about the price you paid for him.

“and what's wrong with that? i just think he’s a cutie!” you stick your tongue out at him playfully and snatch the smaller toy away from his hands, holding it close in your lap. you watch as his brow furrows at this, eyes laser focused on this stupid dog thing taking up the real estate of your lap where he should be, and you stifle a laugh because it's so obvious how he's jealous of a freaking plushie.

he huffs, crossing his arms and giving you a look of mild contempt, “why?”

“i mean, just look at it!” you enthusiastically ignore his frown and show off the dog, “his little beady eyes, his dumb smile … he just looks happy to be here. look, it even has a tiny bowtie, how cute is that?! he's having so much fun! he doesn't know what taxes are! it's awesome. i love him.”

“sure, but you even have a little statue of it in the bathroom, even stickers on the mirror! i can't even pee in peace!” jooyeon flops himself onto your bed and you bounce a little in your seat at the impact. he leans on his back arm and reaches out a hand to poke at the plushie in your lap, clearly sulking.

you want to laugh at his misery over something so trivial but instead you smile and poke his cheek. “you're just gonna have to deal with iiiit,” your voice lifts at the end, a sing-song voice to fully solidify how much you will not stop buying merch of this little creature of a dog. you roll over and grab the giant one he had pointed out earlier, placing it next to you and hugging it with your entire body weight, and yes, it was in order to see jooyeon get even more antsy.

you innocently smile as you do so, “seeee! it's so cute and comfy! i hug it all the time when you're not here. you should try.”

this piques jooyeon’s interest by the little glint in his eye that says ‘oh?’ and you know exactly what's he's going to say next. “wait, so this thing is my replacement?”

“first of all he has a name. its yeo— … uh, actually, you don't get to know since you're being mean.” you realize how insane it's gonna sound when you tell him you named the giant plushie after him, and try to move on, “and no, i just think he's nice to hold at night.”

“hmmm.” he smiles mischieviously after finding your weakness in all of this, his lips quirking up as he speaks, “you're being weird. what's his name?”

“i told you, you don't get to know.”

“y/n.”

damn. he’s not budging.

you grit your teeth, regretting ever opening your mouth, and mumble, “it’s yeonie …”

his face lights up because now it's his turn to tease you. “yeonie? yeonie like, hmm, perhaps taken from a name like, i dunno, joooooyeon? oh but that would be silly! that's my name! what a coincidence!”

“aaaah, shut uppp!” your face burns in embarassment. you try to stifle his talking with the plushie by (gently) slamming it into his face, but he's too fast. instead he tackles you, throwing the plushies and puts his entire weight on you while your precious yeonie is slumped over to the side.

you shriek, laughing as he does so, “getoffmeeeeee!”

“i won't!” he exclaims and presses kisses against your cheek and forehead. all you can do is brace yourself for the onslaught, his strong arm keeping you in place. “’yeonie’ won't save you now!”

“noooo! free me!” you’re thrashing about under him, unable to control your laughter. even with his attack, he is so gentle and careful not to put too much weight on you. too bad that courtesy doesn't extend to yeonie and the other plushies, whom he’s very violently (in your opinion) cast aside with a swing of his arm.

he eventually stops, thank goodness, and his eyes shimmer with joy as he looks down at you with a silly grin on his face.

“yeonie,” he begins, a little breathless, as he pushes your hair out of your face, “that's really frickin’ cute.”

you huff. you figure this would be a good place to admit the start of it all. you're a little tingly with mushy feelings after being kissed so many times but you still need to make sure he knows that you think he's silly.

“it reminds me of you,” you snicker, “that's why i kept buying it, i mean, really. it looks exactly like you.”

he glances at yeonie and back to you and he suddenly gasps, “but you called his eyes beady and his smile dumb.”

jooyeon’s range of expressions is truly impressive because now his eyes are huge and soft with adoration for you, a toothy smile on his features. “oh, really now? but now that i’m here you won't need him, right?”

“yeah, exactly.” you give him the most deadpan stare you could, but his expression of shock and offense made you double over in laughter. wiping away tears, you smile, “i also said he was cute. he just looks so excited and positive, the silly smile reminds me of you. it makes me happy.”

and this last part makes you look away and furrow your brow just a little. you groan, “and i do hug him when you're not here. happy now?” the embarrassment doesn't last long because you get to see the stupid satisfied grin on his face when you say that, and it warms your heart.

you blink. “okay, well i wouldn’t go that far—aaack!!! okay okay, yes! he can go on the couch for now! i promise!” you yelp, because as soon as the words leave your mouth jooyeon’s tickling your sides again and you’re weak to the sensation.

“well, i guess if he makes you happy when i'm gone, i’ll let him stick around. but you have to promise that i’ll always be your favorite.”

you poke his cheek, “i truly don't know why you think you'd ever lose to a plushie. you’ll always be number one in my heart, joo.” and you did mean that. you know he's just joking, but you're filled with so much warmth just from being able to tell him how much he means to you. you say do it over and over again if he asked.

but you can't resist. “… for now.”

