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inkskinned · 7 months

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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

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mothhball · 1 month

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If There's No End

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings | DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DE*TH – Reader d*es! ANGST, HURT, NO COMFORT, CANN*BALISM, do NOT read if any of this feels too uncomfortable!! Jon is very, very delusional in this, drugging, lobotomy, established relationship, again - CANN*BALISM. (tumblr wants me to censor this :'] )

Summary | Jonathan reminisces about your shared life and the day you found out his secret.

Words | 2.7k

Notes | Don’t yell at me for this, you’ve been warned! Not proofread, please don’t beat me up.

@kiss-me-cill-me welp, this is the cannibalism fic lmao bon appetit

Jonathan never thought he’d know guilt. But now that he’s hunched over on his knees, digging through the mud with trembling hands, he suspects that this might be it. His vision is still blurry. Has been for the past few hours. The tears have turned his world into a faded, abstract mess, like a child’s chalk drawings that are in the middle of being washed away by the rain. If it had been anyone else, he would have settled for the large dump of hazardous waste behind ACE Chemicals. But not in this case. Never in this case.

Jonathan never thought he’d grow to respect another person, but you crashed into his life with an earth-shattering intensity that nearly made his knees give out as soon as you turned to greet him. Hi. Two letters, one syllable. And it affected him in such a profound way that his ears still burn at the memory. Even during that first fleeting conversation, he felt as if the edges of his person began to become cloudy. Desperate to merge with yours until there was no end and no beginning to the two of you as separate people. Until flesh and bone and viscera were a shared commodity between him and you. A fever dream with the appropriate symptoms. Some nights he woke from a beautiful dream, a fantasy in which the two of you were irrevocably merged into one being. And on those nights, hot tears of disappointment and anger burned so harshly on his cheeks that he expected his sheets to sizzle where the drops fell.

It was love. It had to be. And when the universe finally relented to the prayers and wishes he whispered until his throat became hoarse, his life exploded with color. Fleeting glances and coy small talk managed to bloom into something more, something deeper and more intimate than Jonathan’s analytical vocabulary could ever fully explain. You loved him in a way that was entirely foreign to him. Unconditional and patient. You just… got him. Without even trying to. Your gaze traveled past skin and ribs down to his very heart and soul, and you didn’t turn away. But you didn’t know everything back then. How could you? He was so secretive about everything involving his studies. Sometimes, he couldn’t resist the temptation of monologuing about fear and its shackles on humanity. But that was all he was willing to share with you. He granted you a microscopic detail of the true extend of his passion. A laughably small excerpt of his obsession.

Jonathan never thought he’d know love. But you proved him wrong with every smile, every whisper of praise, every tender touch upon his skin.

He knows how cliché it is to claim that settling down with someone never occurred to him before he met you, but it's the truth. In a life that was filled with hurt and contempt, you were the first to take a chance on him. Undeterred by his sometimes standoffish nature and cold attitude, you pressed onwards until he cracked, revealing the mush that you've managed to melt him into.

A future with you was worth everything he had endured up to that point. The plan was to graduate, find jobs and get hitched immediately. He wanted to put his last name on you, give you a part of himself that you would take wherever you went.

The first two steps were already completed with him getting a PhD and a professorship, that he quickly lost again, somewhere in the middle. Aside from a few mishaps and arguments about his attitude towards his patients at Arkham, all seemed right in paradise.

Often, the two of you would lie awake at night, talking about your future while you played with his fingers. "I'd like to get married in Spring," you said. And he just nodded, already imagining your bright smile when he'd put the ring on your finger. On those nights, the urge to become one often overtook him, and he rolled on top of you to devour you in a different way. In hindsight, he should've told you. Given you a chance to see the true extend of his rotten soul. You already knew so much about him, yet you still wanted a life with him. You often said how much you craved the mundane with him. Lazy Sunday mornings, standing in line to get groceries, gossiping about your neighbors in the quiet part in the outskirts Gotham City that you wanted to move to. He should've told you about the toxin he keeps stashed away in his office, no more than 15 feet behind the pillow you rested your pretty head on.

He didn't dare to think about what could've been. No, he made the right decision. Surely.

He still remembers your wide eyes. The way the color vanished from your complexion as you turned towards him with his mask in your hands. He remembers how wrong the burlap looked, crushed between your beautiful fingers. You asked him to explain, even though you were already tearing up just by looking at him. Jonathan was always convinced that he could read you like a book, but in that moment, he doubted himself. And he panicked. From one second to the next, he lunged at you, putting you into a headlock that constricted the blood flow to your brain, and you wheezed and wailed for him to stop, but he couldn’t. If he let go, you’d let yourself be ruled by secondary emotions. Emotions like betrayal and heartbreak that threatened to overshadow the deep, deep love you felt for him. It was an act of mercy for both of you. So, he held you until your struggling stopped, and your consciousness slipped away. It always takes longer in real life than in the movies. And he cried with you. God, did he cry, soaking your hair with his tears as he choked you into a blackout.

You were out for ten minutes. Ten agonizing minutes which he used to prepare for what needed to be done. Your happiness was his happiness, so he had to do something to take your mind off of the situation. Or any situation for that matter. He has never done this before, but the thought of desperate measures during desperate times, didn’t give him the opportunity to hesitate. A local anesthetic and a muscle relaxant would suffice, he decided as he rushed to gather the equipment. By the time you came to, he was already straddling your torso, leaning over you with fresh tears in his eyes. As you began to silently panic, Jonathan was quick to try and shush you. Oh, how it hurt him more than it hurt you. The lobotomy set was a Christmas gift from you. A tongue-in-cheek nod to the history of the profession he chose. It was fate. It had to be.

The tip of the ice pick-like instrument felt cold against your eye socket, and he clenched his teeth at the shiver that ran down your spine. His hands were violently shaking already, and your involuntary movements didn’t make it any better.

“Shh… shh… don’t move, angel… It’ll… it’ll be so quick, I promise.”

Another sob wrecked through his body as he lifted the delicate metal hammer.

“You need to try and sing for me, okay? Or hum. Or anything. I need… I need to know when it’s deep enough. Just try, angel. Just try, okay?”

Jonathan’s voice was as shaky as the grip on the instruments. But by God, he had to do this. He had to keep you by his side. His other half, his future, his everything. The vessel of every passion and love he poured into you. You just stared up at him through watery eyes, unable to open your mouth anymore, so you settled for humming. It was a nonsensical melody, a mish-mash of several nursery rhymes without a title. The first strike of the hammer against the orbitoclast caused an incredible pressure to spread in your skull, and black spots settled in your vision as the tip of the instrument breached bone. The crack was nauseating, but you couldn’t even struggle. Jonathan’s breathing became heavy, and he wheezed out a sob that sounded like it came from a dying animal when he saw the blood that began to fill your eye. But he had to continue.

“Just like that. Just like that, angel.”

With trembling hands, he prepared himself for the second strike, but he underestimated the adrenaline that his blackened heart was pumping through his veins. Something went wrong, his sweaty hands slipped off the equipment, skewing the angle of the pick when he hit it. And he hit it hard. Immediately, your humming stopped and turned into stuttered noises. A bead of clear fluid dripped from your nose, rolling down over your lips. This wasn’t blood.

