#you don't mess with new yorkers

[contemplatingoutlander]

I’m not just talking. You tyrants are about to awaken a machine you don’t want. You are pushing people to the edge. The same party that is offended by the wrong pronoun is pushing the party that owns 90% of the guns, of which, the majority defends our nation, who mine our minerals, who build our skyscrapers, and drive our trucks. You weak people have no idea. You people in your cities with your white-shoe consultants, country clubs who thought prosecuting Trump was a good idea. You have never met America.

Having grown up 20 minutes from the George Washington Bridge, these threats towards city folks, especially those in New York City--the City that finally brought Trump to justice--is just too funny, on so many levels.

First, the "county club" set is actually well represented by Trump and the Republican Party. In other words, the puppet masters of the Republican Party ARE the country club set. In fact, Trump LIVES for much of the year at two of his country clubs! By voting for Republicans, MAGA working class folks have repeatedly let themselves be played by the true "elites" of the country.

I would bet that rural MAGA folks are actually terrified of New Yorkers. As well they should be. You don't mess with New Yorkers.

Seriously. What planet is Carl Higbie living on if he thinks there aren't any guns in New York City?

This is why the ONLY state that as been able to finally bring Trump to justice is New York.

New Yorkers know how to cut through the crap and don't take any nonsense from anybody--especially Trump, whose shady business practices are notorious in the Tri-State area.

Newsmax host Carl Higbie went on a tirade on Friday after former President Donald Trump was convicted by a Manhattan jury the day before.

The presumptive Republican presidential nominee was found guilty on all 34 counts of falsifying business records to conceal hush money payments to cover up extramarital affairs. Trump was concerned the affairs would come to light and harm his presidential aspirations. The Republican freakout has been swift if not predictable. Despite their outrage and indignation, some conservatives insist that being a convicted felon will help Trump’s chances of returning to the White House in November’s election.

During Friday’s edition of Frontline on Newsmax, Higbie demanded congressional Republicans drop everything and go after those involved in Trump’s prosecution.

[triptuckers]

the comfort of home - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hii, I just finished watching both episodes of PJO and I wept as I beheld Sally's maternal love unfold on the screen, knowing it before hand from the books. Thus, I was pondering if you might entertain a request—a tale where a daughter of Hades (angsty) forges a close bond with Percy, and Sally, in her gracious warmth bless her soul, adopts her into their lives because, after all, they're nearly kin, entwined by the delicate threads of almost-cousinhood." Pairing:  percy jackson x hades!reader Summary:  after a typical day for a demigod, you just need a safe space to go Warnings:  mentions of fighting, injuries, blood, throwing up, swearing, angst Word count:  2k A/N: first of all anon are you a writer?????? bro those words..... pls write more !! thanks for your request, enjoy!

you're walking down the streets of new york city, feeling utterly miserable. you're soaked through because of the rain and you're hurt.

everyone knows that demigods don't exactly live a quiet life. especially kids from zeus, poseidon or hades. still, most of the times you're fighting for your life you're on a quest.

not simply on your way home.

but today was different. somehow you brought not one but all three of the furies down on you. you don't even know how, you weren't doing anything.

it was a tough fight, but you stood strong. you couldn't prevent the dozen little cuts that littered your body. you're bruised over and on top of that it started to rain, messing with your sight.

right now you're on your way to your foster home. but it's a slow journey. you're not sure you want to go there. and you're not sure how much the mist hides for them.

sometimes if you got home all bruised you told them you got in a fight. sometimes they didn't spare you a second glance.

you stop in the middle of the street. at this point you've been walking for so long you don't even notice the rain anymore.

you turn around, heading another way. there's one other place you could go. you're lost in thought, and most of the people don't pay you any attention. perks of living in new york, you guess. new yorkers just don't care.

when you get to the familiar building, you feel a sense of calm coming over you. somehow you always found yourself back here. as you walk up to the entrance, someone leaves just as you arrive, so you can slip in the door before it closes.

you walk the stairs slowly because of your injuries. every step hurts and takes tremendous effort.

when you finally get to the right floor and walk to the door, you just stand in front of it. you're fully aware you're dripping rainwater on the floor, but suddenly you can't bring yourself to knock.

why are you even here? you don't want to be a burden.

they've told you that you can always come over, no matter what. but it's late at night, it's raining outside, you're soaked.

you're standing there, debating wether or not to go in, when you hear a voice on the other side of the door.

the person is softly singing along to a song that's playing.

tears well up in your eyes as you recognise the song. you were the one to recommend it.

you raise your hand and knock on the door.

'coming!' says the voice.

moments later the door opens to reveal a woman.

her eyes briefly widen at the sight of you, scanning your body for injuries. then her eyes soften.

'oh, what happened to you, sweetheart?' says sally.

her gentle voice is what pushes you over the edge, breaking down in tears in front of her.

sally pulls you over the doorstep and closes the door. she pulls you into a hug, not caring that you're soaked.

you wrap your arms around her and cry. you let all of the anxiety rush out of you as sally rubs circles on your back and whispers soft words in your ear. you ignore your aching body and allow yourself to just be here in the moment.

after a while, sally pulls back and holds you at an arms length.

'I'm so sorry for dropping in like this, miss jackson.' you say softly.

'y/n, you know you're always welcome here. and I've told you to call me sally.' she says kindly.

you nod. 'is percy home?'

'he's out to the movies with grover. do you want me to ask him to come home?'

'no, he's out having fun. it's alright. could I just..'

'why don't you take a shower first, hm? I bet you're freezing.'

you sigh softly. that does sound good.

'yeah, alright.'

'you go take a shower, then I'll make tea and see if I can do something about that.'

she pointedly looks at the cut above your brow. you totally forgot that was there.

'I don't have any clothes.' you say softly.

'that's alright, just borrow some from percy. he won't mind.' says sally.

'thank you.'

you walk towards percy's room to get some clothes when sally calls your name, making you turn around again.

'you're not a burden, you know that right. we love having you over.' says sally.

you swallow back the new tears that threaten to fall. sometimes you forget she knows you so well.

'thanks.' you say, entering percy's room to get some clothes.

you pick a shirt, sweater and sweatpants form percy's closet before going into the bathroom.

you peel your soaked clothes from your body, hissing when you pull the fabric from your wounds.

turning on the water, you get in the shower, letting the water calm you down. you wash off all of the dried blood, dirt and sweat.

after drying off you put on percy's clothes, his scent surrounding you and comforting you.

you head back to the living room to find sally putting two steaming mugs on the table.

'we still got your favorite.' she says, sliding your mug towards you.

'thanks.'

'drink up, and tell me about today if you want. I'll see if we have some medical stuff left in the kitchen.'

you sigh, thinking back to today.

'I didn't even do anything.' you say. 'I was just walking down the road and I got this feeling I was being watched. I thought it wasn't a big deal but hey, demigod instinct, so I took a turn and went into an alley. sure enough, someone followed me.'

'someone or something?' says sally, returning with the first aid kit.

'someone at first. then the mist cleared and it was one of the furies.' you say. 'at that point I was just so done. I wasn't even on a quest so what the hell was she doing there?'

'how did you get away? you've fought a fury before, percy told me.' says sally, scooting her chair closer to you so she can clean the cut on your forehead.

'I have. it's okay if it's one. but then the other two showed up.' you sigh. 'at that point I was really annoyed. I think it was just annoyance that drove me at that point. they were clearly there because they were bored. they thought "hey smells like demigod, oh look it's the hades kid, let's mess with her."

'well, you're here now. you made it out.' says sally, finishing with the cut on your forehead.

'yeah. thanks again.' you say, sipping your tea.

'you don't have to keep thanking me.' says sally. 'you know you're always welcome here, you're practically family. I know you don't like your foster home. now, do you have any other wounds?'

you chuckle. 'only about two dozen little cuts and even more bruises. I've had worse, it's okay.' you say.

'it's never okay.' says sally. 'you and percy are way too young for this.'

you shrug. 'and yet we have to deal with it.' you say, rolling up your sleeves so sally can clean and bandage the cuts on your arms.

the next hour is spent by sally cleaning your wounds and bandaging you up as she tells you stories. you liked hearing her stories. ever since you first met her, it was one of your favorite things about her. she could tell stories in a way that felt like you were actually there, experiencing them.

just as she secures the last bandage in place, you briefly close your eyes, exhaustion getting to you.

'you can get some sleep, I'll tell percy when he gets home.' says sally.

'it's okay, I want to see him before I go to bed.' you say.

