#when i say i am easily enabled

[qqueenofhades]

Your tags on the Dreamling/Good Omens cross over have me frothing at the mouth and I just need you to know that if you were to write that “Crowley stumbles into the New Inn” fic, I would be highly supportive of your life choices

The place isn't otherwise busy. It's edging into the lull period of late afternoon, when the day drinkers have shuffled out and the evening drinkers aren't quite off work, when there are only a few tourists taking snaps for the 'gram and the bartenders are out back for a cigarette break by the bins. Hob is sitting at his usual table, confronted with a pile of papers, a brewing catastrophe about the autumn schedule that for some reason he is expected to sort out, three passive-aggressive emails from Philippa about the prospect of him becoming Head of School next year (not on your fucking immortal life, mate) and other mundane academic crises, when the door flies open and a bloke at the end of his rope staggers in.

Thing is, Hob knows this particular bloke, at least by casual sight. He's been in from time to time, has a drink, stares at the wall, looks moody, and goes out again, either to a vintage Bentley filled with houseplants or just the streets of Poplar. Hob has made friendly conversation with him a time or two, knows that his name is Anthony Crowley and he lives in Soho, and he has a husband/boyfriend/life partner of some description who often drives him bonkers (join the club? Though the Stranger isn't even really that). But from the look on Anthony Crowley's face, as much as can be discerned from beneath his ever-present black sunglasses (not really a fashion item one otherwise needs in London), this is a five-alarm fire, and Hob gets up in some concern. "Hey. Mate. Everything -- ?"

Crowley stumbles past him without answering, which is probably only what Hob deserves. He reaches the bar, and since the bartenders are still on fag break and nobody else seems around to do it, Hob scuttles around the back. "Get you something?"

"Beer. Whiskey. Drink. I don't care." Anthony digs in his wallet and flings the first assortment of bills he can find at Hob, which is far more than it costs for a drink even in this terminally overpriced city. "Make it strong. Want to forget my own fucking name."

"Right. Got it." Hob only worked the bar when the New Inn was first opened and they were still hiring staff, but he hasn't forgotten. He selects a Scottish whiskey, neat, and pours it into the bottom of a tumbler, sliding it across the bar. Anthony throws it back without even seeming to breathe and shoves the glass in search of another, and Hob frowns. "Oy. Take it easy."

Crowley mutters something about that being the last thing he intends to do, thanks, and Hob's curiosity, the one thing that has often propelled him through the centuries, gets the better of him. "Not my place," he says cautiously. "But is everything, y'know? All right at home? Your, uh, partner, is he -- "

The effect of this utterance is not dissimilar to waving a red flag in front of a bull. Crowley rears back, looks for a moment like he's going to bolt, and is only prevented by Hob strategically shoving the refilled whisky glass into his hand. He tosses it down the hatch without turning a hair, wipes his mouth raggedly with the back of his hand, and with that, and no further prompting, launches into an absolutely nutty jeremiad. Something about Heaven and Hell, something about Aziraphale (that's his partner's name, yes) being a stubborn angelic idiot who's going to get himself killed, something about people named Gabriel (also an angel?) and Beelzebub (also a demon -- wait, demon?) running off together and he just thought -- he thought -- like a bloody fool he thought they could -- but no. Nooooooooo.

"Er," Hob says at the end, blinking hard. "Sorry, I don't quite follow."

"Course you don't." Crowley heaves a heavy sigh. "Even though you're not an ordinary human, I suppose it's just too...." He searches for a word, slurs a little on the end (maybe that whisky, of which he has just chugged the third glass, is having an effect on him after all), and enunciates with bitter, drunk precision. "Ineffable."

"Wait. What?"

"You're Robert Gadling." Crowley tips his head like an owl, trying to size Hob up in his progressively more lubricated state, and his dark glasses slide to the end of his nose, revealing lucent golden eyes beneath. "The special one. The immortal one. Right?"

Hob opens his mouth. Hob shuts his mouth. He realizes vaguely that it's quite possible Crowley has not, in fact, been talking in convoluted celestial metaphors the whole time. "How did you...?"

"I know your boyfriend," Crowley snaps. "Bit bloody full of himself too, isn't he? He and Az -- Azz-- Aziraphale probably sit around having secret societies for technology-hating, stuck-up, idiotic, holier-than-thou, utter total fucking prigs who can't use their words and constantly deny their feelings, eh?"

"My boyf -- " All at once, Hob feels as if a grand piano has been dropped on his head from a great height, like something out of an old cartoon. Yes, things with the Stranger are going well-if-you-squint, ever since their last meeting here: the idiot actually turned up, he apologized, he smiled, they had a long conversation, there were definite sparks. Considering the last, er, six hundred years or so of dismal precedent, that's a low bar, but still. "Afraid," Hob says at last, "he and I -- well, we aren't exactly like that, but -- "

Crowley keeps staring at him like he desperately wants Hob to sit him down and give him a clinic in how to get with the fussy, standoffish, excessively rules-bound immortal being he has been, evidently, also bloody pining after for Christ only knows how long. "Why not?"

"Ah." Good question. Hob isn't sure. "It's complicated."

"Complicated." Crowley stares moodily at the mirrored bar. "Sure. Yeah. Six thousand bloody years of complicated."

"Did you say six thousand -- ?"

"Yeah." Crowley holds out the glass again. "More."

Hob's mouth is still open. He's going to say something, but he doesn't know what. Six thousand years? God's wounds. He and the Stranger, at their piddly six hundred, are practically fucking married.

(He gets Anthony Crowley another drink, on the house. Can't help but feel that the poor bastard deserves it.)

[pencilofawesomeness]

What is Twisted Wonderland and how would you sell someone on it?

Ohoho. Ohohohoho. Anon. You have activated my trap card >:D

(I'm about to be soooo annoying/unhinged and I'm sorry. I'm not.)

Alright, so:

Twisted Wonderland is a Disney mobile game made in Japan and co-produced by Aniplex. (Yes, that Aniplex.) I'm not here to sell you on the game, so much as the story, but it is a sort of story-book rpg with turned based fights and rhythm games, where you build character units from a gacha pull. As far as gameplay goes, it's very simple, and most of the emphasis lies on the characters and the story. And it's wonderful.

The on-the-box description of this game doesn't do it justice, per se, but that might be because Disney has a little bit of influence on it and they suck at knowing who their target audience is. It is about a high school based on classic Disney villains—but no, not in the way you're thinking, because I once made that mistake too. It is not a villain school. Rather, the world of Twisted Wonderland is its own entity, with characters built as sort of nods or foils to classic Disney characters. The world itself is somewhat built with these films as its past, and history has become so twisted (ha) that modern society views some of these classic villains as the heroes or supporting characters of their stories, and respect them as The Great Seven. (The seven in question being the Queen of Hearts, Scar, Ursula, Jafar, the Evil/Raven Queen, Hades, and Maleficent. None of them are remembered by name, though.)

The game takes place in the modern era, a society with both technology and magic. Specifically, it takes place in a magic high school called Night Raven College, an all-boys dormitory prep school where the only requirement to get in is a magic mirror that peers into your soul and determines whether or not you can a) do magic and b) kin the Great Seven. And, of course, the player character is a regular-ass human who gets isekai'd in and gets stuck with a talking magic cat direbeast named Grim.

Now. That is the general synopsis. I, on the other hand, affectionately call this the Mental Breakdown game.

See, here's the kicker. The magic system is pretty nifty; while it's functions as a standard magic-is-magic sort of soft system, it has ✨consequences✨

Magic has this byproduct called blot. It's this icky stuff that builds up when you a) use too much magic and/or b) are emotionally distressed. But less so in a "I'm panicked right now" sort of way and more so in a "I have chronic depression and/or anxiety" sort of way. And, when a mage is powerful enough, and sad boi enough, and then goes and uses way too much magic and sad boi juice in one sitting, this amazing phenomenon occurs called "overblot"—which is pretty much a super-powered evil form that turns the mage into the darkest form of themselves and then uses magic until they die.

Naturally, this happens in the game. A lot. The formula is pretty much that each "book" of the story, there is an overblot. One for each of the seven dorms, which are based off of the seven villains/the movies they come from. (And "based on" is pretty loose. Yes you can see the similarities, but these are dumb teenage boys with their own hopes and aspirations, and, sometimes, the game completely lies to you about what character they emulate the most. The guy who's Jafar? Well yes but he's actually just a really stressed out Genie stand in. The Hades guy? Whoops that's Meg. Is that a card soldier or the White Rabbit? Doesn't matter, he's got problems.)

The characters are so well written. I could gush about them forever, and they are the driving points of this plot and it means everything to me. They are some of the most traumatized and messed up individuals, but also, they are dumb teenage boys who do dumb teenage boys things. It is all incredibly well balanced and startlingly realistic for a game that amounts to beating the emotional constipation around people. Mostly because it cannot be beat out of them. The blot can, but they have to deal with their emotions with their own two hands, with varying levels of success.

And the shenanigans!!!! Oh, the shenanigans. I call this the Emotional Trauma game but I have once laughed so hard someone heard me through the floor. It's not all doom and gloom for sure. Sometimes you're watching your friend fall apart because his toxic mother instilled debilitating perfectionism and slowly start making enemies of everyone and sometimes you're sending three of the most gremlin students plus one cinnamon roll to infiltrate a gala that a bunch of weather fairies are throwing in the greenhouse because they stole your temperature regulating magestone to be shiny jewelry and you want it to stop snowing inside your dorm room. And sometimes you can have the exact same character who experienced losing his little brother right in front of him gush about a magical girl sledding anime and all of his gacha games. It is the best of both worlds.

And, that's not all! No, no. We get amazing character interactions. Not just pre-determined friend group interactions, but also random interactions. Yana Toboso (the writer/artist) really likes to stick names in a jar sometimes and make them interact and it is the best thing ever. Every single one of these characters I hold in my hands. Every single one of them gets to have their moment to shine. You can emotionally invest in all of them and be rewarded for it.

The game itself is free and pretty easy to get into. There's not really a bad power creep so you can get through it with what you got. Of course the fun part of collecting cards is that there are stories attached to them that you can watch, and those are also sources of joy. (And it's well documented, so you can find things online pretty easily to catch up and see more.)

I just think it's neat. (Read: I accidentally became wholly obsessed with this game and its characters and they are all blorbos to me.)

You should definitely fall into this rabbit hole with me :))) It's so worth it :)))

[rene-spade]

my man isn’t creepy! i | f1 grid

growing up leclerc au !

fem! leclerc! reader x f1 grid, leclerc family

part i: carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, oscar piastri, pierre gasly & kika gomes

synopsis. when the youngest leclerc finds her partners’ ‘shrine’ of her, but she’s a leclerc so the red flags aren’t all that red

WARNING(s); i like em crazy y’all, obsessive/possessive behavior, implied stalking/shrines, unhealthy relationship dynamics, sexual implications but no smut

carlos sainz.

“What is it?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you look up at your boyfriend. The Spaniard melted, muttering a curse to himself and running his hands through his thick hair. He felt hot, nervous for what the outcome of this discussion could be.

“Dios mío, ángel, it’s— it is not what you think— nothing bad. I am just embarrassed is all.” He reassured, big hands gripping at your shoulders. But he knew it was a bit bad, even his enabling family members were worried he’d freak you out if you saw. His movements were made to comfort you, but you could tell they were more self-soothing. Arthur had a similar habit whenever you got upset with him, too.

You only frowned, but it fueled Carlos’ panic.

“Mi amor, I will do whatever you ask-! You know this. I will let you in when it’s cleaned, I swear it.” He pulled you into his chest, arms fully embracing you. But you squirmed out of his hold, making him respond with an unhappy attempt to coo you back into comfort.