The crushing realization that he messed up caused Jonathan to freeze entirely. Cerebrospinal fluid was leaking out of your nose at a quick rate, sending him into a blind panic. He tried to pull the pick from your eye, causing even more damage to your precious brain. A brain that was meant to love, not hurt. But here you are, wasting away before his very eyes. You’re suffering beneath him like a bird that hit a window in a curious attempt to explore. And you did explore.

Back in his childhood, he once found an injured crow in the shade of the family house. The poor thing was twitching and bleeding, much like you are now. Jonathan remembered the crushing emotions that he felt when he looked at the animal. And he also remembered the feeling when his grandmother put it out of its misery by crushing the crow’s head under her shoe like it was nothing. Like it was nothing. You weren’t nothing, but you still deserved that brand of mercy.

He doesn’t remember how he did it. Whether he wrapped his hands around your throat or injected you with enough muscle relaxant to put you down. In fact, he doesn’t remember much of the first night of complete silence. When he emerged from the blur, his throat felt raw from sobbing, and his eyes were swollen and red. He had left the room that contained your body immediately, fearing that he’d catch fire from stepping into a place that had been consecrated by the death of an angel. Eventually, after he had bitten his lips bloody and used up every tear in his eyes, he dared to face you again. And God, were you still so beautiful. And as ashamed as he was for thinking this way, there was also a positive to this. A big one at that. You would always be his. No one else would ever get the privilege of seeing your eyes or hearing your voice again. You truly belonged to him in every way. And as he stepped over to kneel besides your body and take your hand in his, he actually smiled. It was just the two of you. Like you always planned.

It was a grueling process. To strip skin from flesh, and flesh from bone. But he was patient. Patient in the same way that you were with him. Patient in a tender, saccharine way that made his insides squirm as if he was infested by maggots. But the only parasite inside of him was love. That's how it works, right? You can never truly get rid of it.

Once the bones were clean, he had to step back for a while. The impending loneliness made him stumble into the bathroom to vomit into the toiled bowl. For a good 30 minutes, he sat there. Doubled over and white-knuckling the porcelain. There was no disgust involved. Just fear. God, he was terrified of being alone again. Terrified of truly losing the one thing he couldn't breathe without. And as he sat there, heaving like a dog, he found a solution.

He ate your heart first.

Every bite, every mashing of teeth against teeth was an act of love. He had to pause a few times, chuckling at himself for his choice. How cheesy it was to go for the heart first. But how could he not? Even Jonathan wasn't immune to symbolism. It wasn't about taste or texture. It was about the growing sensation of having his stomach filled. Of having his hunger satiated by forming an everlasting connection with you. You would never be wearing his wedding ring, but you'd be with him forever in a different way. You'd be his until the day that he died. And even then, he hoped, your spirits would be so entangled that there was no way of separating the two of you. Maybe you'll get reincarnated as one soul together.

Over the course of three weeks, he forced himself to consume as much of you as he possibly could, setting the table for two since you were there as well. It always started off tame. He tried to savor the feeling of becoming one, but at some point, his composure always cracked, and he ate your body like he was a starving animal trying to fill the never-ending pit inside of him. The part that hurt him more than anything, though, was crafting a story. In the process of keeping you to himself, he had to ruin your reputation.

It was easy for others to believe. Of course, you would leave Jonathan for someone else. Most people in your small circle secretly never believed that this relationship would last. It was easy to make them believe something they had already expected to happen at some point. In this crafted lie, you went off to live with someone else, far away from Gotham. But in reality, you were always here with him. Beneath his skin that now became your own.

Jonathan never thought he’d feel peace. But now, that he has finished digging this hole in Gotham Central Park, he thinks he’s gotten pretty close. It has started to rain a few minutes ago, but he’s not bothered. In his mind, it’s your doing. Your loving attempt to wash the sin and guilt from his body. Because you know the depths of his devotion, know the intend behind his actions. This isn’t the first hole he has dug since the two of you became one. But it’s the final one. Back when he was confronted with the reality of what to do with your bones, he decided to do what you would want. You always were the romantic in the relationship, so he decided to leave your remains in places that were significant to the both of you.

His hands aren’t shaking anymore, as he pulls the plastic bag that he brought closer to himself. The material shreds quickly as his fingers tear through it, and he pulls it open to reveal the last pieces of your previous body. A tender smile spreads over his face as he reaches into the bag to pull out the bones of your fingers and wrists, remembering how he tore off the flesh and skin with his teeth. Your loving touch would always be with him. Carefully, he lowers everything into the hole he dug before he turns to the final piece. Tears of relief well up in his eyes as he gazes upon the empty sockets of your lovely skull. With the caution and gentleness of a mother setting down her newborn, he places your skull into the earth, whispering promises of everlasting love under his breath. This isn’t the end. Far from it. Once he wipes his eyes with his sleeve, he notices something else. It takes a moment to dislodge one of your molars from your jawbone, but Jonathan eventually manages. The piece of ivory bone almost seems to glow in the dim light that’s being casted by a distant street lamp. It’s your tooth. You share his now, so there’s no need for it anymore. But it’s one last piece of your smile.

And in a final act of completion, he swallows it.

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #the scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy #.moth writes

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linguisticdiscovery · 7 months

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Ways English borrowed words from Latin

Latin has been influencing English since before English existed!

Here’s a non-exhaustive list of ways that English got vocabulary from Latin:

early Latin influence on the Germanic tribes: The Germanic tribes borrowed words from the Romans while still in continental Europe, before coming to England.

camp, wall, pit, street, mile, cheap, mint, wine, cheese, pillow, cup, linen, line, pepper, butter, onion, chalk, copper, dragon, peacock, pipe, bishop

Roman occupation of England: The Celts borrowed words from the Romans when the Romans invaded England, and the Anglo-Saxons later borrowed those Latin words from the Celts.

port, tower, -chester / -caster / -cester (place name suffix), mount

Christianization of the Anglo-Saxons: Roman missionaries to England converted the Anglo-Saxons to Christianity and brought Latin with them.

altar, angel, anthem, candle, disciple, litany, martyr, mass, noon, nun, offer, organ, palm, relic, rule, shrine, temple, tunic, cap, sock, purple, chest, mat, sack, school, master, fever, circle, talent

Norman Conquest: The Norman French invaded England in 1066 under William the Conqueror, making Norman French the language of the state. Many words were borrowed from French, which had evolved out of Latin.

noble, servant, messenger, feast, story, government, state, empire, royal, authority, tyrant, court, council, parliament, assembly, record, tax, subject, public, liberty, office, warden, peer, sir, madam, mistress, slave, religion, confession, prayer, lesson, novice, creator, saint, miracle, faith, temptation, charity, pity, obedience, justice, equity, judgment, plea, bill, panel, evidence, proof, sentence, award, fine, prison, punishment, plead, blame, arrest, judge, banish, property, arson, heir, defense, army, navy, peace, enemy, battle, combat, banner, havoc, fashion, robe, button, boots, luxury, blue, brown, jewel, crystal, taste, toast, cream, sugar, salad, lettuce, herb, mustard, cinnamon, nutmeg, roast, boil, stew, fry, curtain, couch, screen, lamp, blanket, dance, music, labor, fool, sculpture, beauty, color, image, tone, poet, romance, title, story, pen, chapter, medicine, pain, stomach, plague, poison