“you are so mean to me.”

you snicker, “okay, okay! i promise. i love you the most.”

finally satisfied, jooyeon flops down next to you and relaxes against you, tucking his head against your neck and slinging an arm across your frame. you sigh in relief, at not having to endure the tickling but also because you missed having him here.

“i love you, too.”

laying next to him like this always put you at ease, arms and limbs wrapped around each other like a safe haven.

-⠀𓇬 -

sleepily, you mumble as you're stroking his hair, “shouldn’t we get dinner?”

“mmm, just five more minutes …”

yeah, five more minutes does sound nice, you think.

(you guys both wake up at 3 am, hungry and ready for a hearty meal of convenience store snacks and apple juice. a truly fitting dinner for grown adults. if it means being with him, you wouldn't have it any other way).

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

masterlist | request rules | inbox

thank you for reading! <3

[octuscle]

I want to turn myself into a twinky fuck toy for a wealthy man. Can chronviac help me with that?

Well, as they say, everything's bigger in Texas… I'm a junior partner in a large New York asset management firm. We take care of the high net worth clients. To get into our client file, you have to have over USD 100 million in free liquidity. Our clients are demanding. But we are the best. And we do everything for our customers. Really EVERYTHING!

When I took over the clients of a colleague who had retired a month ago, I thought Chuck Tex was a stage name. Until I had my first appointment with him. His record was more than impressive. Heir to old oil and cattle nobility. Classic career of the Texas oil barons. School in New England, studied in Paris, Oxford and Zurich, founded his first start-up company at the age of 20. And sold at 25 for USD 500 million. Now in his mid-30s, he had not yet inherited a cent from his family, but thanks to his excellent education and connections, he had already amassed a fortune on a par with that of his old man. I expected… Actually, I had no idea what I was expecting… But I certainly didn't expect this:

Chuck looked like a porn star. Or a marriage fraud. Or just like a man who I couldn't wait to throw me on the bed and fuck me mercilessly. His handshake was firm, but finely dosed just before the pain threshold. His gaze could certainly cut through steel plates. But I was a professional, I kept my composure. After I asked him what I could do for him, he got straight to the point. First of all, he needed some cash for his stay in New York. USD 10,000 would be enough. Gladly 100 dollar bills. But hot off the press, please. That was no problem. I sent a short memo to my assistant and she would take care of it. But the real reason for his visit was a project in Greenwich Village. He had bought a few buildings there that he was renovating. His aim was to restore the Village to its former charm. That's why he wanted to create cheap apartments, studios and stores and eliminate expensive office space. The whole thing was not intended as an investment, more as a hobby. A kind of gay and creative Disneyland. I briefly wondered why I wasn't actually a billionaire… And then I asked Chuck what my role was. Whether I could help with the financing or with saving taxes.

Chuck just grinned. No, saving taxes wouldn't fit in with his understanding of patriotism. And he would have financed it all with his last start-up exit. But he would need someone to take care of the real estate. Someone to ensure the right tenant mix. Someone to give his studio apartment the right finishing touches. I briefly went through my network in my mind. I had a gay acquaintance who owned a number of bars and restaurants. And I also knew a good project developer. And one of my school friends was a hip interior designer. I smiled and said I probably had just the people he needed. Chuck smiled back. It made my heart stop. He didn't want anyone from my network. He wanted me. I was about to say that I was flattered, but that I wasn't available for such projects right now. But instead I said "Of course, Daddy". Did I want to accompany him to the construction site? "If I may, Daddy!" At that moment, my assistant came in with a bundle of freshly pressed banknotes. Chuck smiled and said he needed me for the rest of the day. Please cancel all my appointments. I nodded to her and followed Chuck like a dog to its master.

In his limousine, Chuck asked me if I had ever been to Texas. I answered in the negative. But the boots I was wearing looked authentic. Yeah, they were my pride and joy. But I wouldn't have ridden a bull yet. I shook my head and giggled like a schoolgirl. Chuck kneaded the bulge in his pants and said that I would definitely be fucked by a bull today. I only got out a "Thank you, Daddy". Chuck let me sit on his lap. He undid another button of his silk shirt and exposed his right nipple. Like a puppy on its mother's teat, I began to suckle. Chuck kneaded my bulge and said that I was a good boy.

The car came to a halt in the second row in front of an old brick building. The walls were covered in high-quality graffiti. There was a closed table dance bar downstairs and some kind of jewelry store upstairs. Some kind of jewelry on display. Made of stainless steel. On closer inspection, piercing jewelry, cock rings and stainless steel dildos. I looked in the shop window like a child in the window of a candy store. Chuck took my hand, pulled me into the stairwell and told me that I could choose something later if I was good. He stroked the long hair on the back of my neck. I love my Mullet. I look a bit like the young cowboys on Daddy's Daddy's farm.