'alright, want to watch a movie of something?'

'movie sounds great.'

sally picks a movie while you sit down on the couch. it doesn't take long for you to doze off, even though you fight to stay awake. the fight with the furies was intense, so sally lets you sleep while she waits for percy to home home.

about halfway through the movie, the door to the apartment opens and percy enters.

'hey mom.' he says, taking off his shoes and jacket and dumping his bag near the door.

as he walks into the room, he notices a familiar sword leaning against the back of the couch. he frowns, he didn't know you were coming.

'is y/n here?' he says, walking over to his mom.

she nods, pointing to the couch.

percy looks over the back of the couch to find you fast asleep, wearing his clothes and your body littered in bandages and bruises.

'what happened?' says percy, walking around the couch.

'the three furies.' says sally. 'she didn't feel like going to her foster home.'

percy kneels before the couch, studying your face. he reaches out and traces one of the bruises on your cheek.

you stir awake from the movement, your eyes meeting percy's.

'hi.' you say softly.

'hey. you alright?' he says.

you nod. 'how was the movie?'

percy chuckles. 'it was good. you would have loved it. heard you got in a fight?'

'yeah. those damned furies.' you say. 'luckily your mom patched me up though.'

'you know my bed is more comfortable than the couch, right?' says percy.

you slowly sit up. 'I know. I wanted to stay awake til you got home.'

'and you did a great job at that.' says percy with a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

you hit him on the shoulder. 'you would have fallen asleep as well!'

sally watches the exchange with a smile on her face. moments like these make her especially happy you met percy.

'come on.' says percy, standing up and holding out his hand for you to take.

you take it and allow percy to gently pull you to your feet.

'thanks again sally.' you say as percy beings leading you to his bedroom to sleep in an actual bed.

'no need to thank me y/n. it's always good to have you around, even if it's like this.'

you and percy both say goodnight to her before entering percy's room.

'so, did you sugarcoat the story for my mom?' he says as you sit down on this bed.

'not really, I just didn't tell her all of the details.' you say.

percy raises an eyebrow at you. 'details like?'

'like how one of them punched me in the gut and I nearly threw up because of it.' you say.

'ew.' says percy, face scrunching up in disgust.

'you would have thrown up as well.' you say.

'but you managed to fend off all three furies on your own?' he says.

you nod, laying down. 'I think I bruised a rib, though. the rest is all small cuts and bruises. no broken bones this time. they looked like they were really fucking annoyed they could be bested by just one kid.' you say.

percy smiles, walking over to kiss your cheek, careful not to touch the wounds on your face. 'that's my girl.' he says.

'you got anything to do tomorrow?' you say, stifling a yawn.

'nope. we can spend the day here.' he says, walking over to the bed an laying down next to you.

'good.' you say. 'I just need to wash my clothes and clean my sword, and I should probably-' 'y/n.'

you look at percy.

'let's just relax tomorrow, okay? come on, you need sleep.'

you nod, moving closer to him.

as you're laying next to percy, feeling sleep get to you once more, you can't help but to feel a deep sense of gratitude.

sally didn't question why you showed up at her doorstep, but pulled you in her arms and sat with you to bandage your wounds and listen to your story.

percy listened to you as well and provided you familiar comfort you needed, telling you to relax.

you just know if something ever goes wrong, you're always welcome at the jackson household.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[bellisima-writes]

So, this happened today:

200K WORDS PUBLISHED ON AO3....WHAT??

And it's making me feel all sorts of emotions.

I was 41 last year when I sat down to write for the first time in my life. FORTY ONE. A mom of two who'd never considered doing anything creative like that before. Because I'd been too insecure to even try. Too worried my vocabulary wasn't broad enough, that I'd never be able to pull the right words to say what I meant. Too worried about my ineptitude with grammar, and how varying my sentence structure and leaving passive voice behind was always such a struggle for me in school. Too intimidated by the talent in this fandom and in the world to ever consider adding my voice to the mix.

But I did it anyway. And you know what? All of that is still true. My words are still simple, my sentences still not as varied as I'd like and I abuse commas like nobody's business. But I've also improved, and used these character traits as part of my unique voice. Because it is my voice, and while others could likely rewrite my work more poetically than I ever could, it would no longer be mine.

And those 200k words? Those are mine. And I am proud of them, regardless of how many hits or kudos or comments they get or don't get. Because I created them myself.

So, if you've been a part of the fandom and wanting to try out something new but worried it wouldn't be good enough or received well, I am here to say GO FOR IT. Do it, for you, because when you're done you will have something real and tangible that you can always look back on and say is all yours, brought into this universe because of you and only you. Your take on this word is unique and it deserves to be given life in only the way you can.

Anyway, I get sentimental sometimes, and this stirred up lots of feels in me today. New Yorkers are coconuts, we are tough on the outside but a whole mess of liquid on the inside. Anyone who ever tells you different is a liar.

Keep doing what you do fandom, because it's awesome and no one else can.

[blackerthings]

was driving in front of a slow ass student driver just now and that reminded me of when I was taking lessons and the driving instructor was so strict and militant and very dominant during the whole process and I was so nervous I kept doing dumb shit and messing up really basic stuff. and I don't remember word for word what he was saying but keep in mind i'm a New Yorker so everything he said sounded super aggressive lmao. like "come on" and "what are you supposed to do???" and then he would be like nah that's not how you supposed to move you know that. basically like once you know and learn something there's no reason for you to keep fucking up and if you do keep fucking up it's cause you not taking shit serious and you're not paying attention. safe to say after two sessions I never scheduled another lesson with him because i was so intimated 😭

I was like he too damn serious for me. and I'm a words of affirmation girlie so it was like if you're not telling me what i'm doing is good and right then i'm gonna get in my head and psyche myself out.

all this to say i immediately thought of driving instructor Terry who's very fucking strict meanwhile reader is like i'm just a girl and so after one lesson she gets a different instructor cause Terry was way too much for her and when she and Terry run into each other somewhere random he's like.... why'd you switch out instructors? and he's really calm about it but he's also really pissed cause he had so much to teach you and he wasn't finished. And it's probably a nigga he doesn't even like that's instructing you now. i mean this could either be like a crazy Terry thing or just some good ol' smut about a nigga that just wants to teach you and train you and yeah

[justaturtleindisguise]

TMNTOSNS Masterpost (WIP)

Thirteen years ago a big explosion assaulted the ears of millions of New Yorkers. Debris destroyed entire neighborhoods, Green Clouds of toxic gas covered the streets for weeks, and terrible monsters were born.  Mutants, the volatile and dangerous, completely unpredictable. Some of them were feral, violent, and crazy; others were smart and talkative, but still crazy. It didn't matter what type they were however, they were all a threat to society, to humanity. Segregated from humans into the streets ruined by the tragedy, or hunt down and killed, it didn't take two years for mutants to disappear from the city that never sleeps, but they weren't actually gone. And humans were proven fools for thinking they were. After a decade-old silence, the dangerous, scary mutants are on the news again and this time they wouldn't stand the violence against their kind. A particular group of turtle siblings and their crazy redhead human friend are set in the case to change people's minds about mutants, while also falling head first into the mystery behind the actual creation of mutants. Who owned the destroyed lab? Who created the mutagen? How are the mystic Yokai involved in all this mess?

...how is Dad involved in all of this..?

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!! THE TURTLES !!

RAPHAEL HAMATO 濱戸赤

DONATELLO HAMATO 濱戸紫

MICHELANGELO HAMATO 濱戸オレンジ

LAVINIA HAMATO 濱戸青

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Thales finally giving his little AU a name?? AND a masterpost ???? what a miracle,,

This au is heavily inspired in ROTTMNT and TMNT 12 with almost invisible sprinkles of Bayverse (believe it or not lmao-), and it will focus mostly in family bonding, self-discovery and friendship, while also focusing a lot on the mystery. Elements of mystic weapons and reincanation are here too.

It's still very undercooked for now I know, but I created it mostly for fun and just started giving it lore now, so I'm taking my time :_)

I'm not a very good writer and my english is a bit wonky, but I'm trying my best.

I'll be updating this post with links with other important informations like character sheets, comics, writen snippets, etc.

I'm already working on Splinter's character sheet and doing concepts for other characters as well !!!