The Renaissance: The intense focus on writings from classical antiquity during the Renaissance led to the borrowing of numerous words directly from Latin.

atmosphere, disability, halo, agile, appropriate, expensive, external, habitual, impersonal, adapt, alienate, benefit, consolidate, disregard, erupt, exist, extinguish, harass, meditate

The Scientific Revolution: The need for new technical and scientific terms led to many neoclassical compounds formed from Classical Greek and Latin elements, or new uses of Latin prefixes.

automobile, transcontinental, transformer, prehistoric, preview, prequel, subtitle, deflate, component, data, experiment, formula, nucleus, ratio, structure

Not to mention most borrowings from other Romance languages, such as Spanish or Italian, which also evolved from Latin.

Further Reading: A history of the English language (Baugh & Cable)

#Latin #etymology #linguistics #language #history #borrowing #lingblr #langblr

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sugarandspisces-writes · 9 months

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could you please write a fic of melissa trying to figure out the reader’s love language? thank u love ur work<3

Speaking From the Heart Pt. I

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Summary: r is having a tough time and Melissa uses her words as a source of comfort

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Anon, thank you for requesting this! I loved writing it. Also, thank you for the kind words <3 Enjoy!

P.S. I hope you this is what you had in mind. I decided to turn your idea into a series, and I plan on writing a piece for each of the love languages.

Translation: Cuore mio = my heart

Words of Affirmation

It was no surprise to you that Melissa Schemmenti was good with words. She loved to talk, and when she was passionate about something she would let you know. Some would criticize her, saying she was too loud and outspoken, but she had a voice and she wasn’t afraid to use it. This quality is what made her so good at expressing her admiration for you. She would never pass up an opportunity to give you a compliment, encourage you, or tell you how much you were appreciated.

✦ ✦ ✦

You climbed in bed, letting out a sigh as you sank into the cool sheets. After pulling the comforter up to your chin, you shut your eyes and took a moment to reflect on the day. As the events raced through your mind, you noticed there weren’t many high points. That had been a recurring theme for you lately, but you chalked it up to one simple fact: you win some, you lose some. You knew every day wasn't going to be a good one. Still, you found yourself weighed down by the challenges you were facing. The stress of work and your personal life were taking a toll on you.

You were released from your thoughts by the sound of Melissa’s voice. The noise was distant, but it became pronounced as you came to your senses.

“Hey, hon,” she called to you.

Her voice held a gentle lilt, and you would have melted on the spot if you weren’t feeling so far away.

Her eyes were fixed on your posture and she took note of a few things. You were curled up to the edge of the bed, your eyes staring off in space, and your breathing was shallow (not enough for her to worry, but she would keep an eye on it). She knew these behaviors were a recipe for disaster, and she wanted to intervene.

“Hmm,” you hummed, not completely free from your dazed state.

Melissa could tell you weren’t with her due to the lack of eye contact, so she moved closer to the middle of the bed. You listened to the sheets as they crinkled under her, and that seemed to pull you through your brain fog.

“What’s up?” Melissa asked, turning her body toward you as she moved her legs into a crisscrossed position.

“Nothin',” you murmured, wrapping the comforter tighter around you.

For some reason, your vocabulary consisted of short-syllabled words at the moment.

“Look at me.” Melissa prompted, her voice a bit more stern than before.

You could see her out of the corner of your eye. Her head was tilted in that endearing way she always did, and her face had a look you knew all too well. It was the one she gave you when she was trying to figure you out: Eyes heavy with concern, lips formed into a pout.

You didn’t have to look to paint the picture before you, but you did anyway just to satisfy her. Her gaze held yours, almost like she was daring you to look away. It was the softest threat she ever gave, but still a threat nonetheless.

“Mel, I’m fine.” You assured her.

You wanted to speak before she could utter anything else. You were trying to jump the gun, but you should have known she would be two steps ahead of you.

“I didn't say you weren’t,” she stated. Her voice went back to that soft tone and this time, you were done for.

You turned your body away from her and laid fully on the bed. You had a theory that she couldn’t psychoanalyze you if she couldn’t see you. However, that action just drew her closer. She curled up next to you, further enveloping you in the covers as her arms wrapped around your waist. She placed a kiss on your shoulder before resting her chin on the same spot.

“You were thinking it. That’s what you were gonna ask next.” Even though you had no way of knowing her next move, you were very confident.

“What?” She nestled closer into your side.

“That was gonna be your next question. You were gonna ask if I was okay.” You clarified.

She placed a kiss to the back of your neck before speaking. “How’d you know?”

Your eyes flutter closed at the gentle gesture. “I just know you.”

“Oh yeah?” She said. “Then you should also know that you can tell me anything.”

You nodded your head against her chest. “I know.”

“Okay, so, what’s up?” Melissa urged.

While she was eager to hear worries, she wasn’t going to make you talk about anything. She just wanted to initiate the conversation and make it known that you were in a safe space.

“Do you ever just feel… inadequate?” You asked in a low voice.

“Yeah, sometimes,” she murmured into your neck. “Why?”

“That’s how I’ve been feeling lately. At work and at home.” You released a breath you were subconsciously holding in.

Melissa ran her fingertips along the length of your arm, giving you a gentle reminder to breathe.

Once your breathing was regulated she said, “What's been going on, sweetheart?”

You spent the next hour spilling your heart out. You told her everything that was making you feel subpar, and she soothed all of your doubts with kind words.

“You are far from inadequate,” she said in a hushed tone. “You’re so special, you know?”

“That’s really sweet.” You smiled faintly. You weren't sure where she was going with this, but you liked what you were hearing.

She took your chin between her fingertips and turned your face toward hers “You mean everything to me, and I am so happy that you're mine.”

“Melissa, stop,” you chuckled, though nothing was funny. It was a nervous habit of yours that you couldn’t quite shake.

You tried to turn away from her, but she brought your focus back.

“I’m serious.” She stroked her thumb along your jaw.

You looked up at her olive eyes to see them dripping with honesty. In this lighting, you could see the flecks of hazel in them.

“I’m happy you're mine too, Mel.” You smiled, sealing your words with a kiss.

“I’m sorry you’re having a hard time at work,” she said sincerely.

“Oh, the joys of having a new job,” you said sarcastically.

“You’re doing great.” She kissed your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

Those words entered your ears and shot straight to your heart. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to recall the last time someone said that to you. You moved so you were facing her, then you engulfed her in a big hug.

“Thank you," you said, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat. “That means a lot.”

“It’ll get better. I promise,” she whispered with conviction.

✦ ✦ ✦

The next morning, you were met with a note on the refrigerator door. You almost overlooked the piece of paper in your haste to get out the house. The only thing that caught your eye was the lipstick print on the corner of the sheet. As you read the words, you couldn't help the smile that appeared on your face.