“You’re hiding something in there, Carlos. This is the first time I’m staying with you in your home since we started dating, let me see.” And at the sight of your big, beautiful, angry eyes, how could he refuse an Angel? With a twitch of his fingers, Carlos unlocked the door without any movement to push it open.

With a short huff, you pushed yourself through the door, only pausing at seeing at the sheer amount of merchandise that covered every surface. It was all you-themed, from posters and cut-outs, down to a body-pillow and even an outfit you’d only worn once for a runway show. There was a glass shelf with your old perfumes, newer ones too, and photos everywhere.

“Carlos….” You began, covering your mouth with your fingers and stepping further in.

“I know—! But I liked you so much before we started seeing each other and I- I am just a passionate man is all, my whole family says so—!” You cut off his red-faced rambling with a beaming grin.

“Ouah! I didn’t know you were a super fan before we met!” You giggled, mumbling to yourself in French about the various things he’d collected. “maybe you are a bit extreme, but it’s kind of cute, no?”

“¿En serio? Sí, mi perla!” He breathed shakily before grinning, “I should have known you’d understand! Mis hermanas se burlaron de mí, ¿sabes? But it was all silly…” (You’re serious? Yes, my pearl! My sisters teased me, you know?)

“What are you saying? Your sisters… something? I’m still learning, mon chéri.” You pout at him, in a much better mood now that you knew what your boyfriend was hiding behind the door he seemed so desperate to keep you away from.

He shook his head, hair messy after having run his fingers through it many times due to stress, “We should have dinner with them tonight while we’re still in Spain, I said. Let’s go back downstairs?”

“Why? Got anything weird?”

“Don’t say things like that, amor!”

♤ ♤ ♤

daniel ricciardo.

“Danny…?”

“Shit-!” He jumped out of surprise, dropping the box he was reaching from the top shelf of the closet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mon soleil!” You squeaked, jumping back as well. You hadn’t meant to scare him, but it wasn’t your fault he was so focused in the dead of night. You were just curious is all. The box he dropped was was rectangular in shape, but easily bigger than a shoebox. You shot him a sleepy grin, “What do you have there?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “Why are you up, sleepy girl? Get back to bed, I’ll be right there. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m up because you’re up.” You wrinkled your nose, inching closer to him with a small blanket in your arms. You tried to get a glimpse of what fell out of the box, but Daniel wrapped himself around you so you couldn’t see. He wrestled the blanket from your fingers, careful not to be rough with long nails, and threw it over your head with smile.

As you wrestled, your boyfriend only laughed and placed kisses on any part of you he could without being hit by your flying limbs, “Pretty things like you should be asleep. Your brothers would kill me if they knew I disturbed your beauty rest.”

“Are you trying to hide something from me?” You pulled the blanket off your head, hair a mess.

Daniel froze, jaw clenching as he tried to hold a toothy smile. But he didn’t have it in him to lie to you. The moment was completely still, before you finally broke eye contact and crept passed him to see the mess on the floor. You could hear Danny gulp as you plucked the first item from the ground; a pretty, navy blue set of lacy underwear. Yours, yes. But from ages ago, you swore you lost them. Then there were a few pieces of jewelry, a lipstick tube, a silk scrunchie, a press-on nail, a red heel, and two pieces of now-hardened chewing gum. All yours from various points of this past year.

“Daniel,” no, not the first name, he begged internally, squeezing his eyes shut, deciding to just wait for the inevitable disgust and rejection. You never called him by his full first name, only sweet ‘danny’s his way, sometimes ‘mon soleil’ or ‘sunshine’.

“You know you can just ask for my things, yes? You don’t have to take.” You were looking right up at him, navy colored panties still in your hand like you didn’t even mind that he took them. His reasoning couldn’t have been pure, you know that.

You hummed, pulling at his fingers so you can shove the underwear into his balled up fist, “lá.”

“Perfect girl.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and dragging you to bed, “give me the pair you have on then, yeah?”

♤ ♤ ♤

max verstappen.

It wasn’t always like this with you— you used to be just Charles “track terror” Leclerc’s pretty little sister, a little girl. But now it was years later and you’ve become something perfect and irresistible— something he can’t live without. He knows he’d resorted to some immoral, if not a little creepy, behaviors, but it’s not like he’s one of those guys that would ever hurt you. No, you’re a deity to him. He told his sister about his feelings at one point (even thought about showing her the shrine), but she told him— “This is all because you watched You!” The Netflix show that follows a stalker.

So he took down the shrine— moving most of it into his bedside drawer and the rest under his bed. But he realized he didn’t think it all the way through when he had you in his room for the first time; all pretty and perfect and curious.

“Good race, Maxie.” You hopped back onto the bed, your hair bouncing as you landed, “You’re so tense and for what, huh?”

Max had just a little bit of shame about the whole thing, but maybe not too much. I mean, his body definitely felt some kind of physical guilt or something if you’re judging him by the shaking and sweating— but his mind was happy. You were here with him in his home. In fact, the physical reaction might just be from seeing you curled up in his bed. But you’re close to finding out how… intense he was. (As his mother would say.)

“Sorry, lief, I’m just tired and you’re distracting me by being cute.” He smiled down at you as he began to change, “you need a shirt to wear?”

“Yes, s'il te plaît. Hey, can I put my bracelets in here—? oh!” He’d barely turned his back for a second, just long enough to remove his shirt, but that’s all it took for you to pull the drawer open and see the copious amount of photos of you (some edited to have him in them) and unsent love letters.

“It’s not a shrine— I’m not a creep! It’s just some things I made back before we got together—! You weren’t supposed to see them!” He was trying to shove some of the papers back in, but you were already skimming one of the letters.

“Mijn hart,” he winced at seeing the one you had— one of the more unhinged ones. The worst of it was in Dutch, so that worked out for him at least.

“Oh c’mon, Maxie! It’s kind of sweet! You had such a big crush on me! It’s a little hot, even.”

He grew even more red and fidgety at that, “Shit.”

You giggled at the words you could understand before he wrestled the page out of your grip. You grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could stray too far.

“From Max Verstappen-Leclerc, hm?”

♤ ♤ ♤

oscar piastri.

“Can’t I just grab a hoodie, Osc?” You questioned as he held you in place on the counter, from his spot between your legs, still in his race suit.

“You don’t need one, Lovey, it’s hot.” He pressed himself into you so he could feel you breathe better. You’d asked for a jacket the moment you’d entered his freezing trailer just after the race. He saw you go for the closet and quickly redirected you onto the counter.

“Non, you’re hot because you just raced in a little car for hours and now you’re all over me. I am normal temperature.”

“Cold?”

“Yes.”

“Then get closer, I’m hot.”

You huff obnoxiously like the pretty spoiled girl you are and Oscar can feel the rush of serotonin he got just from the sound. He knew this is the part where you’d get cute and pretend to pick a fight, his sweet thing. But bad timing— he’s desperate to hide his secret now.

“I can’t get any closer to you if I trieddd. What? You have a girl hiding in that closet? Hm?” He scoffed into your shoulder, but stiffened, knowing just what was behind that door.

You gasped dramatically, likely playing it up to get what you wanted (a tactic you used with your brothers, Oscar noticed), “You do! Irréelle!”

“I don’t!” His face shot up from your shoulder, brows furrowed, but he didn’t let you go, “You know I don’t like any other girls!”

“Then you need to show me so I can be sure! And I’m still cold.” You crossed your arms and pulled your knees together to get him to back up.

“I can’t.” He choked out. “There’s— it’s just— I have this thing—”

You hopped down and booked it across the trailer before he could reach out and stop you, yanking the door open to see what your new boyfriend was hiding.

You breathed out a dramatic sigh of relief at the sight, “Goodness, Osc.” Rather than finding a person, you instead found some sort of… collection? Collage of yourself and your things? Photos mostly, magazines, and lots of hearts drawn on articles about you.

Oscar grabbed you by the shoulders and quickly spun you around into him, slamming the door, “You saw?”

Looking up at him with big eyes, you nodded, “Yeah, why? You really like me that much?”

“What? Yes— yeah I do. You—? Okay.”

♤ ♤ ♤

pierre gasly. | kika gomes.

“I’m prepared to blame you for this if Charles finds it.” Pierre breathed, looking at the start of his girlfriend’s collection of your things. Kika scoffed, a smile playing at her lips as she re-organizes your makeup. Mostly lip balms, you’d let her borrow some of your things, not knowing she wasn’t going to give any of it back. Kika even managed to get a few skirts from you as well. The small framed photo of you sitting in her vanity was just a personal touch.

Pierre would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, but he could say he wasn’t surprised. He and Kika were a good couple, a good duo in general, but especially when it came to drawing you in. Because Pierre was such a good friend to Charles, it came pretty easy; Charles was easier on him around you. Unfortunately, that grace didn’t extend to Kika just because they were dating. Charles had something of a sixth sense for when pretty girls liked his pretty sister; so he was on to Kika. Where at the beginning it was nothing to get you alone with them, it was now next to impossible.

“Pierre? Kika? Are you home?” Wow it’s like they could hear your pretty voice— oh wait they gave you a key. To their apartment. In Monaco, where you live and you can really just waltz in and see all of the things they took (—yes they, Pierre is a thief too—)

Like two naughty school children, the couple shot up to cover what they’d done before you could reach their bedroom. This was their fault naturally, none of yours at all, they were the ones who encouraged you to come over whenever physically possible.

“Grab everything and I’ll distract her!” Kika whispered, rushing to slip out of the room.

Before the ‘not fair-’ could slip from his lips, his girlfriend was off to catch you, brushing passed him and leaving the door cracked. He could hear your surprised greeting, a cute squeak escaping you, before Kika saying something like ‘Oh, Pierre is busy now’, then silence. Pulling the handle back just an inch, he peaked outside to see Kika’s lips not even a centimeter from your own, her hands gripping your jacket for dear life.

“Oh, pretty girls, ce n'est tout simplement pas juste.” Slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Your eyes shot to his, but Kika’s remained trained on your face. After just a second, your gaze drifted to Kika’s vanity behind him.

The couple froze, you saw. Pierre pulled the door shut behind him as Kika’s mouth opened to form words.

“Oi! Get your hands off my little sister, huh? Démon impoli et pratique, seriously.” Charles slipped into the living room from the front hallway, having obviously accompanied his little sister in her visit.

“Non, Charlie, Kika helped me when I almost tripped.” You smiled at your brother, quickly covering for them, “I was just coming to see if I could get my jean skirt back?”

You looked up at her so sweet and she thinks you’re blushing—“Oh.” She squeaked, “yes, no problem. Pierre.”

“I’ll get it for her, mate.”

“surveille ta copine. je ne suis pas aveugle, mate.”

♤ ♤ ♤

Your man (s girlfriend) is definitely creepy, girl.

note; I made kika and pierres a lil longer bc they’re two ppl so yeah ft charles

thinking part ii with lando, mick (ft the schumachers), lewis, lance, alex & lily, george and carmen?

- ren

[ristoranteivorykeys]

i greet thee with a kiss (skully hcs)

pre-relationship headcanons about skully's feelings towards you where you and him are in night raven college together

ft. skully j. graves

╰┈➤ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: uploading these now before the halloween update drops 🙈 episode 3 is where shit hits the fan, and i want to stay in the lighthearted lore drops that episode 2 brings, so here we are. tbh i had been falling a little bit out of twst due to irl and generally just being less into it as time passes by. but then twst drops skully and unfortunately, he's my type 😟 so here i am now, pilled enough to write the brainworms in my head. i hope u enjoy, and i hope episode 3 does not ruin what i'm uploading

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 Skully is the kind of person who always approaches everyone in the room and greets them with a kiss on the hand. He gives everyone his attention and starts small talk with them (regardless of whether they want to or not). If anyone says they need to go and run a small errand or even just to get water or food from the cafeteria, he offers to accompany them in case they don't want to feel alone. In other words, if you're in love with Skully and prevent your delusions from coloring your eyes with rose colors (or attempt to deny your feelings), you may be thinking dejectedly he probably treats you the same way as he treats anyone else.

