#this is 100% Not Inspired by my own experiences | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months

Text

Why they're smearing Lina Khan

My god, they sure hate Lina Khan. This once-in-a-generation, groundbreaking, brilliant legal scholar and fighter for the public interest, the slayer of Reaganomics, has attracted more vitriol, mockery, and dismissal than any of her predecessors in living memory.

She sure must be doing something right, huh?

A quick refresher. In 2017, Khan — then a law student — published Amazon’s Antitrust Paradox in the Yale Law Journal. It was a brilliant, blistering analysis showing how the Reagan-era theory of antitrust (which celebrates monopolies as “efficient”) had failed on its own terms, using Amazon as Exhibit A of the ways in which post-Reagan antitrust had left Americans vulnerable to corporate abuse:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

The paper sent seismic shocks through both legal and economic circles, and goosed the neo-Brandeisian movement (sneeringly dismissed as “hipster antitrust”). This movement is a rebuke to Reaganomics, with its celebration of monopolies, trickle-down, offshoring, corporate dark money, revolving-door regulatory capture, and companies that are simultaneously too big to fail and too big to jail.

This movement has many proponents, of course — not just Khan — but Khan’s careful scholarship, combined with her encyclopedic knowledge of the long-dormant statutory powers that federal agencies had to make change, and a strategy for reviving those powers to protect Americans from corporate predators made her a powerful, inspirational figure.

When Joe Biden won the 2020 presidential election, he surprised everyone by appointing Khan to the FTC. It wasn’t just that she had such a radical vision — it was also that she lacked the usual corporate law experience that such an appointee would normally require (experience that would ensure that the FTC was helmed by people whose default view of the world is that it should be structured and regulated by powerful, wealthy people in corporate boardrooms).

Even more surprising was that Khan was made chair of the FTC, something that was only possible because a few Republican Senators broke with their party to support her candidacy:

https://www.senate.gov/legislative/LIS/roll_call_votes/vote1171/vote_117_1_00233.htm

These Republicans saw in Khan an ally in their fight against “woke” Big Tech. For these senators, the problem wasn’t that tech had got too big and powerful — it was that there were a few limited instances in which tech leaders failed to wield that power in the ways they preferred.

The Republican project is a matter of getting turkeys to vote for Christmas by doing a lot of culture war bullshit, cruelly abusing disfavored sexual and racial minorities. This wins support from low-information voters who’ll vote against their class interests and support more monopolies, more tax cuts for the rich, and more cuts to the services they rely on.

But while tech leaders are 100% committed to the project of permanent oligarchic takeover of every sphere of American life, they are less full-throated in their support for hateful, cruel discrimination against disfavored minorities (in this regard, tech leaders resemble the corporate wing of the Democrats, which is where we get the “Silicon Valley is a Democratic Party stronghold” narrative).

This failure to unquestioningly and unstintingly back culture war bullshit put tech leaders in the GOP’s crosshairs. Some GOP politicians actually believe in the culture war bullshit, and are grossly offended that tech is “woke.” Others are smart enough not to get high on their own supply, but worry that any tech obstruction in the bullshit culture wars will make it harder to get sufficient turkey votes for a big fat Christmas surprise.

Biden’s ceding of antitrust policy to the left wing of the party, combined with disaffected GOP senators viewing Khan as their enemy’s enemy, led to Khan’s historic appointment as FTC Chair. In that position, she was joined by a slate of Biden trustbusters, including Jonathan Kanter at the DoJ Antitrust Division, Tim Wu at the White House, and other important, skilled and principled fighters like Alvaro Bedoya (FTC), Rebecca Slaughter (FTC), Rohit Chopra (CFPB), and many others.