Cuore mio, I hope you're having a good morning. You deserve it. I have a busy day, so I'm leaving this just in case we don't speak until later. I want to remind you that you are so intelligent and capable of handling anything that comes your way. I am rooting for you, and I will always be in your corner. Go kick some ass today. I love you, I love you, I love you. - M

That morning, you left home feeling confident in your abilities to take on the day. You knew her words couldn't fix your situation, but they surely made things better.

Next Chapter

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #sugarᥫ᭡writes

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scribefindegil · 6 months

Note

Hi! I would like to share my latest crafting hubris with you! Thanks for introducing “crafting hubris” into my vocabulary bc that’s definitely where I’m at here lol

I’m embroidering these shorts all over in sashiko! It started off sooooo slow but I have the technique down finally. I think they’re gonna come out rad!

Wishing you the best! <3

YOOOOOOO THAT'S SO COOL!!!! They look beautiful!! Also omg do you have to mark out all the grid lines in chalk? That must take so long and be so exacting! They look amazing!!!

#conversations #other people's hubris

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sunnflowyyr · 1 year

Note

Hey hey hey beautiful person! It's me again! ( Another request right after you posted the one I had requested??? Yes baby,i'm the speed) but it's because i see your sun's guide request and see jujutsu kaisen in there,i have an idea that mixes rottmnt and jujutsu that you might be interested in 😏

So. Hear. Me. Out.

Rise Leonardo (or the boys) with a reader (female or neutral,your choise) BUT the reader have the same "mistic power" of toge inumaki from jujutsu kaisen,wait for it.......

BOOOMM!!

Yeah baby,and,if you don't remenber what it is,the power of the inumaki is called cursed speech,when he say something it's happen but with a cost like,if he says "die",he would overwhelmed himself end up hurt or worst, that's why he only says sushi ingredients like "tsuna,mayo" you got it? You got it? Please say yes i really think that's is a good one ;-;

But of course,if you don't wanna do it,feel completely free to just ignore my outbreak lol

EDIT: my inbox is OPEN for requests again!!! check my pinned post for guidelines and fandoms i write for before requesting please. have a good day and stay hydrated! 💛

i remember seeing your request and thinking "you are speed" after posting your first request. but i need to apologize ... you've been collecting a little dust in my inbox for a while now. i've decided to chalk that up to "adulting sucks." because it does.

i also want to emphasize how much i love this request. i just do. i could never ignore your outbreak. I LOVE THIS !! you have the best ideas.

i included all the turtles in this fic, but it mainly focuses on leo's connection with the reader. also, with toge's vocabulary being onigiri ingredients, i was a little stumped on figuring out how to use it in these headcanons; so i used this super useful reference on twitter! i try to give plenty of context in this piece, but if you want to have a better understanding feel free to check it out!

anyways, enough about that ... I HOPE YOU ENJOY !!! <3

rise!leo with a reader who has the cursed speech technique.

first, let me give some backstory:

you had been fighting your way out of the battle nexus and running from big mama's people in the hidden city

the turtles witness the fighting after it causes a commotion in town, and they were in awe

your fighting skills were amazing, but they was so intrigued by the obvious effect your words had on your opponents.

after the turtles helped you (because they couldn't just watch), they all turned around to talk to you

to which you simply greeted them with "kelp (hello)."

to say they were confused is an understatement

you felt a little helpless trying to communicate with them; they couldn't understand you if they didn't know about your ability

after a humiliating game of charades, you were able to get a pen and paper to write down an explanation for them

they understood, and offered to get you out of the hidden city and a place to hide from big mama for a while

donnie even offered to make a translation device so that you could communicate with them better

you were thankful for their kindness, and soon enough ... you all became friends

leo at first assumed you were a bit aloof because of how quiet you were, but he eventually noticed that you were actually a very social person

when you first met them, you only listened to their conversations intently.

but once they were able to understand you better, you even participated in them.

but your vocabulary is still pretty small and it makes it hard to communicate fully the way you want to

it's an insecurity, and you are terrified of somehow hurting the turtles with your ability

you have great control, but mistakes can happen ... it's a fear that looms over your head.

not to mention, you’ve had people befriend you to take advantage of your power, and you were scared of the heartbreak again.

those fears make you slowly pull yourself away from them, and leo worries when he notices you get distant

so he does confront you one day, worried that you’ll completely remove yourself from their lives

and he doesn’t want that, and he’s intent on trying to help you feel better when you (hesitantly) open up to him

it makes you feel better, and you almost cry a little when he says

“listen (name), while i’ll never stop admiring how cool your power is, i’d chose to brag about you over your power any day. people might see you as that, but i see you for who you are. you’re way cooler than that, so don’t let people define you by your power.”

he flinches a bit when you jump up to hug him, but smiles when you whisper “salmon (thank you).”

he hugs you back, knowing the hug was much needed before he pulls away

“though if you ever want to use it to get us an unlimited supply of pizza, i won’t complain— ow!”

you playfully slap him and disagree. “okaka (no way).”

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #tmnt x reader #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph

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itsanidiom · 5 months

Text

Since there is nary an Omega in sight I must say the Pit Babe Omegaverse is coming off a bit…Alphaverse…

Let’s gooooo~ We are now two (2) episodes into Pit Babe, and I still have no idea what is going on with this version of Omegaverse. BUT I have some ✨theories✨

Theory #1:

Since there are no Omegas or Betas so far, I think that “Alpha” is positioned as an umbrella type of superhuman subspecies.

There are “regular Alphas” who seem to have some pheromones, and some Alpha’s who do not, like Charlie. None of these Alphas seem to have particularly specific abilities.

Then there are the “special Alphas”, like Babe. They’ve got specific heightened sense abilities and they’re hyper-sexual (?).

Now some Alphas also seem to have some kind of strength ability, as demonstrated by Charlie in episode two, but we could also chalk that up to the character just being strong, so not sure what’s going on there.

Anyway, the bottom line is that apart from the use of the word Alpha, I don’t feel like this is Omegaverse. It feels like elements of Omegaverse have been taken and implemented into a different thing. One notable reason is that, in Omegaverse, usually an Alpha/Alpha pairing would be in some way seen as controversial, but here it’s not. And we’ve gotten brief mentions of pheromones and one mention of hormones and menopause, but that felt more like a sexist joke than a in-verse suggestion that Babe, an Alpha, can get pregnant (?).

At the end of the day, if you took “Alpha” in this case and replaced it with “Super”, the plot could stay the same it would just be a made up “Super” subspecies.

