#which is superior rating!!!

[roxalicious]

thinking about marcille treating falin like a kid even tho thats a woman in her 20s and like... elven tendencies to treat everyone from short-lived races as children aside, marcille probably just has no idea how she's supposed to treat anyone.

elven age of maturity is 80, and if we keep in mind tallmen's is 16, that means 80 is probably still on the younger side for our modern standards. marcille is 50 so to elves she'd be like 10, but obviously she's an adult so she mustve aged impossibly fast (at a human rate from ages 41 to 50, since it sounds like she grew alongside falin?), and has no way of figuring out how old she is compared to anyone else, even though she grew up surrounded by people from short-lived races (which would probably give a regular elf at least a general idea)

[maeamian]

I love radians as much as the next gal, particularly because of how they make the e^iπ-1 thing work out (it's because e is a circle in the complex plane) but I do think it's a little wild that most programs default to them over degrees the thing that most people who aren't mathematicians use because you gotta get at least to Taylor serieses before getting why radians are so sexy.

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[coprolite-posting]

the bird is the craziest one here and it's not even a contest tbh

"what if it was curly" - humans

(selkirk rex cat, angora goat, astrex rabbit, curly coated retriever, mangalitsa pig, texel mouse, american curly horse, texel guinea pig, frillback pigeon)

[paddockbunny]

Fraternisation Clause II

Summary : Working for McLaren is hard, being Lando’s PR girl is even harder….so maybe you need to make a tough decision that will be even harder yet Rating : 18+ Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 4005 words Trigger Warnings : language but clean, kissing but nothing NSFW Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note : same as part 1, there’s a couple of bits that probably don’t make a whole lot of sense but hey, it’s a work of fiction people ☺️

Sakhir ‘23

You fanned yourself with the notebook you were holding in your hands. You watched as the timings on the screen were continually switching, shifting, and jumping around. Every now and then you were writing things down in your little black notebook. Ideas, things to pitch to the team, notes about managerial style - in truth you just wanted to show people you were suited for the job. During winter break you caught up with your old superior and mentor Charlotte to give you some pointers and help with the step up. She was so helpful but reiterated to just “fake it til you make it”.

As your mind wandered your eyes panned over toward Toto Wolff and instantly you attempted to shrug off the feelings of imposter syndrome. He thought you were good enough. He wouldn’t have suggested you to the Chief PRM if he didn’t. You found out from Zak on your last day last season that Toto himself had enquired about you and called you a “hard little worker” which filled you with confidence. If he saw your potential then you needed to believe in yourself. In your head you internally repeated; “I am good enough, I deserve this position, I can do this.”

In the afternoon you walked down the paddock with your new ward, Lewis fucking Hamilton. The man was a God in your household. Ever since he entered F1 your whole motorsport mad family acted like he was the new messiah. You naturally loved him because it was who everyone was always rooting for and in all seriousness, he was the reason you wanted to work in the sport in the first place. You had several pinch me moments throughout the day. First when he handed you his phone to hold while he signed some autographs. The second when he sweetly placed a hand on your back to stop someone bumping into you. And the latest was when he complimented your sense of humour making you blush so hard you were scared your cheeks would become Ferrari red. It was as if you were in an alternative universe and you were living your childhood dreams. It was completely surreal. You weren’t to be his PR overseer but since they were currently not available due to the birth of their baby overlapping the beginning of the season you were happy to step in for the next coming few months.

Approaching the Mercedes garage you realised the euphoria feeling wasn’t to last long. Heading in the opposite direction (and straight toward you) was Lando (and the new girl they hired to replace you). You wanted him to catch your eye. You wanted him to at least smile at you. Lewis said hey as you all glided past one another. Lando nodded in response.

“Hey!” You took the opportunity when he was close to say hello and nothing. Zilch. Nada. He didn’t even look at you. “That was frosty,” Lewis looked at you. You didn’t want rumours to start or any questions raised so immediately lied. “Ah, he’s joking. When I left he said he would have to ignore me now I was a traitor.” I laughed and Lewis raised a small smile “Just don’t be a traitor to Mercedes and you’ll be fine.” He jested. But you bit into the inside of your lip as you felt nothing but sadness. Lando cut you off so easily and acted as if your friendship meant nothing to him. He didn’t even want to look at you. It was as if you didn’t exist now you were in white and not orange. You had spent many nights over winter break worried if you had done the right thing. You flip flopped between moving to Merc or leaving the sport all together. You felt like a teenager again concerned about a boy and friendships. But you also realised you were being completely ridiculous. If it were true what everyone joked about and he really did have feelings for you or even just a fondness for you, then he had to have known he was going to get hurt. There was no way he wouldn’t know about the fraternisation clause and him ignoring you really was because you were dead to him.

Australia ‘23

Race three and the third one that Lando had totally ignored you. And while you were annoyed, pissed off and frustrated you shrugged it off. If he wanted to act like a petulant child then fine. You had done nothing wrong. There was no point getting upset about it. You couldn’t force him to speak to you and you knew you couldn’t cause a scene even if you could. But you took the time to focus on work. It was important to you after all.

After qualifying - when Lewis came a disappointing 11th - the media duties were tedious and boring. The same questions being peddled again and again and again. It was monotonous and repetitive. So far it was the lowest Lewis had qualified in three races and none of the journalists’ failed to bring it up. No one could blame him for any of the answers he gave in response. You tried to get the rounds done as quick as possible and get Lewis out of there. It felt like it was taking forever till the final interview ended and the pair of you swiftly headed for the media pen exit. But the universe wanted to fuck with you today as while you and Lewis were heading out Lando and Chloe - his new PR officer - we’re heading in. There was no way you could hide. You braced yourself for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Lando….” You smiled and he just tiled his head back and turned his attention back to Lewis. You noted how Chloe clocked the international and prayed she would just ignore it. It was awkward enough and you didn’t want to have to answer questions that you didn’t even know the answer too. Small talk was exchanged between drivers before finally you could get back to work and get Lewis back in time for the Merc briefing.

Lewis headed away inside ahead of you and just as you were about to ascend the stairs when your name was called from behind and there was your former colleague Sarah who threw her arms around you.

“I’ve missed you! I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since we got back” She held on to me tighter and you agreed with her. You missed the laughing and the camaraderie of being a part of that team. They were all wonderful humans who each made working a total pleasure - something you needed when you were away from home so much. Conversation flowed easily. You spoke about your new roles and how different Merc was to McLaren and she told you all about her new boyfriend. It twigged something inside of you and for some reason you took it as the perfect segway to ask about Lando.

“How is Chloe getting on? Is she managing Lando?” You smiled to show her you didn’t mean anything bad from your words. But she immediately gave you a look, one you knew exactly what she meant. “In one word, No!” She exclaimed. “She’s been struggling to gain his respect. I think shes not firm enough and is a bit too placid. He walks all over her. Its not like how he was with you. He’s being a bit of a pain in the arse to work with.” This you already knew if you were being honest. You had observed it yourself in the paddock.

“Do you think you could do something?” She asked and it truthfully took you aback. You hadn’t expected her to make this request of you. It took you aback considering Lando’s sudden distrust and even hatred toward you. With a sigh you admitted it for the first time;

“Sarah, I don’t know what I CAN do. He doesn’t speak to me anymore. He won’t even look at me. Ever since I left he acts like I’m poisonous or something.” She furrowed her brows in confusion. “Wait, what?” She expressed. “I don’t understand. He adored you. He talks about you so all the time!” She exclaimed. “He doesn’t speak to you anymore? Not even to say hi?” You shook your head. “Wow!”

“I know. I know we were just colleagues but it feels like I’ve lost my best friend, Sarah.” “Yeah it would, you spent so much time with him.” She sighed “Wait, you don’t think he’s actually y’know, been in love with you? I know we used to jest about it but…”

You shook your head. It was something you had spent hours upon hours considering. It was plausible and it wasn’t exactly as if it was what you had been afraid of when you left - not to mention WHY you left. At the absolute most he may have had a slight infatuation with you but that was it. You were now 100% positive of that. He wouldn’t have refused to look at you if he had remotely even fancied you.

China ‘23

P2.

That was where Lando finished. On the podium. You had to hide your smile and bite your inner cheek. Lewis finished P9 so it was another tough one. No one in the garage had even the faintest smile upon their faces when the race came to a close.

As Lewis gave his fourth interview you attempted to pay attention when behind you a jubilant, triumphant Lando waltzed into the media pen. You stared, his curls still wet from champagne clung to his forehead. He needed his hat. He always needed his hat after he had been up on the podium, he used it to control his hair so it didn’t get frizzy - he didn’t want to be on TV with frizzy hair you remembered. You looked at Chloe and it wasn’t in her hand so you wondered if she had forgotten. This was Sarah had been hinting at back in Aus. She wasn’t prepared enough and Lando was eating her alive. You knew how he could be and how he could get sometimes and you knew the tricks to calm him down. As Lewis moved on you quickly grabbed her arm.

“When he’s finished, give him water. He won’t drink it but he’ll use it to smooth his hair out a bit. Don’t worry about the hat. I did it too.” You had never once forgotten his hat but you didn’t want her to feel bad. She mouthed you a thank you and followed your advice immediately. Lando paid her no attention. You felt him staring at you. His eyes locked on you and you had no idea how to read it. It made you nervous which angered you. He had no right to make you feel nervous anymore.

His next interview was the one right beside you and Lewis. And you knew he stood closer to you on purpose. He was only a few feet behind. You could hear his answers, zoning out of Lewis’ completely. He was talking about the win and something that happened on track. He laughed at a joke and then started praising everyone at McLaren. He mentioned Chloe by name and you wondered if he was doing it on purpose. You were sure he was.

“Everything is going the right way and we’ve got a good team now, I have a good team behind me finally.” It was a gut punch. Lewis was finished and you turned off the recording on your phone. Your face had fallen and he immediately asked if you were ok. You nodded. Just a nod. Annoyance took over your body and you didn’t want to say something you might regret. Lewis’ hand gently caressed your back and if only your younger self could see you now. Soothed by Lewis Hamilton after being incensed by Lando Norris.