Crucially, these new appointees weren’t just principled, they were good at their jobs. In 2021, Tim Wu wrote an executive order for Biden that laid out 72 concrete ways in which the administration could act — with no further Congressional authorization — to blunt corporate power and insulate the American people from oligarchs’ abusive and extractive practices:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

Since then, the antitrust arm of the Biden administration have been fuckin’ ninjas, Getting Shit Done in ways large and small, working — for the first time since Reagan — to protect Americans from predatory businesses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

This is in marked contrast to the corporate Dems’ champions in the administration. People like Pete Buttigieg are heralded as competent technocrats, “realists” who are too principled to peddle hopium to the base, writing checks they can’t cash. All this is cover for a King Log performance, in which Buttigieg’s far-reaching regulatory authority sits unused on a shelf while a million Americans are stranded over Christmas and whole towns are endangered by greedy, reckless rail barons straight out of the Gilded Age:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The contrast between the Biden trustbusters and their counterparts from the corporate wing is stark. While the corporate wing insists that every pitch is outside of the zone, Khan and her allies are swinging for the stands. They’re trying to make life better for you and me, by declaring commercial surveillance to be an unfair business practice and thus illegal:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/12/regulatory-uncapture/#conscious-uncoupling

And by declaring noncompete “agreements” that shackle good workers to shitty jobs to be illegal:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

And naturally, this has really pissed off all the right people: America’s billionaires and their cheerleaders in the press, government, and the hive of scum and villainy that is the Big Law/thinktank industrial-complex.

Take the WSJ: since Khan took office, they have published 67 vicious editorials attacking her and her policies. Khan is living rent-free in Rupert Murdoch’s head. Not only that, he’s given her the presidential suite! You love to see it.

These attacks are worth reading, if only to see how flimsy and frivolous they are. One major subgenre is that Khan shouldn’t be bringing any action against Amazon, because her groundbreaking scholarship about the company means she has a conflict of interest. Holy moly is this a stupid thing to say. The idea that the chair of an expert agency should recuse herself because she is an expert is what the physicists call not even wrong.

But these attacks are even more laughable due to who they’re coming from: people who have the most outrageous conflicts of interest imaginable, and who were conspicuously silent for years as the FTC’s revolving door admitted the a bestiary of swamp-creatures so conflicted it’s a wonder they managed to dress themselves in the morning.

Writing in The American Prospect, David Dayen runs the numbers:

Since the late 1990s, 31 out of 41 top FTC officials worked directly for a company that has business before the agency, with 26 of them related to the technology industry.

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-06-23-attacks-lina-khans-ethics-reveal-projection/

Take Christine Wilson, a GOP-appointed FTC Commissioner who quit the agency in a huff because Khan wanted to do things for the American people, and not their self-appointed oligarchic princelings. Wilson wrote an angry break-up letter to Khan that the WSJ published, presaging their concierge service for Samuel Alito:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/why-im-resigning-from-the-ftc-commissioner-ftc-lina-khan-regulation-rule-violation-antitrust-339f115d

For Wilson to question Khan’s ethics took galactic-scale chutzpah. Wilson, after all, is a commissioner who took cash money from Bristol-Myers Squibb, then voted to approve their merger with Celgene:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/4365601-Wilson-Christine-Smith-final278.html

Or take Wilson’s GOP FTC predecessor Josh Wright, whose incestuous relationship with the companies he oversaw at the Commission are so intimate he’s practically got a Habsburg jaw. Wright went from Google to the US government and back again four times. He also lobbied the FTC on behalf of Qualcomm (a major donor to Wright’s employer, George Mason’s Antonin Scalia Law School) after working “personally and substantially” while serving at the FTC.

George Mason’s Scalia center practically owns the revolving door, counting fourteen FTC officials among its affliates:

https://campaignforaccountability.org/ttp-investigation-big-techs-backdoor-to-the-ftc/

Since the 1990s, 31 out of 41 top FTC officials — both GOP appointed and appointees backed by corporate Dems — “worked directly for a company that has business before the agency”:

https://www.citizen.org/article/ftc-big-tech-revolving-door-problem-report/

The majority of FTC and DoJ antitrust lawyers who served between 2014–21 left government service and went straight to work for a Big Law firm, serving the companies they’d regulated just a few months before:

https://therevolvingdoorproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/The-Revolving-Door-In-Federal-Antitrust-Enforcement.pdf

Take Deborah Feinstein, formerly the head of the FTC’s Bureau of Competition, now a partner at Arnold & Porter, where she’s represented General Electric, NBCUniversal, Unilever, and Pepsi and a whole medicine chest’s worth of pharma giants before her former subordinates at the FTC. Michael Moiseyev who was assistant manager of FTC Competition is now in charge of mergers at Weil Gotshal & Manges, working for Microsoft, Meta, and Eli Lilly.