Any questions about them are very welcome too, so don't be shy if u have one !! :)

Some things I have to say too are:

I'm not a japanese speaker, so if u notice any name or Kanji are writen wrong/awkwardly I'd love you to death if u warned me about it <3

heads up about Donnie/Raph: I'm not a doctor of any kind and the research about their disabilities was done by me alone using just the internet during a lot of hours. I want them to be good rep and if anything I say/draw about them feels ofensive or wrong, don't feel afraid to tell me!! I want to learn more and improve.

heads up about Lavinia: Diferent from Raph, she starts the history while still being an egg (not out as trans yet), so she will be called by he/him and Leonardo in some comics/writen snippets. I'll probally add a note warning about that in those cases, but wanted to give this little warning anyways :)

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!! RELATED LINKS !! will be updated as a work

TURTLE TOTS - Splinter and the tots walk in the sewers - Splinter and the tots being silly.

SIBLING DUOS !! - sugar rush twins - mecha punch duo - lightsaber duo - hotpot duo - bandaid duo - bitter duo

[cozy-earthbaby]

3 of a Soul - (part 2)

(Re-post)

---

(A/N - Everyone is over 18 cuz It makes life easier.)

---

Drake was really starting to get on Damien's nerves.

Correction. The oldest three of the batfam were getting on his nerves, but it was Drake's fault.

It started with him and Todd discussing some dingy cafe at the edge of Parks Row. Todd was suspicious of how calm it was, so Drake looked into it. The usual background check and stake out. The place was clean.

Then Drake kept going there.

That then in turn made Todd more upset, who then dragged Grayson into the mess.

Which brought him here.

Standing in front of the aforementioned cafe alongside Drake and Grayson. Todd refused to go till the establishment had Grayson's approval. The tacky sign contained an idiotic pun that got a laugh out of the oldest.

"Don't know why Jay-bird has a problem with this place, seems quite wonderful to me!" Grayson's chipper mood only seemed to sour Damien's.

"And I told you both I had this handled! I don't know why you need to be here?" Drake complained, tired eyes glancing at them. "It's just a cafe."

"Tch. We really shouldn't be wasting our time with this non-sense. However, Todd would only continue to whine. He's under the impression you're not taking this seriously." Damien huffed out. It really did feel like a waste of time.

As they entered the doorbell announced their presence. A short darkhaired young man with pale skin and a troublesome smile sat at the counter greeted them. Bright blue eyes piercing into them. Damien felt himself shiver. Damien never shivered.

"Tim! My favorite coffee addict! Always good ta see ya! Your usual? Oh! Who're your friends?" The midwestern drawl stood out immediately as he addressed Drake, Smile growing with a wink. Drake in return turned a light shade of red. Tch. Pitiful.

"H-Hey Danny! Yeah, yeah that'll be great! And these are my brothers. Dick and Damien. They wanted to check this place out." Drake was attempting the small talk like his foot was in his mouth. Honestly pitiful.

Danny punched in Drake's order as he looked Grayson up and down, an almost evil grin placing itself on his face. "You go by Dick? On purpose?" The snark was thick in his voice, mischief in his eyes. Before Grayson could defend himself, a male voice with a New York accent called from the back as someone emerged.

"Danny! Play nice!" The New Yorker was a sight, an objectively handsome young man with chestnut hair that almost glowed and sweet honey doe eyes that seemed to sparkle. He was built similar to Grayson, slightly taller through. His face, smile, and eyes were warm and open, a contrast to Danny's sharp watching gaze. "Sorry about him. Don't know what Tim's told you, but Danny is house trained." The tease caught Danny's attention.

"Peeeeetey! I was just askin' a question! I was bein' friendly." The shorter boy draped himself over his coworker.

A snort was earned. "Yeah. Sure." The chestnut-haired man said drily, rolling his eyes as he redirected his attention to the brother's. "Sorry again. Names Peter. Now, what can we get you boys?" The New York accent took on a more friendly, almost playful tone, as his doe eyes crinkled with his smile. Damien felt his mouth go dry. Tch. What a bother.

"No problem Peter! As you heard, I'm Dick, this is Damien, and this is our first time. Timmy here is such a fan, we just had to check it out!" Grayson, ever the social butterfly, was already laying the charm on thick as he wrapped an arm around Drake. "Any recommendations? Unlike certain people... Some of us like to actually taste their coffee." The wink he sent Peter was probably a bit much. However, he was rewarded with a gentle laugh from Peter. The angelic sound made Damien feel warm and uncomfortable. It was apparent that he was not the only one effected, judging by the pink on both his brother's faces. Tch. Pitiful. Truly Pitiful.

"Alright. Alright. How about this? I surprise you two and tell you about the drink after?" Peter seemed excited by the idea. "I bet I can guess pretty close to what you'll like. Just let me know if you have any dietary restrictions." There was a Glimmer in his eye Damien couldn't place.

"I think that's wonderful! How about it Dami?" Grayson's hopeful eyes were that of a kicked puppy. Tch. Unbelievable.

"Fine. I'll partake in this ridiculous game. My dietary restriction is Vegan." Damien tried not to notice how Grayson lit up as he spoke.

"Awesome! Two special orders and one regular coming right up!" Peter rung them up than dragged Danny to the back, who complained the whole way.

After a moment of silence, Grayson spoke.

" So~ THAT'S why you keep coming back here, huh?" The suggestive tone caught both Drake and Damien off guard.

"Wa- NO! I- DONT!" It had appeared that the foot had returned to Drake's mouth. "Seriously Dick. What even? I come her for the coffee. It's relaxing here! Danny and Peter are fun! Also! I COME HERE FOR THE COFFEE!!!" Drake's face got redder and redder as he spoke. Tch.

"Hey, hey, hey! I was just teasing! Just teasing!" Grayson amended. "But it looks like you were right. Nothing crazy going on here other than that Danny trying Peter's patience. I'll let Jason know."

"Tch. Danny is an idiot. " There was no doubt about that. The man was a fool.

"He's not so bad once you get talking to him. He's just got some weird thing about trying to fight people right as he meets them. Peter said it's just how things are back home for him, and that he and Ro have been working on breaking that habit of his."

"Ro?"

"Oh yeah. You guys haven't seen them yet. Yeah. They stay in the back mostly. Very chill. Puts up with those two like a champ. If you two start coming around more, you might see them."

"Huh." Grayson went into thought with this new information.

"Tch."

Silence fell over the group as they made it over to one of the booths. No sooner had they sat down, had Peter arrived with the drinks.

"Ok boys. Give these a shot and tell me what you think." Peter could have been vibrating, he was so excited. It was almost cute. Tch.

Both Damien and Grayson cautiously brought their cups to their mouths, sipping slowly. Damien felt his Eyes go wide. It was his favorite kind of tea! The kind that took months for Pennyworth to get right. And here it was. Perfect, just how he liked it.

Slowly, Damien turned to the puppy eyes and friendly faced New Yorker, shock still setting in. Peter notice and a proud grin grew on his lips.

Rewarded with a laugh, Damiens fetchers softened.

Maybe this place wasn't so bad.

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Tags:

@the-ghost-trader @saphirecross @the-autistic-spider

[fritzes]

for tennis rambles: ik you've ranked the m1000s but what about the slams? they've all got distinctly very different vibes

I'm gonna do these at the same time @rodlaveraryna

wimbledon. guys, I love wimbledon so much. the vibes of grass courts are just so cool to me, and everyone has such a great outfit because even tennis outfit sponsors can't mess up all-white (maria sakkari 2023 wimbledon kit my beloved). I don't know, there's just something so magical about it. I also really love the how easy it is to collapse onto the court after winning. like, I've seen carlos' championship point a lot for edits and he falls so smoothly it's incredible. the sir andy wimbledon narratives get me every time. even though some of my most beloathed matches are at wimbledon (cough, 2009 men's final, cough) and I wish ons had at least one wimbledon title, I think that just shows how special it is to the players and the fans

us open. I'm american, I fucking love the us open. I understand why people don't and I think the crowds can be a bit much some times, but come on. where else are you gonna get daniil medvedev being simultaneously cheered on and booed by a bunch of drunk new yorkers at 2 in the morning. it's awesome. I also love that this is the least predictable slam. it didn't "belong" to any of the big three and the fact that it's the last slam made it really open for some different but deserving champions. also, the matches are usually at a reasonable time for me (unless of course sincaraz is playing until 3 am)

australian open. poor daniil may not agree with this nickname, but it is the happy slam! the ao is so fun. it's such a nice start to the season, you can tell how eager everyone is and it's a really good preview for how the rest of the season is gonna go. I think the court conditions make for some really good tennis, especially the night sessions. like I said in the other ask, the aryna ao narratives are impeccable. it does MAJORLY fuck up my sleep schedule, but being up until 5 in the morning for the final this year was pretty fun

roland garros. yeah. I'm sure you all saw this coming. in general, clay is my least favorite surface, and in my opinion this crowd is worse than the us open. I still like it as a tournament, I think chatrier is a really cool court and of course, the power of the rafa narratives cannot be denied (and now iga taking over as his successor). it's still a slam, it's still pretty great, but compared to the other three I think it's definitely the worst one

[mickey-gomez]

Chapter 9 of Fade Into You

Warnings: Word crimes, thesaurus crimes, soft smut, fluff.