That’s all I got for now…But I’ll be on the lookout for the elusive Omega to show up in the Pit Babe Omegaverse. 👀

Theory #2:

The vocabulary is just off (?). In a regular Omegaverse these characters’ subspecies would read as:

Alpha = Submissive Alpha

Special Alpha = Dominant Omega

Normal = Beta

Thinking about their dynamics this way might help, but no one really subscribes to any traditional Omegaverse archetypes? Again need to wait and see. 👀

#pit babe #pit babe the series #omegaverse #thoughts #theories #meta #bl meta #I have thoughts™️#this omegaverse don’t be omegaversing hard enough #thank you for coming to my ted talk

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rinrinx2 · 1 year

Text

Coffee Date

Ran x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Adult themes, Mature Language, Orgasm, Ran being Ran

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

Haitani Ran a Bonten Executive, who was once apart of gangs such as Kanto Manji, a member of the S-62 Generation and a founding member of Tenjiku, then Rokuhara Tandai' , as well as being a part of the duo who claimed Roppongi - with the only other person being able to announce these similar accomplishments to some degree was his own younger brother Haitani Rindou.

And the Botnen lifestyle he was currently living did not pay like the average job, what a hardworking man would make in a year he'd make in an hour effortlessly. Not to mention all the status and power that came with being a Bonten member, there was not a man in all of Tokyo who wasn't afraid to go toe to toe with the infamous Haitani Ran.

So, you would think a man with all these credentials, money, and power he would be able to get him an assistant to get him his morning coffee.

Even Rindou had made numerous comments about it, and he still continued making those comments when Ran would arrive late to headquarters with his coffee in hand.

"You're literally in the top five wealthiest people in Japan, why don't you just get a damn coffee person or something" Rindou said one morning when Ran called him to cover his early morning work while he still queued in a coffee line.

But no matter the negative comments or the mocking jabs his fellow Bonten members would make, it did not falter his determined spirit every morning to get his own coffee.

Ran was a man of specific taste, and only he knew exactly how to order his hot beverage and how to maintain the aroma of that beverage till he reached headquarters. So, the mere thought of an assistant was foolish.

So here Haitani Ran was once again, just as the day before queuing in a line to order his coffee like any ordinary person.

But unlike the previous day, Ran seemed to be a bit more on edge today. He didn't know why and chalked it up to probably work stress, but he was in no mood to deal with anyone. So, when he felt someone push against him as he stood in line, he was ready to tear a new one into whoever had just bumped into him.

Ran turned around as quickly as possible, ready to bite the head of whatever idiot tested him today, but instead of being met with some loser he was met with you.

A cute woman whose pencil skirt was just a tad bit to short and whose shirt was just a tad bit too tight.

"I'm so sorry" you said quickly with a slight bow, hoping the guy in front of you would just ignore you like everyone else did.

"It's alright no need to stress" he said with a fresh-faced smile that caused your heart to skip a beat.

You could feel as heat began to rush to your cheeks as you starred at the man in front of you. You tried you best to quickly pull your gaze away before he thought you were weird and opted to stare at the floor.

The guy then turned back around leaving you to stare at the floor as heat remained in your cheeks.

Ran was flattered by your reaction, the clear frustration on your face all from him smiling at you. It got his blood pumping again and quickly wilted his once foul mood of a few minutes ago.

Ran new exactly what he was going to do.

You had somehow managed to calm yourself down from that brief interaction and got your mind back on track to order those coffees for your superiors awaiting you at the office, but just as your mind was settled, the man in front of you decided to turn around again and talk to you.

"It's really full today, wouldn't you say" he said with that same smile.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks began to burn again, every word in your vocabulary was gone and only the sounds of a corpse were being emitted from your mouth.

Ran thought it was cute the way you struggled to recover words when he spoke to you, but as much fun as it was to make a woman trip over a sentence he preferred when they spoke back to him especially the cute type such as yourself.

"Cat got your tongue or is it that you don't talk to strangers. If it's the second option then let me introduce myself, I'm Haitani Ran" Ran said holding out his hand in hopes to try and calm your nerves.

You starred at the man who had introduced himself as Ran hand for a moment before carefully shaking it, still starstruck that he was talking to you.

"I'm (Y/N)" you said, patting yourself on the back for being able to at least being able to get your name out.

"(Y/N)" Ran said testing how your name felt against his tongue.

"Very beautiful name, for a beautiful woman"

Your eyes became as wide as saucers when you heard his compliment, and you hoped he didn't notice how flushed you had become due to it.

"Thank you" you said nervously

"There's no need to be nervous (Y/N), we're just two people waiting to order coffee"

And when your mind heard that it finally snapped out of your schoolgirl crush moment. Finally, being able to stabilize yourself.

"Oh yes of course" you said more confidently now.

"Good. So, what you plan on getting?"

"Well, I'm not really getting me anything, it's more that I'm ordering for the office" you said hesitantly.

"Really? Some lazy superiors if you ask me. I get my own coffee every morning, you know so that I don't waste others time" Ran said even if it was half the truth you didn't need to know that.

"Wow, you sound like the best boss ever, your employees must be so lucky"

'A man who does things for himself without interrupting others work is such a kind man' you thought fawning over Haitani Ran who seemed to be the perfect man.

But before your conversation could continue Ran was now first in line.

"Hey (Y/N) you go ahead of me" Ran said watching as you hesitantly walked in front of him and began ordering your coffees.

But when the barista asked if that was all you heard the kind Ran speak up again.

"Oh, and add to her order and two chai lattes with almond milk. Oh, and you can just charge everything to my card"

You turned to face Ran with a shocked expression you couldn't believe that he had paid for everything, and now you somehow felt indebted to the man.

Once Ran had finished paid for everything the two of you stood to the side waiting for all your order, and now the nervous embarrassment crept back for at his kind actions.

"You really didn't have to pay for all my" you said fidgeting with your shirt

"Don't mention it" Ran said with a wink.

Very soon your coffees had been made, you were surprised at the urgency at which they had been made as you were used to waiting for a good solid 25 minutes before you even caught a glimpse of the coffees you purchased.

"Thank you for buying from us Mr Haitani" a nervous barista said.

You watched as the girl had on a shaky smile as Ran thanked her, while you grabbed all the coffees that were placed in a singular holder. While Ran took his two.

"Hey how about I give you a ride to wherever you need to be" Ran offered.

"It's alright really the walk isn't too far" you said trying to decline as nice as possible as he had already done more than enough for you.

"Oh, come on, I got time to spare, and we could say this is like a coffee date" Ran said as he carefully moved a stray hair from your cheek as the two of you exited the coffee shop.

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

Ran's car was one of the most expensive car you had ever sat in or seen. The black Bugatti La Voiture Noire, with its custom black leather seats were comfortable as Ran sped through the narrow roads of Tokyo, his driving was impressive as not a single coffee had been split in the back seat yet.

When Ran finally got to your office building he stopped in the parking lot of the 5th floor which was were your office was located.

Ran looked about as he climbed out the car to help collect your all the coffees in the backseat of his car, noting how deserted the 5th floor parking lot was. There were barely any cars besides his and one all the way on the other end of the parking lot.

Once you had collected all your coffees you carefully placed them on the hood of Rans care to bow to him showing your respect and gratitude for his kind actions.

"Thank you so much Mr Haitani, for helping me today" you said as you kept your bowing position.

"Hey there's no need to do all this" Ran said as he brought his hand to your chin to raise your face along with the rest of your body up.

"You're so beautiful" Ran said as he kept his hand on your face.