We had just arrived at Chuck's empty apartment when I got down on my knees in front of him and unbuttoned his pants. "First you strip for me, boy," Chuck ordered. He tossed me a cowboy hat that was in a closet. "Everything but your briefs, boots and hat!". Eagerly awaiting the reward, I did everything I was told to do. "And now lube yourself up". He threw me a bottle. And I did as I was told. I could feel my hard-earned muscles disappearing. I felt younger and younger. Although it was hard as steel, my cock was getting smaller and smaller. "I think you need a little more decoration, boy," Chuck said and put a chain on me. Satisfied, he looked at me as I sat on the floor and could hardly wait for my reward.

Chuck took his boner out of his pants. And I leaned back in anticipation. I wanted to be a good houseboy. And today was the housewarming party.

Chuck's pic found @mensuited, yours @hellishin

[ninadove]

For any fandom(s): 12, 15, 16, 19, 23! 💌

As always, you spoil me! 💌

12. Compliment someone else in your fandom

GOD I HAVE TOO MANY FRIENDS TO COMPLIMENT

@beezonia comes up with the coolest AUs and designs. I’m always blown away by their Pokémon team compositions — they’re spot on to the point I consider it its own form of character analysis!

@purplecatghostposts is the genius who showed up out of the blue and took us all by surprise with their amazing prose. Soap, reminder that the reference to Copycat in consider the spare legally binds you to pay for my therapy.

@trishacollins is single-handedly remediating to the lack of platonic bedsharing between the cousins and I can’t thank her enough! She’s also one of the chillest and most approachable people I know.

@luckychatons is our favourite entrepunpurr and constantly lifts our mood with the cutest, most joy-filled sketches! Patting her OCs on the back because they sure need it.

@graythegreyt is such an awesome artist you’d almost forget they’re also one hell of a poet who wields mythological references like Odysseus wields his bow. Did you know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games? I think everyone should know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games.

@hartwign is a talented translator and draws hair like no one else. Seriously. I want to run my hands through the cousins’ hair and nestle in there forever.

@phieillydinyia is the picture of dedication! Can’t recommend Candle In The Wind enough, it’s a roleswap rewrite of the Miraculous movie that includes the songs. How cool is that. Thank you for your regular comments on my fics, they always make my day!

@alexandriaellisart words cannot express how much I love your depiction of Feligami. Your writing has made me tear up so many times! AND YOUR ART LOOKS SO SOFT AND COLOURFUL. What a double threat!

@faiirygrahamdevanily we need more fics about the Sentiplot as a metaphor for othering experiences and you’re doing God’s… I mean, Duusu’s work with yours!

@bbutterflies did you know your piece for Sentitwin Week is the best characterisation I’ve ever seen of Felix? This is what people mean when they say a picture is worth a thousand words. And of course your Adrino is always brilliant!

@bittersweetresilience not only are you an extraordinary writer, but you’re constantly looking for new ways to express your love. Always GIFing and weaving and canonising tags and making AMVs and running zines… I can’t wait to see what you do next!

And there’s so many more people I’m forgetting! To say nothing of my friends outside the Miraculous bubble! People are amazing!!! 💖

15. The character that always makes you smile

At the end of the day, it’s all about Clive. He’s been my muse for nearly 15 years! 💙🕊️

16 was answered here! 💖

19. Your current fandom(s)

Professor Layton, forever and always. I can’t wait to share my Big Bang fic and the amazing art that I was blessed with! 💙💛

RWBY, even if I’m lurking more than participating… I love love love love RWBY, yet it doesn’t strike my creative and analytical chords the way Miraculous does. Sometimes you just need to let yourself be swept into a story, you know? Although, it did teach me a couple of writing tricks I’ve used for other fandoms!

EPIC! Wisdom Saga coming soon! 🩵🦉 It makes my little mythology nerd heart supremely happy. The music is a banger and you can feel the knowledge and passion of all the people involved in this project. Jorge in particular is always so excited to share his progress, engaging with creators, explaining his musical choices in a fun and pedagogical way… And the lyrics! It’s free real estate for a fanfic author looking for inspiration and/or titles!

I’d love to start Monte-Cristoposting like I’ve been Cyranoposting and Draculaposting, but I’m afraid of spoilers so for now I’m just screaming in your DMs. As you know. I’m also slowly getting into Honkai: Star Rail, and I’d like to pick up Pokémon Black and White again because a N character study would look great on my AO3 resume.

And of course, Miraculous! 💚💜❤️ It’s the most creative I’ve been in years and it’s all thanks to these sad beautiful silly genius kids. Heart emoji, peacock emoji, sob emoji, etc.

23 was answered here!

Thanks for the ask! 🖤🪶

[prudentseer]

not the original anon but it's been weeks since i stumbled upon it, and i can't get your pride-and-prejudice bit out of my head??? the way you write angst is scratching my brain real very nicely, i hope i can read more joel in the "they ask you how you are doing and you have to say you are fine but you're not really fine--" mood in the future....

Thank you so much for the sweet words anon, even if you're not the original anon/requestor I'm obviously still very glad you liked the little snippet I wrote!