You could barely lead the PR team meeting you had been so distracted. You tried to give feedback on socials over the course of the weekend but kept thinking about how Lando had tried to throw you under the bus earlier. He had insinuated you were no good and it was such a grossly childishly, petulant stunt to pull. You struggled on to take notes on feedback from the team but you had let it stew inside you. So when finally you told everyone to head back to the hotel and get a drink to chill out, you tried to think of a way to sneak into the McLaren camp to speak to him (or give him a piece of your mind at least). You hadn’t realised but you had been sitting for a while just staring at the table. And it was Lewis who brought you out of your daze as he was walking past to head home.

“Are you sure you are ok?” You snapped and took a big inhale. The attempt you made to brush his concern off didn’t work. “Lando?” He asked “that was a dick answer today” you hadn’t realised he had heard it and you sighed while rolling your eyes. “You should talk to him.” “I can’t. He ignores me in the paddock and I can’t just waltz into his drivers room anymore.” “You can’t, but I can. Come on.” He as good as ordered you to stand up and follow him. You were going to get a bollocking for this. He shouldn’t have been doing this, least of all for you! It probably wouldn’t even work anyway.

“Norris still here?” He asked and the two mechanics he asked looked instantly starstruck. It was how most people reacted to Lewis and he clearly knew it. They nodded and pointed to where his drivers room was. “Cool just need to collect something…oh wait…” he slipped his phone out of his pocket and he said your name “can you get it for me? I need to take this.” AND THAT WAS IT! It was that simple. His face card never declined. One of the mechanics registered it was you and smiled. Astonishment befell you as he simply turned back to packing up some of the tools. It was as if you hadn’t left at all. Lewis’ spot on acting (and face card) was all you needed to slip past and enter the inner sanctum you had once known so well.

Steadying your breathing you raised a hand to the door and rapped quickly in succession. What was the worst that could happen? That he slam the door in your face? At least you would know once and for all he despised and loathed you. It took a few seconds for the door handle to depress. You swallowed hard. Hoping Lewis’ persistence you talk to him - and giving you no time to refuse - would at least earn you some answers. Or perhaps you would need to be the one sharing them, you thought as suddenly Lando was standing in front of you, face to face.

“Can we talk?” Your voice wasn’t as confident as you hoped it would have been as it flowed out of you. Lando stepped aside, a silent gesture to allow you in. You pushed your better judgment about it aside and walked over the threshold. No going back.

What proceeded wasn’t exactly an argument but it was two people who had clearly very different views on the past couple of months and the desolation of their close friendship. Lando protested he had done nothing wrong. That he was treating you the same as anyone else who had left the team (which was completely and utterly untrue). You called him a child and he scoffed. The fight to remain calm was hard. You wanted to shout at him and plead that he see sense.

“You wanted bigger better things. You didn’t want to stay here, with me.” It hit you in the centre of your chest and you felt all of the emotions rush at you. The ones that you had bottled up for the whole past year. It was you who was childish. You were transported back into being a scared teenage girl who didn’t believe she could be desired - or loved. You had done as he suggested. You ran as soon as you knew things were getting a bit too close with him. But still you tried to deny it;

“Lando…I don’t know where you’ve got that from but I,..”“Please, I’m not fucking stupid.” He seriously couldn’t believe that? “I didn’t leave because of you….well I did but it was because of me, because of…how we were” You couldn’t quite find the words. His confusion plastered all over his face.

“What does that even mean?” “Because of how close we were.” You admitted but he was looking at you - staring at you - in sheer disbelief at your words. “Stop talking in riddles” He demanded and you simply just stopped talking altogether because you couldn’t find the right words and didn’t even know how to say what you wanted to actually say. The silence grew within the small room and it was suffocating.

“God, you’re so fucking…” Out of the blue he groaned through gritted teeth. And that was all it took. It pushed you over the edge. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

“There’s a clause in the contracts. No fraternisation between employees” Lando looked at you blankly. The words you had uttered weren’t registering with him.

“It means two employees of McLaren cannot be employed and be in a relationship or be, intimate or whatever. They could be… they could loose their jobs and considering YOU are Lando FUCKING Norris, YOU aren’t going anywhere. I would have lost my job and my career and everything I’ve worked for…”

“When? Why would you have lost everything? What do you mean?” He interrupted. This time you were so frustrated. Not just with him - and his his blatant naivety and how he wasn’t able to read between the lines - but because he had you feeling something. Something completely and utterly reckless. But your conscience didn’t kick in in time to register what exactly you were doing. It was all simply out of your control. The following series of manoeuvres that were as if you had become possessed.

You strode purposefully and confidently over to him. Body slamming against his with a sexual ferocity you had never experienced within yourself before. Outstretched hands reached out and pulled his face to yours. Lips attaching. It felt like it was completely normal to be kissing him. As if the world had willed it. Then you felt his hands gripping, grasping and seizing your sides like they belonged there. The sheer sense of overwhelming comfort overcame you, you felt to at home there in his arms with his tongue toying with your own. It was a feeling that was enough to startle you and so you pulled back.

“That. That is what I mean.” You were out of breath and you would have been speechless but he needed to understand what you had been attempting to convey. Like a scene from a Shakespearean play, you relinquished all control and gave in as Lando slid his hand effortlessly against your neck. His eyes seemed to go on staring into yours as if he was sending you a silent signal that he understood. It was enough to send a shiver up your spine. It came from pure unadulterated want, desire, need. And you succumbed to it all. Your lips went back to his.

Seconds, minutes or hours could have passed as you relaxed as he kissed you. Everything blended all into one and memories of all of those months you had spent denying your obvious attraction to him flickered quickly in your mind. For a brief moment Lando stopped and pulled his lips from yours. “Do you think I would have let them fire you?” Lando asked. “I would have walked before I let them do that.”

“Lan…” he pecked your lips to shut you up and you let him.

It was like one of the smutty dreams you had last year but, undeniably better. His pouty, reddened lips trailed down to your jaw and you tried hard not to gasp when he continued his decent to your neck. He softly groaned and the vibration made you feel woozy.

“I’ve dreamt about kissing you for years.” His admission. All of the jesting and joking had indeed been true and he tried to kiss you again but you pulled back. Scared of how far you would let him go.

“Lando, we cant…” “You don’t work for McLaren anymore. There’s no contract saying you can’t kiss me.” He had a point. A very strong valid point. Your eyes and his were locked together. You were searching his green orbs to find something, anything, that you could convince you kissing him again was a bad idea. Your heart thundered in your chest and you realised your breathing was erratic and you were breathless.

You were about to surrender and give into him. Feeling his sudden desire for you exuding his body. His hunger radiated through him, you could feel it reverberating into you. And truthfully, there was nothing you craved more than wanting to feel his lips again. But as a knock echoed around his drivers room, you snapped back into reality. You grabbed something inconsequential and laughed loudly just as the door opened. It was a desperate attempt to cover up your tracks and explain why you were in a rival team’s driver room.

“Thank you so much for this. He can’t believe he left without it…” You tried the best you could as Chloe, your replacement stared at you suspiciously. “No problem, I only remembered this morning.” Lando played along and you swallowed as you felt the newbies eyes on you.

“Have a good week off, Lando. Get some rest.” Any thoughts of kissing him again had now been forgotten about. The only thing that consumed you was getting out of the way and back to the safety of the Mercedes camp. You walked (pretending to do so calmly) as fast as your feet could carry you. It was so stupid of you to be so flippantly brazen. What the fuck did you think was going to happen? How could you have been so moronic to go to his drivers room of all places? You glanced down at the headset in your hands and saw the McLaren logo staring back at you. It didn’t even make any sense as to why Lewis would need this. What had you been thinking? You scoffed, it was so fucking obvious that you weren’t thinking at all. All of your thoughts were so consumed about your predicament you didn’t watch where you were going and ran straight into your boss - practically head first…well, your head to his chest. His large, imposing body sent you jolting backward and instinctively your hands flew up and against his wide, broad, muscular chest for stability.

“Toto, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed but he just smiled down at you. You felt so small in his presence. While you had gotten more comfortable around him in the past coming months and even started to have a bit of banter with him, you were still intimidated by him.

“Where are you going so fast, kleines kätzchen?”* you didn’t speak German so had no idea what he said but the fact his eyes were soft and he was still smirking meant it couldn’t be anything bad. “Just uh, I forgot something.” You tried to quell the rushing thoughts in your head. “A McLaren headset?” He motioned to your hands. FUCK!! You needed to quickly modify the story because he (of all people) would not buy the Lewis story.

“It’s silly” You tried to cover up “A game with Lando before I left, it’s my winnings.” You prayed it might miraculously sound convincing. “A souvenir” He added nodding.

“Yes, something like that.” You agreed but your lips tingled and you wondered if Lando kissing you back was actually your souvenir? You had been interrupted before you could discuss anything with him. What if now he had a taste for you he no longer wanted you? Fuck. You were such an idiot.

“Well, slow down, you might hurt yourself.” Toto winked at you and you felt a little flutter of butterflies way deep down in the pit of your stomach. There was no denying your boss was attractive and very, very desirable but you internally reprimanded yourself for your reaction. He was older, married and completely out of your league - but then Lando was also out of your league and you had just fled his drivers room after he stuck his tongue down your throat - and Toto fucking Wolff for crying out loud.

As you began walking (slower, calmer and more composed this time) you looked at the headset and swallowed. What the fuck were you going to do now?!

*little kitty

[itstheghostofmypast]

🔥Overwhelmed🔥

Corporate AU Wooyoung x (F)Reader

Summary: No one could stop swiper when his queen was overwhelmed.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.1 K

Est. Read Time: 5 min

Warnings: None

Rating: PG-13

Type: One-shot

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I'd like to thank @edenesth for this picture- and dedicate this to her - my corporate queen.

Overwhelmed

That was one way to describe how you were feeling right now, from the way your admin had dumped everything on your department to the way clients were ringing your phone like you owed them money- incorrect, you had nothing to do with anything that had happened. The missing records, unfilled forms, lack of digitisation of pre existing documents, somehow ended up being given to you- sure, you knew with great power came an even greater responsibility, but being team leader did not mean you were willing to become a punching bag of your superiors.

To top it all off during your break an idiotic colleague from the IT department had decided to come at you for something, yelling at you, ruining your gaming session- the 30-40 minutes of peace you'd have during work- and in the end it turned out to be not your desktop that had an issue, the virus was in the lady in the cubicle next to yours. During that drama, you had been reported and banned from the game for 24 hours. It was wonderful, it was just wonderful. What were you going to do on your drive back home now?