Your eyes widened at his words, and you could feel the heat rise between your legs at his words.

Ran had you just where he wanted you, with that amazed look in your eyes. He leaned in placing his soft lips against yours. Slowly moulding his lips to yours as he kissed you. You didn’t pull back, you didn’t want to, this kiss was more than what you had expected from such a handsome man.

Ran moved his hand from your chin to your waist grabbing you closer while his other hand had begun to slowly push up your tight short pencil skirt.

“Mr Haitani” you moaned out slowly in a futile attempt to get him to stop, even if you knew you didn’t want him to.

“Shh don’t worry about” Ran said as he now began reaching between your legs to pull you pantie down. Ran noted how the thin fabric was damp, and how the slick on your thighs coated his hand. Ran smirked realizing how his words affected you, the way he barely said or did anything and you were dripping down your legs.

‘I really am Roppongi’s Charisma’ Ran thought as he had you moaning from the prodding of his two fingers at your leaking entrance. He could feel the heat of your pussy against his finger, the way it clenched down hard at nothing. He could feel the strain against his suit as his cock was fully erect.

“Bend over the hood” He commanded, and you obliged not caring that you had knocked the coffees you were stressing about earlier that morning over. Ran had you bent of the hood of his car. His covered erect cock grinding against your exposed pussy. The slick of your pussy wetting his suit pants.

Ran humped your pussy with his still covered cock. The sensation of Rans expensive fabric pushing against your pussy had you seeing stars. You could feel your pussy push out against his member and all you wished for him to just push his cock into your pussy.

“Want me to fuck that pussy” Ran whispered into your ear.

“Yes please” you begged out as you pushed yourself further against Ran’s cock.

Ran smirked knowing he was going to fuck you like a bitch in heat right here in the parking lot where anyone could so easily come and see you getting your pussy fucked silly.

Ran undid his suit pants, pulling cock out. You could his cock against your ass, feeling how massive he was as he teased your entrance with it. Ran lined his cock with your entrance, teasing your clit with his cock that was dripping pre-cum.

You whined out waiting for Ran to stuff you with his massive thick cock. Ran listened to your whines drinking them up before plunging into your cunt, enjoying the way your walls clamped down on him. Ran began thrusting into you not caring you had adjusted to his size. The way Rans cock stuffed you full of cock drove you insane, the way you could feel his cock leak inside your pussy made you needier for him to fill you up.

The only sound that could be heard in the parking lot was the sound of Ran fucking your soaking cunt from behind. Ran could feel you get closer and closer, as your slicked out pussy got wetter and tighter with each thrust.

“Oh Ran” you moaned out grabbing at the hood of his car. Ran began fucking your pussy merciless as he felt his balls contract and his shaft full of sum that he needed to unload inside you. You could feel the not in your tummy get tighter with each slap of Rans cock inside you, the sound of your pussy being fucked on making you get closer until you felt it. You pussy clamped down on Ran’s cock as you came, letting clear liquid gush all around Ran’s cock and dripping down your bodies onto the col concrete floor.

Ran felt as your pussy milked him, causing the cum in his shaft to finally shoot out into your dripping pussy, stuffing you full of hot white liquid. Ran kept your hips still as he emptied himself inside you until he felt his cock slightly soften. Ran pulled out gently watching as your combined liquid poured out of your cunt. You remained bent over the hood of his car trying your best to catch your breath.

Ran put his semi hard cock back into his still damp suit pants, before helping you back to your feet as you pushed, you’re your skirt down and pulled your pantie up.

“Hope you enjoyed our coffee date?” Ran asked as he brushed the hair that clung to your damp cheeks back.

You nodded up and down, fucked out so good that you were unable to speak. Ran smirked at your lack of words, he once again left you speechless. Ran walked you to your office doors, watching as businessmen flocked their office quarters to see the Haitani Ran escort you.

“So, you a regular at that coffee shop?” Ran asked as he watched you waddle to your desk, waiting till you sat to reply to him, but once you reached your seat you still only nodded in agreement causing Ran to laugh.

“Good then same time tomorrow” Ran said as he left.

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

“Why you so fucking late” Rindou questioned as he watched Ran finally walking into headquarters two hours later.

“I spilt my coffee” Ran replied nonchalantly

“I keep fucking telling you to get a fucking coffee assistant or something”

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maristocratie · 10 months

Text

Some of my PJO/HOO headcanons (mostly the Stoll brothers tho) p3

Again, sorry for the spelling mistakes, English still isn't my first language, but I do my best!

Enjoy :)

Percy :

I couldn't explain but I can see Percy having Britney Spears' womanizer on his playlist and screaming it at the top of his lungs in the car.

Annabeth :

Annabeth has thick, muscular thighs, because you can't tell me that with all the training she's done since she was young, she's not ultra-muscular.

Travis :

When they were kids, Travis kept telling Connor that he'd been adopted/found in the forest.

Travis can be a little overprotective of his little brother.

He has this habit of cracking not only his fingers but also his neck.

He has a Ford fiesta because the name makes him laugh.

Travis and Connor speak fluent French (just for the profanity that French offers). Hermes being, among his many abilities, the god of languages, his sons were able to learn them with ease. But Travis is the one who has learned the most languages. He also swears the most of the two.

Connor :

Connor is bi.

Connor had a crush on annabeth AND Percy kinda like I don’t know if I wanna be with them or if I want to be them.

He isn't very comfortable behind the wheel.

Has sensory issues he can't touch butter with his bare hand or chalk

Side eye king

We know that Travis and Connor didn’t get along with Luke but in reality they got on very well, especially Connor as the youngest. As I said before in my other post, Luke looked after the little ones and was much appreciated by them. Connor was close to Luke, reading him stories looking after him plus he was a kind of superhero to him. As for the fact that they don't get along anymore, I think the stoll realized that something has shifted in him, they may never have put their finger on it at the time, but I'm sure they felt that something was wrong and that's why they didn't get along anymore.

Magnus :

Magnus can use sustained vocabulary in the most random sentences possible, would totally use outdated adjectives to describe something.

#headcanon #pjo headcanon #hoo headcanon #travis stoll #connor stoll #percy jackson #annabeth chase #magnus chase

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daily-spanish-word · 1 year

Text

to clean limpiar

How I clean my room? I just stick a rag to my leg and limp around.

Have you finished cleaning your room yet? ¿Ya has terminado de limpiar tu habitación?