I will say though, if you want more...all you gotta do is ask (no pun intended)! I do enjoy doing these writing blurbs for people and while they're far from perfect, if 1.5k words (I need to calm down for these asks, they just keep getting longer) from me makes someone happy then that's all I can ask for. I tried to stick to your prompt but it may not be exactly what you're asking for. Regardless I gave it by best go.

This one's for you. Happy holidays.

Dearest Sausage

I would like to personally thank you for the lumber shipment, it will be incredibly helpful for our estate and I have no doubt it will be even more appreciated these coming winter months.

"Obviously each tenant on the property will be given a share of lumber, at least a third of a cord a month." Joel states, jotting down notes in the margins of the shipment details. "If my calculations from last winter are correct that is.

His most trusted servant–and first real friend in this place–Jeremy stands to the side with his own quill and notes in hand.

"Yes sir, that sounds reasonable."

"Larger homes or tenants with farms will be afforded more, obviously."

"Of course sir."

"That should leave us with enough lumber for the main estate, correct?"

Jeremy pauses for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek and fiddling with the ends of his mustache. "Depends on how harsh winter is this year."

"I have no doubt that the Eth–Lord Slab will have a problem making the difference himself." Joel replies, biting back a smile at the thought of his partner. "Feels right at home in the wilderness that one."

However I do not appreciate the way the shipment was only sent as a bribe to get "as detailed as possible" information about mine and Lord Slabs…intimate relationship; to put it in a modest way.

"Now that's done...that means there are no other immediate issues I need to look at, right?" Joel asks, looking up at Jeremy from his chair. Trying his hardest to hold in a smile.

Jeremy flips through his pages. "No sir."

Joel claps his hands together, jumping up from his seat so fast it startles the older man.

"Finally, I'm free!" He whoops, almost running to the coat rack. "I'm going out, one more minute stuck in here and I'll go mad!"

"But sir, it's twenty below freezing! You'll catch a cold."

Joel rolls his eyes. "That's what coats are for silly."

"A-and Lord Slab is set to arrive home later today."

"He won't care." Joel replies, surprisingly neutral as he shrugs on the woolly coat. "I just have to be home by dinner, which I will be."

"Sir–"

"Make sure no one dies while I'm gone!"

But since you went through the trouble I will tell you this in confidence and as a long term friend; Lord Slab and I are in a mutually beneficial relationship. A marriage of convenience, not love.

Someone was following him.

Eyes on him were usual when he was wandering through the main portion of the estate, it came with being head of the estate while Etho was gone. Feeling eyes on him when he was alone walking the edge of the forest was a different thing.

Someone was dying today, and it wasn't going to be him.

The sound of horse hooves getting closer prompts him to duck behind a tree, heart pounding in his chest. The hooded figure stopping where his footsteps tapered off into the woods made him rotate around, pulling his knife out of its holster. The figure slowly dropping off their horse before approaching the treeline made him jump them; slamming into them with his full body weight and pinning them to the snow with the blade pressing down on their throat and–

"Missed me that much?"

Joel yanks off their hood to see a set of familiar eyes and a (he won't say loving, it's not) knowing smile. "Etho?!"

"Hi, Joel."

And as much as I hate to be boring, I can't lie and say there is anything interesting to report between the two of us. Absolutely nothing has changed.

All the fight practically melts out of him. Tossing his knife aside, Joel wraps his arms around his stupid husband; burying his head into his chest

Etho sits them both up, a gloved hand coming up into his hair. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He chuckles warmly, the sound almost soothing.

"How did you find me?"

"I was on the path home when the farmer with the twin boys mentioned she saw you walk into the woods. So I decided to come and find you."

"You should've went home and rested you idiot!" He scolded, swatting Etho in the chest. "I can handle myself and I would've been back by dinner, you didn't have to–"

"But I wanted to." He interrupts, squeezing Joel just a bit tighter.

Joel frowns. When Etho wanted to see him immediately it meant something was wrong. He presses a hand to Etho's forehead almost instinctually. "Everything okay? Feeling alright?"

Etho only laughs. "Yes Joel, I promise. I just wanted to see you."

And maybe Joel's traitorous heart skips a beat.

I admit, once I thought it could be a relationship of love as well. As great and mighty as you know I am, I thought that he would agree to at least try but Lord Slab made it clear that he wasn't interested in that in the slightest.

Joel just manages to dust the snow off his pants when Etho grabs his hands suddenly, making him jump.

"Don't tell me that's what you came out in."

Joel gasps. "I'll have you know that I think I look dashing in this coat which is all that matters–"

"Yes Joel, you're very handsome." And he says it jokingly but something delusional inside of him feels like there's some truth behind it. "What I mean is...your hands are freezing, are you not cold?"

Now that he thought about it, out of the comfort–warmth of Etho's arms, it was quite chilly. Reading his mind almost, Etho's cloak is off in a instant and coming around Joel's shoulders.