The worst thing of all was that you were unable to see the only person who'd make your day bearable, the only person who'd wake you up gently every morning, with a soft damp tissue gently pressing against your closed lids, then his warm lips against your own before he'd whisper sweetly in your ear, “Time to dominate the day, my queen.” The same person who'd have your breakfast waiting for you as soon as you'd rush out of the room all dressed, forcing you to sit down and eat with him, sometimes feeding you if you'd try to say you were in a rush. The only person who would spend the night with you, choosing your clothes, shoes and accessories, ensuring to match his tie and socks with your clothes, “Pink shirt huh…welp, pinks socks it is.”- yes, he had worn pink socks and a pink tie, which most men at work found funny, but most women at work found it adorable.

Hence, now, you were sitting in your cubicle, staring at the spreadsheet, wondering what you had done to deserve this. Maybe you were too nice? Maybe you wronged someone? Maybe you - the irritating ringing of your phone had you heave out a sigh and pick it up, letting out a tired, “Hello?”

“Excuse me, miss, this is the police. You're under arrest for being so damn hot that your boyfriend is willing to commit murder for you.”

A chuckle broke past your lips as you sighed, leaning against the seat and humming, “Ah…really? Well, Mr.Police, I'm a bit busy right now, so I'll have to get back to you soon.”

“Nonsense.”

You heard from the phone and from behind you, causing you to turn around, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder, facing the man holding his phone to his ear with one hand and in his other hand he held a white box.

Hanging up, he placed it on the desk before pushing your keyboard aside, causing you to gasp in disapproval, “Silence my queen.” He demanded before flipping open the box and showing you the sweet treat that you had been eying for a while. You'd glance at it everytime you'd buy your morning coffee, knowing very well it was the bakery's best selling treat, but you'd postpone it often, for various nonsense reasons, as Jung Wooyoung would claim.

“Woo…” you glanced up at him with a pout, “Work…I have work-”

“It's 6 p.m. No more work, only cake!” He declared dragging a stool next to your chair and handing you a spoon, “I was away for one meeting, and I came back to my queen in shambles? The nerve of people - just you wait, I'll punch San in the face for leaving you like this.”

“Woo…his wife was giving birth.” You shook your head in defeat and amusement, suddenly remembering another reason to your glum mood, you had missed your boss and his wife- your friend's birth of their first child.

“I know. Where'd you think I got the cake from.”

Your eyes widened at the statement before flickering to the cake, squinting at the small card that had, “Congratulations, it's a girl!” written on it.

“YOU STOLE HIS CAKE!?”

Your screech echoed in the empty office followed by his shameless cackle, and a “REVENGE SHOULD BE SWEET, MY QUEEN!”

“JUNG WOOYOUNG!?”

He rolled his eyes at your yelling and scooped up a good amount of cake and pressed it against your lips, “Say ahhh…I got coffee too.”

Taking in a deep breath you reminded yourself that the intention behind this was sweet, and that later, perhaps tomorrow you'd be apologising to the new parents with another cake and a gift for their new born baby. Parting your lips you let him feed you, closing your eyes in pure bliss, instantly forgetting about everyone and everything, wanting nothing more to smooch the man infront of you for blessing you with this wonderful, sweet, delicious treat.

The moment you opened your eyes, you realised that his lips were on yours, and you gently pushed him away, swallowing and mumbling, “Y-you idiot we’re at work.”

“Don't worry, ain't nobody here but us and this cake.”

You shook your head in amazement. This day had been shit, but at least you had your personal little clown, your companion, your lover, and your little thief swiping around and getting you treats. As the thoughts processed you had somehow started crying, tears rolling down your cheeks that you realised when you felt him wipe them with his thumb, giving you a small smile, “It's okay… its okay to feel overwhelmed, love…the world won't hate you if you take a little break.”

Nodding at his statement you let him pull you in a hug, your head resting against his shoulder as he gently stroked you back, mumbling, “Their daughter is beautiful…I'm glad she takes after the mom…imagine if her head was as big as his…pushing it out would've been hell.”

His smile widened at the sniffled laughter, hugging you closer as he eyed the cake that San’s wife had insisted he take back to you, knowing how you had to handle her husband’s load today and how the lack of a Jung in your life today may have overwhelmed you. She was right. Perhaps she was a good friend- welp. He was gonna swipe the cake anyway, Mrs.Choi only caught him and laughed it off.

“Woo…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you…” you mumbled, moving back before you started eating again, taking a sip of your coffee, realising how hungry you were, how grateful you were, how loved you were. It really was a blessing to have someone like Jung Wooyoung in your life - no matter what kind of chaos he brought with him.

“Anything for you…my queen.” He whispered, watching you eat in peace, chin in palm as he admired you, taking in your tired posture and eyes, naturally you were tired and exhausted, drained and overwhelmed- no matter, he'd make sure to fix all that. It was his job to keep his queen, the love of his life, safe and happy.

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[distantdarlings]

SUPPORT SYSTEM // Slytherin Boys

RATING: PG-13 / 2.2K WORDS

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When a few Gryffindors start spreading rumors that the Slytherin boys only hang around you because they’re sharing you, you’re hesitant to share this information with them. (Slight Angst, Comedy?)

+ WARNINGS - Language, some sexual discussion (very small amount), bullying, secrets, implied fight, not proof-read (lmk if I’ve missed anything)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Sarah - Alex G

- - -

As soon as your eyes opened that morning, you found yourself regretting even waking up. The memories of yesterday were flooding back and hitting you like a giant tidal wave, so visceral you could almost taste the salted water.

You ran a hand over your eyes, rubbing the sleep from them, and dreading the day. Despite the superior support system you had holding you up, you found yourself in a dilemma. The wonderful people you called your closest friends were what was plaguing you.

With each inhale, a flash of one of their faces would zip in front of you, deepening the nausea building in your stomach. You sigh. You couldn’t miss anymore classes, but you felt as though leaving your bed would surely breed a recipe for disaster.

Between the relentless teasing, the names you’d been called, and everything else that had been going on this week, you felt close to giving up. The only thing that had kept you powered in even the slightest way were your friends.

A knock interrupted your thoughts. A few teasing laughs broke through the thick wooden door as you swallowed the misery rising up your throat. It wouldn’t surprise you if your harrassers had decided to come knocking at your door, bringing their sneers and cruel words with them. You perked up your voice to tell the usurpers to go away when you heard a familiar shout.

The voice was lowered and joking, letting your name fall from his mouth like it was an everyday thing—which it was. You jumped up and tossed the comforter away from your body. You across the cold dorm floor and flung the heavy wooden door open.

On the other side stood three dark boys, all with varying smiles and warm eyes. Hot relief flooded your body as you let yourself fall into them.

Theo Nott stood dead center and caught your flailed body like a Quaffle. You wrapped your arms tightly around his lean body, missing the way he felt and the way he smelled. You could’ve melted into his body and lived there for the rest of your days if necessary.

To his right was Enzo Berkshire, the devilishly handsome and wickedly funny boy you called one of your best friends. He laughed aloud and tossed an arm around you as well, squeezing you between their bodies. You groaned slightly and the pressure. You turned your head.

“Come on, Matty, don’t you want to join us?” you mumbled, your cheeks squished between the two boys on either side of you.

The last boy stood back a bit, watching you amusedly. Mattheo Riddle chuckled a bit before placing a large hand over your head and mussing your hair a bit.

“I’m good, kid, but I’m grateful you’re feeling better,” he said, his voice genuine. You’d always hated when he called you ‘kid,’ as he was only a few months older than you. But, right now, you were more than happy to hear him say it.

With laughing exclamations, they all asked what you were doing and how you’ve been and if you felt any better. Amongst the constant picking you were getting from some of your classmates, you’d taken a couple days away from class and the boys because you were ‘sick.’ With white lies peppered in here and there, you explained that you were feeling much better now that they were here and that you were pretty sure you’d had some kind of stomach bug. It wasn’t totally a lie as you’d felt nauseated all weekend thinking about going back to class.

“Ready to go back to class?” Enzo asked, finally pulling away from you and allowing you a breath. Your stomach twisted at his words.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously. “I guess I am.” Theo and Enzo smiled in response, but Mattheo gave you an odd look, raising one of his eyebrows suspiciously. You shook your head at him.

For the last month, a couple of your classmates had been mentioning things in passing to people around the school. A few of your other acquaintances, outside of the boys, had informed you of the rumors being spread. Awful things, mostly about the boys. Things you’d never even considered to be a possibility.

Luna, a friend of yours from Herbology, mentioned that some Gryffindor had spoken to a couple of her friends about you in Potions. The Gryffindor had said that you were only friends with the boys because you were interested in their money and status, and that the boys only kept you around because you were easy. That last part had made your stomach broil.

You had never, ever even wanted anything more than what you currently had with the boys. They were your best friends—almost like brothers—and there was nothing more you craved from them. Being away from them for multiple days at a time felt like you were separated from family members, not lovers. And you had never so much as mentioned their money—in fact, you refused to let them pay for dinner the majority of times. You hated when people paid for your things.

Needless to say, the words had hurt you deeply, and you’d begun to wonder how many other people thought these things about you.

You wondered that until you overhead someone talking about you in a class last week. Little whispers had been passing around behind you the entirety of the class anyway, but when you’d heard your name, you’d whipped around to see who had said it. And lo and behold, there sat the Gryffindor girl with her group of friends. Only, this time there were others leaning in and listening. Fellow Slytherins, no less.

“Are you talking about me?” you’d asked, your eyebrows furrowing in hurt and anger. Nervous eyes had glanced back and forth and all around until the Gryffindor girl—Nancy McLaggen, you’d learned was her name—spoke up with a cruel smirk on her lips.

“We were just wondering if a couple rumors were true,” she’d said, faux innocence painted on her face.

“Rumors about me? What rumors?”

“Well, we all had heard from someone in Ravenclaw that you’re being passed around the Slytherin boys.”

You had nearly choked on your spit. Nancy refused to wipe the smirk off her face, and the people around you had begun to listen in as well. Expressions of shock and amusement were scattered throughout the classroom, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You’d swiped your books together and excused yourself from the class, ignoring your teacher’s shouts to explain yourself.

And those were the events that had led you to where you currently were—miserable and pretending to be sick to avoid your peers. It was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. You hadn’t been able to defend yourself in class last week and you were worried you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself if it happened again.