There’s a whole bunch more, but Dayen reserves special notice for Andrew Smith, Trump’s FTC Consumer Protection boss. Before he was put on the public payroll, Smith represented 120 clients that had business before the Commission, including “nearly every major bank in America, drug industry lobbyist PhRMA, Uber, Equifax, Amazon, Facebook, Verizon, and a variety of payday lenders”:

https://www.citizen.org/sites/default/files/andrew_smith_foia_appeal_response_11_30.pdf

Before Khan, in other words, the FTC was a “conflict-of-interest assembly line, moving through corporate lawyers and industry hangers-on without resistance for decades.”

Khan is the first FTC head with no conflicts. This leaves her opponents in the sweaty, desperate position of inventing conflicts out of thin air.

For these corporate lickspittles, Khan’s “conflict” is that she has a point of view. Specifically, she thinks that the FTC should do its job.

This makes grifters like Jim Jordan furious. Yesterday, Jordan grilled Khan in a hearing where he accused her of violating an ethics official’s advice that she should recuse herself from Big Tech cases. This is a talking point that was created and promoted by Bloomberg:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-06-16/ftc-rejected-ethics-advice-for-khan-recusal-on-meta-case

That ethics official, Lorielle Pankey, did not, in fact, make this recommendation. It’s simply untrue (she did say that Khan presiding over cases that she has made public statements about could be used as ammo against her, but did not say that it violated any ethical standard).

But there’s more to this story. Pankey herself has a gigantic conflict of interest in this case, including a stock portfolio with $15,001 and $50,000 in Meta stock (Meta is another company that has whined in print and in its briefs that it is a poor defenseless lamb being picked on by big, mean ole Lina Khan):

https://www.wsj.com/articles/ethics-official-owned-meta-stock-while-recommending-ftc-chair-recuse-herself-from-meta-case-8582a83b

Jordan called his hearing on the back of this fake scandal, and then proceeded to show his whole damned ass, even as his GOP colleagues got into a substantive and even informative dialog with Khan:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-07-14-jim-jordan-misfires-attacks-lina-khan/

Mostly what came out of that hearing was news about how Khan is doing her job, working on behalf of the American people. For example, she confirmed that she’s investigating OpenAI for nonconsensually harvesting a mountain of Americans’ personal information:

https://www.ft.com/content/8ce04d67-069b-4c9d-91bf-11649f5adc74

Other Republicans, including confirmed swamp creatures like Matt Gaetz, ended up agreeing with Khan that Amazon Ring is a privacy dumpster-fire. Nobodies like Rep TomM assie gave Khan an opening to discuss how her agency is protecting mom-and-pop grocers from giant, price-gouging, greedflation-drunk national chains. Jeff Van Drew gave her a chance to talk about the FTC’s war on robocalls. Lance Gooden let her talk about her fight against horse doping.

But Khan’s opponents did manage to repeat a lot of the smears against her, and not just the bogus conflict-of-interest story. They also accused her of being 0–4 in her actions to block mergers, ignoring the huge number of mergers that have been called off or not initiated because M&A professionals now understand they can no longer expect these mergers to be waved through. Indeed, just last night I spoke with a friend who owns a medium-sized tech company that Meta tried to buy out, only to withdraw from the deal because their lawyers told them it would get challenged at the FTC, with an uncertain outcome.

These talking points got picked up by people commenting on Judge Jacqueline Scott Corley’s ruling against the FTC in the Microsoft-Activision merger. The FTC was seeking an injunction against the merger, and Corley turned them down flat. The ruling was objectively very bad. Start with the fact that Corley’s son is a Microsoft employee who stands reap massive gains in his stock options if the merger goes through.