Pairing: Rita/Reader

A/N: Picks up directly after chapter 8. It's a little long sorry. I tried to write it the best way I could to describe what it feels like when you're hopelessly in lust with someone. But it's a little muddled. It wouldn't let me put a chapter title/header in, so idk, I guess it's untitled? Also I strongly dislike the series title, so if anyone has an idea for a new title please let me know.

I have most of this series written in dribs and drabs on a big working doc, but I don't really have a structure, so therefore I don't know how to connect it all yet. Also I don't think I'm very good at writing smut, and it sort of intimidates me. So it's hard to update more frequently because I overthink it and constantly rewrite.

The two of you performed a delicate dance throughout the week, hidden glimpses as you passed one another in the halls, fleeting and restrained touches as you slipped past each other in doorways, lingering looks shared in an office wide meeting.

You caught her gaze once more as you walked past her out of the meeting, walking in the opposite direction, rounding the corner of a dimly lit hallway, the soft glow of the wall sconces illuminating your path, casting shadows as they danced across your features. 

You leant against the wall, nearing the exit, as you waited. And for a brief moment, you considered giving up, with the thought that she hadn’t followed you, or had gotten caught up in conversation, then you saw her out of the corner of your eye. 

You ran your eyes over her as she approached you, her long, warm and rich brown hair cascading down her back, her tailored suit that clung to her in all the right places, and the faint smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. 

“Hi” she said in a low, husky voice, as she stood in front of you. 

“Hi” you replied, your voice a little breathless. 

You both stood there for a moment, your eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes. You felt a rush of heat spread through your body as you watched her gaze flicker down and then back up again. The attraction between the two of you was undeniable, and it hung in the air like a tangible force. 

“Are you free on Friday evening?” Rita asked, breaking the silence, though her voice still held that seductive tone. 

You nodded, or at least you thought you had, your words momentarily escaping you, before realising you hadn’t actually spoken or given her an answer. “Maybe, why?” you eventually answered.

“Rafa, against my many protests, has organised farewell drinks with some of the other staff at Whiskey Tavern.” 

“That place is so not your scene.” You were right about that part, but you knew Rafael had most likely organised drinks there because it was a block away from the office, it was cheap and a pretty popular bar amongst the young District Attorney’s office staff. Exactly the sort of place that Rita would never be caught dead in.

“I know, but at least they have halfway decent scotch.” She took a step closer, closing some of the distance between you, her fingers brushing against your arm, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Plus you can’t really call yourself a New Yorker unless you’ve made out in their photo booth.” your eyes shone as you said it, and her gaze dropped down to your lips once more. She leaned in, just slightly, as if she was testing the waters. “I’ll see you on Friday” you whispered next to her ear as your cheeks brushed together, and you slid out from between her and the hallway. 

You pushed open the heavy wooden door, the soft ambient hum of conversation greeted you. Warm, dim lights bathed the room, revealing a mess of weathered wooden tables, each one crowded with company, and littered with peanut shells. 

“Got stuck at the precinct, sorry I’m late.” you said brightly as you approached the table.

“Hey!” Rafael’s eyes widened as he greeted you excitedly, standing from the table to embrace you in a friendly, but hasty hug. “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to say hello at the office yet.” 

“Don’t be sorry” you touched his arm and smiled sincerely “So, will we see you at Thanksgiving again this year? You know, to protect Rita from the wolves?” you teased and he grinned, from a mix of liquor and playful amusement. 

“I think my mom would probably beat me senseless, if I missed another year.” 

Across the table, Rita sat relaxed in her chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. Her hair was pinned back with her natural waves flowing down over her shoulders, and her hazel eyes framed by dark lashes, locked onto you with an intensity that made her almost impossible to ignore. 

Your eyes finally met, and a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you both. The air thickened with anticipation as your gaze held for a moment too long. Rita’s lips curled into a knowing smile, as your heart raced just a little faster. 

You tore your eyes away before it became apparent to everyone at the table that there was palpable tension between you both, saying a quick hello to people you didn’t quite recognise or remember, before offering to buy a round for the table, pointing at everyone one at a time as you memorised their order. 

You settled into the open chair next to Rita’s after you dropped the tray of drinks into the middle of the table, leaving everyone to reach for them, while you and Rita exchanged false pleasantries. Rafael introduced you to the group as you sat, and Rita’s hand moved to your thigh, out of sight, something reserved for the two of you.

The hours melted away as her peers continued to share stories and amusing secrets, while the two of you shared stolen glances, your connection growing stronger with each passing moment. The bar’s dim lights cast shadows on your faces, enhancing the intrigue of the situation. 

And when the conversations seemed to pair off and you found yourself speaking directly to her, your conversation danced on the edge of intimacy as you exchanged stories, lingering touches, and smouldering glances. The playful banter masked your desires, but every word and gesture secretly revealed the simmering passion that threatened to consume both of you.

“Alright” you stood from your seat at the table, “Does anyone have a silver dollar?” you asked, holding your hand out flat and waving your fingers. One of them handed you the dollar out of their pocket, and after a thank you, you turned to Rita and tilted your head towards the opposite end of the bar. “You can’t leave the DA’s office without a memento.” you said with a glimmer in your eye, she knew almost immediately what you were alluding to, and so without hesitation, she followed you with intrigue.

As you both stepped inside the booth, the heavy curtain fell behind you, cocooning you in a private world of dimmed, flickering light. The soft hum of the booth’s machinery enveloped you, drowning out the noise of the crowded bar. 

The camera counted down - three, two, one. The flash illuminated your faces, capturing a moment of shared vulnerability. And as it started to count down once more you both turned your heads, gazes heavy as they fell over one another’s lips, three, two, one. The flash went off and in that moment, you crashed together. 

Your lips were greedy and you could taste the sugar that coated her tongue, a low moan escaped you and your arms wrapped around her shoulders, your fingers threading through her hair as you consumed one another. 

Three, two, one. You both moved together, as the flash went off once more, your hands now scrambling for the others’ body, desperate to feel the touch of skin on skin. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” she whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You swallowed, hard, and nodded in response. With that, you both knew the night had just begun, and the tension that had been building between the two of you was about to ignite into a fiery passion that neither of you wanted to resist, finally feeling free after all these years. 

Rita reached for your hips and you swung your leg over, your knees brushing against the sheets before they met the skin of her thighs, your fingers gripping onto her shoulders as you held yourself upright. She ran her hand along your cheek delicately, and her thumb traced along your lower lip, and as your swollen lips parted, you drew the digit in, encasing it and running your tongue over it. She was powerless not to moan at the sight, and ever so quick in arching her shoulders and craning her neck, exchanging her thumb’s place with her own tongue. 

Rita reached down in between your bodies, her fingers moving through you, and into the pool of desire that awaited her, grinning at the wetness she found. Her thumb curled up to rub with intent over your clit, and you moaned into her mouth.

Your hands joined at the base of the toy, as you both lined it up with your entrance and you slowly sunk down, both of your gazes fixated on the sight of it, and you let out a shallow breath you’d been holding in your throat.  

She felt the exact moment you relaxed and for a moment you were both still, your hips flush, eyes locked on one another. Until Rita gripped your hips and you rose up on your knees, as she drove a little further, a little harder, into you. Your eyes fell closed, and your mouth flew open and you went slack jawed. She shifted her hips slightly, allowing herself to feel the friction at the base of the strap, and the movement caused a loud moan to spill from your throat. 

“Right there” you gasped, your nails raked down her back and she moaned in response, before reaching a hand around to deliver a sharp spank. The feeling of her hands on your skin, the soft contact, your chests pressed together, and breaths and moans fanning over skin, it all promised to overwhelm. 

“Do that again.” you groaned, and instead of acting on your demand, she pinched you suddenly, and roughly on your inner thigh. You let out a high pitched whine and before you could even think to question her, you realised why she had done it. “Do that again, please.” You said slowly and deliberately, and you knew she was smirking, even with your eyes firmly closed. 