And there was no way in hell you were telling the boys about this. There would be no hesitation from any of them to defend you, but that was exactly what you were worried about. If they tried to help you, it would only worsen your current condition. Everyone in school would see the action as them protecting their little sex toy.

Merlin, you were so embarrassed and hurt, you couldn’t stand it. You felt nauseated again.

“Actually, boys,” you started, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I’m still feeling a little sick. I might wait until next week.”

“Next week?” Theo exclaimed. “How sick are you? Are you sure you don’t need to go to the infirmary?”

“No, I’m fine,” you sigh. “You go ahead—”

“No, we’re not going anywhere!” Enzo suddenly interrupted, stepping in front of Theo. You were a bit taken aback by the sudden spike in volume.

“En, I’m fine—”

“No, there’s something very wrong, and you’re not sick.”

“Guys, please just—”

“I agree with Enzo,” Theo interrupted. You glanced desperately at Mattheo, hoping someone would stand on your side.

“Something’s up,” he shrugged. “You don’t even look sick, kid.” You rolled your eyes. That annoyance was back.

“I said I was fine, why can’t you guys believe me?” you asked, sighing at their resilience. You wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“Because we’ve known you since you were eleven, just like you’ve known us,” Theo said. “Would you just let us be if one of us was acting the way you are?”

His words gave you pause. He made a very fair point. If any of the boys standing before you was behaving as you were, you’d be concerned. You felt a bit of guilt in becoming so angry with their protectiveness. They just wanted to help—just as they always did.

“Please tell us what’s wrong,” said Enzo. You tear your eyes from theirs, finding the lines of tile in the floor.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore their pressing stares, you couldn’t. You knew you needed to talk to someone—especially one of them. If they found out through someone else, who knew what they’d do. You pressed a frustrated hand to your forehead. The pure shame you felt from having to tell them what you’d been hearing the last week felt almost synonymous with running through the halls of the castle naked.

“Okay,” you sighed in defeat. “Last week, Someone started passing some rumors around the school—rumors about me.”

The boys seemed to glance between each other a few times before resuming immediate interest in your words.

“I know that there were a few girls from Gryffindor involved; Luna was the one to tell me about them…” you paused for a moment, gathering what little pride you had left. “They’ve been telling everyone that you guys have been…passing me around.”

With the last few words, you heaved a sigh of both relief and defeat and lowered your head farther into yourself. You felt nauseated and wished you could disappear.

In a breath of time, Mattheo’s knuckles clenched painfully loud as he turned on his heel and slammed the dorm door open.

“Mattheo, no—” you started to shout, tossing yourself toward the door. Theo and Enzo caught you against them, blocking your path.

“Guys, stop! Let me go!”

“You couldn’t have expected us to hear that and be totally fine, could you?” Theo smirked, pressing a small kiss to your cheek. You groaned and shoved away from them, backing farther into your room.

“It doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “I didn’t tell any of you who I was talking about.”

“You said it was some Gryffindors, right?” Enzo asked.

“Yes, but do you have any idea how many Gryffindors are in this castle?”

“Enough.” Theo grinned wildly, his lips spreading evilly. The two boys crossed their arms and stood resolutely in front of the door.

“He’ll never figure out who it was,” you taunted, crossing your arms. Then just below the three of you, you heard a sharp shout of rough consonants.

“WHO THE FUCK WAS TALKING ABOUT HER?”

At the sound of Mattheo’s tone, the two boys exchanged an excited glance and quickly pushed themselves through the door. As they unblocked your path, you sped toward the door.

Just as you reached the gaping threshold, they slammed the door shut right in your face. You pressed your body against the door, beating your hands on the solid wood.

“THEODORE NOTT, LORENZO BERKSHIRE, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!” you shrieked over their mocking laughter on the other side.

Something heavy clunked against the door and acted as their replacement as their chuckling voices disappeared down the hall.

No matter how hard you banged on the door’s solid wood, you realized you were never getting out of this unless—

You gasped and backed away from the door. Your wand. You could blast the door to pieces and repair it later.

With a successful smirk on your lips, you ran over to your bedside table and reached for the thin piece of material.

And just as your fingers curled around the wand, you heard a distant shout of “Accio!” Then your wand was flying out of your hand and zipping towards, then under the door.

You shrieked in anger before collapsing against your bed. You couldn’t believe that was going to go any other way, considering how well you knew the boys. It was well out of your hands now.

“You’ll thank us later, darling,” Enzo’s laughing voice was heard distantly through the stone walls. It took only a second for it to be drowned out by your frustrated groans and Theo’s taunting against some unknown assailant. You just hoped they wouldn’t hurt any of those students too badly…sort of.

Tag List: @lilymurphy03, @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @Yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33, @xxrougefangxx, @thatblackthorn, @robinyx, @jolly4holly, @blvebanisters, @chgrch

[hee0soo]

When Stars & Moon Align

Pairing — Park Seonghwa x afab!Reader

Summary — Imperial Commander Park Seonghwa is a strict, unforgiving man, ready to follow through with every cruel command he is given... Until the woman he loves reveals herself to be part of the resistance...

Genre — angst, a lil fluff at the end, hurt/clmfort maybe (?) honestly i don't even know anymore

Warnings — pregnancy, death, suicide (?) like bro she asks him to kill her okay, mentions of war, literally every warning that comes with starwars tbh, bloodshed, mention of embyo death(?)

Word Count — 4.1k

Rating — NC-17

A/N — Plsss don't hate me for any inaccurancys! I haven't watched Star Wars in a good while and was simply inspired by this look ⬆️ for golden hour pt. 2

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Not many things were able to throw Park Seonghwa off. He was a well known Commander within the First Order, recognized for his calm, almost cold persona. A man that did not hesitate to kill when necessary or told to do so by the higher ups, cruel almost if one were to ask the victims of his torturous skills of pulling information out of a stubborn rebel. Many had claimed to withstand him and all had failed.

For the First Order, he was an important asset who knew how to get what he wanted and had no qualms about doing what was needed to get exactly that.

And so it was all the more surprising to see the cold façade of ice crack upon coming face to face with the rebels they had managed to catch just a few hours prior. He had yet to see them, only having known about the incomers after getting the order to prepare one of the chambers.

But now, staring into the face of the woman he had tried so hard to hide from his superiors, he had a hard time hiding the storm of emotions brewing inside him.

Had he known that you, his wife, the love of his life, was one of the rebels the First Order and thus him were trying so desperately to eliminate? Of course not! However to say he was surprised would also be a lie.

You had never been one to do as you were told. A true whirlwind that he had to save from getting her ass handed to her more times than he could count. Someone who was able to bring out the softer, more carefree side of his personality with something as simple as an eye bat and a smile that made it look like the stars were sparkling in them.

Hands bound behind your back and on your knees, glaring at the cold grey shimmering ground under you, you sat there. Waiting for what was to come.

“What should we do with them, Commander?” the muted voice of one of the officers cut through the heavy silence that surrounded them even while standing in the middle of a bustling hangar.

Seonghwa, schooling his face as best as he could back into a cold glaring picture of nonchalance, inhaled before staring down at your kneeling form. “Bring them to the interrogation chambers. I will take care of them in due time.”

He watched your muscles tense upon recognizing his voice.

“Yes, Commander!” The troopers roughly pulled you to your feet and if Seonghwa hadn´t had to pretend to be ignorant of whom you were, he would have ripped the trooper to shreds for doing so.

Hiding his amusement over how you immediately snarled at the poor trooper, swearing up and down at him with every insult he knew you knew off, he walked behind you with quick steps. The two men you were captured with were either dragged behind them or just as stubborn as you were being. It was pathetic how much they struggled with getting 3 non force wielders in Seonghwa’s opinion.

“Don´t fucking touch me you bastard!” you snapped when you were being forced forward particularly harsh, trying to hit the trooper with your leg which promptly got you a blaster smacked to the head. Delirious you sagged in yourself, sight swimming ever so slightly as you felt the spot start to bruise.

“Is that how you treat your guests? Were you not taught how to receive any?” The comment, seemingly directed at nobody, Seonghwa knew was for him to hear.

It was ironic because while when he was rarely at home, you almost never received guests in your house and when you did? You had to show him first how to treat them nicely.

You reached the Interrogation rooms. Funny how they were called that when they should have been called torture chambers, if one were to ask you. Sadly nobody did and so you quickly found yourself strapped to the giant, very uncomfortable looking chair that stood right in the middle of the room.

For the first time in ages did your eyes meet your husband’s as he stood right in front of you. Face blank of emotion and hands clasped together as they were resting against behind his back. He stood still, admiring your face and internally wincing when he saw the drying blood staining the side of your face and your busted lip.

“Take care of the others. She belongs to me.”

His words had you cackling in surprise, well knowing how true his statement rang. If Seonghwa was one thing that you could attest to, then it was possessive!

You were left alone with him. Neither of you wanting to falter first.

You silently raised your eyebrow at his still form, his apparent calmness grating on your nerves. Seonghwa felt the same, but knowing you well enough he also knew that if he didn´t break his silence then he would stand there until the galaxy ceased to exist.

“You never told me.”

It was a statement, not a question and you knew that very well. Instead of straight out answering you tilted your head and smiled.

“Should I have? Would you have accepted it?” you asked in return, knowing very well that Seonghwa wouldn´t be able to answer this. Seonghwa relaxed ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. There was no trace of anger or hatred for his actions traceable which left him a tad bit more at peace with the situation.

“You know I can´t answer that.” He sighed.

“No, I guess you can´t… But tell me this,” you began before falling silent. Smile falling a bit as reality began to settle into your bones. “What happens now?”

Seonghwa swallowed, the calm and collected facade now not just crumbling but completely falling. You could clearly see the fear and sadness behind those dark beautiful eyes you had fallen for all this time ago.

“Don´t say it, please don´t say it.” He begged, voice shaking the slightest bit as he took enough steps to stand right in front of you. You felt his gloved fingers gently touching your strapped down ones.

“Hwa… what else is there to say? I work for those you swore to hunt down, there is no other way but for you to-“

“No! I won´t let it come to that!” He didn’t let you speak. Hearing what you were going to say would shatter his resolve completely.