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 However, when he's in love with you, his gentlemanly act falters, as he gets flustered. When he kisses your hand in greeting, he's slightly shakier and redder in the face. And whereas his speech is more polite with others, with you, he drops to more casual speech that's littered with occasional bursts of excitement. Usually, he's a generally good conversationalist, able to connect with people on a number of topic, and while that remains the same with you, his hands are on his cheeks more often than usual, especially when he finds that you like something he likes.

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 When you're not in the room, he's going to keep talking about you. Skully is the type to remember in vivid detail about the conversations he has with you, so when he's rambling about you to the first year gang, he mentions everything, from your compliments to the little lilts in your voice that attract his ear to the smallest movement in your hand as it inches closer to his hand. If any hugs occurred, Skully can easily take up 15 minutes describing the sensations and the warm goopy feelings he experienced during the hug. Skully is the type to let his delusions carry him, so Ace and Sebek have to bring him down with their bluntness.

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 Though he may be flustered, Skully does not fail to act chivalrous towards you. In fact, he's much more gentlemanly to you. He observes the sidewalk rule, he tends to have a hand on your back or shoulder while you're walking in a busy area, and he offers you his jacket when it's cold. If it's raining, he'd share an umbrella with you, and he'd adjust the umbrella so that you're completely covered, even if one side of him gets drenched. In fact, he'd willingly give you his umbrella if you say you don't have one, and he'll tell you that he doesn't need it (he'll end up a wet sopping mess after running in the downpour finding shelter, but it would be worth it if it meant you were safe and dry).

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 Skully's poetry slowly incorporates you as the subject. Usually, he heaps poetic praises in the scenery he witnesses, in conversations that struck him, and in the season of Halloween and his idol Jack Skellington. But he could be having class, and while looking out the window, would mutter about the clearness of the sky paling in comparison to your honest eyes. Or he could be walking along the botanical gardens with the Science club, and Skully would compare the flowering plants to the vividness of your face (and Rook would probably enable him further). Or if you compliment him, he'd squish his own cheeks and squeal about how your words are like evergreen to him, refreshing to listen to after the insults that he endured throughout his life. Without realizing, he's talking about you more than even Halloween.

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 In spite of the delusions, Skully often finds himself having moments of doubt, telling himself that it might be better off if you don't have to deal with someone like him. You're very kind and strong, with friends who would be there for you, and he's a loser whose idea of Halloween has been shunned and rejected by everyone. You deserve someone better, someone who can love you better. Yet, he can't dampen his feelings for you: He wishes to be the one whom you can depend on, he wants to give you the treatment you deserve, and he yearns to hold you for as long as he can.

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 Skully's confession to you is done through a poem that he wrote on parchment for at least 3 days, with revisions from the first year gang. He's trembling as he grips the paper and nervously reads from it. Countless stars shine in the night, but the sparkle of your eyes hold a brighter light. I've heard of smiles that can disarm a man, but I never understood it until I watched your lips curl up and your eyes squint at me in joy... He's cringing at himself with some lines, stopping at some points to complain about what he wrote. But when you hug him, telling him how sweet he is and present your own poem about how much you like him, Skully ends up crying endlessly, thanking you for accepting somebody like him. And you take him in your arms, repeating to him that yes, you'd accept someone like him who's made you happy.

[phoenixyfriend]

Accountant of Theed

Read on AO3

After all is said and done, someone needs to balance these books, and nobody actually told the accounting department how they paid for this new hyperdrive. Mimi really hopes it's not a loan from the Hutts.

Disclaimer: I am not an accountant, but I work in an adjacent field (and have been considering getting a certification, but that's neither here nor there). While I did take some courses on it, I asked an Accounting Person to look over the excel sheet before I went forward with the rest of the fic to make sure it's internally consistent. Thank you to @gnomer-denois for confirming my balance on these works!

The reconciliation sheet does NOT follow contemporary guidelines in terms of format etc, but that is because it is:

In space! Standard practice differs from Modern United States or what have you.

Not the primary balance sheet, just the simplified version made to show to Queen Amidala.

If you'd prefer to view the Excel sheet in a more easily navigable form, there is a google drive link available. This is also your best option if using a screen reader.

-----------------------------------------

Theed is safe. They are rebuilding. There is even financial support, aid, from the Republic.

It comes with strings attached. Oversight. Auditors.

Wouldn’t want Naboo to misuse funding after that nasty mistake with the Trade Federation, right? Sure, Naboo wasn’t the one at fault, but one can never be too careful...

Mimi, as an accountant for the government of Naboo, does not in fact want to commit fraud, or enable corruption, but the rolling audits do feel a little like the Republic is punishing them for getting invaded.

“Hey, boss?”

That tone. Mimi does not like that tone. “Please tell me it’s not another unauthorized purchase with a missing receipt. Which account did they pull from this time?”

“Um... we don’t know?”

Mimi gives them a moment. No elaboration is given.

“You don’t know?”

“We don’t know,” the younger employee repeats.

“What do you mean?” Mimi asks. “People charge things to accounts or cards. They forget to submit receipts. We hunt them down for receipts, and make sure nobody is skimming off the top. That’s how it goes. Unless this is a purchase on a personal and we need to reimburse—”

“Um, maybe?”

“In which—what? That’s just... okay. There’s a process for reimbursements. You aren’t following it, which means... what? What do you mean, you don’t know? Did they use cash, or pull from an account?”

The younger employee looks down at their datapad. Looks back up at her. Looks baffled and a little scared. “Um, it’s... we still don’t have a receipt, but we also don’t know where the money for it came from? But nobody’s put in a reimbursement request and I can’t imagine anyone on the mission had those funds on them, not even the Queen herself.”

“The money for what?”

“Um. It sort of just... showed up?”

“So, it’s some kind of gift?” Mimi presses.

“Too big,” the younger mumbles, refusing to meet her eyes. “It would have to be disclosed.”

“I am giving you five seconds—”

“It’s a hyperdrive!” they yelp.

“...Explain.”

“One of the mechanics was looking over the Royal Cruiser, and found that there was unrecorded repair work to the hyperdrive. The ship took enough damage during the escape that he wasn’t surprised, but then he noticed that it was from an earlier run of the part, and when he checked, the serial number was completely wrong. The hyperdrive was completely replaced.”

Mimi closes her eyes and takes a breath. “The mechanic doesn’t know?”

“He said there’s nothing in the records that matches it at all, and it’s a big enough part that there’s no way it would just slip through the cracks, not when it’s that expensive and going on the Royal Cruiser.”

“So,” Mimi says, “we have a part worth almost as much as the rest of the cruiser combined, that just... came out of nowhere, and nobody claiming for reimbursement.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s what it looks like.”

Mimi has no interest in fraud.

“Find out who was piloting when Queen Amidala escaped, and see if they have any answers,” Mimi tells them. “If we can keep it to just the hangar staff without drawing in the Royal Retinue, it’ll be easier on all of us.”

“Here’s hoping, ma’am.”

(Continue on AO3)

[deepestnightcolor]

First of all, I love the way you write it always helps me picture in my brain the scene so thanks for that~

I'll stop being mushy now hehe

I've been having thoughts about the fem!farmer having a profile on a site to look for hookups before moving to Pelican Town and forgetting about how she used to have spicy texts with Sam just to accidentally meeting him on the streets of her new town while going on a stroll 😏 hehe

Anyways! Have an amazing day!!!

ᴀ/ɴ: IT MIGHT BE FINALS SEASON FOR ME (please, end me) BUT THAT DOESN'T STOP ME FROM KEEPING YOU ALL FED IN ADDITION TO THE OTHER GLORIOUS MEALS YOU MAY CONSUME HERE. Thank you so much for the praise, lovely, it means THE WORLD. I hope you forgive me that I gave this story a little twist, and that you enjoy nonetheless!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3789 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: sexting, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, slobber, pierced dick (I said it and I will say it again, fight me), mutual pining, you are being pounded~, cream pie.

☾ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ ☽

Sometimes you still read them. Read them when you were touching yourself beneath the sheets of your bed, read them when you wanted to get in the mood. Sometimes you still read them when you needed a little inspiration, but it was a fact that you still read them.

Normally, you deleted every conversation you had had on that website. But the ones with him had been so… entirely different. It wasn’t like you had been looking for something when you signed up on a site that promised quick, anonymous chats. Chats that could be easily discarded and forgotten. Messages that had one purpose; to still the one’s lust and then move on. To put it simply, a website that promised horny people to meet other horny people, whether it stayed digital or became real was none of their business.

You had never wanted any of this to become real – you were happy to play around with someone and be played around with when you laid in bed, all bored and horny. You were satisfied by being told how good you would be railed, happy with empty promises of being treated like a goddess. Comfortable with sharing some pictures – of course well-placed pictures, hiding details that would enable being recognized, never showing your face. At least you had been happy with building castles in the air until you had met him.

You had stumbled across him in one of the forums, a man showing off his upper body with a sense of pride radiating from his posture alone. He had accompanied the image with a simple line of text: “I am missing my muse.” Usually, you would have rolled your eyes and scrolled past in search of something spicier, dirtier. But something about him had made you click faster on that username than you would have ever liked to admit, sliding into the chat with him with a sense of despair in your chest: >If you treat me well, I could be your next muse.<

Your text had started a message of the sexiest texts you had ever received, and you didn’t even fucking know why. “SkAterdreaM” just seemed to know how to press your buttons. Guiding you to touch yourself with such a sense of precision, praising you just right. >That’s a pretty girl…Are those thighs twitching just for me? Yoba, Id love to kiss them, fuck you right until they are shaking because that’s what you deserve. Deserve to cum over and over again. Come on pretty baby, lemme hear those moans< >You make me so hard, fuck. I am drooling for you< But not only that – he added those videos. Fuck, those videos. You were pretty sure he had always put on a show for you with how he squeezed his cock, milked the pre-cum right out of himself. With how he let out these quivering, shaky gasps, moaning praise right into the microphone. “Look at what you are doing to me, princess- ah, fuck~ I wish you were here with me, gorgeous... I’d let you ride me right now, bounce on my cock… Are you touchin’ yourself for me, sweet girl? Rub that clit for me, yeah? Slooowly, I want you to go slow, just like this- you are going to be good for me, aren’t you?” Reacting perfectly to the videos you were sending him, picking up on little details not even you had been aware of. >Look at those pretty lips, all bitten-up... Feelin so good, baby? You make me wanna kiss em all better, gorgeous< Making you feel seen, heard, and appreciated. And the worst of it all? He wasn’t even there with you.

In all honesty, you had rarely ever come as hard as you had that night, and you hadn’t been able to find anything like that chat on that website since that night. And you had really tried. Texting men and women alike, talking to them, desperate to replicate what you had had with SkAterdreaM, but you always ended up disappointed, always ended up in that chat again and you always ended up disappointed when that last message smiled at you. >You were the prettiest muse I could ever possibly find.<

And damn how you wanted to find SkAterdreaM. Even now that you lived in Pelican Town did you sometimes read that chat, in hopes that the green button next to his name would indicate him being online, would allow you the chance to talk to him again, but you were always denied. It felt like Yoba had given you a gift, just to take it away from you again, leaving you in the bliss of it all and grieving the loss of it. How could life be so cruel?

You had tried to coax him back online, too. Sending pictures, all too pretty pictures. Of you in lingerie, which, you had to shamefully admit, were bought with him in the back of your mind. Of you cupping those pretty tits he had praised the whole night. Of you posing for him. But nothing. SkAterdreaM stayed offline.