You moved your hands, one down to your clit and the other alternated across your chest, pinching and twisting. Her gaze followed your movements and she moaned as she watched you, feeling herself falling closer to the edge. She watched when your breathing started to become more erratic and frantic, and pulled your hand away from your clit, and you let out a loud whine, your eyes flying open, gazing down at her through hooded lids.

“Not yet” she said breathily, and you leaned back down to kiss her, your hands weaving around her neck. The kiss was a mess of teeth with little control or coordination, but it didn’t seem to bother either of you as you chased your peaks together.

She moved two of her fingers down to rub your clit, “Be a good girl and come for me”, and the combination of her words and her movements pushed you over the edge. When you came, your knees tightened against her hips and your back arched, right at the moment you heard her let out an almost feral sound. 

Your tongues slid together lazily as you both came down from your highs, floating back. The room was filled with a serene stillness, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion that had just consumed you both. 

Your hearts continued to race in tandem, gradually slowing down as you basked in the shared intimacy of the moment. You traced your fingertips gently along the curves of her body, your touch mirroring the depth of your own emotions, and everything left unsaid.

She raised her head up to look at you, her eyes filled with a soft, affectionate gaze. But it was fleeting, you noticed the moment she trapped her vulnerability from spilling further, and when the light in her eyes changed.

“Well that was a spectacular farewell.” she smirked and raised her eyebrows, and giggles erupted from both of you. 

“You should quit every day.” and you both laughed

“You wanna go again?” 

“Knees” you said, a mix of sighs and laughter.

Rita understood, and so she gently gripped your hips and shifted you both until you were on your back, with her on top of you, the heels of your feet resting against her back. She pulled all the way out and you groaned a little at the loss, and just as you went to ask for her to come back, she slid back in, with more force this time, and at a more intense pace.

The room was cast in a tranquil hush, the remnants of your night still lingered distantly in the air, the warm sheets and her arms enveloped you. Then the shrill and incessant ringing of your phone shattered the fragile peace, jarring you from your shared cocoon of intimacy. 

You blindly reached for it, feeling around the nightstand until it was in your hand, holding it up to your ear as you whispered in conversation with the detective on the other end. Your voice still carried the remnants of sleep, and their words, a blend of apologies and urgency, rudely awakened you to a new day. Rita kissed your shoulder, as you hung up the phone, and you turned in her embrace to drop a chaste kiss against her lips. 

“I have to go get a warrant” you whispered as you pulled back, and she let out a drowsy sigh in response, nestling into the pillow beneath her head, you smiled as you drank her in. Her tousled hair that spilled across the pillow like a dark river, and her eyelashes that cast delicate shadows on her cheeks. You traced your fingers along the contours of her face, marvelling at the peaceful expression that adorned her lips. 

Reality, however, began to nudge at the edges of your cocoon of affection. Responsibilities beckoned, and the detectives in the world outside were awaiting your arrival. 

“I can feel you staring”, she murmured, stirring as her eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile met yours. 

“Can I borrow some clothes?” you hummed, the urgency of time bore down on you, as you tried to savour this precious moment, etching it into your memory. 

“Only if you come back with breakfast” she teased, another smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she fought to repress a yawn, “Bagels.”

You knocked softly on the car window, handing over the warrant to Fin as he wound down the window. “Brought you this as well” you smiled as you extended the coffee tray, he plucked one of the paper cups out with a thank you, as he stepped out of the car, and the two of you leaned against the doors, waiting on the other detectives and officers. 

You looked off into the distance, taking in the city around you as it unveiled its quieter side. The occasional taxi hummed past, its yellow hue a vivid contrast to the still muted palette of dawn. A lone jogger, headphones in place, raced past you both, his feet pounding against the pavement, as if the sound was the slow heartbeat of the city, still in transition from the night’s revelry and the day’s responsibilities. Your mind cast back over the night, and you couldn’t help the involuntary smile that graced your features at the flashes of memories.

“You’re in a good mood.” Fin commented as he watched you, “You get laid last night?” and when you didn’t give him a verbal response, instead glancing down, a soft breath of laughter leaving you and your smile growing wider. He let out a low laugh, “Good for you.”, he commented with genuine candour. “Is it serious?”

“It’s all still relatively new, but it doesn’t feel new.” you reflected “It feels like we were always going to end up here. I don’t quite know how to describe it.” 

“The two of you friends?” he asked, and you nodded softly. 

“I don’t know if we were ever just friends though.” you murmured in thought, losing yourself in the threads of the past. “Sorry, I’m oversharing.” you shook your head, pulling yourself out of your own introspection.

“It’s cool.” he said without hesitation, and with authentic sincerity. “My old partner, back in Narcotics, was a woman. So, you can talk to me, if you want.” he tipped his head over to look at you “You’re part of the squad, we like you, you know? Stabler just has a hard way of showing it.”.

He was trying his hardest, and persisting through his stammering, to form a deeper connection with you. One that extended beyond the surface level of professionality that you all operated with. 

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” You smiled at him, and put your hand on his shoulder for a brief minute, before the moment you were sharing was interrupted with the arrival of squad cars, and that same earlier responsibility beckoned. 

You returned back to Rita’s, letting yourself in with her keys as you juggled the brown paper bags cradled in your arms. You carefully set everything down on the counter, and bent down to remove your shoes. 

Quietly walking down the hall, you ran your hands over the bedroom door, gently prying it open. You watched her for a fleeting moment, the soft rise and fall of her chest, and the peaceful expression on her face as she slept soundly. You hesitated on whether or not to wake her, but before you could make your mind up, she stirred amongst the sheets. 

You walked over to her side of the bed and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, planting a soft kiss there. “Good morning” you whispered, keeping your voice as soft and gentle as the morning light streaming in through the curtains. “Breakfast is on the counter.”

“Where’d you go?” her eyes flickered open, and she rubbed at them, trying to remove the traces of sleep.

“Well first I went Russ & Daughters for the bagels and appetizers, then to Ray’s for beignets, and then I dropped by the newsstand on the corner to get you the paper.”

“Mm thank you” she murmured with a suppressed yawn, she sat up, the sheets pooling around her, as she ran her hands through her dishevelled hair. “Which Judge did you wake up?” 

“Ridenour” 

“I bet he was mad.” her eyes widened just slightly for a moment, and she held back her laughter. 

“That’s… putting it politely.” 

“Judge Taten lives about ten blocks from here, and isn’t as cranky, for future reference. She even puts on coffee, and sometimes she’ll give you pastries.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me that four hours ago? I went all the way uptown!” you hit her arm as your face contorted in irritation, and you looked at her with your mouth agape. 

“I was asleep.” she shrugged, but the brief glimpse of a smile gave her away, revealing it was far more likely she had deliberately withheld that information. Presumably for her own amusement at the thought of you uncaffeinated, with a throbbing headache after a night of drinking and sex, being shouted at and scolded while she slept soundly. 

She climbed out of bed, stretching out her arms and rolling the muscles in her neck as she suppressed a yawn. When she walked into her wardrobe, your eyes were glued to the back of her. 

“Follow me” she tied the belt of her robe tighter around her waist, and beckoned you with one finger. 

You did as she commanded and followed her down the hall and into what you presumed was her office, glancing around the room briefly as she unlocked her desk drawer and pulled out a worn leather notebook.

“This is my black book” she closed the drawer and turned back to you, holding the item in both hands, looking at you expectantly. 

“Okay..?” you looked back at her confused, your eyes narrowing and your expression motionless. 

“Let me rephrase.” she smiled as she looked away for a moment, then back to you. “This is a notebook with every sitting judge’s name, phone number, address. As well as the names and phone numbers of their clerks and assistants. There’s also notes under each Judge, their kid’s names, pets, hobbies, political affiliations, and so on.” She raised an eyebrow as she took in your reaction. 

“How did you get this?” your eyes went wide and your mouth opened, almost in disbelief. It was a secret roadmap, one that would help you not only pick and choose which judge to grant you a warrant, but also how to pander to them in court and build up rapport with them; she was giving you the keys to winning. 

“I didn’t ‘get’ it, I made it.” she scoffed “It took me a couple of years which is why-” 

“Gimme” you reached for it, snatching, almost childlike, and she pulled it back, staring at you with a stern but amused expression. 

“-Which is why, I have never ever shared its contents.” 

“But… you’re now going to share it?... With me?” you spoke slowly, tilting your head to the side, trying to ascertain her intentions. 