You scoffed gently in amusement. “You have no choice! Ren will kill you if you don´t at least get me to spill some information and you and I both know, that won´t happen. So tell me, what other choice do we have?”

The Commander of the First Order, your ever loving husband yelled, hand running through his neatly kempt back hair. “A different one then me fucking killing you y/n! My star please…”

“I´ll always be your star. But this is not something either of us can change. You either torture me until my heart hives out, or you shoot me right here and now. But please don´t let me wait for my demise in this horrible corner you call Interrogation Room.”

Frustrated Seonghwa turned around and rammed his fist into the hard surface of the wall. You flinched at the sound it made, worrying for his hand more then he seemed to be doing.

“Seonghwa, baby listen to me!” you said and gave him a said smile when he faced you again. A salty tear that you hadn´t notice was ready to be freed rolled down the side of your face. Seonghwa shook his head and came back cup your face in his hands, thumb wiping away the tear while pressing his forehead against yours.

He couldn´t care less if the cameras picked up on what was going on or if his Ren or even Snoke got their hands on the material. All he care about was being as close to you as possible in your position.

“You´ll be okay.” You whispered and received a whimper from the usually cold man in response.

“No I won´t. Not when I do this! I could never live with myself if I did.”

You leaned forward as far as you could, laying your lips on his for a gentle yet heartbreakingly desperate kiss. The tears were coming without anything stopping them at this point, mixing with his own.

“I love you, Park Seonghwa. I did ever since I almost shot you back when we were nothing but teenagers on Niamos,” both of you laughed at the reminder of how you had gotten close. “And I promise that I will do so until all the stars die.”

“My star I can´t-“ he took a deep breath and kissed you once more before backing up to catch himself again. “And I won´t.”

“Hwa!”

“No, I can´t lose you and much less kill you myself! I will find a way, just give me time.” With those last words he wipped the wetness from his cheeks and turned to leave. An anger you had never once felt before took over.

“NO! DON´T YOU DARE YOU FUCKING COWARD! GET BACK HERE AND FINISH IT!” The whoosh of the doors sliding shut could be heard through your screams, leaving you to calm down. “Please baby… just finish us…”

Back on the bridge surrounded by officers and troopers of every kind, Seonghwa fought hard on what to do now. It had been almost 4 rotations since you and your companions had been brought in and just as long since he had visited your cell. He had given the order that no one was to enter it without his explicit permission, reasoning that this was a new technique he wanted to try. Only to give food and a medic droid had been send in as of now.

“Let them stir in their misery.” He had said as if he needed to answer to any of them.

He knew that many questioned him for this, yet none of them dared to say anything out loud in fear of being on the receiving end of the commanders anger.

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt as the Admiral suddenly stood at his side.

“What?” he hissed and enjoyed the reaction he received.

“Lo- Lord Ren wishes to speak to you.” The man stammered and bowed at his waist.

A sigh left Seonghwa’s mouth and he followed even if a bit unwilling.

He stepped closer to the Holo projector, the blue light flickering as the connection shook.

“Commander. Have you made any progress with the prisoners?” The masked man inquired gruffly, causing Seonghwa to shake his head.

“No, none of them have spoken so far. We are still waiting for them to feel a sense of … safety… if you will.”

“You are supposed to break THEM! NOT MAKE THEM FEEL SAFE! This is not a cruise ship you are commanding!” Ren lost his temper and if it were anyone else Seonghwa would have been scared.

“Yes, Lord Ren. I am very aware and will let you know when we have made progress. It will be soon, I guarantee you.”

The Sith apprentice, while not happy accepted the answer, aware that he wasn´t able to do much while being in a different part of the galaxy.

“I hope so, commander. Or this will have consequences…” The threat hanging in the air was clear but the Commander paid it no mind. Whatever Ren had planned for him if this failed could not be worse then what would happen if he didn´t find a way to get you of this ship.

The hologram vanished as quickly as it had appeared and Seonghwa leaned heavily on the projector table when the droid who has been asked to check on you waddled over to hand him the datapad.

“If. You. Have. Any. More. Questions. Please. Don´t. Hesitate. To. Ask.” He stammered mechanically.

Seonghwa took the Datapad and ushered the droid away to read.

None of the located injuries where ones that particulary surprised him. A few bruises, a twisted ankle and a broken finger. Nothing that couldn´t be fixed easily.

The last sentence on the report however left him frozen.

Additional form of life detected.

Could this mean-

FUCK!

He read over it again, hoping that he might have been reading this wrong.

Additional form of life detected.

The words didn´t change, no matter how many times he read over them and something inside him snapped.

Fuck the war. Fuck the First Order and Fuck Ren and Snoke!

This didn´t just change the situation, it changed his entire view on what he stood and worked for. All of a sudden he didn´t care if the Resistance was destroyed or if the First Order won this war over the galaxies.

All that mattered to him was to get you and his unborn child to safety, even if it meant his own death.

And so he began to form his plan.

With hurried steps he marched of the bridge towards where you were being held captive. The troopers hurriedly jumped out of his way and left after hearing the hissed, “Dismissed. And let them prepare my ship!” being thrown their way.

The doors opened with a hiss and closed again behind him.

“Is it time for your daily taunts already?” you drawled out of boredom, eyes shut in resignation.

Guilt clawed at Seonghwa’s insides upon seeing the state you were in. His orders had very obviously been ignored, the black eye and the additional blood that had dried into the fabric of your tunics were a dead giveaway of that.

His eyes fall onto your stomach, the slight swell that he had not noticed in the hectic of the events just a few rotations prior, now very evident if one knew what to look for.

“Oh, my Star… I´m so sorry dear.” He sighed and opened the clasps holding you in place. Hearing his voice again your eyes flew open.

“What- Seonghwa? What are you doing?” you questioned and couldn´t stop the anger from bleeding into your words.

“There is no time to explain! We have to get to the hangar. Quick, there is no time!” he rushed to say and pulled you upright when you swayed a little to much for Seonghwa´s liking.

Gapping at the nothing saying explanation of his you struggled against him. Seonghwa tugged gently on your arm, causing you to fall forward and into his chest.

“We are getting out of here. You and I,” he said, staring straight into your Soul. “And our child.”

Eyes wide open you looked at him.

“You-“

“Know, yes. And there is nothing that will stop me from getting us out of here, so come. Follow me.”

When you had found your footing again, Seonghwa let go of your shocked form and pulled out his blaster from his weapon belt and opened the door. Gesturing for you to step out in front of him.

You felt the blaster being pressed into your back as he led you through the dark corridors towards the hangar. It seemed you were walking for ages past soldiers and droids that were going their own way until you walked into the hangar bay.

“I hate to ask this baby, but what do we do if your genius plan fails and we get caught?” you murmured under your breath so only your husband could hear.

He huffed a laugh. “We will find out when it comes to that.”

“Because that makes me feel so much better.” You rolled your eyes.

-------

“Commander, Sir! Your Ship has been prepared and is ready for departure. However we need identification that you are permissioned to leave with the prisoner!”

Both you and Seonghwa froze when you were stopped. So far everything had run smoothly so you shouldn´t be surprised that luck was now turning against you.

“I was directly ordered by Lord Ren to bring this prisoner to him and now let me trough.”

The two troopers guarding his ship looked at each other for a moment before turning back to you.

“I´m sorry commander but we need to see identification and validation of that order before we can let you board.”

You took a step closer to Seonghwa, slowly reaching for the gun still stuck to his waist. The moment you had it your hands on it you ducked and Seonghwa shoot the two straight in the head. The smell of burning armor filled your nose and you frowned as your stomach churned in protest.

An alarm started blaring through the hangar and the light turned red.

“GET IN AND PREPARE FOR TAKE OFF!” Seonghwa yelled and shot the storm troopers that were trying to stop them before you were gone.

You ran into the cockpit and sat down in front of the control panel to start the engine. The ship shook but Seonghwa managed to sat down at your side just after you took off, followed by 2 TIE/in Fighters that did everything to shoot you right out of the sky.

“Do something!” you yelled at your husband who was busy trying to defend them. Seonghwa, knowing how you could be under stress chose to ignore this and only muttered a quiet “What do you think I’m doing here?” to himself.

The first exploded into nothing more but ruble as it was hit by blaster bolts followed by the second and you suddenly were in hyperspace.

Seonghwa shut of the tracker that would allow the First Order to follow them where ever they went.

“Will we talk about this, my star?” he asked after silence had settle over the two of you.

“Not right now.” You said flatly, knowing that if you did now, you would probably tried to kill him yourself.

“And where are we going?”

“D’Qar.”

Seonghwa realized that he wouldn´t get anything more from you. He knew that you were mad at him for not listening to your request back in that cell but what was he supposed to do? Had he listened and followed through, then could have also simply asked the next trooper to shoot him right there and then.

“You know why I couldn’t do it.”

“Because you’re a coward?”

Now Seonghwa could admit that from anyone else, these words would have probably unleashed a storm of fury. From you? He knew that it was a defense mechanism to protect your pride and he had to conceal a smile. Even after all this time and all this fighting that shook up the galaxy once more, you still were the same fiery personality he fell for.

His face fell when he thought about what he had almost lost. The Commander could forgive you for fighting against his own cause, he could forgive you for fighting for what you believed in and like he said, he couldn’t even be surprised by it. You had always stood for those weaker than him and this was your own way of fighting for them; trying to save those who couldn’t save themselves from this war the first order had brought on.

However he couldn’t help but think-

“Would you really have sacrificed our child for them? To keep their secrets?”

Your stoic face faltered and in even tho he was only able to see your profile, he recognized the horror glimmering in your widened eyes when the realization set in what you had almost done.

It wasn’t just that you had tried to give your self up for the Resistance and what the Jedi fought for. It was the fact that you had also begged him to kill you, full well knowing that you carried the prove of your love under your heart.

Your hand fell onto your stomach which, now that he was aware of the circumstance, did look rounder than last time he had seen you when he had departed again.

“Don’t fret now, my star. Nothing happened to you and our little moon I promise you now, nothing will threaten you ever again as long as I am there to prevent it.” Even if his words were calm, that did not mean he felt as calm on the inside. You knew he was seething on the inside for your failure and protecting what he didn’t even know existed, even if you had not realized what it would have meant for the life growing inside your belly.

Seonghwa reached for your hand, the once still gently brushing over the swell of your stomach. He didn’t pull it away, no he simply added his own gentle ministration to it and you tears suddenly fell freely and without restraint.