But then, one day, you heard it. That voice. It immediately sent your body into a state of tingling sensations, skin burning up, heart pounding. You knew that voice. It sounded a lot less shaky and a lot less raunchy, but you knew that voice. Fuck. Were you going crazy? Had your insatiable need to meet that random-ass man again manifested into a psychosis? Maybe you should visit the town’s doctor, but what would you say? “Hey, I had a really great online sexting session, and now I hear the dude’s voice in real life, please help”? Maybe someone just had a- “Stop it, Seb, or I will kick you in the fucking nuts,” the voice laughed, sending a shudder rippling down your spine. You couldn’t believe it, yet there he was. The source of the voice was making his way toward you – well, more likely toward the saloon behind you, but fuck it – laughing with a man walking next to him.

“Oh! Hi, you must be the new farmer,” he smiled once he noticed you, and you were pretty sure you were just about to topple over, lip quivering. Could this really be? Could you have moved into the same town this online phantom was living in by accident? Was someone playing a cruel joke on you? Nevertheless, you were staring. Staring hard. What were words again, and how did you use them?

“Hi, I-“ -met you on a website for sex and fuck, I missed you. Before your tongue could release the word vomit onto the poor blond you snapped shut your jaw, trying to cover your tracks with an awkward smile. However, something in his face had shifted. A hint of recognition in those blue eyes – Yoba, he was handsome -, but they were definitely flooded with disbelief. A knock in his ribs coming from the man next to him made him stutter back into motion.

“Sam,” he choked out, mirroring that awkward smile on your lips. You gripped his offered hand, your breath hitching into your throat, making it near impossible to breathe out your own name.

“You remind me of someone,” he suddenly started out, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “a muse I met a while ago.” “What the fuck, Sam? Leave the poor girl alone,” the dark-haired man – Seb? – laughed, clearing his throat awkwardly. Little did he know that Sam had said just the right thing. “No worries, you remind me of a dream I had,” you shot back, making a small grin appear on his pink lips. “I will see you around then? I have made a few promises.” “Definitely.”

The way your lips crashed together could only be described as heavenly. Sam hadn’t even really taken the time to close the door behind himself before he had already wrapped you up in an embrace, fingers running through your hair before gently cradling your head. You couldn’t help yourself but moan into the gentle suckle of his lips, your body melting into him like it knew where it belonged. “Fuck, I thought I would never find you again,” he breathed, leaving your lips only for a second to gently nip at your jaw before going right back to your lips. His tongue lapped at the fat of your lower lip, greedily pushing past your teeth to lick over yours, his hands now wandering down your back. The feeling of being desired cursed through you just as much as the feeling of desiring him, your own hands wandering beneath the white shirt he was wearing to feel the smooth skin of his toned stomach. “Same,” you gasped out as he pulled away just enough to let you breathe, “I kept texting you,” you stammered, your lips kissing along his neck, savouring that breathless groan that left his already swelling lips, “but you never replied.” “I lost all access to that account,” he breathed back, his own hands now slipping beneath your shirt, small moan escaping him as they engulfed your tits, “fuck, baby. They feel just as pretty as they looked.” Yoba, he loved that giggle that left you. He had loved everything about your encounters. The way you had reacted to him, the way that you had moaned for him. The way you had begged for more, even though he just couldn’t give you what he had wanted – which had been everything. He had absolutely loved your voice cracking, the way you bit your lip as your hips bucked. The way your thighs quivered. It had been burnt into his mind, lending him a hand whenever he fucked his fist. It should have embarrassed him – an online encounter absolutely possessing his mind, but it didn’t. He had cursed heaven and hell when he had realized that he had lost access to that fucking account, and thus to you. “Believe me, I tried to get back into it,” he sighed, big hands squeezing the flesh in his hand, pierced tongue licking along your throat, just to ease the following blow of his teeth sinking into your pretty skin, “but I couldn’t for the life of me.” And really – he had tried. Even asked Sebastian if he could regain the access he had lost, even though it had set him up for a lifetime of mockery. Your answer was a mere whimper, one that made his pants way too fucking tight. He had never been this hard ever since that night, but now- now he could touch you.

“Pretty princess,” he sighed, hips rutting into you almost automatically. Yoba, feeling you after dreaming about you for so long – it made him feel like he could come right now, like he could cream his pants just because he felt your hands wander down his back, nails scratching along him ever so slightly. Yoba, he needed you.

Even though it physically pained him to pull his hands away from your nipples, he did. Just in favour of pulling down the fabric of your pants. He needed to see you. All bare, just for him. His breath hitched when he saw your panties, adorning your pubic mound in a way not even the most skilled artist could have painted. His whole body quivered as his long fingers reached out for you, brushing the calloused pad along the still clothed skin. He could hear the slight thump of your head falling against the wall behind you as you took in a shaky breath, and he wanted to cry tears of joy. He could have you now, all for himself. The realization made every ounce of patience he had promised himself to have evaporate, instead his fingers curled into the fabric, giving the thin layer of clothing a good tug. “So wet for me already, princess?” he all but cooed, holding your underwear up to your face, a wet spot beaming right at you. “Shut up,” you laughed, albeit a lot more breathless than you had been at the beginning of this, running your hands down his body. “You are not much better, SkaterDream.” Sam’s hips almost involuntarily bucked forward when your fingers brushed along the outline of his erection, eyes rolled back in his skull. Why did your fingers feel so much better than his whole fucking fist? Shit, you had ruined masturbation for him – but he just couldn’t be mad at you. No way, not when you looked up at him like this, doe eyes glazed over with lust, lips puffy from the rough, hungry kisses the two of you had shared.

Just looking at you made his balls pull tight, red tip of his dick drooling pre-cum into the black of his boxers. You were right, he wasn’t much better. His eyes drifted shut as you fisted at his poor dick now, making it cry for release from its restraints. “You are so beautiful; you know that darling? So damn beautiful,” he sighed, allowing your hands to unbuckle his belt with a clinking noise, his own working to slide your shirt above your head. Normally, he would have brought you upstairs, laid you on the bed before he would have taken his sweet times, but right now, he felt like he was starving right in front of a meal. He struggled out of his pants while he pushed up your bra, lips latching on your sweet nipple, letting the moan that left your sinful lips go through his whole system, savouring the way his dick twitched. “That’s right, baby, moan for me,” he coaxed, flicking a finger against your clit. Just lightly, to gauge your reaction. And oh, did you deliver. Your hips bucked forward almost immediately, back arched in in an attempt to get closer, to get more, more, more. Your eyes were half-lidded now, your cleavage flushed, as your lips mouthed wordless begs. How could Sam resist?

He couldn’t. His boxers pooled around his ankles just to be kicked away, pierced dick meeting his stomach with a wet smack. The moan that came from you upon revealing his girth almost sent him toppling over, legs shaking slightly as he slid it between your folds. “What is it, baby? Do you like my dick? Is it good enough for your pretty pussy?” His hips rocked back and forward now, coating his perverted shaft in your slick, eyes never leaving your face as he awaited your response. The nod you gave was small, but the look in your eyes was enough to make him drool. Tears welled in them, just about to slip down those flushed cheeks, so full of desire and despair that he felt like they were mirroring his soul. When the pierced tip caught your twitchy hole, both of you gasped out loud, making Sam’s hips work faster, bumping against your entrance over and over. He adored the wet sounds the two of you created, the way you moaned in his ear, and oh Yoba, how you bit those pretty lips again. He just had to – had to kiss them better, had to aim for your clit, had to please you.  “Sam,” you suddenly gasped, making his head snap up, taking his focus away from how pretty your pussy looked with his dick teasing it. “Yes, baby? What do you want? Tell me, princess.” “Fuck- Sam, please- fuck me,” you mewled, head again bumping into the wall. Another fat glob of pre-cum leaked out of him, and he was pretty sure he had sold his soul to the devil – how else could this be true? But you were his muse, his pretty, pretty princess, that made his balls hurt so good, so if he had actually sold his soul, he would have done it all over again.

“Do you need me, baby? Want my dick to ruin your sweet little cunt? Yeah? That’s what you want?” Another bump against your clit, another tease at your hole, and yet another glob of pre-cum coating your folds. “Yes, Sam! Fuck, PLEASE.”

That had definitely done it for him. Greedy tip lining up with your drooling hole, his eyes searched your face once more before he pushed forward. Feeling your drenched walls wrap around him, Yoba, he wanted to weep. His dick surely did. You were so beautifully wet around him, greeting him with a squelching sound as your walls stretched around him. If his brain had been working until now, it most definitely had short-circuited at right this moment and had left his mouth hanging open, spit dribbling down his tongue and on your gorgeous tits. You weren’t in much better shape – Sam was big. Girth stretching you absolutely thin, making you feel like you were going to rip in half, but fuck, did it feel good. His pierced tip bumped against your walls, and you could feel him pulse inside of you with each push forward.

“Y..you..you okay?” he whispered as he was about halfway in, nodding at the small nod you gave him. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. So good. Fuck, you feel so good. Better than I could have ever imagined, babe,” he babbled, strings of spit landing on your skin with almost every word. “Sweet, sweet girl. Taking in my dick like a perfect little slut, I am gonna move again now, ‘kay? Gonna take all of me, princess?”

You didn’t have any other option than nod – it felt like with Sam’s dick entering you, all the words you had ever learned had left you. Not that you minded, what he gave you was so much better. He fucked his dick further into you, moaning your name in the most strained, beautiful way as he bottomed out. “Good fucking- Good girl, so good for me. Don’t deserve you, darling,” he yapped, beginning with a slow and steady pace. That didn’t last long, though. Your moans were just so beautiful, you see? Sam really did try, though! Really tried to keep slow and go easy on you, but there was just no way to do so when you sounded like this, when you scratched your fingers down his back like this. When you whimpered and bucked into him like this – no, he just couldn’t.

He fucked into you like you deserved, like you had always dreamed of. Giving you quick and hard thrusts that reached deep, tip bullying into you mercilessly. Sam wasn’t able to get enough from seeing you like this, with your mouth either hanging open or closed as you bit your lip, seeing you being ruined by his dick while your tits bounced for him – it just was so delicious. “Fuck, baby. You are suckin’ me off, does it feel good? Do ya like my dick pounding that cunt? Do ya like how I make you mine? Tell me, love. Use your words.” His fingers wrapped around your chin, making you look at him as he thrusted at a rough pace, keeping eye contact as your pussy squelched for his throbbing dick. You smacked your lips together, once, then twice, trying to answer these simple questions, but it was just so hard when it felt like the ability to speak was hogtied by the feeling of your building orgasm. “Can’t hear you, sweets. But look at you, bitin’ your lip again, ya love this, dontcha?” He cooed, licking along your throat, down your cleavage, just to lap and nip at your nipple while his thumb rolled over the other. “Still, I wanna hear you, let me hear those words, c’mon. I know you can do it.” Just to underline his words, he gave you an especially hard thrust, making you gasp out his name, followed by a babbled string of “yes”’s. “That’s it, love. That’s it. Knew you could do it,” he cooed, eyes watching how greedily your cunt sucked in his dick. Yoba, he was close. So, so close. The thought of filling you up made his balls pull again, aching for that sweet, sweet release. He needed you to cum, drench him, cream his cock – he just needed you to.

His tongue lulled out of his mouth, spittle landing on your already damp skin as he pounded into you. His thumb found its spot on your clit again, flicking and rubbing it in circles that matched the pace of his thrusts. “Sa-Sahaaam!” You sobbed, voice edging in a high pitch as your stomach swirled around that approaching high. “What is it, baby? Gonna cum for me? Please, cum for me. Drench me, I want it all, make a mess of me.” His words only added to the building pressure within you, the room suddenly seeming to spin, the only thing that stayed in frame being the blond that fucked into you as if his life depended on it. Your moans no longer consisted of anything cohesive, only the high-pitched edge announced your nearing orgasm. Sam picked up on it, fell right in love with it and obeyed, keeping his pace a steady, hard fuck, thumb massaging your aching clit in a way that made your thighs twitch. You tried to tell him that you were going to cum, you certainly did, but all that left your mouth was a sob, followed by a small whine before your back arched in, legs full-on shaking as your orgasm wrecked through you.