“You may borrow it for one week, to copy it and to make your own. But you are not to share it with anyone else, and I expect it back this Friday.” She slowly extended it, and right as you reached for it she pulled it back, and you looked back to her. “And you now owe me.” She smirked, knowing you had no choice but to agree to that term. 

“I hardly think that’s fair considering I just brought you breakfast.” you rolled your eyes, and she went to put it back into her desk drawer until you snatched it. “Fine! Fine. I owe you.” 

“And?” she looked at you expectantly. 

“Thank you” you leaned in and kissed her, backing her into the desk. Your hands blindly reached for the tie on her robe, fingers gracelessly undoing the knot. “So this is how you always win.” you teased, whispering against her neck and you heard her scoff loudly before she smacked you. 

“I always win because I’m the best.” she mumbled, her breath catching in her throat as your fingers swept over her stomach, tickling her. 

“Yes, yes you are.” you murmured as you sunk down onto your knees, winking at her as you pulled her leg onto your shoulder. 

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[piglet26]

A Year In the Mess and the Millennial Cross Rory Bears. WINTER

Let's address the elephant in the room while I have you front and center. Rory in A Year in The Life was a commentary on millennials. Amy Sherman-Palladino, the creator, confirmed this was the inspiration for Rory's turn in AYITL. Rory was saddled with all the complaints the previous generations have of millennials such as millennials are spoiled, entitled, privileged blah blah blah. Hey now, now that we have not one but two generations under us I do understand the desire to complain (and be terrified). Gen Z and Gen Alpha general aesthetic is to be Billie Eilish lite as in angry, depressed, violent, or, antisocial. They have the lowest attention span recorded in human history and Taylor Swift is their greatest philosopher. Jesus take the wheel

The problem? None of this was in Rory Gilmore 1.0-character DNA. Matter of fact who the hell was Rory in the revival?! What the hell happened to her? We don't know. The Palladino's don't even bother expanding on it, but who does?! When it comes to Millennials we're to be mocked not understood. Most millennials came of age where there was a horrible job, house market and were in an economic recession. Our lives were being taken over by technology and social media. Rory picked a profession that was still mostly print at the time of her college graduation.... this is an entirely digital market now and one readers now pay for if they want something of substance. How lucrative is a real authentic journalism career? Not just think pieces or a seat on CNN or Fox News roundtable?

This is why A Year in the Life was a Mess

Believe me, I wanted to love it. This is my childhood we're talking about here. I loved Stars Hallow. Love my Gilmores. Yet, when I finally tuned I did so when just a hint of dread.....gradually all my fears were realized. Thus after 6.2 hours concluded somehow, we got somewhere, nowhere, found out little, nothing at all, were satisfied and just plain frustrated. So, let's break this mess down by episode. While mainly I will cover how the revival failed Rory - I will mention other frustrations because I can.

Winter

Why is Rory only in town for a day?! She's gotta leave for London soon. What has she been doing?! Ok, she's written a piece in the New Yorker, but how does that work?! Are you on staff? Do you submit freelance pieces and they choose them? She's a good writer, she's always been a good writer, and she's shown she is capable of running a paper - why is she struggling?! They doubled down on the millennial annoyance by having Rory abandoned Brooklyn as it was going condo and Lena Dunham. Subtle.

Super-Proud Luke is and always will be cute and Rory is so his kid. He's now a subscriber to The New Yorker which he reads every week just to support Rory. Also, he's attached her article to his menus so everyone can read it. Which she treats as cringe instead of sweet and supportive, but I'll let it go. Luke, Lorelai and Rory really are found family and super adorable.

Yes, the bit about everyone forgetting Paul is funny but THIS ISN'T RORY?! Paul seems genuinely sweet and thoughtful not just to Rory but her whole family so why are we doing this? Again, this is someone's depiction of a millennial. I guess we're really shitty to great guys. Rory had never been previously depicted as self-centered jerk just slightly oblivious as well all are.

It's a thrill to see all the old characters make a cameo.

The loss of Ed Herrmann was a gut punch to his cast. You can tell. It's also serves as a gut punch to the audience. We will miss you old chap. Rory following Emily around at the repast is the first hint of old Rory we've seen on this show yet.

It also serves as another wasted opportunity. No one except Emily seems to be genuinely affected by Richard's passing. The Gilmores are a small family, but a tight one. The patriarch passing surely would've affected all three gilmore girls deeply. It would've been better had we found Rory on a cooperate writing staff in London (employed by Logan) that she quit to spend more time at home to support her mother and grandmother. It would've been nice had Richard's passing compelled her into finding meaning beyond professional success. It would've been nice if they showed her pursuing something related to Richard from a journalistic perspective. They could've showed her on the road chasing a story to run into Jess or Dean or hell any of the countless characters. SOMETHING. Instead, we got spiraling millennial which is continuing to just seem misguided.

Berta and her roving family is trash and I didn't need them.

Emily starts in on Rory current state of homelessness which bring me to my next point of contention..... How is Rory broke?! She's had Trixie/Gran, her grandparents, Logan, Luke and her father?! I don't care that she's privileged unlike a lot of the privileged but not as privilege youtubers who enjoy spitefully and bitterly complaining. Despite what these grips say no, Rory's success has never come easily to her. The reality she was studying and investing her teenage years in academic pursuits while Rory's haters were partying or watching TV. Rory's always been resourceful and yet can't find a way to make a steady income in addition to writing. What's going on?

April/ Knock-off Rory is annoying, and it doesn't escape me that Luke prefers Rory. I'm glad hehehe. I mean he has a kid biologically and yet he considers going to Rory's graduation as going to his kids graduation. Side note: I know the creators would like to pretend that season 7 never happened but what are we doing here?! LnL have seriously never talked about having kids in the last 9 freakin' years?! Well at least we know why..... miscommunication and we needed a way to write medical Paris Geller into the story. Surrogacy is actually perfect for a medical student that doesn't actually like sick people.

Paris Geller ah I love this cold-hearted little psycho.

Okay Rory is writing a book with a queer drunk brit who steals food from other people, this is who she wrote her New Yorker piece on. This is the depiction of the feminist on the show.

I love Logan and I Love Rogan, but WHAT ARE WE DOING?! Why are they both having affairs with people they don't care about. Rory cheated once? twice?......okay Rory is a cheater, but why?

Paris and Doyle but of course they did! Can't have a happy couple in Stars Hallow or anywhere near it for long. I can see them having problems though because they've always had problems and sexually resolved them. Plus, in Paris's ideal functioning world she's married to Rory and Doyle.

WHY DOES RORY GILMORE HAVE ALL OF HER SHIT ACROSS FIVE HOMES?! How much stuff does she have? Honestly. Rory was always organized. At this point we've just got a personality transplant.

Once again, this is the main problem with the revival. None of this is behavior or characteristics we've associated with Rory. It's insert millennial here from a jaded baby boomer.

This is exhausting....................................... and I'm gonna have to take this in shifts. Next up spring.

Side note: Christmas here would be amazing and so charming.

[phoenixyfriend]

Masterlist: Polls (non-Star Wars)

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Fun fact, tumblr allows 250 links on the old editor and 100 in the new. So. Network of masterlists.

Make a Choice!

Your favorite character is a mad scientist of the engineering subspecies. As a child, teenager, or sleep-deprived young adult, what random appliance have they taken apart and possibly set on fire in the course of trying to "improve it?" New and unanticipated sentience for the appliance optional.

Anti-plagiarism check! Pick your favorite citation format.

You can only pick one: Jokes about how white people don't know how to spice or season food. Jokes about how white people shotgun cinnamon the second September hits.

Is it vaguely dystopian for large elementary and secondary schools to have numbers instead of/before names? (e.g. the students of PS 91Q only know it by that code, not Richard Arkwright)

How long does a daily commute ROUND TRIP need to be to qualify as 'long'?

It is easier to change... your appearance OR your personality

When you see DSM-V, how do you pronounce it.

microwaving water for tea

Everyone Pick The Same Number

Writing and fandom polls!

Posting WIPs or unfinished works?

Best non-standard narrative format (that I've personally used)?

How well do you know omegaverse?

What does "it reads like bad fanfiction" mean to you, WHEN YOU SEE IT IN THE WILD, assuming no context?

What do you mean when YOU say "it reads like bad fanfiction," assuming no other context? (Unfortunately, typo messed it up)

Have you ever posted something Anonymously on AO3? (Not counting temporary anonymity for events.)

Tell me about your culture (and opinions on such)!