Without having to think the man put the ship on autopilot to pull his silently crying wife into his arms. You went without much of a fight, craving the touch of your husband who you hadn’t seen since the baby was conceived. You had missed him terribly, driving those close to you nearly insane in the process.

It hadn’t been easy being pregnant and fighting your aches all alone when you didn’t feel like you could share, more like didn’t want to share the sweet news with anyone but the man wiping the salty liquid away from your cheeks and whispering soothing words into the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry, Hwa! So sorry! How could I even suggest- how could I not think—?” you wept out between heavy sobs.

“It’s done now, and we shall not think of it again. We are alright. You, me and this little moon of ours and nothing, nothing will ever change this again. How could I let them? Knowing what is waiting for me far away from the battle field…” he smiled, his own tears glistening in his eyes now that the adrenaline slowly settled.

You leaned your forehead against his, noses brushing against each other lightly. You reveled in it like a Loth-Cat getting chin scratches.

Seonghwa closed the gap between your lips, sealing them with yours and it was like coming home before the moment was over far to fast in your opinion.

“So, D’Qar huh? Is that where you have been hiding?” he whispered with a smug grin which in turned earned him a slap to the back of his not so sleek any more ponytail.

[arliedraws]

It’s been a hot sec since we talked about why there are so many single-child pureblood families in HP. With the notable exceptions of the Weasleys, the Blacks, and the Gaunts, most of the families in the magical world have only one child. While I understand that upper class folks likely don’t want to split assets between their children, I do think it’s silly that they would complain about pureblood lineages dying out and then refuse to reproduce. (Then again, it does seem very privileged to declare that Muggleborns are the problem, not purebloods, which I suppose would make sense.)

I like to think that magical families struggle with infertility. It took years for the Potters to have James, and they’d almost given up when Mrs. Potter finally became pregnant. This, I think, would really propel a great fear amongst pure-blood families that they were dying out because they just weren’t reproducing quickly enough.

Two notable families, however were having children: The Blacks and the Weasleys. For the Blacks, this would definitely add to their superiority complex. While other pureblood families are struggling to produce children, they have plenty (but the wrong gender or they die before having children). Then you have the Weasleys—they’re spitting out child after child. I would imagine the pureblood community hates them because not only are they reproducing, they’re not the RIGHT type of pureblood.

This is partially why I see the Blacks fawning over their children and expecting the most out of them. And why Sirius’s “disloyalty” is a horrific betrayal—but also, this is why he is never fully disowned. They just cannot afford to lose him.

Yet I like to think that Muggle-borns and half-bloods can have children at a typical rate. This is why Ron and Hermione have their two and Harry and Ginny have their trio. Do I think this theory holds up in court? No. But I think it would add a layer to the pureblood panic.

[aanglican]

uncle iroh is treated very much like a paragon of virtue in the series. yes we know he has had a violent past, that he has done terrible things, committed atrocities in the service of the fire nation— but we don’t really feel it because all of that had happened off screen and prior to the series. instead, he comes to us as a more perfect being and one deified with secret good deeds revealed throughout the story: uncle iroh is the keeper of the dragons and an important member of the white lotus, he is just that awesome.

uncle iroh is so divorced from his immediate past that we don’t see him haunted by any of it unless it’s by lu ten— which begs the question: did he really turn his back on the fire nation due to a moral awakening or was it only/mostly for his own good? he certainly doesn’t behave in a manner you’d expect from a repentant ex-imperialist: he’s not too worried about walking the streets of ba singe se, let alone actually staying there after the war ended. (the same war he participated in on the side of the aggressors, mind you.) he is shameless enough to be living there while hiding away and was unscrupulous in accepting hospitality from earth kingdom folks who were made refugees by the fire nation, i.e., song’s family. does he not feel guilty or at least uncomfortable with his circumstances, especially since it has only been 5 or so years since the siege at ba sing se and thus still very fresh in the grand scheme of things? is iroh just that Enlightened and At Peace with his past that it doesn’t color his every movement? or is his lack of a moral hangover just a writing oversight? were they scared to make their most lovable character in a rated TV-Y7 cartoon a tad more polarizing?

while uncle iroh does his job well for the story— that is, to act as zuko’s guiding light— i do wish he were knocked off his pedestal a bit more. uncle iroh is, after all, the proto-zuko to ozai’s proto-azula. i wish to see him at least slightly paranoid about people recognizing him from his military days and vice versa. i wish to see him uneasy about being in the earth kingdom (out of guilt? as opposed to zuko’s superiority complex and anger). i wish to see him meet another person who also has visible burn scars, one that has nothing to do with zuko/his family, and still look away in shame or disgust by the implications. et cetera et cetera. anything to indicate he feels something more about himself and other people that isn’t just Wise Old Man.

[bellerocks4]

The boy and his hats!!!!! Look at them all :D

This is like a little counter-part to the one i did of Six's masks. Also I rated the hats, which i will go into more detail about below the cut ;P

The Classic, The Original, The Paper Bag!!!!

I have like an emotional attachment to this hat, i kid you not. My favorite by far, he just looks so good <33333

5/5 hats

....Ball

Gonna be real with you, i hate the way this hat looks in game. I made it look good because I'm awesome but for real he looks so fuckin goofy in this hat, it has its charm but still

1.5/5 hats

✨Rain Cap✨

I don't love love this hat on him but i can't overlook the fact that he matches with siiiiiiixx thats just sO CUTE GAH!! Twinsies,,,

3.5/5 hats

Postman Cap!!!

Kay i actually love this hat on him it's hella cute, lost points because its fucking HUGE in game. Like how is that thing not eating his whole head jfc

4/5 hats

Mokujin Mask

This is a pretty good hat i just,,, don't get the reference,, if there even is one???? maybe its a historical kind of mask hm- ok no i just looked it up, it is a reference. Anyway, yeah good hat overall but im not the target audience so

2.5/5 hats

Flat Cap! or Gatsby Cap, the way superior name

I love this hat so much he looks so cute in it, like i didn't even do it justice its so cute

5/5 hats <3

Nome <3

ok yeah I took some liberties with this one, this isn't really what it looks like in game. but that's because the in game version looks kinda lame so i made it better <3 Minorly disappointing after the wild goose chase i had to go through to get it >:(

1/5 hats :(

Hunter Hat :D

First hat in the game, it's ok,, i just think its a bit boring is all. I favor hats that cover his whole face anyway so im a bit biased. The tail is fuckin adorable tho, i love the way it trails after him :)

3/5 hats

Stuffed Bear Hat of evil

ok when i said i favored hats that covered his whole face i did not mean this one- I did amazing drawing it✨ but its horrifying in game. Which i assume was the point, so kudos ig, but this is my personal how much i like it scale and the bear's ugly >:P

1.5/5 hats

....

I... its- .... *starts crying*

5/5 hats

Tin Can Hat

Ok when i said that I favor hats that cover his whole face I meant this one <3 Got that charm from the paper bag but he kinda wonky. So cute :D

4.5/5 hats

Mummy Hat

Listen- its cool ok? cool and creepy but cool. If you haven't guessed already all my favorites are hats he looks cute in and this? yeah this ain't it...

2/5 hats

OK!! Thats all folks!!! Thanks for indulging my silly little hat scale <3

[fuck-hamas-go-israel]

Ethnic cleansing? Genocide? Apartheid?

Throwing around these buzzwords to describe the Israel-Hamas war because you’ve seen them on social media doesn’t make you right, and it doesn’t make you an activist.

It makes you ignorant, intellectually dishonest, and lazy for parroting biased talking points with no concept about what these terms actually mean.

What is apartheid?

Well, it was first used to describe the political system in South Africa and today’s Namibia whereby racism was institutionalised. This manner of governance meant that clear racial segregation would occur, in a manner that benefited the white race and would actively oppress those who had darker skin.

This meant that there were white-only spaces, white people would get prioritised when it came to education and jobs, and relationships/marriages between white peoples and coloured people were illegal.

Is Israel objectively an apartheid state? There are no laws that actively favour one group over the other. There is a sizeable population of Israeli Arabs that can thrive in the same way as the Israeli Jews can. There are laws against discrimination on the basis of gender, race/ethnicity, and sexual orientation.

Palestinians from Gaza are allowed to work in Israel through a work permit system. There are about 150,000 Palestinians working in Israel, most of which live in Israel and some come from Gaza/the West Bank. They aren’t denied rights institutionally.

Is it harder to get a job or education in Israel if you’re a Palestinian from Gaza? Sure, because of different governments. It’s like how it’s a lot easier for you to find a job in your own country (in terms of paperwork and bureaucracy) than overseas. But you’re not denied the right to apply.

Of course, if you have a history of violence, a criminal record, or your family has ties to terrorists, then it’ll be a lot harder to get an approved work permit. But that’s not apartheid. That’s common sense, and a regulation practiced by all countries that minimally desire to protect their own population from danger.

Ethnic cleansing and genocide

These two concepts can go hand-in-hand. Ethnic cleansing refers to the mass expulsion or killing of a group of people based on their ethnicity. Similarly, genocide is the purposeful killing of a group of people solely with the intention of annihilating them.

Famous examples? The Holocaust, of course, where the Nazi regime believed in the superiority of the Aryan race and decided to declare genocide on the Jews, Romanis, the LGBTQ+ community, people with disabilities, people with “Asian features”, and many many other groups. Anyone who they didn’t think was “pure”.

Their aim was to ensure that the Aryan race propagated without having “impure” blood affecting the bloodlines. They even started a eugenics programme called Lebensborn to ensure that more pure Aryan babies were born.

More recent examples? The Rwandan genocide where the Hutus attempted to wipe out the Tutsis on the basis of ethnicity. They mandated that Tutsis mention their ethnicity on state-issued ID cards in order for the Hutus in power to be able to identify them and then kill them.

Or the Yazidi genocide which happened so recently, in which ISIL killed, raped, and sent thousands of Yazidis into conversion camps on the basis of their ethnicity. They also took Yazidi women as sex slaves and raped and tortured them.

Or the Rohingya Muslims in the Rakhine State in Myanmar, and how there was a mass killing and expulsion of them from the country, forcing them to flee to Bangladesh to take refuge, crating the world’s largest refugee camp.