Your hole spasmed around Sam’s already pulsing dick, gush of juices creating a creamy ring around the base of his shaft. He wanted this image of you to be forever etched into his brain, wanted it to be one of his core memories.

The look you gave him was enough to send him over the edge himself, red tip spitting ropes of cum inside of you, filling you up with each thrust. Sam just couldn’t stop, the need to fuck it deep inside of you possessing him as he pounded away, wanted to mark you as his and only his.

Only when his balls felt so incredibly empty did he slow to a stop, panting for hair like a dog in heat. Looking down at you, you weren’t in much better shape. You looked wrecked. Body flushed still, covered in his drools and lovebites he had left while he had been fucking into you. You were still shaking lightly against him, your eyes holding a fucked-out gaze that made his knees weak. For a while, the two of you just looked at one another as you panted, Sam’s hand carefully trading through your hair, the other working on holding up your tired body.

After a while, Sam dared to speak again. “So…I know we met on a website for sex, but…could I maybe take you on a date?”

[oliviawebsite]

as a communist who actually does work in my community i'm interested to hear why you think not voting in an effective manner against project 2025 is a logical and helpful course of action.

i doubt you asked this in good faith but ill entertain you just this once

1) i live in california. biden will win this state easily. my vote LITERALLY does not matter.

2) to say im "not voting against project 2025" is disingenuous as all hell. im obviously opposed to that platform and i intend to vote down-ballot for candidates who would oppose its measures in congress. also joe biden has done NOTHING to protect trans people. look at how his admin has recently dropped all support for youth trans healthcare. he is not fucking helping us. honestly not a fan of the way you worded this its deeply condescending.

3) i intend to cast a vote for a candidate who will not use our military force and imperalist wealth to exploit and murder people all over the world. i am opposed to united states imperialism before anything else and believe this country needs to stay out of everyones business. im sick of seeing our "leaders" excuse the ceaseless murder of palestinians with a smile on their face. as a "communist" this should be your main driving force as well anon, tbh. as long as democrats run imperalist candidates i will not vote for them

4) if biden somehow manages to win this year, the dems are still famous for their concessions to the right. what makes you think he wouldnt sign half of proect 2025's policies into law for the sake of "reaching across the aisle" or some bullshit. plenty of dems have given up on protecting trans right because its a "bad look" and they are the party of spineless cowards setting that aside the right just regroups and makes project 2029, 2033 and so on. to blame individuals for "not voting effectively" (are you sure youre actually a commie anon lmao) is missing the forest for the trees. fascism is already entrenched in every aspect of american politics. this is a cultural sickness enabled by a system that allows hatred-as-politics to thrive. its the fault of the monsters who want to do this in the first place not some internet tranny in a blue state who wants to at least try and vote my true conscious.

there is no moral justification to vote for biden. to blame me and people like me for project 2025 is honestly disgusting. you should be ashamed of yourself and never send me or anyone else an ask like this again. if you are really a "communist" sit down and think about what you are REALLY supporting when you chastise people for not wanting to vote for EITHER of the Senile Genociders being presented by the 2 party partnership. see ya

[shierakqiyas]

EXPLORING THE PARALLELS BETWEEN DAENERYS TARGARYEN AND ELIZABETH I OF ENGLAND

Both Daenerys & Elizabeth are the last descendants of their dynasties (House Targaryen & House Tudor)

Both Daenerys & Elizabeth are daughters of tyrant Kings (Aerys Targaryen & Henry VIII)

Both Daenerys & Elizabeth are the third in the line of succession to the throne which make them unlikely heirs but the unpredictable deaths of their respective siblings made them rise to power and becoming Queens regnant that ruled in their own rights.

Both Daenerys & Elizabeth are preyed upon by their guardians. ( Jorah mormont is dany's sworn protector/knight and Thomas seymour is elizabeth's stepfather)

He should not be doing this. I am his queen, not his woman. (...) It was a long kiss, though how long Dany could not have said. When it ended, Ser Jorah let go of her, and she took a quick step backward. “You… you should not have…”

—Dany, A storm of swords

Seymour’s own behaviour was not calculated to make this seem unlikely, for he treated Elizabeth in a boisterous way that was too tinged with sexuality to be dismissed as playfulness pure and simple. He liked to engage the teenage girl in suggestive banter, coming into her bedchamber before she was fully dressed so that he could “bid her good morrow and ask her how she did, and strike her upon the back or on the buttocks familiarly”. If he found her still in bed, “he would put open the curtains and … make as though he would come at her”, forcing Elizabeth to burrow helplessly under the bedclothes. “One morning he strave to have kissed her in her bed”, which even Mrs Ashley thought was going too far, and she “bade him go away for shame”. Mrs Ashley���s presence ensured that these sessions could not get too out of hand, nor was Elizabeth herself an altogether willing victim. She was able to outwit the Lord Admiral by rising earlier than usual, so that when Seymour entered he found her up and dressed, and demurely absorbed in study.

—Queen Elizabeth I by Anne Somerset

Both Daenerys & Elizabeth are polyglots. their abilities to speak many languages allowed them to converse easily with people from various backgrounds that visited their courts.

Reznak and Skahaz waited atop the marble steps. “Great queen,” declared Reznak mo Reznak, “you are so radiant today I fear to look on you.” The seneschal wore a tokar of maroon silk with a golden fringe. A small, damp man, he smelled as if he had bathed in perfume and spoke a bastard form of High Valyrian, much corrupted and flavored with a thick Ghiscari growl.

“You are kind to say so,” Dany answered, in the same tongue.

—Dany, A dance with dragons

(..) While her mastery of so many languages later assisted her conduct of diplomacy by enabling her to converse with foreign ambassadors,

She (Elizabeth) did not see language simply as a means of communication but as an artistic medium, and it was this that inspired the singular cadences and ornate phraseology of her mature speech.

—Queen Elizabeth I by Anne Somerset

Both Daenerys & Elizabeth's take great joy in riding horses

Dany rode fearlessly, and the joy and the danger of it were a song in her heart.

Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much.

—Dany,A game of thrones

She was an excellent rider, and had such a good seat on a horse that in February 1560 the Spanish ambassador reported admiringly, “The Queen rides out every day into the country on a Neapolitan courser or jennet … She makes a brave show, and bears herself gallantly”.

—Queen Elizabeth I by Anne Somerset

Both Daenerys & Elizabeth sought by many marriage suitors because of their power and high status

Both Daenerys & Elizabeth have secret lovers, Daenerys take Daario as a lover just like Elizabeth I (assumed by historians) take Robert Dudley as her secret lover. because Daario and Robert are too lowborn, their close relationships with Daenerys & Elizabeth faced with disapproval and scrutiny from people in the queens's courts.

The old knight neither liked nor trusted Daario, she knew. Even so, he had answered gallantly. "There is no woman more lovely than Your Grace. Only a blind man could believe otherwise, and Daario Naharis was not blind."

—Dany, A dance with dragons

When Kat, with her usual impetuosity, again urged that, whatever the facts of the case, the damage to her reputation could even lead to civil war, Elizabeth - emotional now - refused an appeal that she see less of Robert. She needed him, she said, because 'in this world she had so much sorrow and tribulation and so little joy'. To some of the foreign ambassadors, this was indeed becoming a scandal that could even topple Elizabeth from the throne.

—Elizabeth and Leicester: The Truth about the Virgin Queen and the Man She Loved.

daenerys art credit to :

[newvegascowboy]

"Hit me," Red says, apropos of nothing.

Although, Arcade muses to himself after a second of reflection, Red's motives are usually too impulsive and insane for Arcade to understand anyway.

"Why?"

"Because I want to see something," Red says. "So hit me."

"I'm not going to hit you, Red."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm-" Arcade cuts himself off. The word busy dies on his tongue. Red wouldn't buy it - they'd cornered him in a shady section of the fort, taking an over long break and debating the wisdom of having a smoke, free from under the eye of doctors who might tell him that he knows better. Like a specter, Red had appeared to alleviate his boredom. Or enable bad decisions. With Red, one never knew. "Because," Arcade finishes lamely.

Red grins, because it's a shitty excuse, and they both know it. "I know you're hidin' some muscle under that ratty old lab coat." One finger prods at Arcade's chest. He resists the urge to slap it away. "So use it."

"Usually if I hit someone, they've done something to deserve it," Arcade says.

Red's ever present smirk broadens. "Haven't I?"

Grudgingly, Arcade mutters, "Not lately."

"I could call you mean names if you like."

"You're a child." To Arcade's embarrassment, it comes out sounding fonder than he intends. This time, he does push the offending finger away.

Red huffs a little laugh, tilting their chin up. "I've been called worse."

"No doubt," Arcade says mildly.

"Prick."

Arcade laughs, a short snort of laughter he attempts to cover by looking away, towards the courtyard of the Fort, where Followers and Freesiders alike are bustling about. It's an overcast day - not cool by any means, humid and warm, but the world is taking advantage of the absence of the Mojave's merciless sun, however brief. Maybe, if they're lucky, it'll rain. The monsoons are fabulous, short lived, destructive and violent like everything else in this godforsaken desert, but Arcade would welcome the change of pace.

He turns his eyes back to Red, damnably two inches taller than him and always standing in such a way that forces Arcade to acknowledge it. "Work on your playground insults, cowboy. I'm not that easily riled."

"Liar," Red laughs. It is, regrettably, true. At least when it comes to Red. "Besides, I'm saving my better insults for when I need 'em."

"Do you anticipate needing them soon?"

Red shrugs. "You never know."

"No, you don't anticipate much," Arcade says. "Not much of a planner."

"I find that life is more exciting when it surprises me."

"I might agree with you," Arcade says, "If the surprises that usually involve you didn't take the form of bullets."

"Not always bullets. Sometimes bombs."

"Wonderful," Arcade says dryly.

"Come on," Red says, drawing the word out in a petulant whine unbecoming an outlaw of their fearsome reputation. "Don't be such a homebody. See something new."

"Where exactly are we going that you expect me to get into a fist fight?"

"The Ultra Luxe."

Arcade's mouth twitches. He glances Red up and down. "The Ultra Luxe," he repeats. "Tell me, are you planning on wearing dirty jeans and chaps, or did you have a set specifically made?"

"Ha ha," Red says bitingly, rolling their eyes. "I own nice clothes, asshole, I just don't run around the wasteland in rhinestones."

Arcade eyes the portion of Red's unbuttoned shirt, displaying a generous slash of tanned and muscled skin. Their rosary dangles from their neck today, glinting in the weak sun, over a belt buckle that reads 'Cocky'. "Maybe you should," he murmurs.

"I thought I was the one antagonizing you?"

"Do a better job," Arcade shoots back. "Or have you lost your touch?"

Red sniffs, drawing back and crossing their arms. "Prick," they say again.

"Why me?" Arcade asks. "Why not Veronica? Or Boone?" Or Cass, Red's one-time paramour - but he doesn't know if they're on speaking terms. Arcade isn't sure he knows the story there, and isn't sure he wants to.

Red snorts. "Boone? He's worse than I am for what I have in mind."

"And Veronica?" She's better at a fistfight than Arcade, that's certain.

"I already asked. Apparently, her version of a good night at the Luxe doesn't involve bloodshed."

"Neither does mine," Arcade mutters. Red only smiles. Sighing, Arcade pulls off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. "If I hit you, can we be done with this conversation? I do have work to do."

The look on Red's face says that Red does not believe him in the slightest, but they nod, stepping back. Arcade replaces his glasses and shrugs out of his lab coat, laying it over a nearby crate. He unbuttons his cuffs rolling up his shirtsleeves, and tries to ignore Red's smirk.