Did your school have you do a Mole project where, while learning what an atomic mole was, you took home a pattern and made a stuffed mole (animal)?

How close is your nearest grocery store? (Or farmer's market, fruit stand, butcher, etc. Food shop that is not a restaurant.)

Did you have to stand and recite a Pledge of Allegiance type thing to your country of residence in elementary school (and possibly beyond)

Taking off shoes on an airplane

Favorite elementary/middle school "everyone just learned a new body part" phrase

Did you know that bagels are a whole Thing and just as important to the New Yorker identity as pizza, if not more so?

Is "Whistling will bring mice into the house" a thing for you guys?

Do schools in your area do active shooter drills?

Does your culture/region have 'ants on a log' as a snack? (contains peanut butter brand discourse)

Do you do egg battles?

Tell me about yourself!

Think of your favorite band! Make sure it it is a band and not a solo artist. Now tell me the gender breakdown.

If you're trans, what's your preferred way to finish this sentence?

Pronounce "Sixth"

When you see the letter J in an unfamiliar word that you don't know the origin of, how do you pronounce it? (Assume you are reading a text in English.)

How important is the eco-friendliness fabric content to you when buying clothes?

What is your least favorite kind of makeup to put on?

Did you ever go to a big box store with your parents, get bored, and decide to take your blood pressure at the kiosk while you waited for them to finish?

A question for the pals who grew up bilingual: Have you ever had to translate from 'the language of the home country' to 'the language of where we live now' for your immigrant parents?

Last app you downloaded?

Can you reliably identify the various national blue/red/white tricolor stripe flags? (e.g. France, Russia, Netherlands, Serbia, and so on.)

Which of my "childish for someone over 21" traits are you?

Which syllable do you stress when saying Zagreb?

Do you ever heat up your milk* for cereal? - In defense of Panda Puffs

First grey hairs?

Ladies, where do you buy (most of) your undies?

How tempted are you pronounce processes (the plural of process, not the verb) as "PRO-seh-SEES" when you write it out?

Which New Doctor Who companion First Meeting™ career are you?

What are you willingly sacrificing DESPITE it being important* to you the next time you go to the hair salon/fuck it up in the bathroom?

What's your comfort/background noise show that you can rewatch indefinitely to turn off your brain a bit?

How often do you wash your bra?

How often do you change/wash your sheets?

Oh shit, the peanut butter you just opened is separated, and you need to mix the oil back in with the rest. How?

Mayonnaise

Nonsense!

let's make a bell curve!

But I am le tired... 🚬

I use an Android because

Blood on ya undies (funny phrasing)

If you're NEW to tumblr (like joined in the last two or three years), are you seeking out guides on how to engage with tumblr?

Without context, FTW stands for

Rocky Mountain Oysters

Is pilaf/pilav* a casserole?

Tag meme, not a poll: Who’s your fake late spouse?

[dvar-trek]

not exclusively a hockey, judaism, or star trek blog. i am half hockey, half hope, or whatever tf jane austen said.

collector and curator of underappreciated hockey players (dmitry kulikov, stevie lorentz, ondřej pavel, nikolai kovalenko, the entire roster of the washington capitals apparently).

i'm always happy to get asks and messages, or be tagged in an ask meme, even if we're not mutuals 😊 anon is literally only off because gentiles have been getting a little too comfortable throwing around the word "kike" here on pesach baran's internet. if someone wants to do that, they can spend the time to make a new account, or they can do it with their blog name attached 😘 other than that, i love to get asks and talk hockey (or star trek, judaism, ace attorney, etc etc)

hockey:

1. colorado avalanche 2. florida panthers 3. washington capitals

also: toronto sceptres

i AM a little hater about other teams sometimes, but it's not that serious and it's mostly based on:

i got too mad during playoffs

someone did a hit to the head on one of my players

someone hurt my goalie (any method)

crowd did too much goalie-chanting

front office hatred spilled over

nonspecific vibes

city- or state-based haterism. e.g. i'm a boston-hater by birthright (new yorker raised by a new yorker) and an ohio-hater by marriage (michigander)

i still have players i find endearing on every single team though, and i love to be friends across battle lines 💕 (my apologies to pensbloggers though—i have already reached a critical mass of pens content on my dash. i will almost certainly not follow back, but i would still love to be friends!)

tags to note (or block, whatever makes you happy):

i try to tag player names with all hyphens and diacritics. please let me know if i mess one up!

recurring events i tag with the full year (sometimes i just forget to tag entirely. you can also lmk if i miss one). a partial list of examples: #worlds 2024, #met gala 2024, #oscars 2024, #asg2024, #scp2024, #olympics 2024, #four nations 2025 and so on.

#avs lb, #panthers lb, and #caps lb for liveblogging games (only it's not a true LIVEblog. i watch games on a slight delay, usually abt 2 min

#for the archives usually long (sometimes VERY long) posts about players(/their careers/their relationships) or teams. i don't always agree with the overall argument of these posts, but they're cool and interesting and i want to be able to find them again.

#fosterposting for when i take pics of cats we're fostering

#wip wednesday for stuff i'm making. when my hands and arms are healthy (which they. are not), i knit and cross-stitch.

#for the boys this is the vibe.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

Just getting stocked up for some houseboating isn't quite a picnic--or can it be?

DUBUQUE, IA: It certainly took a couple days to reach the Mississippi River from Breezewood, Pennsylvania via US 20 for the most part ... and to cross the Mississippi via the Julien Dubuque Bridge was something of a sign of anticipation for some interesting little escapades ahead.

Via houseboat, even.

And with such interesting company of Your Correspondent as Huckleberry Hound and Touché Turtle, Bristlehound and Dum-Dum were bound, in their role as guides, to make sure things were running smoothly. Hence, their directing us via text message to meet them at the Hy-Vee supermarket coming off the bridge into Dubuque. Yes, as in a certain "little old lady from" made infamous, in a way, by Harold Ross in launching that somewhat sophisto and urbane journal known as The New Yorker back in 1925. Insisting that he was not intending The New Yorker to be for the Little Old Lady from Dubuque, implying that she would likely be satisfied with The Saturday Evening Post, Collier's, Grit and Comfort rather than a high-class literary-leaning review.

But back to the Hy-Vee: Both Dum-Dum and Bristlehound would meet us at the entrance for the preparatory shopping trip for supplies heading into the little houseboat excursion. More than likely a "mystery trip," by all assumptions, yet mind you, leave any pretension of emulating Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn at the dock.

Following a modest little cafeteria-manner lunch in Hy-Vee's dining area, something of a staple in their larger locations across eight Midwestern states, Bristlehound and Dum-Dum led the way into getting the necessary supplies: Meal-replacement drinks (mainly for breakfast) ... wholemeal crackers ... cheese spread ... summer sausage ... smoked sausage ... buns ... charcoal ... bottled water, spring and seltzer ... flavouring concentrate ... batteries for the transistor radio ... all in all, just trying to be low-impact more than anything.

As Dum-Dum admitted, "it's more than likely we'll want to spend our nights sleeping on the roof of our houseboat just for the experience."

Bristlehound added, "Especially when passing barge tows in the night leave such wake as can make things interesting in the sleep department." Thankfully, CPAP was not the sort of thing we were on, nor even think about being on.

Once out of the way, a drive to the docks where Bristlehound and Dum-Dum tied up their modest little houseboat--hardly a fancy sort, yet stylishly simplistic for the purpose. Even if it took a few minutes for a freight train to clear the tracks so we could get to the boat, by which time early evening's effects were starting to be obvious. And once loaded, reviewing the inevitable safety procedures for boating in the Mississippi's waters, the call of "Touché awayyyy!" by none other than was the call to cast off and get underway.

Huckleberry Hound couldn't have said it better in observing that "what could feel more interesting than to just spend a couple days on the river living the houseboat life ... even if it means the likes of Boost for breakfast?"

"At any rate, folks," Dum-Dum was quick to note, "Bristlehound and I decided on meal-replacement shakes for breakfast more than anything. Especially when the desire is to get out on the river with as little mess as possible after breakfast."

"Even allowing for recycling," Bristlehound added.