Or how ISIS killed thousands of people from Christian groups in Iraq, Syria, Egypt, and Libya because of their faith, leading the US, EU, and UK to label this as religious genocide and condemned their actions.

Has Israel been practicing ethnic cleansing and genocide on Palestinians all these years?

Well, the birth rate of the Palestinian population in Gaza, the West Bank, and in Israel has been steadily increasing all these years.

So, no. No ethnic cleansing, no genocide. They are free to have as many children as they desire.

The UN Genocide Convention

The United Nations has 5 actions that constitute genocide.

1. Killing members of a target group

Israel is targeting Hamas officials with the aim of wiping out the terrorist group and ensuring that such a deadly attack on Israeli soil doesn’t happen again. I suppose you could call it genocide against Hamas, but they’re killing Hamas because they’re terrorists, not because they’re Palestinian. Shouldn’t everyone believe in genocide against terrorists?

But look at Black Saturday. Look at Hamas’ rhetoric. They repeatedly call for the annihilation of Israel and genocide of Jews. When will the media start believing what they say, word for word, instead of trying to spin it into “hmm maybe they want to kill all the Jews because they’re freedom fighters!”

War has collateral damage. Of course the innocent civilians don’t deserve to suffer just because of the actions of their government, but there have been warnings given to the Palestinian civilians prior to Israel striking the areas. There are consequences of attacking a country first, and then having that country attack you back.

2. Causing people of the group serious bodily or mental harm

The UN refers to sexual violence as the prime example of non-fatal harm.

Sexual violence has occurred. Hamas have kidnapped and raped women and even paraded the bodies of half-naked women around. But I f Israel had done the same, it’ll be the first thing appearing on everyone’s BBC push notifications (without even being confirmed as true).

3. Imposing living conditions intended to destroy the group

Many people refer to the blockade that Israel imposed around the Gaza Strip as an example of this.

This blockade was imposed by both Israel and Egypt in 2005. Its aim was to prevent smuggling of weapons into Gaza, and isolate the reign of Hamas to the region. This was to ensure the safety of Israel and Egypt.

Did this blockade pose serious challenges to the Gazan civilians? Of course. But that’s a consequence of having a terrorist government. If you have a terrorist group running your country, don’t be surprised if neighbouring countries are extra careful about who or what they allow in or out of the borders.

Many authorities from other Arab nations have also expressed approval of Egypt’s border restrictions, and even encouraged Egypt to flood the terror tunnels that Hamas has dug under the city. As a side note, other Arab nations have not historically been very kind or welcoming to Palestinians. Syria has killed over 4000 Palestinians, and many Arab countries are now refusing any refuge for Palestinians. But no one cares about that because it doesn’t make Israel look bad. All they do now is use the images of dead Palestinians under the hands of Syria and reuse them to propagate fake news.

The blockade has been labelled as a human rights violation because of collective punishment. Many humanitarian organisations believe that the blockade has caused the Palestinian civilians disproportionate harm.

Contrary to popular belief, Israel isn’t disallowing humanitarian aid from coming through the borders. Fuel, food, hygiene products, clothes, and shoes have been coming through the borders regularly for years. The Gaza Strip also has electricity and internet access and water.

Do all these items reach the Palestinian civilians? Well, there has been evidence that Hamas has been intercepting a lot of the supplies sent by humanitarian groups. This is not surprising since the UNRWA tweeted that Hamas has stole fuel from hospitals in Gaza in order to launch more rockets at Israel (but quickly deleted it after realising that it goes against their agenda to paint Hamas in a bad light.) In addition, the returned hostages have mentioned that there are many aid supplies hidden in the terror tunnels by Hamas. Instead of giving them to the civilians, they are hoarding it for themselves.

There has also been video evidence that some people are reselling these aid items in stores at exorbitant prices in order to turn profits. This has been well-documented for the last 10 years.

Is blockading the region to mitigate terrorism a disproportionate response? Well, it’s like asking if heightened security and stricter border control at airports is a disproportionate response after 9/11. Is being cautious and worrying about the security of your country an irrational reaction to the constant threat of terrorism?

4. Preventing births

Gaza’s population growth rate per annum is about 1.99%, which is the 39th highest in the world! Their population is allowed to propagate freely.

Israel isn’t preventing births of Palestinian babies.

5. Forcibly transferring children out of the group

No, Israel hasn’t been taking Palestinian children and forcing them to convert/keeping young Palestinian girls as sex slaves. Like I said, if this was truly happening, all the news outlets would be so quick to publish the story before verifying it.

Can we trust the UN Genocide standards?

The UN is known for corruption and have been exploiting the Palestinian people by selling them the humanitarian supplies instead of distributing them for free, which they should because these supplies literally are donations.

The UN also has differing standards of what they would label as genocide. For example, they refuse to call what China is doing to the Uyghurs in Xinjiang as genocide, even though the situation does fit many of their own criteria.

Hence, to all of you out there overusing these terms without knowing what they mean, make up your own mind about things. No one can force you to believe anything and no one can force you to change your mind.

But at the very least, do your due diligence and educate yourself before spouting tired buzzwords. Repeating misinformation doesn’t help anyone and can be very harmful.

[honeylullaby]

“Just breathe with me, darling.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 I hope this was what you envisioned! / Rupert calms you down after a panic attack. Anxiety warning.

18+ FANFIC / Soft. Not too long but as always, got carried away! Reader character aged 21.

As always, request what you wanna see on my ask box 💋

Incessantly tapping the edge of your pen against your desk, the skin of your lip peeled under your canine as you anxiously chewed at the corners of your mouth. It was 4pm, and you had turned your production notes into Tony Baddingham’s office precisely 24 minutes ago for his approval. At the moment, work was hard. Tony did his absolute best to berate, humiliate and insult you. All because you and Rupert Campbell-Black had made yourselves official and the whole office was astutely aware that they despised each other.

Taking a quick glance over at his office, you caught a glimpse of your superior pacing up and down his office, flicking nonchalantly through your notes, not quite taking them in and not at all caring. Your vision went black as a pair of rugged hands covered your eyes. Breathing in, your mind immediately calmed — You recognised that sweet, aromatic aftershave from anywhere. “Guess who?” The opulent, inebriating voice sounded from behind you. You couldn’t help but grin and spin round in your chair as the hands removed themselves from your eyeline. Rupert, smartly clad in his hunting gear, was holding the most tremendous bouquet of flowers one had ever seen — lavish bunches of roses, lavender, and peonies. An exquisite array of colours and the most stunning fragrance. “Rupert! You shouldn’t have!” You burst with glee, standing up and throwing your arms around his neck, embracing him and pinning yourself to him tightly. The grin plastered across his jaws was unlike Rupert — a pure, genuine display of joy. You had really got under his skin, for the better.

“I was passing on my way to the hunt. I thought you could do with cheering up, I know that miserable bastard has been getting on your nerves as of late.” He muttered the last part, and shot you a wink. Rupert wasn’t passing — in fact, the florist was precisely 15 minutes away from the location of the hunt, and Corinium’s office was 26. He just couldn’t resist seeing that beaming smile on your face. From his office, Lord Baddingham had been keeping a firm eye on you both, and swung his door wide open. “What are you doing here? Who let you in? Get out.” The erratic man spoke, pointed finger waving brutishly at Rupert. Your lover jokingly threw his hands up in defeat, and took a step back from your desk. “I’m going, I’m going.” He spun around on his heel to leave, but quickly turned back. “Just quickly, Tony, how are your ratings doing since Declan left? I heard from a certain insider that they are absolutely tanking.” A devilish grin painted Rupert’s face as he spoke, he knew exactly which buttons to press of Tony to make him explode. Tony’s face grew a remarkable crimson shade, and you could almost physically see the steam rush to escape his ears. “Get the FUCK out of here, you cunt! You and your fucking whore! You’re SACKED!” Spit flew from the corners of Tony’s enraged mouth, fists clenching so tight his nails were drawing blood from his palms.

Despite sitting in a web of his own making, the red mist subsequently descended over Rupert and he raised his own clenched first to swing a punch. Except, he would have done, had he not first heard frantic hyperventilating from the seat beneath him. You threw an outstretched palm across your chest — trying to calm your breathing. But, it was futile. You felt your throat constrict and your vision tunnel in. Tony, along with everyone else in the office, watched in stunned silence as your panic attack tightened its cruel vice over your body. Rupert, however, immediately knelt beside you and pushed your chin upwards with a curled finger. “Hey, hey, angel. Breathe. Just breathe with me, darling.”

Rupert kept his distance at first, not wanting to constrict you anymore than you already felt. Instead, he maintained constant eye contact and took slow, calm deep breaths whilst facing you, urging you to do the same. God, this man could fix anything. Steadily, Rupert took a hold of your hand and placed it over his heart— allowing you to feel the rhythmic thumping and encouraging your own to fall into the same beat. Wiping tears away with your other hand, you took a trembling exhale and allowed yourself to take a moment of calm. Shooting Tony a menacing glare, Rupert lowered himself again and directed your gaze towards him. “I’m here, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was enough to coax inconsolable sobs from you. Safety and protection was all you craved, and Rupert certainly gave it to you. Practically falling into his arms, he allowed you to sob into his shoulder. His warmth had a vice-like grip over you — unwavering and shielding you from the world. His veined hand stroked through your hair softly as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. “Don’t do this to me again, darling. You know I’m always here. You’re safe with me, beautiful.”

He pulled you from your chair with the strength of one arm, and tucked you closely into his side, simultaneously picking your bouquet up with the others. “Come on, angel. Let’s get you home.” He muttered, and you gently nodded your head in agreement, allowing your body weight to melt into his. As he beckoned you away from your desk, he shot one last look at Tony — he was never going to forget this.