"I like the show, Gannon, I do. Really feel like I'm gonna get it."

"Keep running your mouth, and you will."

Red's grin turns sharklike. "Is that supposed to turn me off?"

Lifting his fists, Arcade sighs. "I don't think anything does," he says, and swings.

His fist hits nothing but air. Red sidesteps his first swing with ease. Arcade frowns, stepping forward and swinging again. Boots scuff the gravel as Red steps back, moving with an ease that someone their height, with the broadness of their shoulders and dense muscle, should not be inclined to possess. They continue for a few more blows, Arcade swinging and Red deftly sidestepping, until Arcade drops his hands.

"I thought you wanted me to hit you?" He huffs.

"Yeah, you're doing a piss poor job, aren't you?"

Red doesn't seem offended, a small smile picking up at the corner of their mouth. Warm leather flexes as Red's gloved hand squeezes his knuckles, then drops and gently pushes his fist away. "Never knew you had it in you to fight dirty, Gannon."

Growling, Arcade steps forward, going low and from the left. It's a low blow - Red's blindspot - but he's seen Red in action enough times that he isn't surprised when their left hand flashes up and catches his fist.

And - Arcade should know this. He knows how good Red is in a fight, knows that Red is intimately familiar with the anatomy of violence and anything involving it. If there is one thing Red does best above all, it is killing. Their blind spot would be a legitimate weakness if all Red's instincts didn't scream for them to compensate. If anyone managed to land that blow, Arcade has no doubt it would be the last thing they ever did.

"Maybe I just knew you wouldn't let me hit you."

Red's eyebrows raise the barest fraction. Arcade clears his throat, but doesn't glance away. "Well," Red says. "I am vain, I'll give you that much. I'd hate to let you ruin my good looks. You telegraph the shit out of your punches, by the way."

"Are we done here?"

"No." Red steps forward. Arcade's mouth thins. Gloved hands sieze Arcade's wrists before he can drop them. One boot slides between Arcade's legs, nudging his feet apart. "Bend your knees a little," Red murmurs. "There, like that. You're under-rotating your hips. Not putting as much power behind a punch as you could be. Gotta throw your body weight around a little, Gannon."

Red is close enough that all Arcade can smell is the mix of sweet tobacco and clove, leather and smoke that clings to Red's skin. There's something spicy underneath - pine, maybe. Cologne. Abruptly embarrassed, Arcade attempts to pull back, but Red's got a hold of his hands and their grip is firm.

Glancing up from under the frame of his glasses, Arcade watches as Red pulls his hand up. The knuckles of Arcade's right hand gently make contact with the left corner of Red's jaw. "There," Red says, voice soft and oddly intense. "You win."

Arcade doesn't have it in him to pull away. "Are we done?" He asks instead.

Slowly, Red releases him and steps back. They watch as Arcade unrolls his sleeves and retrieves his lab coat from the crate. Arcade shakes it out, lookjng for an excuse not to look at Red. Their little scuffle had gone unnoticed by the Followers at the Fort, but Arcade knows Julie will hear about it somehow, and will have stern words with him about fighting in the compound. What she doesn't understand, and what Arcade barely understands himself, is that it is seemingly impossible not to give Red exactly what they want. They talk around it, bicker and argue, and no matter how sound Arcade thinks his logic or willpower is, somehow he always caves.

When he finally looks up, the odd intensity that had possessed Red is gone, and they're smoking idly while leaning against the wall. Their eyes are turned out towards the compound, but they glance his way when Arcade looks up. Pushing off the wall, Red says, "I'll pick you up at seven."

"What?" Arcade says. "I never agreed to go to the Luxe with you!"

Red only blinks slowly. "Are you gonna wear that old lab coat," they start, "Or do you have something specially made?"

Arcade flushes. "You are such an asshole."

Red laughs and begins their retreat towards the gates. "Seven," they call, then turn on their heel and jog out of the fort.

Arcade sighs. Seven.

[coochiequeens]

Because large-scale organising is “almost impossible” in China, women are turning to “all kinds of alternative ways to maintain feminism in their daily lives and even develop and transfer feminism to others,” she says. These may take the form of book clubs or exercise meet-ups. Some of her friends in China organise hikes. “They say that we are feminists, we are hiking together, so when we are hiking we talk about feminism.“ - Lü Pin

To find evidence that China’s feminist movement is gaining momentum – despite strict government censorship and repression – check bookshelves, nightstands and digital libraries. There, you might find a copy of one of Chizuko Ueno’s books. The 74-year-old Japanese feminist and author of Feminism from Scratch and Patriarchy and Capitalism has sold more than a million books in China, according to Beijing Open Book, which tracks sales. Of these, 200,000 were sold in January and February alone.

Ueno, a professor of sociology at the University of Tokyo, was little known outside in China outside academia until she delivered a 2019 matriculation speech at the university in which she railed against its sexist admissions policies, sexual “abuse” by male students against their female peers, and the pressure women felt to downplay their academic achievements.

The speech went viral in Japan, then China.

“Feminist thought does not insist that women should behave like men or the weak should become the powerful,” she said. “Rather, feminism asks that the weak be treated with dignity as they are.”

In the past two years, 11 of her books have been translated into simplified Chinese and four more will be published this year. In December, two of her books were among the top 20 foreign nonfiction bestsellers in China. While activism and protests have been stifled by the government, the rapid rise in Ueno’s popularity shows that women are still looking for ways to learn more about feminist thought, albeit at a private, individual level.

Talk to young Chinese academics, writers and podcasters about what women are reading and Ueno’s name often comes up. “We like-like her,” says Shiye Fu, the host of popular feminist podcast Stochastic Volatility.

“In China we need some sort of feminist role model to lead us and enable us to see how far women can go,” she says. “She taught us that as a woman, you have to fight every day, and to fight is to survive.”

When asked by the Guardian about her popularity in China, Ueno says her message resonates with this generation of Chinese women because, while they have grown up with adequate resources and been taught to believe they will have more opportunities, “patriarchy and sexism put the burden to be feminine on them as a wife and mother”.

Ueno, who found her voice during the student power movements of the 1960s, has long argued that marriage restricts women’s autonomy, something she learned watching her own parents. She described her father as “a complete sexist”. It’s stance that resonates with women in China, who are rebelling against the expectation that they take a husband.

Ueno’s most popular book, with 65,000 reviews on Douban, is simply titled Misogyny. One review reads: “It still takes a little courage to type this. I have always been shy about discussing gender issues in a Chinese environment, because if I am not careful, I will easily attract the label of … ‘feminist cancer’.”

“Now it’s a hard time,” says Lü Pin, a prominent Chinese feminist who now lives in the US. In 2015 she happened to be in New York when Chinese authorities arrested five of her peers – who were detained for 37 days and became known as the “Feminist Five” – and came to Lü’s apartment in Beijing. She narrowly avoided arrest. “Our movement is increasingly being regarded as illegal, even criminal, in China.”

China’s feminist movement has grown enormously in the past few years, especially among young women online, says Lü, where it was stoked by the #MeToo movements around the world and given oxygen on social media. “But that’s just part of the story,” she says. Feminism is also facing much stricter censorship – the word “feminism” is among those censored online, as is China’s #MeToo hashtag, #WoYeShi.

“When we already have so many people joining our community, the government regards that as a threat to its rule,” Lü says. “So the question is: what is the future of the movement?”

Because large-scale organising is “almost impossible” in China, women are turning to “all kinds of alternative ways to maintain feminism in their daily lives and even develop and transfer feminism to others,” she says. These may take the form of book clubs or exercise meet-ups. Some of her friends in China organise hikes. “They say that we are feminists, we are hiking together, so when we are hiking we talk about feminism.

“Nobody can change the micro level.”

‘The first step’

In 2001, when Lü was a journalist starting out on her journey into feminism, she founded a book club with a group of friends. She was struggling to find books on the subject, so she and her friends pooled their resources. “We were feminists, journalists, scholars, so we decided let’s organise a group and read, talk, discuss monthly,” she says. They met in people’s homes, or the park, or their offices. It lasted eight years and the members are still among her best friends.

Before the book club, “I felt lonely when I was pursuing feminism. So I need friends, I need a community. And that was the first community I had.” “I got friendship, I deepened my understanding of feminism,” Lü says. “It’s interesting, perhaps the first step of feminist movements is always literature in many countries, especially in China.”

Lü first read Ueno’s academic work as a young scholar, when few people in China knew her name. Ueno’s books are for people who are starting out on their pursuit of feminism, Lü says, and the author is good at explaining feminist issues in ways that are easy to understand.

Like many Ting Guo discovered Ueno after the Tokyo University speech. Guo, an assistant professor in the department of cultural and religious studies at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, still uses it in lectures.

Ueno’s popularity is part of a larger phenomenon, Guo says. “We cannot really directly describe what we want to say, using the word that we want to use, because of the censorship, because of the larger atmosphere. So people need to try to borrow words, mirror that experience in other social situations, in other political situations, in other contexts, in order to precisely describe their own experience, their own feelings and their own thoughts.”

There are so many people who are new to the feminist movement, says Lü, “and they are all looking for resources, but due to censorship, it’s so hard for Chinese scholars, for Chinese feminists, to publish their work.”

Ueno “is a foreigner, that is one of her advantages, and she also comes from [an] east Asian context”, which means that the patriarchal system she describes is similar to China’s. Lü says the reason books by Chinese feminists aren’t on bestseller lists is because of censorship.

Na Zhong, a novelist who translated Sally Rooney’s novels into simplified Chinese, feels that Chinese feminism is, at least when it comes to literature, gaining momentum. The biggest sign of this, both despite and because of censorship, is “the sheer number of women writers that are being translated into Chinese” – among whom Ueno is the “biggest star”.

“Young women are discovering their voices, and I’m really happy for my generation,” she says. “We’re just getting started.”

By Helen R Sullivan

This is the third story in a three-part series on feminism and literature in China.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Happily Unrequited

tags: gn!reader

a/n: first writing-related post for 2024 and this idea hasn't left me alone for the past couple of days. so i figured why not make a hc post for it

"it's okay i wasn't shooting my shot or anything. i already know you don't feel the same way, i definitely am not saying anything because i thought i was seeing signs you liked me back or anything like that. i just wanted you to know. just act the same as you usually do."

your feelings aren't requited but you're surprisingly okay with that. the real question is whether or not they are as okay with as you are.

avoids you

MEGUMI tries to treat you as normal but it starts getting into his head all the signs he's missed. it becomes blatantly obvious now that you've pointed it out. you're not flirting with him or making any moves on him, no. but now megumi hears the affectionate lilt in your tone. he sees the adoration in your eyes. it's all directed at him and he doesn't really know how to process that and still act the same. he asks you once why you wanted to tell him how you felt when he didn't feel the same way. you simply tell him "i just wanted you to know you're loved." when megumi draws back, you decide to give him space for a while to process everything. surprisingly irritated by how easily you give it to him but megumi reminds himself he placed the distance between you both first.

NOBARA you're acting normal and it's unfair. she doesn't understand how you're able to drop such a big thing on her and then continue on your merry way like it's nothing. you have to be testing her. in her mind, it becomes a competition of sorts to act more nonchalant about your confession. apparently, the best way for her to do that is by avoiding you. her friends tell her she's losing in a battle that you don't even know you're fighting. nobara doesn't want to admit herself that she is more bothered by this sudden revelation than she says she is. is doubly upset if you don't try and reach out when she avoids you and that causes her to storm over to you one day on campus about it. "i just thought you needed space so i didn't want to bother you." why is she the one loosing the idgaf war?

normal

YUUJI takes everything in stride. you're still one of yuuji's closest friends and that's what truly matters here. his love for you may be different than your love for him, but at the end of the day you both want to be in each other's life still. that's what truly counts here. very little, if anything, changes in your dynamic with yuuji. you still sleepover at each other's place, you still window shop at the mall and enable each other's dumb impulse purchases and you still text each other in class about the newest chapter of a manga you're both reading. the continued normalcy makes you feel warm and satisfied. does feel overly conscious about talking about people he is into though now that he knows how you feel for him. it's somewhat dampened by how you talk about your class and celebrity crushes around him like normal. he guesses you got over him relatively quickly then.