"Etho, you'll be cold now."

"It doesn't matter."

"What? Of course it matters!" He tries to remove the cloak, all he gets his Etho swiping his hands away. "You're not trying to get sick for me so I feel bad and do more work, are you?"

"What I mean is that I'm used to it, and you're not." Etho chuckles as he secures the cloak with a strong knot. "Let's go home."

Don't bother feeling bad for me and don't write an angry letter to Lord Slab demanding answers, you'll only be wasting your time. Sometimes people don't work out romantically, I'm sure you know this from our short romance years ago.

It feels oddly domestic, the way Etho has one hand holding the reigns of his horse while the other one is out so Joel can grab onto it. Walking with their hips almost touching. And he plays into it by leaning into Etho's arm when they spot another tenant on the path.

"Lord Etho! You're home early."

He nods, laughing awkwardly. "Finished up early so I could come home early."

"Excited to reunite with your husband too I see." They smirk, something knowing in it. Joel opens his mouth but it's quickly shut when Etho pulls him in closer, head bumping the top of Joel's for a second.

"Of course."

And the look in his eyes is so heartbreakingly fond that Joel snaps away almost instantly.

That doesn't mean I'm unhappy, because I am happy. We may not love each other but we have love for one another and at the end of the day that fondness and respect is enough.

"We should get you a thicker coat." Etho hums, like it's more of a thought to himself than anything.

"My Christmas present?"

"No, just a present." He says, kicking a bit of snow up at his feet. "I'll get you something better for Christmas, what do you want?"

"Well for our wedding anniversary you–"

"No, not that." The words falling out more than spoken. Joel's eyebrows furrow.

"What's wrong with the bracelet? It was pretty."

"It was thoughtless." Etho scoffs like he's angry at himself. "Good for an acquaintance, not my husband. Tell me something you actually want, anything Joel, money's not an issue."

I will not make the same mistake

"Make me something." He concedes, Etho brightening at the words. "That's what I'm doing for you."

"What are you making? So I get an idea for mine."

"Trying to get information for your gift now, huh?" Joel rolls his eyes. "Nice try."

It surprises him slightly when Etho stops in his tracks. It surprises him even more when a hand comes to his face, gently turning Joel's face to give him a quick and gentle kiss on the cheek. What doesn't surprise Joel is that there are people nearby who see it.

I am perfectly content with what we are. I don't need more, nor do I want more.

Not that it matters. Not that he cares. Not that he hopes that one day he'll be kissed out of affection rather than a ploy.

"Tell me now?" He pleads quietly with deceivingly sweet eyes.

"Not that easily." He breathes, hoping the hood hides his flush.

Etho pouts. "At least what you want?"

"Not a chance."

Against all common sense, I look forward to your next letter and to seeing you soon. As always, give Hermes a treat and a belly rub for me.

Being his. What a pathetic Christmas wish.

Yours truly, Joel

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m writing a story about a lady with Down Syndrome. I was wondering if you knew where I can find any resources about Down Syndrome made by people who actually have it, or any organisations that would be good to follow. Any resources made by people with intellectual disability would be really helpful as well.

I read your post about this and it was really helpful so thank you, I’m going to use it as a starting point for my research.

If you’d like some context about the story she’s literally a lady in the 1920s who’s trying to get control of her family’s estate from her brother. Shes underestimated for her disabilities and for being a women but I’m trying to not focus so much on the discrimination and work more on giving her an interesting mystery to solve with the detective she hired. I’d like it to be a bit lighthearted. Anyway, as she’s a main character I really wanted to make sure I wrote her well. Thanks!

Hey!

There aren't many resources out there unfortunately, but there is a page on the UK Down Syndrome's Association's website where members with DS share their opinions on representation in TV and film. You can read it here. For info on intellectual disability in general the best I can do is link some of my previous posts on it - there's close to nothing that's actually made by us unfortunately, everything that I was able to find is always made by someone who knows a person with ID at best. To be clear, not all of it is bad - I thought this interview (TW for abuse that happens in the movie's plot) about a movie starring actors with DS was pretty good - but it's still a sign that we aren't getting enough #OwnVoices representation. It's slowly changing though.

To learn more about DS I would probably recommend NDSS, it's one of the very few orgs that have people with Down Syndrome as board and team members (should be the bare minimum, but it unfortunately isn't). There's also information on things like preferred language and myths that often show up around Down Syndrome.

I'm not great with history, but in the 1920s she would be a subject to a lot more than just discrimination. Eugenics and institutionalization would definitely be present. Not sure what route you'll take there, but basically all the words around that time that she would be described with are currently considered slurs or pejoratives. The racist term for a person with Down Syndrome was officially used into the 60s, and the ableist one is still used legally in 2024. But if you want to skip past that, I think that's more than fine. You don't always have to aim for 100% historical accuracy, just be aware of the real history.

A detective story sounds very exciting. If you decide to publish it on Tumblr or other online site feel free to send me an ask with a link, I'd love to read it.