But beyond this (real, non-imaginary, not manufactured conflict of interest), Corley’s judgment and her remarks in court were inexcusably bad, as Matt Stoller writes:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/judge-rules-for-microsoft-mergers

In her ruling, Corley explained that she didn’t think Microsoft would abuse the market dominance they’d gain by merging their giant videogame platform and studio with one of its largest competitors. Why not? Because Microsoft’s execs pinky-swore that they wouldn’t abuse that power.

Corely’s deference to Microsoft’s corporate priorities goes deeper than trusting its execs, though. In denying the FTC’s motion, she stated that it would be unfair to put the merger on hold in order to have a full investigation into its competition implications because Microsoft and Activision had set a deadline of July 18 to conclude things, and Microsoft would have to pay a penalty if that deadline passed.

This is surreal: a judge ruled that a corporation’s radical, massive merger shouldn’t be subject to full investigation because that corporation itself set an arbitrary deadline to conclude the deal before such an investigation could be concluded. That’s pretty convenient for future mega-mergers — just set a short deadline and Judge Corely will tell regulators that the merger can’t be investigated because the deadline is looming.

And this is all about the future. As Stoller writes, Microsoft isn’t exactly subtle about why it wants this merger. Its own execs said that the reason they were spending “dump trucks” of money buying games studios was to “spend Sony out of business.”

Now, maybe you hate Sony. Maybe you hate Activision. There’s plenty of good reason to hate both — they’re run by creeps who do shitty things to gamers and to their employees. But if you think that Microsoft will be better once it eliminates its competition, then you have the attention span of a goldfish on Adderall.

Microsoft made exactly the same promises it made on Activision when it bought out another games studio, Zenimax — and it broke every one of those promises.

Microsoft has a long, long, long history of being a brutal, abusive monopolist. It is a convicted monopolist. And its bad conduct didn’t end with the browser wars. You remember how the lockdown turned all our homes into rent-free branch offices for our employers? Microsoft seized on that moment to offer our bosses keystroke-and-click level surveillance of our use of our own computers in our own homes, via its Office365 bossware product:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revenge

If you think a company that gave your boss a tool to spy on their employees and rank them by “productivity” as a prelude to firing them or cutting their pay is going to treat gamers or game makers well once they have “spent the competition out of business,” you’re a credulous sucker and you are gonna be so disappointed.

The enshittification play is obvious: use investor cash to make things temporarily nice for customers and suppliers, lock both of them in — in this case, it’s with a subscription-based service similar to Netflix’s — and then claw all that value back until all that’s left is a big pile of shit.

The Microsoft case is about the future. Judge Corely doesn’t take the future seriously: as she said during the trial, “All of this is for a shooter videogame.” The reason Corely greenlit this merger isn’t because it won’t be harmful — it’s because she doesn’t think those harms matter.

But it does, and not just because games are an art form that generate billions of dollars, employ a vast workforce, and bring pleasure to millions. It also matters because this is yet another one of the Reaganomic precedents that tacitly endorses monopolies as efficient forces for good. As Stoller writes, Corley’s ruling means that “deal bankers are sharpening pencils and saying ‘Great, the government lost! We can get mergers through everywhere else.’ Basically, if you like your high medical prices, you should be cheering on Microsoft’s win today.”

Ronald Reagan’s antitrust has colonized our brains so thoroughly that commentators were surprised when, immediately after the ruling, the FTC filed an appeal. Don’t they know they’ve lost? the commentators said:

https://gizmodo.com/ftc-files-appeal-of-microsoft-activision-deal-ruling-1850640159

They echoed the smug words of insufferable Activision boss Mike Ybarra: “Your tax dollars at work.”

https://twitter.com/Qwik/status/1679277251337277440

But of course Khan is appealing. The only reason that’s surprising is that Khan is working for us, the American people, not the giant corporations the FTC is supposed to be defending us from. Sure, I get that this is a major change! But she needs our backing, not our cheap cynicism.