KENTO cool as a cucumber, he accepts your feelings in stride just as you. asks if you need space for a while but you grin and say you're fine. you confessed for the freedom and closure having made peace with everything ages ago before you said anything. "just know your loved, ken," you told him life goes on from there and you continue on your daily habits. unconsciously enjoys all the little things. he wonders occasionally how much of the minute details you remember about him are due to your affections. how you remember the exact pastries he likes. how if they stop selling at his favorite bakeries, you somehow find them somewhere else. how you always supply him with a warm cup of coffee from his cafe when he's feeling down. how on his most tired of days you supply his eyes with a nice compress from a soaked towelette. kento wonders if it is wrong for him to think it is nice to be taken care of like this even if he doesn't return your feelings.

not as normal as they expected themselves to be

YUUTA all yuuta wants is for you to be comfortable. maybe you were lying when you said you were fine. maybe you were just trying to be conscious of his feelings when you said he could act as he normally does with you. all these thoughts swirl in his head and he feels guilty when his guilt was the last thing you wanted. you're the one who was rejected, why are you the one bending over backwards for his sake? would probably try avoiding you if you didn't flick his forehead and tell him he should stop overthinking everything. also, you're pretty sure that pretty maki girl likes him. you encourage him to shoot his shot while she's still single.

SATORU normal on the outside, contemplative on the inside. because of this, satoru interacts the most with the fact you're in love with him. he asks the why, when, where as to why you fell in love with him, when you realized it, where did this all start. he doesn't ask to be cruel, satoru just genuinely wants to know. is relieved at the end of the day his lack of feeling the same way changes your friendship. he enjoys having you in his life as a friend. it catches him off guard one day when spur of the moment jealousy takes root in him when he sees you laughing your head off with someone he doesn't know. because you aren't just laughing. you're clutching your stomach, hunched over wheezing at whatever that goon just said. his eyes says you and rando are just friends. the rest of him says otherwise. "i'm the one you're in love with, right?" slips out of his mouth before he can help himself.

[emilvr]

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° boyfriend spencer !

oh lord have mercy this man is sooooo ( ∩ˇωˇ∩)♡all my boyfie spencer thoughts in one place.. <3 this man deserves a happy ending and if cm won’t give it to him i certainly will!! click the link 4 a surprise … & also send me ur spencer reid thoughts before i collapse!!

warnings: just swearing/slight suggestive tones (like smooches..) and gender neutral reader i think !!

spencer, at least— according to derek, is a tough nut to crack. he doesn’t trust easily at all, and the fruits of your labour may not actually show until years down the line. but if there’s one thing about him you could never doubt, is his loyalty to not just you, but his entire team. especially when he tells you, “i’ll do anything you need me to. always.” and the earnest tone he whispers it in, his brown eyes flickering up to meet your [e/c] ones. the soft, glowing warmth of the love of a thousand lifetimes burns bright in his irises and you will find that you simply don’t care how long you have to wait for him to allow you to hold his heart in your hands.

he may not say i love you in the traditional sense; but it is as clear as the turning shades of the leaves in autumn. it’s clear in how he wants to know everything about you: the things you deem mundane and unimportant, the things that make you embarrassed and the things that make you avoid his eyes as you grin childishly. it’s clear in the way he remembers everything, which isn’t all that surprising given:

“did you know i actually have an eidetic memory and an iq of—“

“187. yes i know, spence. what a smart cookie!”

(in response, he flushes always when you coo the words ‘smart cookie’, although in the same breath he will stare at your face and whisper ‘angel’ in your ear like you’ve been sent down from the heavens just for him.)

he treats you like you’re made of delicate rose petals, and a touch that is too forceful will cause you to wither away. his lips graze your cheek gently in a kiss, his fingertips softly pet the top of your head and slowly follow the curve of your cheeks to the slope of your nose. and when you giggle and go “that tickles,” he’ll only grin in response and nestle his nose into the crown of your head and hum knowingly.

although, most infuriatingly, he will not make the first move. now, doesn’t mean he won’t drive you absolutely insane with soft smiles and eyes full of love and want. he puts all of shakespeare’s sonnets to shame, truly. he keeps it up until you break and march over to his apartment with wobbling lips and twinkling irises (and emily’s encouraging “go get ur mans!!!! GET HIM!!!!” text on your phone. her, jj and penelope are the worst enablers ever.) and even then, he stands still (like the whole world has come to a standstill, really) and waits for you to utter the words. he waits, quietly and patiently. his attention is on you.

“it’s okay. you can say it.”

“you’re torturing me here.”

“am i?”

“‘am i?’ i will pretend you never said that, smarty pants. you infuriate me.”

“ooh, big words.”

“hey! i can talk fancy too!”

“mhm, i’m sure you can angel.”

“not fair. i love you, by the way. more like adore you. or any other word you can think of.”

“i can think of a few.”

in the before, he may tease you when you put a hand on his shoulder or trace the outline of his knuckles; but don’t let the teasing trick you. spencer is atrocious. a mess, even— without you. when you get pulled into a case three days before him, he spends the three days with absolutely zero sleep. and when jj and emily (knowingly, grand masterminds!) ask him if he’s doing okay, he just barely grumbles out a: “i can’t sleep without them anymore. feels cold. not right.” jj awe’s at him and clutches her hands close to her chest, whilst emily barks out a laugh and goes “oooh he wants them baaaaad!”

the grumpiest thirty-something year old man you know, by the way. smug as shit, too. lays with you in bed, head on your stomach as you call him pretty.

“but am i the prettiest?”

“oh, absolutely, my love. there is not a man in the land prettier than thou!”

“ … -__- can you ever give me a normal reply.”

“hehe.. absolutely not.”

henry knows all about you. against his will. someone save this boy he knows your birth date and time of birth down to the hour. knows your big three against his will. (despite the fact that spencer says astrology “isn’t scientifically accurate” … my when i’m in a big ass loser contest and my opponent is in-love spencer walter reid….) spencer puts henry to bed and starts rambling:

“the other day, [y/n] and i were in the kitchen and it suddenly hits me how effortlessly beautiful they are, i mean seriously, i feel sick th—“

“uncle spence. please. i want to go to sleep. i’m gonna call mama.”

“not your mom. please.”

(he tells jj and will when they get back from their date. you wake up to 23 text messages from jj saying “marry this nerd please henry can’t do this anymore!!!”)

also may i propose: classical music lover spencer, rock music lover emily, pop music lover jj and [y/n]. spencer absolutely gives you shit for your music taste and jj threatens him by saying she’ll marry you before he does. he goes pale at the thought. goes even paler when jj starts calling you “her darling baby” … your whole relationship is tug of war between jj, emily and spencer. spencer won’t try tug of war with derek like ok whatever you say handsome!!!

also, there have been many times spencer has woken up in the morning and reached his hand out to stroke your cheek and give you a kiss, when halfway he opens one eye and sees either jj or emily sleeping behind you. he’s the third wheel. in his own relationship.

and it’s all great until you give emily or jj too much attention and he starts sulking at home like… bitch you are in your thirties. and then you have to kiss all over his face and jokingly (or not???) call him your ‘pookie’… he sticks his tongue out and goes ‘bleurgh!!!!!” but we all know he loves it. silly scorpio man is fooling no one.

also read: candid photos of him where he always looks good ??? and when you mutter “you make me sick.” he takes it seriously and you spend the next week buying him his favourite donuts and kissing him until his cheeks go pink. most dramatic man ever!!! now does he pretend to be upset so you kiss him all the time… who knows.

he also places his forehead on yours when he gets overwhelmed and can’t calm down. and starts giggling when you go “helllooooooo!!” but in like, the way where your voice hits several octaves. a very, very giggly boy around you. and he also always has cold hands, and goes “oh no sweetie looks like i have to hold your hands!” (emily makes a gagging sound)

but truly, he is the softest man /ever/. when you two lay in bed at night and he leans down to kiss you, he goes so slowly that his eyelashes brush against yours and your chest starts to throb with how fast your heart is beating. he leans forward slowly and the kiss he presses to your lips is so soft that you squeeze your eyes closed because looking at him sends you into cardiac arrest. doesn’t kiss you much in public, but the way he looks at you makes up for it. eyes crinkled in the corner, brown irises reflecting your beauty as if you’ve been blessed by aphrodite herself. his chest lifts and trembles slightly, index finger twitching with the need to hold yours <3 (emily catches him in the act and she grins, then goes ‘booooo’ and cackles how he’s ‘whipped’ — which makes derek’s head snap up.)

also he absolutely calls you bunny and pretty like no one say a word to me… bunny is the cutest term of endearment ever im gonna throw up and throw myself down the damn stairs!!!

&&— marriage is absolutely in the cards for you two. he looks down at you, chin tilted, and he can’t imagine a future where he doesn’t watch you style your hair every morning or watch you grumble over a stain that won’t come out of one of his cardigans. (“spence, baby, you got anymore sweaters that need washed? i’m putting a woollens wash on!” and he blushed a soft fuchsia and has to resist the urge to cradle your face in his palms.)

although he has faced many tragedies and painful memories in his life, you’re his solace. the pain of his father leaving, his mother’s illness, prison, his drug addiction— you provide him with the normalcy and soft, angelic happiness that makes him smile until his cheeks hurt.

spencer (look at the absolute beauty i pulled by being an autistic nerd) walter reid <3

[artful-aries]

Can I please have possessive/jealousy headcanons for scaramoche dottore zhongli Childe and pantalone? Thank you in advance 🤗

I am not dead everyone!!! Mother’s Day and TOTK releasing this weekend have me hella preoccupied. Anyway, I’ve actually already done this for Zhongli and Childe, but I did the other three!!

Content Warnings: Dottore’s section is pretty manipulative and unhealthy, this is your warning.

When They Are Jealous (Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone)

Dottore:

This man is very possessive at all times, even when he’s in a good mood. He doesn’t get jealous, that would require him to think he might not measure up to others, but he definitely does not take kindly to others thinking they can have access to you

Would not hesitate to cut someone’s eyes out if they stared at you for too long, and likely would find some use for them in his various experiments

Dottore sees you as an extension of himself, or more accurately, one of his possessions. He is far too prideful to let any mediocre being come close to thinking they could even speak to you without him allowing it

This results in your borderline isolation from anyone who isn’t Dottore (with a few exceptions, such as the Harbingers). You tell him that you feel lonely? Too bad. He’s not going to budge on this. You’re his, and not just anyone can speak to you or lay eyes on you

It doesn’t take much to make the Doctor jealous; simply disrespect his wishes and talk to a random Fatui agent, or even just a Snezhnayan merchant, and you’ll have him scowling underneath his mask as he watches you. He knows exactly what you’re doing, and doesn’t like it one bit

What he does entirely depends on his mood; He will either lay a chilling hand on your shoulder and ask you to speak to him privately, or if he is in a foul mood, he likely wouldn’t hesitate to maim or kill the other person on the spot.