Thank you for the ask,

mod Sasza

I’m just popping in as a history fan for a couple bits of history notes — but again, like Sasza said, you don’t have to be 100% historically accurate if you don’t want to and if you don’t feel it’s necessary.

So, especially in the first half of the 1900s, a large part of disabled children, including children with Down Syndrome, were institutionalized very early in their life. Around this time the push that immorality caused disability was strong, and people were often convinced by doctors and professionals that the children’s needs would always be too much for them. Eugenicism was sort of reaching a peak around this time, as well—I would say it was at its most intense in the period of 1900-1940s.

Not all parents institutionalized their children, though. There was pressure to do so, but that doesn’t mean everyone fell victim to it. There wasn’t really any official support for parents who did this, and there weren’t official organizations for Down Syndrome. From my research, the current large DS organizations seem to have popped up in the 60s.

The term ‘Down Syndrome’ wasn’t in popular use until the 70s, and it wasn’t known that it’s caused by an extra chromosome until 1959.

Life expectancy in 1900-1920 for people born with Down Syndrome was 9 years old. Some of this could absolutely have been due to conditions in institutions, but likely even more relevant is that about 50% of people with DS are born with heart defects (also known as congenital heart disease) that can be fatal if not treated with surgery. Heart surgery wasn’t really feasible until the late 30s and early 40s. Another risk factor is a higher risk for infection, which isn’t easy to manage in a world that doesn’t yet have antibiotics.

I actually wanted to find pictures of adults with Down Syndrome pre-1940ish, though, to see real tangible evidence of adults being part of a community. First I found just one picture of a baby in 1925 on this Minnesota government website. But then I found a collection someone made of photos of both children and young adults, but they are not specifically dated. The first baby picture is from the 30s according to the poster!

Judging by the clothes I see people wearing in these photos, photo #4 (man with Down Syndrome in a suit next to a woman) seems to be from the 20s and photo #13 (young woman with Down Syndrome and very long hair) seems to be from about the 1910s. #18 (large family with a lot of sons, including one boy with Down Syndrome) could be from the 30s. Those three are the oldest people with DS in the photos, and they seem like young adults. A lot of these pictures show a community and aren’t just isolated kids, which I find nice.

It’s hard to find specific historical record of people with Down Syndrome from that period of time, but I wanted to show photos of real people in their communities to show, hey look! They were there, too!

Either way, I love detective stories and historical fiction and I’m glad you’re writing a story and that you care about your character’s portrayal but I totally know the feeling of that tricky balance between historical accuracy and modern acknowledgement that we should have been doing better.

— Mod Sparrow

[interdimensional-ship]

Seeing the Matter’s eye narrow in what seemed to be disapproval or judgment would have made her feel somewhat defensive— just because she’s a spaceship doesn’t mean she can’t form bonds and actively participate in relationships! She’s meant to be like a person and desiring social connection is part of that, just because it’s in a package that can’t fit in most buildings doesn’t mean it isn’t valid. Luckily, to her it merely appeared that the lighter area got a bit dimmer. Navigating physically with low quality visuals isn’t an issue because she has other systems that provide the most crucial information, like size, shape, and proximity. Navigating social interactions isn’t quite as straight forward, however, when expressions and body language are as important as they are. Perhaps in this case it’s for the better…

Her expectation of a vague answer was apparently accurate after all. It left her with little more to do than hum in reply, which seemed like it would be less awkward than hazarding a verbal response.

She understands… she thinks. Sometimes you just have to wander around for no particular reason, and that’s okay! At least in her opinion. Granted, in her earlier days, most of her travels were dictated by where she couldn’t go, either in the sense of not being allowed to by whatever authority claimed ownership or superiority over her at a given time, or just physically not being able to enter a space she was curious about. So, maybe her feelings on the matter stem from that to a degree. Who could have possibly guessed that a being physically modeled after a method of transport and designed with high passenger or crew capacity in mind would have opinions about going places or even traveling without a destination?

The AI briefly considered voicing this sentiment as a means of making it clear she had no intention of seeking more information and didn’t harbor any judgement toward such an activity. Instead, however, the other provided some delayed elaboration. Somewhat cryptic, at that, though it seems that is more to do with how the Swordsman speaks than with what was said. Something about it almost felt familiar…

“>… Absent? Hmm…”

It dawns on the Starcutter what this reminded her of. Wandering around aimlessly, not knowing what she should do or where to go, staying away from places she might be seen… That was how it felt to return to Popstar after learning how much time had passed while she was under the Haldera. So many events she missed, people she never got to meet, people she knew passing on or meeting fates unknown, the marks of their existence scarcely existing outside of her own memory… The daunting task of deciding what to do with her existence now that she would have that influence over her life, no longer a tool for someone else’s use, thrilled at the prospect but intimidated without the structure she was so used to. But that was just her experience, which was far from average and probably not anything like what Blade is dealing with. People wandering around unsure of what to do aren’t always doing so because of some extraordinary circumstance flipping their life upside down.