The business lobby and their pathetic Renfields have hoarded all the nice things and they don’t want us to have any. Khan and her trustbuster colleagues want the opposite. There is no measure so small that the corporate world won’t have a conniption over it. Take click to cancel, the FTC’s perfectly reasonable proposal that if you sign up for a recurring payment subscription with a single click, you should be able to cancel it with a single click.

The tooth-gnashing and garment-rending and scenery-chewing over this is wild. America’s biggest companies have wheeled out their biggest guns, claiming that if they make it too easy to unsubscribe, they will lose money. In other words, they are currently making money not because people want their products, but because it’s too hard to stop paying for them!

https://www.theregister.com/2023/07/12/ftc_cancel_subscriptions/

We shouldn’t have to tolerate this sleaze. And if we back Khan and her team, they’ll protect us from these scams. Don’t let them convince you to give up hope. This is the start of the fight, not the end. We’re trying to reverse 40 years’ worth of Reagonmics here. It won’t happen overnight. There will be setbacks. But keep your eyes on the prize — this is the most exciting moment for countering corporate power and giving it back to the people in my lifetime. We owe it to ourselves, our kids and our planet to fight one.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/14/making-good-trouble/#the-peoples-champion

[Image ID: A line drawing of pilgrims ducking a witch tied to a ducking stool. The pilgrims' clothes have been emblazoned with the logos for the WSJ, Microsoft, Activision and Blizzard. The witch's face has been replaced with that of FTC chair Lina M Khan.]

6K notes · View notes

saturngalore · 2 months

Text

afrofuturism🪐

☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆

mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3

this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.

to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.

blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).

in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).

last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333

714 notes · View notes

eternally-racing · 2 months

Text

kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader

genre: fluff, smut (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better.

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - -

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better.

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit.

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?”

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye.

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on.

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly.

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?”

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations.

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.”

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch.

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length.

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock.

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control.

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone.

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums.

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time.

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs.

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further.

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties.

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

975 notes · View notes

bellshazes · 11 months

Text

dreaming up a syllabus for an imaginary course on metanarratives about gameplay, which i think would go something like:

unit 1: who do you think you are i am - auto-documentary & games

Vlogs and the Hyperreal, Folding Ideas

The Slow Death of Let's Play Videos, Meraki (to ~10:00)

World Record Progression: Mike Tyson, Summoning Salt

ROBLOX_OOF.mp3, hbomberguy

Life as a Bokoblin: A Zelda Nature Documentary, Monster Maze

optional: Braindump on the History of Let's Plays, slowbeef

unit 2: what like it's hard? - intro to challenge narratives

Chapter 26: Games as Narrative Play: Two Structures for Narrative Play, Rules of Play

A different kind of challenge run: Minimalist 100% (BOTW), Wolf Link

Surviving 100 Days on Just Dirt, Mogswamp

Can You Beat DARK SOULS III with Only Firebombs, the Backlogs

Is it Possible to Beat Super Mario 3D World while permanently crouching?, Ceave Gaming

The Pacifist Challenge - Beating Hollow Knight Without Collecting Soul [CHALLENGE] - Sample

optional: How to 100% Snowpeak Ruins in under 15 minutes, bewildebeest

unit 3: nelly you don't understand, i AM the narrative - form and function

The Future of Writing about Games, Jacob Geller

Can You Beat GRIME Without Weapons?, the Backlogs

Mushroom Kingdom Championships, Ceave Gaming

My Life as a Barber in Hitman 2, MinMax (Leo Vader)

MyHouse.WAD - Inside Doom's Most Terrifying Mod, PowerPak

optional: Mega Microvideos, Matthewmatosis

the theme and structure is mostly intended to introduce at least one critical or historically contextual work followed by examples of the type of narrative in question.

in unit 1, this is the idea of "How do people talk about their own experiences in the context of YouTube and playing video games?" across three rather different kinds of documentaries. unit 2 is intended to take that lens of who is telling what tale and dial in on challenge running, where i first noticed the way some videos turn the story of overcoming a challenge into its own narrative that is distinct from but related to the narrative events of the game itself. unit 3 circles back to the bigger picture with a variety of examples that, to me, are maximally metanarrative, the emergent story of the player-narrator now functionally replacing the game's embedded narrative.