Pictured: a graffiti by Banksy (Chalk Farm, London)

Picture by Dan Brady on Flickr

#clean #to clean #limpiar #limp #banksy #London #Londres #chalk farm #spanish #vocabulary #vocab #español #hint #mem #mnemonic #wotd #word of the day

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octoberautumnbox · 8 days

Note

Writing ask 12,18,29?

hi anon! thanks for dropping by :DDDD

12. If you write in more than one language, what's the difference?

i havent tried yet, but i assume it's gonna be weird lol not in a "I hate my mother tongue" kinda deal, just that I have a much more restricted vocabulary in tagalog than i do in english. plus lots of the sex terms in tagalog are related to farming bc of cultural stuff so idk

but!!! for the fun of it i'll try someday :DDDD

18. First, second, or third person?

I do second person most of all! I think I only have one fic that isn't and coincidentally it's the first fic I have to reach 1,022 notes (tho i'll admit i chalk it up to chaewon more than anything else why it did so well lmao)

29. What's the hardest thing about writing?

certified qtpie @capslocked asked me this one! but to switch it up, i think another thing I struggle with as a writer is if I take too long on a fic, it starts to bother me how it's starting to feel bland and repetitive? and I start to lose my nerve and want to start over. i doubt that i'm doing a good job continuing on a fic bc it's always the same words ("but box, all fics are just words!" and I agree! but my tiny box brain is tough on the rest of me and on itself so it do be what it do be the way it do)

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mariacallous · 2 months

Text

European liberals erupted into cheers in 2019 when the 45-year-old environmentalist and civil rights lawyer Zuzana Caputova was sworn in as Slovakia’s president. Even though she has fallen short of her ambitious goal of rooting out the persistent corruption and cronyism that course through Slovak society, she has chalked up many successes. These have earned her widespread popularity among Slovaks, who seemed to understand her project would always require more than one five-year term.

There’s just one problem: Caputova, facing new headwinds from the election of a new populist prime minister, has announced she’s not prepared to fight on.

Not only was Caputova the first-ever woman to hold the office, but her progressive, pro-European outlook and squeaky-clean biography stood out in a regional landscape stocked with ethnic nationalists, authoritarians, and other questionable operators. Caputova’s tough anticorruption platform was welcome relief to a country that had been rocked by graft, money laundering, and abuse of power scandals, as well as the contracted murder of a young journalist investigating organized crime.

In the course of her five-year term, the newcomer to elected office acquitted herself remarkably well, navigating Slovakia through the pandemic and then the war in Ukraine, a country with which it shares 60 miles of border to the east. Even as Slovakia’s southern neighbor, Hungary, prevaricated and obstructed transatlantic solidarity with Ukraine—a course many Slovak nationalists applauded—Caputova, suddenly head of a front-line state, stood fast. She has remained unflinchingly pro-Western even in the face of an acute energy crisis and hundreds of thousands of refugees.

Her mission to clean up the Slovakian state also notched impressive wins. Dozens of investigations were launched and cases opened up against figures linked to former governments—many of which led to convictions. In August 2023, Caputova—sometimes referred to as the Erin Brockovich of Slovakia—fired the country’s counterintelligence service chief for interfering in corruption investigations. But her anticorruption drive grew larger in scope when parliamentary elections in September 2023 reinstated Robert Fico, the former prime minister and pro-Russian, anti-American populist with the interests of himself and his associates always foremost in mind.

Many supporters expected that Caputova, as the principled, popular face of a new Slovakia, would soldier on for at least another term come elections in March 2024: to finish the job she had started. But Caputova’s tenure, she announced in June 2023, will come abruptly to an end. Her family’s well-being, she said, was behind her choice not to run again. “My decision is a personal one,” she said. “I am sorry if I disappoint those who expected my candidacy again.” In office, she had received multiple death threats, she said. A year earlier, she had already complained about “people who are threatening to kill me are using the vocabulary of some politicians. It does not only concern me, but also my loved ones.”

At the time of her announcement, Caputova polled as Slovakia’s most trusted politician. “I was surprised and disappointed when I heard the news,” said Pavol Demes of a German Marshall Fund fellow in Bratislava, who served as Slovakia’s foreign minister from 1991 to 1992. “Her track record proves that it was not coincidence that people elected her,” Demes said, adding that he believes Caputova would have prevailed again at the ballot box.

Others admit they’re more than just disappointed with Caputova’s “premature departure,” as the Slovak daily Dennik N put it. “Having an opportunity and not using it is literally a sin,” opined the Slovak newspaper Pravda, “especially if it is one that will never come again. … President Zuzana Caputova’s decision not to run can be considered a mistake. At a time when the chaos in Slovak politics has reached unprecedented proportions and the disillusionment among the population is great, the president bears even more responsibility for the fate of the country.”

In office, Caputova often punched back as hard as she was punched by her less principled opponents. She refused to let Fico, in the opposition since 2020, hound and bully her with impunity. In May 2023, she sued Fico for calling her an “American agent” and of “appointing Soros’ government,” referring to U.S. billionaire-philanthropist George Soros and the technocratic caretaker government she appointed in May 2023. Slovak authorities are still pursuing criminal cases involving dangerous threats made against the president.

Caputova’s aversion to the nastier aspects of Central European politics—in 1995 the son of the then-Slovak president was literally kidnapped—is understandable. But Caputova’s presence is all the more necessary today as Fico and his Smer-SD party are back in power and bent on returning Slovakia to its former incarnation. In just four months, Caputova has checked Fico several times. In October, for example, Caputova quashed the nomination of Rudolf Huliak as environment minister by the Slovak National Party, a Fico ally. Huliak, a nationalist, is known as a climate skeptic and opponent of LGBTQ+ rights.

She is currently weighing a veto of the Fico government’s move to dismantle the special prosecutor’s office—the body that handled the most serious corruption cases—and modify the criminal code, which triggered weeks of protests across Slovakia and rule-of-law concern from the EU. By weakening criminal sanctions for financial crimes, Fico could rescue the likes of Smer-allied oligarchs who would otherwise face prison sentences. One opposition politico charged that the law looks as if the mafia itself had written it. If her veto is overridden, which is likely, Caputova could take the issue to the Constitutional Court.

Caputova’s decision not to run thus opens the way for a multi-candidate race, the first round of which will be held on March 23 with, if necessary, a second in April. The vote is likely to come down to two candidates: National Council Speaker Peter Pellegrini, an on-again, off-again Fico ally; and Ivan Korcok, a liberal-minded former Slovak foreign minister and career diplomat. If Pellegrini triumphs, his victory will open the way for Fico to set in motion a pro-Russia political course that will greatly complicate the West’s defense of Ukraine, among other concerns.

Certainly, there would be no presidential corrective to hinder Fico in emulating his strongman counterpart next door in Hungary, Viktor Orban. Poland’s throwing off of its authoritarian leadership last year could have left Orban completely isolated in Central Europe. But Fico, though unlikely to amass the power of Orban’s Fidesz party or act so defiantly as Law and Justice Poland, sees Orban as a blood brother.

“Fico and his followers are fascinated by Orban’s method of governance since 2018,” Juraj Marusiak of the Slovak Academy of Sciences’ Institute of Political Science told Foreign Policy. “They see this authoritarianism as efficient and Orban as someone who takes care of his country’s national interests. This has made Orban creditable in Central Europe beyond Hungary alone.”

And Caputova’s bright light will be missed beyond diminutive Slovakia. Upon her election in 2019, a Hungarian acquaintance said to me that the only reason someone like Caputova could win in Central Europe is because she seemed to have no drawbacks at all: She was politically clean, charismatic, down to earth, and smart. And in office, she learned the ropes quickly. But she wasn’t perfect, apparently—no one could foresee that there would eventually be limits to her will to lock horns with Slovakia’s ruthless profiteers.