Still, maybe she could try to offer some help? If nothing else, she knows the easiest routes back to civilization from here… And her curiosity has only increased.

“>Your purpose… Was it something you did on your own, or more like a job?”

Asking what exactly it was would be more straightforward, but that can be a very loaded question with many different answers depending on how it is interpreted.

“>Alright, noted.”

Titles, huh… Well, if they don’t want to reveal their name, there’s probably a perfectly logical reason for that. Not everyone considers such information among the first that should be given out, after all. Plus, they did only just meet by chance in the depths of space, and with that comes some unspoken sense of ‘I know why I’m here, but what are you doing in a place like this?’

… Or at least, it had been unspoken. Seems she’s one step behind when it comes to asking questions. Or maybe they’re suspicious of her? If that were the case she wouldn’t have much of an idea of why, aside from the remote nature of this location. Hopefully her answer doesn’t raise more suspicions, if any were already present.

“>To tell you the truth, I was on my way to meet with a friend of mine I don’t see very often. He… Doesn’t live on any of the nearby planets, you see. It can be a bit awkward trying to make sure I’m not followed when taking the more populated routes, so for the sake of convenience I’ve opted to avoid them for the most part on trips like this.”

>… There are probably better ways to have worded that wouldn’t have potentially made it sound like I’m in the midst of some kind of illicit activity. It’s not like I can just say who I’m going to see, though… Last thing he needs is for more people to find out he’s still around and start showing up wanting things from him. Starting this interaction was probably not the best course of action…

Actually, though… The whole point of this journey was to stave off her boredom through conversation. Given that it wasn’t planned in advance, maybe this chance encounter delaying her reunion isn’t the issue it initially seemed it might be? Meeting someone new is already interesting on its own, so… An impromptu change in plans couldn’t hurt. Nor could asking a question in return.

“>What about you? It’s not often I bump into anyone this far out, let alone someone who isn’t in some form of spacecraft. Are you heading anywhere in particular, or just wandering?”

The computer isn’t making any efforts to conceal her curiosity, though she isn’t anticipating a particularly detailed answer either. Blade seems to be rather guarded, and even her own explanation had been far from exhaustive. Ultimately, how much to share is up to them— this is just small talk, not an interrogation.

[brumeraven]

🦋: Tombstone Keys || dolls, commoditization, abandonment, conformity, mutilation, transformations, violence, gods?, angels?, curious to know if anyone gets the title since it's fairly obscure and opaque

It's funny, isn't it? What is and isn't fashionable. Changes with the weather sometimes, others times things stick like glue.

There aren't many dolls left anymore. Not much use for them since the gig economy took over.

The doll aesthetic, though?

So hot right now.

Can't go a minute in a sleepy village without seeing a girl with porcelain mask or clockwork gloves or something else "dollcore."

Sometimes a literal doll core, showing oh-so-coyly from a provocatively low neckline, elegant crystal facets nestled in between so much garish flesh.

I grimaced as just such a number went mincing by, sundress all embroidered with primroses, hair coiffed and topped with a canted, raffish arrangement neither quite fascinator nor derby hat. All that kept it from being chintzy was the price tag with more zeros than class.

It might have been a convincing display, if not for her airs.

While a doll might once have been bedecked so by its owner, any would have done all it could to avoid notice, even in such an getup. Certainly, none would have walked with so much...heaving and jiggling of flesh.

I brushed the thoughts away as I followed the girl down the street. There is, of course, no accounting for taste, and yet that saying is so rarely afforded to the more daring of us, those who actually broke norms.

Like it or not, dolls were "in." Or at least their aesthetic was.

Only problem is they weren't made anymore. Hadn't been for decades. On the other hand, given the number produced, it was easy to find old stock to break down for parts.

First, it was just the broken and worthless, of course, but then, well, fashion demands nothing but the best.

Flesh might decay, but dolls never did.

The thought brought with it bitter awareness of the once-taught skin that now sagged and slumped tiredly about my face.

Dolls just...went on existing, no matter what changed, untouched by the passing of the years.

Buyers started scouting estate sales and secondhand stores, desperate to find anywhere a well-maintained family heirloom might have been carelessly tossed out, hungry for the payday such a find could bring, like so many vultures...no, vultures ate carrion; these were predators.

Then, of course, the market caught on, as it always does, and deals became rare as the pickings became slim. There's only so long you can drain an irreplaceable resource before prices skyrocket.

The cheap knock-offs from overseas were simply no match for the real, vintage item.

This girl, well, she clearly had the means to afford it. The parts she wore were pristine, or had been before they'd been scalped. My fingers clenched, not as smoothly as they once had, true, but still with a force than belied their gnarled form.

It was revolting. Sacrilegious. Dolls had been marvels of engineering, masterpieces of ingenuity. Beautiful, yes, but not for porcelain shells and glittering cores. Beautiful because they were a thing made for a purpose, made to last, effective and graceful no matter the task.