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.” - Jane Eyre

[yourlocalbreadenthusiast]

ask for infodump about Chernobyl as someone who has never even heard of it

INHALES

Chernobyl is considered to be the worst nuclear disaster in history, rated at a 7 on the International Nuclear Event Scale (INES), the only other disaster ranking at a 7 being in Fukushima back in 2011. The disaster occurred on April 26, 1986. The Chernobyl Nuclear Power plant was located in Ukraine, which was under the control of the Soviet Union at the time. It was only about 16 miles from the Belarus-Ukraine border, which was also under Soviet control. There were two main towns nearby, Chernobyl itself, which was older, had only about 15,000 residents, and was actually farther from the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant than Pripyat, which had about 50,000 residents, and was only about 2 miles from the plant. Pripyat was newer, and residents had an average age of about 26. The town itself was filled with young, well educated people starting new lives. A large number of public buildings were located in Pripyat, including a school and a sports complex, which contains the famous Azure Swimming Pool. The plant supplied Pripyat with energy, and the place was considered a sort of "dream city." The plant was an RBMK-1000 type reactor, a generation I nuclear reactor, which are the earliest, and generally most hazardous, nuclear reactors. RBMKs were used to produce Plutonium, a radioactive material primarily used in nuclear weapons. However, they could also be used to produce civilian energy, so a few were constructed to supply parts of the USSR with power. At the time of the incident, there were four reactors in operation, with reactors 5 and 6 under construction. A test was scheduled to be conducted to see if the backup generators could successfully turn on in time to keep the cooling systems running at safe levels. However, the test was delayed until the less experienced night shift was in. They turned off the reactor's shutdown feature and lowered the power to the reactor. Reactors need energy to function, as they have to be cooled. For these reactors, large amounts of water were used to cool them. Without the shutdown function, the reactor was in danger of overheating if it wasn't cooled. Regardless, they ran the test. When the backup generators took too long to turn on, panic set in, and the reactor began to overheat. Then, somehow hit the AZ-5 button, which lowers all control rods into the reactor at once. Control rods are used to absorb excess amounts of shed neutrons from the nuclear reactions. However, they momentarily increase reactions when first introduced into the reactor chambers. The undertrained staff of the night shift were not aware of this. With the increased reactivity, the reactor was now dangerously hot, and the casinging around the fuel rods began to rupture, causing white-hot radioactive fuel to come into direct contact with steam. At 1:23 A.M., April 26, 1986, Chernobyl Nuclear Reactor #4 exploded. The contact between the fuel and the steam caused a steam explosion, blowing the 1000 tonne reactor roof into the air and spewing radioactive debris and particles into the air.

Two plant workers were killed instantly by either the force of the blast or from being hit by debris. Although plant workers realized what had happened rather quickly, superiors were slow to act. Firefighters were called in, but they were not told the dangers of the radiation. Most died within a few months. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. In Pripyat, the Amusement Park that had been scheduled to open the next day was hurriedly opened a day early to distract residents from the fact that the reactor was on fire.

It took 36 hours for Soviet Officials to finally begin to evacuate Pripyat, only after residents had begun to report nausea, dizziness, fatigue, vomiting, and headaches, all symptoms of radiation poisoning. A few weeks earlier, citizens were trained with gas masks in case there ever was an incident. Officials said that they didn’t need them, as they didn’t want to cause a panic.

Residents were also told they would be returning soon, and to leave everything behind. They did not come back. This left Pripyat as an eerie ghost down where everything seemed to have simply been dropped and left. Today, it is still abandoned, and is being slowly reclaimed by nature.

During the cleanup of the incident, “Liquidators” were called in. Some knew the dangers, others didn’t. The fire of the reactor was too hot to be put out by water, so tons and tons or boron, sand, and lead were dumped onto the burning reactor by helicopters that flew over. It didn’t help much, and the reactor finally stopped burning after about 2-3 weeks. A structure dubbed “The sarcophagus” was built over the reactor to contain the radiation, though it was rushed and leaked radiation. A large area of woodlands was contaminated by the radiation, and it turned red and died, earning the nickname “The Red Forest.” Most of these trees were cleared and buried. Highly contaminated houses were knocked down, animals were shot, and crops destroyed. Absolutely everything that was highly contaminated was at least attempted to be destroyed and buried. Still, not everything could be destroyed and buried, there was simply too much. One object, dubbed “The Claw of Death” was, according to conflicting accounts, either used to assist in the overall cleanup or was used specifically in the cleanup of the plant roof. It is radioactive enough to give a lethal dose if sat in for about 11 hours.

Another rather infamous object is “The Elephant’s Foot” which is a mass of sand, concrete, and melted reactor fuel that had melted its way through the floor and down into the basement. Upon discovery, the sheer amount of radiation it gave off was enough to give you a fatal dose within about 90 seconds. Today, that’s increased to about five minutes. The foot was unyielding to sampling tools, so, they shot it with a Kalashnikov Rifle (AK-47) to get a sample.

After a very short period of time, the remaining three reactors were up and running again, as the USSR simply needed power desperately. By December of 1987, all three reactors were up and running again. They were operated for years, until the last reactor was finally shut down for good in 2000. Being so close to the border, and with the wind conditions of the time, mass amount of radioactive particles were blown north to Belarus. The Soviet Union had planes fly over and seed the clouds with chemicals, forcing them to rain on rural land instead of heavily populated areas, but this still had a major effect, as about 1/3 of Belarusian farmland was contaminated. However, the winds began to shift, blowing radiation towards Europe. Sweden was the first to sound the alarm, asking if something had happened after detecting dangerous amounts of airborne radiation and determining it was not from any of their own reactors. The USSR finally admitted there had been a “very small” incident at Chernobyl, and was very reluctant to give the world information. Careful monitoring protocols were put on resources everywhere in Europe, from grain to milk to wood, all were carefully measured for radiation. Years later, after the Sarcophagus was determined to be unsafe, the New Safe Confinement unit was constructed, which is a semicircular dome over the existing Sarcophagus. The New Safe Confinement was finished in 2018. 

DONE!

(For now)

@not-wizard-council-aristocrat @anarcho-neptunism @siley-the-wizard @villainessbian

[qqueenofhades]

fwiw: a lot of people follow @roach-works who just reblogged yo ur comments on history, books, and authoritarian regimes' inability to indoctrinate entire populations.

I'm an ex classics major with a lot of history under my belt, who knows Rome sutmr under a corrupt oligarchy even when it coughed up a hairball like Nero or Commodus. (Of course, it helped that Rome worked on the pragmatic principle, "How can we keep society and infrastructure functioning, given that positions of power tend to be occupied by the rich & corrupt?" I like to joke that Western Rome never fell; it just became the mafia.)

At any rate, my tendency to see the US through the lens of Rome makes me a pessimist: I assume we'll manage even in a dystopia.

I'm working on expanding my knowledge of world history to counteract that, but it's great to check in with a sane historian who will help me resist crowdsourced panicmongering.

Look, as I have said, I 0% blame anyone for being scared. I'm scared. With no exaggeration or hyperbole, Shit Real Bad, and it's undoubtedly going to get worse, at least in some ways, before we have a chance to make it better. It was completely avoidable, but half of America decided they didn't want to avoid it, so here we are.

Nonetheless, as my last reblog also pointed out, there are still basic historical and critical-thinking skills that we can use here, and to acknowledge that even if it is obviously unprecedented to us, it is not unprecedented to others, and we can study those lessons and think about how to apply them to our own situation. Rome is the obvious model for a world empire brought down by corruption, oligarchy, imperialism, endless foreign wars, income inequality, economic upheaval, excessive militarism, etc etc, but it's not the only one, and the "fall of Rome and start of the Dark Ages" is one of those narratives that gets my premodern-historian rant especially exercised. By the time Rome "fell" in 476, the city of Rome wasn't even the capital of the Empire; the western capital was in Ravenna, northern Italy, and the eastern capital was in Constantinople, where it endured for another thousand years. Roman successor kingdoms were founded in Visigothic Spain, Merovingian Francia, etc., and often imported Roman law, religion, bureaucracy/administration, and nobility relatively unchanged, which is why Latin was the legal, ecclesiastical, and educational language of western Europe until as late as 1962 and Vatican II. The "Dark Ages" are likewise at best an extreme simplification and at worst exceedingly misleading imperial-nostalgia propaganda. Etc etc. I will restrain myself.

Rome dominated the (European/Near Eastern/north African) world in the way that the 19th-century British Empire dominated the actual world and American empire dominates now, at least for the moment, and thus we have to recognize that similar dynamics are at play here in a late-stage imperial decline. However, Rome did not just up and vanish in a puff of smoke one day and never appear again, and we also have to recognize that the end of empires is generally a good thing, historically speaking. Yes, absolutely a turbulent, dangerous, and traumatizing time, especially for those living within the imperial core, but still. There's also the blunt fact that America itself has been responsible for a lot (a LOT) of violent regime change, coups, overthrows, bombings, and other disastrous foreign policy interventions for almost the entirety of its existence, and we can't pretend that we are just the shining beacon of unproblematic truth, freedom, and faith that most conservatives, and a lot of saccharine American-exceptionalism liberals, tend to think. If that comes back to bite us and we have to experience the kind of political and social upheaval that we have arrantly and unrepentantly inflicted on other places in the name of our Superior Right... well.

As for the post about history books (here), that was another attempt to push back against the kind of broad-strokes fearmongering that is often prevalent right now. Again: for completely understandable reasons, but still. There is literally no way on earth that the practice of academic history, or the procession of human events, is going to be destroyed because an orange dumbass and his idiot followers took power in America for eight nonconsecutive years. Even if by some miracle he managed to do it in America and the only thing ever officially published was Heritage Foundation balderdash, a) historians in countries other than America would still be writing books about it, and b) again, literally impossible. To return to the history of Soviet totalitarianism that I was addressing in that post, I suggest that people look into the samizdat, the contraband news and literature widely shared in the USSR. They faced far more stringent conditions than we ever will: the KGB controlled access to all word processors and copiers, precisely because they could be used to spread non-regime-approved information, and dissidents had to write and circulate it by hand. If they were caught, they could be disappeared, sent to the gulag, confined in a psychiatric hospital, subject to intensive "state education," etc. But they still managed to pass it around and read it, and it would be literally impossible for this collection of Trumpster chucklefucks to exert even a fraction of this logistical and physical control, when every citizen already owns a laptop and a smartphone. The history books aren't going anywhere.

That all said, of course we are all hyper-alert and anxious and afraid, and we don't want to miss anything that might be important or dangerous or anything else. I get that, I completely do. But we still have to pace ourselves, we still have to apply critical thought and learn how to educate ourselves when something seems huge and scary and unstoppable, and I am attempting to do a small part of that on a niche blue hellsite that won the social media competition by literally doing nothing while its peers all fell face first into being corporate Nazis. The bar is low. But hey, I'm here, and you're here and you're reading it, and we will get through it. I promise.

Courage, etc.