Don’t think you’ve escaped punishment either, you’re just as much of a guilty party in this as they were. Dottore isn’t going to kill you or disfigure you, no, he is going to opt for a more psychological punishment for you

Nothing makes people more desperate and malleable than a lack of affection, so he will actively withhold any affection until you’re begging for forgiveness and for him to give you an ounce of attention

Is it manipulative? Absolutely, but Dottore doesn’t care. This gets him the results he wants and enables him to observe how you behave under emotional and psychological stress. He likes to see just how long you can last before you’re caving to him

Should you go out of your way to make him jealous by being too friendly with another Harbinger, you’ll have him seething, but this just makes things worse for you since he can’t take out his frustration on the other Harbingers though he does briefly consider baiting Childe into a fight once he sees you hanging off of the man’s arm

Dottore would scoop you up immediately without a word, carrying you into his lab where he plans to have a very stern “talk” with you about not throwing yourself at the nearest person when you want attention from him

There are very rare occasions where he will “let” you do as you please, flirting and getting touchy with anyone and everyone just to make him jealous, but he uses this as an opportunity to study you and your actions. While the behavior irks him, there is valuable data to be collected in allowing it to happen. Once his data collection is complete, he’s ready to punish you for trying to provoke him despite the benefit he received out of your antics

Scaramouche:

Another one to easily get jealous, he will turn into the biggest brat alive over the simplest things. You could greet someone cheerfully because you’re in a good mood and he will immediately have a snide remark to say about it

Whether you intentionally made him jealous or not, it doesn’t matter. He’s going to have an attitude with you no matter what

Scaramouche just doesn’t have it in him to be upfront about the fact that he’s upset, or communicate why he is upset. You’ll have to deal with him being cold and distant aside from his rude comments until he eventually gets over it himself or you piece together what his problem is

When you do confront him, he will adamantly deny that he was ever jealous, “What am I, your keeper? Do what you want.”

Yet it’s very clear by the permanent scowl on his face that Scaramouche doesn’t want you to do what you want. He’d never admit it, but he wants your focus on him and only him, he wants your unwavering devotion. It makes him feel like his existence is validated

The most you’d be able to pull out of him is what made him cranky in the first place, but his admittance is indignant and dismissive. Part of him just wants to stay mad because deep down he feels like this is just you getting ready to betray him. He’s been burned too many times and has a lot of trust issues

When you reassure him that your earlier actions held no underlying meaning and that you aren’t going to abandon him, Scaramouche’s expression will not change; however, there will be a slight release of tension in his shoulders. He’s not completely relieved, but it’s enough to get him to stop being entirely unpleasant

For a little while after his initial withdrawal, he’s going to stick uncharacteristically close to you, almost as though he is making sure that you’re true to your word

Again, he would never admit this, but in reality Scaramouche just wants to be in your comforting presence for a while

If you were to ask him why he’s hanging around so much all of the sudden, he will lie through his teeth and just say he was bored or just happened to have extra time on his hands. Even if you tease him about it, he will never admit just how much he enjoys your presence

He also makes sure to cut off and interrupt anyone that tries talking to you when he’s with you. They’re cutting into his time with you, and he won’t hesitate to be rude as hell in order to get them to go away

Pantalone:

He is a difficult man to make jealous; he is incredibly confident in himself, to the point that he doesn’t view most people as competition

If he were to get jealous, it would likely be you giving attention to the other Harbingers, especially a Vision bearer

Pantalone would freeze for a moment at the scene, his eyes narrowing as he takes in how you interact with them. The sight alone made his stomach churn a little bit. He doesn’t think he is beneath them, but he can’t help but wonder if there’s a part of you that prefers the power that Visions bring, something that he can’t buy with his wealth

He will saunter up to you and place a hand on your shoulder; not threateningly, but just to remind you of his presence as he works his way into the conversation. Though he doesn’t have much patience and finds a way to politely end it soon after joining. He’s got a lot that he wants to say to you in private, gently pulling you away

Once you’re alone, he smiled sweetly at you, but there’s an edge to it as he asks you why you were paying so much attention to another person rather than him

He’s not outright threatening you, and he doesn’t intend to hurt you physically because of his own jealousy, but his tone indicates that you need to choose your words carefully

If you explain yourself and say that you were just being friendly, Pantalone will happily drop the subject, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you walk together. He knew he was good enough for you, but liked the reassurance that you weren’t seeking more than he could provide

If you were to admit that you were actively trying to make him jealous, then he would give a small chuckle at your response. You wanted to make him jealous? Well, mission accomplished, but now were you prepared to deal with the consequences?

He’ll pull you to his office, not explaining himself as he locks the door. He intends to remind you of just how much he has to offer, and how you won’t be happy with anyone else, even if they were blessed by the gods

Pantalone is possessive by nature, wanting anything and everything his heart desires, you included. He’s spent too long working for his wealth to fall short with you

[cinefairy]

feeling unworthy

is a self-inflicting punishment ‎

unworthy — If a person or thing is unworthy of something good, they believe they do not deserve it.

many of us get in that position of finally wanting to do something better for ourselves and start to manifest what we truly want but that feeling of empowerment becomes overshadowed by the feeling of unworthiness.

feelings of unworthiness can linger from time to time and impact our lives, they trap and imprison us from fulfilling any sense of individuality.

why do we feel this way?

this certain feeling can stem from many things e.g past situations, i know i felt unworthy for a long time because my self-worth depended on others

many people feel unworthy because they compare themselves to others and their own personal achievements or they feel used to settling because it became uncomfortable for them to want the best for themselves.

with these situations we take them with us to later punish ourselves with. for example i might wear a crop top and get laughed at, with this experience i take it with me and decide to never wear a crop top again.

how to stop feeling this way?

IDENTIFYING WITH THE INNER MAN.

when we feel unworthy it’s because we identify and think from, feel from and assume from our limited selves.

when we identify with the inner man, the inner man that has no form. the inner man that has no shame, no guilt, no sense of unworthiness and gives itself everything it so desires we can easily express what we want without an unwanted feeling in its presence.

the inner man is completely free. you allow that inner man to explore. you allow yourself to experience what it feels like to not be chained down to past experiences & past feelings.

I am told, "God is in heaven and does whatever He pleases." God speaks and says, "If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it."

Do not be afraid but IDENTIFY yourself FULLY with the INNER MAN. The immortal you. The one that can do ANYTHING it wants. The one who owns the world and all that is in it. I am serious when I say this, I am not using hyperbole. If you identify yourself with the inner man, you will be free. — EdwardArt.

how to identify with the ‘inner man?’

when i say inner man, i don’t mean to turn this into some quick technique in “hopes” of identifying with the inner man, don’t overcomplicate and rather just be.

ASK YOURSELF: how would i feel if i was finally free? idk how you would feel because i am not you. this is your own personal realised feeling.

what i like to do is visualise running into the ocean and jumping in. i feel the coldness of the water, i feel the cold winds brushing past me. to me this is freedom.

"Identify yourself with the one within and give yourself what you want with FEELING." — EdwardArt

and my personal note to you is, don’t hold back because you’re so used to familiar patterns. you deserve to go above and beyond and dive deeper into things you want. yes, even when youre scared, even when you feel unworthy.

you are not a feeling, you are not a state, you are simply your imagination occupying states that you can simply leave & enter again.

you as the inner man are invincible. free. the inner man doesn’t ask for permission, the inner doesn’t fret about ‘is it mine?’ ‘am i doing if right?’ ‘am i worthy of this’ it just DOES WHATEVER IT WANTS TO DO.

it reminds me of this quote

everything is easier once you stop forcing control but allow yourself to just BE. identifying with the inner man enables you to no longer worry because everything is being taken care of.

if this concept is new to you id recommend reading this post of edwardart and also taking your time. you don’t need to immediately get this and understand it perfectly, test it. find out how to make this process more natural for you.

after all, this is your own journey and you will get there.

[jsmelodies]

What is this, you ask? A new Nessian WIP? ...Maybe. But in my defense, I was enabled! I hope you enjoy this small snippet:)

“I can’t risk it.” She might have gone on, if she didn’t think twice about it. Her mouth opened, then closed. "There is more at stake than you realize."

“You can’t risk what?” Feyre said. “You don’t speak for Elain. If you’re that worried about yourself, go back to your husband.”

“It is not that simple,” Nesta snapped. “I am widowed. That is why I came back.”

It took all of Cassian’s restraint not to let his fork drop down to his plate. When he could manage to do so without drawing copious amounts of attention to himself, he allowed his gaze to lower to her hand, searching for the proof of her marriage.

Gone. Her hands were bare, as if she had never been married. No ring sat on her finger, even though it had to be less than a year after she’d lost her husband, based on when Feyre had returned here from Spring. And her gown was a deep amethyst, not the black she was expected to wear.

Perhaps there hadn’t been any love between the two of them. Maybe because of that, she’d found it easier to move on, not bothering to go through the mourning period in its entirety.

Whatever the case, she didn’t seem to portray anything except for obvious discomfort at the intrusion to her personal matters. No devastation, only a determination that had her lips setting into a firm line.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Rhys said quietly, though it didn’t take a genius to understand that he was saying it out of politeness, and necessity. There was still a grudge there, one that was not so easily forgiven. Even if what happened was a tragedy.

“I didn’t realize,” Feyre said slowly. 

“I was not so fortunate as to inherit,” Nesta continued. “So it was either return, or be homeless on the continent.”

“Nesta, I didn’t mean it like that.”

[ushouldwatchhaikyuu]

your self shipping post looked sooo cute so i thought i would send you an ask!!

— pronouns : she/her

— personality : energetic, loud, and sociable! i love being with my friends, but because of how extroverted i am i get lonely very easily. i’m actually pretty shy around people that i’ve never met before, but once ive been enabled i’ll start yapping like no tomorrow.

— likes : photography, reading, note-taking, and cheesy puns

— dislikes : bugs, asparagus, and tall shelves (i am short)

— crush: kuroo :))

— tropes / scenarios : tall x short (he is 188cm and i’m like 147cm) // teasing x being teased (i’m that type of person to get flustered really easily. i also react….very physically if i ever get flustered. like- i’ll punch and kick. but i try not to punch and kick too hard) // picky eater x human garbage disposal (i’m a little picky) // nerdy loser x nerdy loser (he likes science … and i like bad puns. it’s a match made in heaven)

Tetsurou Kuroo x Flustered!Reader headcanons

hii! sorry this took a bit, thank u for ur patience. hope u like these!! u two would be so cute 😭

warnings: none!

credits: gif ; dividers

when you two first met, he LOVED to tease you and joke around with you, especially bc of how shy you were about it at first. you thought he was this cool edgy guy jokingly flirting with you, and he thought you were cute and shy.

however, as you two got closer, you realized he's actually a loser and he realized you're actually quite extroverted. so, the teasing continued but it turned into something closer to two friends joking around, rather than him trying to flirt with some random cute girl

that doesn't mean you don't get flustered when he calls you petnames or compliments you (and it certainly doesn't mean he likes seeing you blush any less)

most of his flirting comes in the form of jokes that turn more obvious as time goes on.

it starts with him joking that he likes to eat with you because you give him your leftovers, or complimenting you because he says its funny how worked up you get. then, it was him just saying you two should go on a date and act like its your anniversary to see if the restaurant gives you any free food, or saying he wonders if kissing you would make you blush even more

eventually, of course, he blurts out how much you like him and tries to cover it up with a joke– which, of course, you've known him for too long to believe it

your go-to dates are studying together– you're both the perfect balance between being losers who want to actually study and being dumbasses who like joking around.

you also often go out to eat together; he knows all your food preferences and usually tries to pick places that have food you'll like, but he's clearly glad to eat anything you don't. he also cooks you stuff sometimes, and it's cool to be able to just eat it without even asking what it is because you know he'll only make you stuff he knows you like.

you're disgustingly cute when you go out to eat together. you feed each other in restaurants and share street food while walking, hands intertwined and silly cute smiles on both your faces

if anything, being your boyfriend just makes him enjoy making you flustered all that much more. he's actually a bit shy when it comes to romantic affection in public, but he kisses you all over and flirts with you openly because he loves to see you blush and smile when he does.

dni: pr0-ship, g0re, ed/sh blogs.