The beauty lay in how they'd been made with such care by human hands, the ineffable meeting of the mundane and the sacred.

No, not the mundane...for dolls were not mortal, purposeless things, cursed with free-will and the capacity for sin. Dolls were created, yes, but divine.

Dolls were as angels, wheeled, mechanical things of inerrant purpose and inscrutable construction.

Angels on whom God had turned His back.

Angels now cast from heaven for the sin of having shining wings that pleased the eye, no matter they'd once been used to fly.

She turned to face me, eye vacant, smile vacuous, devoid of everything but life.

I shut my eyes, trying to forgive her sins. It had been her hunger that destroyed, if not her hands.

I didn't fear death as she did. Nonexistence was simply that. This fate, though, how much worse?

That a thing once given purpose might be hacked apart and used as but aesthetic trappings?

I could think of no worse fate.

A pity I couldn't inflict it on her. She'd been made for no reason but a grunting, sweaty collision of flesh, some tepid spurts of what passed for passion.

If anything, well, I'd done her a favor.

The thought amused me as I made the switch, peeled the near-putrid skin off my frame and replaced it with her face and hands.

Some creators found meaning in their creations, whether they wanted to or not.

~🦋

[jev-urisk]

A Musing Monday 🎐

Today i'm musing about connections and how they are often synonymous with our opportunities, our ability to survive, and our thoughts- therefor changing who we are and who will become. Also coin metaphors 🪙

Last Tuesday out of the blue one of my partners was laid off, he started a new job two days later because he knows people who work at a cabinet mill. 🙏

My family made the most healing ratatouille that we ate off of all weekend because someone I know from work had too many eggplants. 🍆📈

We got our house thanks to the efforts of a friend with a real-estate license. I got the contact info for my current therapist from a girlfriend. I have a song stuck in my head from a child I work with and I pick up catchphrases from people on tv and I know how to do pushups for the 1st time in my life bc an online friend taught me how. 🔥💪

Its fun and frightening to think about- that we are obelisks of pennies created from every person that gave us their two cents 🪙🪙

If every trait, thought, inclination, or idea of yours was a coin- which of your coins are old, passed down through the generations until they were shuffled into your hands? Which are invaluable? Like my dads tendency to accept things (like my gayness and transness and polyness) as long as no one is getting hurt, which I know he got from my grandfather ❤️. Which coins are a burden you dont know how to get rid of? Like my mother's propensity to say "It could be worse, think of__ (children in Africa, Houseless folk, etc)" which has become my tendency to minimize my own experiences and neglect to give myself breaks 🫠. Which coins did you find on the sidewalk and which sit with you in your car? Which are made of metals you're allergic to? Which are tarnished and scratched but still good? Which coins of yours are most valuable to you? 🎐

There are so many times in my life where I felt like I couldn't get a leg up, and the only way I got through was stacking pennies, adding up my connections and the ghosts of connections past to try to escape the pit..

With that in mind I want to take a moment to shout out the change (🥁) that others have gifted me with recently, cuz boy buddy have I needed to stack pennies lately, but have been so blessed to have so many new coins.

Thanks @sableglass, the fire you put into the world ignited action into me. I spent a year lamenting the loss of a job until your 'fuck it we ball' attitude inspired me to get resolved about that 🤽‍♂️. I got a job offer today. You helped me get here.

Thanks @the-golden-comet , you were one of the first writblr blogs I came across. You shaped my idea of tumblr to be something positive and uplifting during a very hard time for me 🫂. Your stories are so free and wild (🐳💦) and wonderful that they changed my outlook on being a writer and that what im 'allowed' to put in a story is anything but a limiting factor. You taught me that the course of a day can be changed with a simple frog gif and that you dont necessarily need to know someone to know how much they care. 🐸💕

Thanks to @tragedycoded for DMLS and @words-after-midnight for Libaw. Yall write the mentalscape of various conditions so well that im taking better care of myself 🧠🌿. I'm more proud of the work I've put into myself. And i'm becoming proud of the person I could have become but didn't.

Thank you to @lychhiker-writes for being my first homie on tumblr and for letting me vent my various frustrations into your dms 😏😅, and for being a brave and honest alpha reader for 7C.

Thank you @wyked-ao3 and @cowboybrunch and @gioiaalbanoart for being such great cheerleaders for my writing 😭💕 seeing yall connect and feel your feelings in my comments gives me so much hope and happiness and I honesty dont thank yall enough. I finally finished ch8 (no, really, check the doc 👀) and your encouragement helped me really embrace Seeker, who I used to think was too boring, and get that chapter finished 🏁.

There are so many others and I'm sorry for not naming them all 🙏 but if I have read your work, thank you. If I follow you or you follow me, thank you. If we have ever bonked together in a discord chat like two wayward beyblades 💞- *Thank You*

Today, I feel like I'm finally out of the pit, and it's thanks to the random 2 cents and spare change yall have gifted me. Your influence is priceless. 🥰💰

(Still no taglist for Monday posts yet, hmu if you'd like to be on it!)