bonus unit: broken narratives

Glitch & the Grotesque at the MLA, Sylvia Korman

Watching time loop movies to escape my time loop, Leo Vader

The Stanley Parable, Dark Souls, and Intended Play, Folding Ideas

Breaking Madden, Jon Bois

The TRUTH about the Pizzaplex in FNAF: Security Breach, AstralSpiff

this one is highly underdeveloped, but i'd love to work out something more robust building on randomizer challenges that produce intentionally bizarre, semi-ironic "lore," and bois-esque endeavors to break games so hard the story itself crumbles. but that's really out of scope so i'm just including the links to things i couldn't bear to get rid of. more rambling abt the challenge runs I chose under the cut.

Challenge runs represent one of the most obvious places to start, due to being extremely plentiful and having a hook that makes a "here's how I did X thing in Y video game" format almost unavoidable. Minimalist 100% is an underrated and sweet straightforward example that I mostly include as a baseline for reporting-out style narrative; here are the facts, here's what happened, this is the thing that it is. Mogswamp's 100 Days on Just Dirt is similar in style, but the physical measuring of days is a delightful and, more importantly, external narrative device.

Now oriented, we get a taste of Ceave Gaming's narrative approach to Mario challenges with the no-crouching run, and while we still aren't at the degree of player-characters being constructed for the narrative's sake, the spirited belief in crouching sets the stage for other rhetoric in more extreme cases we'll see later.

The Backlogs' entire body of work qualifies here, but GRIME is the strongest inspiration for putting this list together. I include the DS3 firebombs run because what was initially a factual description of how his wife's use of firebombs inspired him to play differently in the original DS1 firebombs run has developed into full-blown multi-game narrative arc with the Firebomb Goddess (his wife, who also voices the character) compelling his in-game character to achieve his destined quest. Grime takes that even further,

In-Game Documentaries

I include Life as a Bokoblin mostly as a contrast to My Life as a Barber - there is a level of fictionalization and roleplay involved in the Zelda in-game documentary that highlights exactly what I want to single out when I am talking about metanarrative, the story about a story.

#peter posts #mc meta #<- close enough #also i will add some context for the rest of the docus too since the summoning salt is on here for a VERY SPECIFIC REASON

2K notes · View notes

zerosuitsammie · 2 months

Text

If I can take a moment to share my experience as a trans woman on the internet

My experience is by no means unique, it's just one experience in the plethora of trans feminine experiences and not unique to only tumblr. Though, I'll mostly talk about what I've experienced here. In the light of recent events, the reaction of "the ceo," and the comments he contributed regarding dog pile harassment; I simply wish to share my experiences that I have had to juxtapose the dynamic of his statements against a lived experience.

This account started as a way to document my social transition and eventually my journey with HRT. Tumblr had always had a large lgbtqia+ community. The queer people here inspired me and gave me hope. What I didn't know, but soon learned, is that there were people here who hated me for being trans. Being early in my transition I was a prime target. TERF groups would plan raids on my account. What this entailed was: rebloging my selfies into circles that would say the most vile things about me, threaten to kill, tell me I was ugly, tell me that everyone I knew thought I was a joke, I was a monster, my family hated me, that I should kill myself, they'd download and edit my photos into caricatures or depictions of violence. They would fill my ask box with hundreds of asks detailing how they'd kill me, call me slurs, describe the ways that I should kill myself, and pretty much everything else I mentioned above with the reblogs. Their words were carefully curated to try and break me, break my spirit, break my will to live. I tried reporting it. But it was impossible to keep up with, and like many others I saw no real response. Eventually I learned that I had to block all of them. 100's of blogs, eventually 1000's of blogs. My block list these days is incredibly extensive. I had to wade through their blogs, traverse sickening hate speech and imagery to eliminate entire circles of people harassing me. I became jaded to the hate speech, hardened to it. But mind you, I shouldn't have had to expose myself to all of this just to be at peace here amongst my community. I received no help, I was left to my own devices to protect myself. The people who hurt me never saw consequences. It was painful, it was unfair, and no one else should have to put the hours upon hours of effort and exposure to hate in to protect themselves like I did. But again my experience is not unique.