Still, even if the supper was mainly a bag of wholemeal tortilla chips with some salsa in the bargain as we made bivouac for the night on some sandbar on the Wisconsin side of the river. Just be thankful for the deck chairs to provide some sleep, and just hope the trains don't keep you all too awake.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @iheartgod175 @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @jellystone-enjoyer @artistic-octopus @passionateclown @archive-archives @themineralyoucrave @screamingtoosoftly @thylordshipofbutts @thebigdingle @warnerbros-blog1 @colorfulsaccharinecalamity @gravy-sammich @theweekenddigest @indigo-corvus @zodiacfan32 @warnerbrosent-blog

[not100bees]

This is the post about nonsense superhero stuff but I think I might have to just move the New York stuff somewhere else because first of all writing about New York scares me because if you get something wrong about the geography of Chicago, people are going to grumble. If you mess up anything about New York New Yorkers are going to assassinate you. And also because quite frankly I think the principalities the biggest one is Broadway and I can't really quote lyrics in a published medium. And that's his whole deal. That's like his whole thing. I mean I'm losing Wall Street as a villain and I love him but really besides that and wayfaring stranger nothing's really tied to New York as a setting. Maybe I'll just make my own cities? But then I'm losing the Five who are so inconsequential but I love them. I don't know about any of this. I don't know about anything.

[astorythatwritesitself]

🛼🥑🍄🥤🌻🕯️

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

Eh... 5??? Don't love it but I don't hate it hate it - editing can actually be kind of fun in the way untangling a massive yarn ball is fun, you start off with this immense mess and pull one errant strand and suddenly it all lines up and makes sense xD

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

... good question. Probably @schmendrickmagician due to The Warrior's Bond and also I inherently trust New Yorkers for helping with that kind of thing.

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Ghost713! I tend to be more for one-shots or single stories & not authors as a whole in terms of what I seek in fic but Icca's stuff has been some of my favorites since first getting into ME fic.

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don’t talk to on a regular basis

@teamdilf ! Always quite encouraging c:

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

It's been a Shrios thinkin' week and maybe it's having had a miserably exhausting run at work, or that it's spring... anyway. Here's a happy one xD

I've always had it in my head that sometime during ME3, Adrian & Thane do actually get married in a private, very quick little ceremony; mostly because Adrian doesn't trust one half of her family and would like to ensure, in the very likely event of her death, there's no dispute over her assets going to Kolyat.

But in the alternate little canon I've been going with - so yes like, legally they're married, but it's kept quiet from literally everyone because A: there's a whole ass war going on and B: ... they're. Actually a tiny bit afraid. Because as much as they click, it has been a rather short time together, and neither of them actually believed they'd make it to the other side and see peacetime.

So there's that persistent fear of... 'what if we're too different, once we have a chance to grow outside of a pressure cooker'? (Doesn't help that these are also two people who've been deeply stifled in terms of deveolping a personal identity vs Really Fitting Into A Mold), and it probably does get brought up - and ultimately, well... it's scary, but if they drift apart, so be it, but might as well continue enjoying the ride until then, right?

Anyway about ten years later, a lot of people get invitations to a renewal/actual wedding ceremony and it's quite lovely :>

[olomaya]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

I was tagged by @sim-songs @nectar-cellar @simsdeogloria @tragicpixel and I've had fun reading other people's so here it goes!

Are you named after anyone? I think my mom because it's her middle name but my name is super common in my region so I could have been named after the lady selling oranges on the street when my mom was having a craving, who knows?

 When was the last time you cried? Maybe this morning. Too often to track. Show me a video of a child finally getting adopted or a family member surprising someone they haven't seen in ages and I'm a mess.

Do you have kids?  No, I like being the fun aunt.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yeeesss! And it's a problem. Trust issues/emotional deflection, etc.

What sports do you play/have you played? Boxing is a sport, right? It's in the Olympics so yes. I love boxing! I feel so strong and powerful when I do it. Mind you, if were ever in a real fight, I'd probably throw a suckerpunch and run for my life.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? I think their teeth or their hair? I'll have to check next time

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings? I don't have the stomach for horror.

 Any special talents? Sadly, no

 Where were you born? New York, baby! I was an anchor baby and we peaced out the second after I was born so I don't claim New Yorker status.

What are your hobbies? Reading, writing fiction, gaming, swimming, hiking, coding, playing around with AI generated images as of late. I had to update because I can't believe I forgot to mention cooking! I spend A LOT of time just looking up recipes and planning out meals.

 Do you have any pets? atm, no but there has been talk of a kitty...

 How tall are you?  174 cm (5'7")

 Fave subject in school? I was a nerd so basically all of them but especially history, english literature, and biology

Dream job? To not have one. Capitalism sucks.

 Eye color? Dark brown

Tagging @echoweaver @zoeoe-sims @twinsimming @desiree-uk @lucky-palms @tragicpixel @tsims (sorry in advance if you did/got this already)

[askstevella]

Take Me Back To The Start

Her eyes shot open, waking up in a bedroom across the other building. She was curled up in a set of sheets, as she sat up and rolled up the window.

There were street cars rolling across the sideway, calls of New Yorkers running around back and forth, women dressed to go to work and men rushing into buildings.

Last thing was being tossed in a room at Avengers Tower, the young heroes were messing around in a lab as a blast hit..

..and here she was.

She had no idea if she was alone or not in this time. The signs outside her window said otherwise as she step out the door to grab some breakfast from the dinner.

It looked cozy, colorful in a sense, and warm. She was more than welcomed, despite her all black and brown outfit. Her hair wasn't pinned up, but let down to her shoulders as she ate the stake of pancakes she had in front of her.

She tried contacting Rick, Liane and Rei, who were the ones who mess around with the experiment in the first place. But no answer, she wondered if they ended up in this timeline as well?

She wondered around the corner after breakfast, going in and out of store hoping to not waste in money she had in her pocket and--

-she heard a voice.

She sipped her soda, whipping her head around hearing a voice that sounded familiar yet so forgiven to her. Along with a voice she didn't recall at all. She turned the corner to find two young men in an ally. Correcting they were fighting!

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?" Yelled the voice.

"I can do this all day." Said the other voice.

Holy shit...it can't be..can it?

She saw the man punch the other one, as he fell onto the ground. Something kicked into Stella's head rushing over in her kitten heels as she yelled, "Hey!"

By the time she said that, the blonde was already up from the ground holding up his fist as the jerk glared at her.

"Get lost princess." Yelled the jerk.

She scoffed, "With that mouth, no wonder you use your fist."

"I outta use my fist to push you over."

"You won't do that.."

Just as the jerk was about to say something else, the blonde took the lid of the trash can and hit him with it. The jerk him back and turn to the girl, but Stella swung him hard causing the young man to stumble back then walk away grumbling.

She help the blonde stand up from being against the wall, as she finally got a good look at him. Blonde hair, blue eyes, beauty mark and skinny features.

"Thank you." He said.

And the voice. Holy crap she was in 1944, right before the war.

"Are you alright miss...?" He asked, taking in her soft features with a soft smile.

She cleared her throat and nodded, "Yeah..just a little shaken up..I mean, uh I punched the guy..are you okay?"

"Ah well, nothing a little water and an ice pack for later can't fix."

"You sound pretty sure of yourself.."

"Yeah well, this isn't my first fight."

"..and it won't be your last.." She muttered.

"What was that?" He questioned pushing his bangs out of his face.

"Nothin'..just looked like you get beaten up a lot.."

"Funny. I always get into fights, don't like bullies. Uh, where you headed off to?"

"Uh, just getting walk in the park and back to my apartment building.."

"I can talk you home if you like?"

Stella looked stunned, according to stories he was never go with women in the first place, until meeting Peggy Carter who he falls for shortly after. She didn't know to reject him or not..

Steve looked at her with wishful blue eyes, hoping he can get a chance to repay the women who saved him. Bucky was out on a date with Connie today until midnight tonight. He was mostly alone for the rest of the day.

She smiled, "Um, sure. Yeah, I'll like that. I'm Elle Romano.."

"Steve Rogers." He said returning the smile leading the way out of the alley into the park.

Maybe being stuck in the 40s won't be so bad? As they walked into the park, Stella looked over her shoulder to see a fire escape that held a sign in front of it, glimmered with a bouncing energy.

She was a women who studied magic, she can see glimpses of elements everywhere. And according to Thor, science was just magic people don't truly understand yet.

She read stories about this. All someone was supposed to do was climb up the lonely fire escape and jump though the sign into hopefully where they came.

That was her way out of here..

--------

Where do we got to next? The 90s-2000s to see young!Stella? The part of her relationship with Cap? Time with her brothers? She meet Sarah Rogers? Join in on the fun with your own tales of time travel if you like.

Tags: Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @cherrysft @luna-d-marsh@sherloquestea @rooster-84 and etc