Sadly, there’s only one of her in the region. And soon, by her own choice, there will be none.

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star--joy · 1 year

Text

Pretend

In which Gwendolyn mimics her father, and Percy can't help but find it adorable.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1225

Originally posted: 12/3/22

Ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/43388748

A heavy sigh slips through Percy’s lips as he opens the door to his office, not even looking up from the letter sent to him by some diplomat from Syngorn. It’s a dreadfully boring thing, detailing useless information about the newest trade route that, frankly, Percy is struggling to care about. Gods, he needs a vacation. Perhaps he and Vex can sneak a trip to Zephrah soon. It would be nice to spend some time away with Vax and Keyleth.

His already drifting attention is fully snatched away by the sound of a stifled giggled from within his office. Percy snaps his head up. The sight presented to him is almost as baffling as it is adorable.

At his desk, Gwendolyn sits, lips pressed together to stop her laughter. To reach the tall desk, she’s stacked several thick, expensive tombs on Percy’s chair and sat atop them. Her form is positively drowning in one of his cloaks that has been repurposed as a blanket draped over her shoulders. A pair of spectacles made of wire and without lenses are sat on her face. On the desk lies a book about the history of Whitestone, and Gwendolyn appears to be reading it.

At least, she’s pretending to read it. The four-year-old can’t possibly begin to parse through the posh vocabulary, but she dutifully trails her finger along the words nonetheless, mouthing random shapes as if she’s whispering the text to herself.

Percy blinks. He doesn’t have any clue how to react to this display.

Gwennie looks up at him, clears her throat, and asks, “Can I help you?” Her efforts to sound professional are undermined by the way she can’t properly pronounce all her letters yet.

“Gwennie, what in Pelor’s name—” Percy begins, amused more than angry.

She shakes her head, bringing attention to her hair, and Percy could swear she’s covered the silky black strands in white chalk dust. “Nu uh. I’m not Gwennie. I’m Lord Percy.” Her legs are kicking gleefully under the desk.

Percy glances at the clock. Her lessons ended an hour ago, so she’s not skipping those. His office isn’t exactly off-limits, either, even though the children have an extensive playroom. And, yes, it’s discouraged for her to steal his coat and put chalk in her hair, but really, those are such small acts of disobedience that he doesn’t have it in him to be mad, or to deny her her game.

Especially when her game involves her mimicking him in such an adorable way.

“My apologies, Lord Percy,” he hums, folding the letter and slipping it in his pocket. “Are you working on something important?”

Gwennie grins. “Mh hm. Very important.” She gestures to the thick book on the desk as proof.

“Ah, I see. What are you reading?” Percy asks, approaching the desk to stand beside his daughter.

She looks down at the text, considering. “It’s about… um… dip-o-mats.”

Percy can’t stop his laughter. “Diplomats, dear,” he corrects her pronunciation, wiping some of the chalk out of her hair, careful to avoid the tender skin around her horns, which are just beginning to come in.

“Yep!” she agrees, despite having no idea what that word truly means. All she knows is that it sounds fancy and formal. “Like Mama! She’s a dip-lo-mat.”

It’s a bit surprising she even knows that much. “Indeed. So, what does this book say about diplomats?” Percy continues, pulling up a chair so he can sit beside Gwennie. Immediately, she chooses to forgo her own chair to clamber onto his lap. He doesn’t even care that the chalk covering her begins to transfer to his clothes.

“It says they’re really pretty, ‘cause Mama’s really pretty. And they’re super smart and cool.”

“Do you want to be a diplomat, Lord Percy?” he asks, tapping her nose to make her giggle and squirm.

“Nu uh. I’m a clock maker. I made this!” Gwennie insists, pointing to the bejeweled wrist-watch that her father had made her for her fourth birthday. “See? I even signed it!”

The writing she points to is not a signature, but an engraving of the words, ‘For Gwendolyn, my beloved daughter.’ Percy doesn’t have the heart to tell her that, though. “An admirable profession.”

Gwennie grins. “Mm hm. ‘Cause I’m super smart. Like you! Mama’s pretty and you’re smart.”

“And you are both,” Percy hums, adjusting his cloak as it tries to slip off her tiny shoulders. “My beautiful, brilliant girl. Did you make these glasses, darling?” he taps the wire spectacles on her face.

“Uncle Tary helped a little… but it was my idea!” Her pride shines through as she adjusts the faux-glasses to sit higher on her nose.

“A maker of clocks and glasses? My, aren’t you talented. What was the inspiration behind these?”

Gwennie throws her arms around his shoulders. “I just wanted to be like you, daddy.”

Oh, and that just makes him melt into something disgusting and gooey. Percy will never understand how he got so lucky to be blessed with Gwendolyn, or any of his children, but it’s a miracle he’ll cling to and appreciate with a fierce vigor. “You know, I’ll never complain about you playing pretend, dear, but I do like Gwennie far more than Lord Percy. And, ah, perhaps we should clean this chalk out of your hair before your mother sees it.”

“Too late,” the woman in question calls out, announcing her presence to the pair.

“Mama! Mama!” Gwennie calls out, clambering out of Percy’s lap so she can run up and bury herself in Vex’s poofy skirts. Vex smiles and meets her halfway, reaching down to lift Gwennie into her arms.

“Have you been playing dress-up, darling?”

“Mm hm! I wanted to be like Daddy!” she says, reaching out for Percy and making grabby hands.

Percy follows her unspoken instructions, joining his girls and wrapping Vex in a hug that sandwiches Gwennie between them, much to the little girl’s delight. She shrieks in laughter, and it’s a sound sweeter than the finest bard’s lute.

“Well, you certainly look the part. Though, that cloak is a bit large for you. I think we’ll have to make you one of your own.”

That’s an idea, Percy thinks. He makes a mental note to reach out to the castle tailor soon. Vex sends him a knowing look, but he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed by appreciating his daughter’s adorable games.

Especially when Gwennie claps her hands together. “Can we? Please? Pleaseeeeee?”

“I’ll look into it,” Percy promises, finally parting himself from Vex’s embrace. “For now, I think it’s time to take a bath. Chalk isn’t typically supposed to go in hair.”

“Ten more minutes?” Gwennie asks, burrowing into her mother’s arms and batting her eyes at Percy.

With her, ‘ten more minutes’ really means at least an hour.

And yet, Percy is a weak, weak man, and really, what’s the harm in waiting a bit? “Alright. Ten more minutes.”

The speed at which he gave into her makes Vex roll her eyes, but she doesn’t overrule him. How can she, when Gwennie is already beaming with her success? “Thank you, Daddy! Mama, did you see my glasses? I made them!”

As his daughter dramatically explains her process of crafting the glasses and his wife listens along, smiling softly, Percy has never felt happier.

#Critical Role #Percy de rolo #Gwendolyn de rolo #Percival de rolo #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #gwendolyn zahra melanie von musel de rolo #jesus christ tagging critical role fic is so hard #why do they need such long names #Vox Machina #The Legend Of Vox Machina #critical role fic #critical role fanfic #critical role fanfiction

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