I have had to repeat this process of preemptive blocking periodically once a new circle discovers me. Blocking them all before they can start the process of hate all over again. A process of hate that seems to be hitting my community with rapidly increasing fervor as of late.

I've seen others experience far worse than me. The TERF circles will hunt down their personal information and doxx them. Expose their home address, telephone numbers, names of their family members. I can't begin to imagine the terror my queer siblings must feel when someone tells then that they want to murder them all while showing them that they know where you live. This is not a new thing, not a rare tactic, it happens. And we've all seen the news stories of trans people being murdered by people who planned it and were vocal about it.

I know this is depressing. And it doesn't reflect all of my experiences. I've had wonderful experiences here, met amazing people, made close friends, found inspiration, found hope. I found a community.

And it's my community, and I never want to let it go.

I do have fear that making this statement will get me banned. But, I wanted to say it. I wanted it to exist in the world so that everyone who doesn't know our experiences has a chance to understand and with luck empathize.

I'll part on these words and hope for the best both for myself and for every member of the community.

#transgender #transisbeautiful #trans #trans is beautiful #this is what trans looks like #okay to rebagel #trigger warning: transphobia #potentially triggering #trigger warning #trigger warning: description of harassment #trigger warning: description of violent harassment #trigger warning: description of suicide bating harassment #stay hopeful #stay strong #trans community #queer community #lgbtq community #spread love in the community and build each other up

420 notes · View notes

throwaway-yandere · 5 months

Text

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting.

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either.

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white.

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?"

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man.

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts.

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species."

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

509 notes · View notes

art · 6 months

Text

Creator Spotlight: @66sharkteeth

66 is a comic artist and the creator of City of Blank, a WEBTOON original series. They worked in the game industry at companies such as 2K Games before entering the field of comics. They began their career in comics at Tapas, where they worked as an editor and lead typesetter, before being signed to create their own original series on WEBTOON.

Check out our interview with 66 below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

The short answer is yeah, I’ve definitely had one. Overall, I feel like doing a lot of style studies during that time and trying to use new brushes helps a lot. In addition, because I’m a comic artist, I feel like writer’s block is in the same field, and with that, I’m really fortunate that I have an editor that I can work with, who helps me a lot there. Whenever I am stuck at a plot point in my comic, I can always go to my editor, who helps me hammer things out.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Animation. Of course, everyone loves animation. I went to school for game art and design and even did some animation courses, and I am just not cut out for it. I don’t enjoy the process, and I am not good at it. Animation is beautiful, and I admire people who can do it. I’d love for my work to be animated some day, I’m just not capable of being the one to do it haha.

Warm tones or cool tones?

It really depends on the scene! Especially in my comic, I really go with both of them, just depending on the moment in the comic. There was a major character death, and that scene was almost black and white. But normally, the comic is very vibrant, and people really like it, so when I switch it to a more cold tone, it makes the scene that much more impactful.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

Honestly, my current comic, City of Blank, takes up 100% of my time. But recently, I did a plushie campaign where I worked with Makeship through Webtoon to design the plushies and do a little bit of marketing for them. So that’s fun and different from what I normally do!

When planning a comic or a story, what do you do first, character design or character outline?

Normally, I have a design, and I fall in love with the character design, and then I find a role for them. That’s how a lot of my characters have started. Also, that’s how I’ve been tackling new projects that I want to work on after City of Blank. I just came up with a character, and I’m trying to make a story around them.

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Meeting readers and realizing how much my work means to some of them. Some of them have started their own comics, having been inspired by mine. Learning that I’m part of the reason they started their own comic journey, the same way I looked to other inspiring comic artists to start mine—it means the world that I’m in that position now.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Let’s see…bright, sparkly colors! I think just trying to make sure that the booth is eye-catching. I ended up making a big shiny banner for New York Comic Con, and I know many people stopped by because it caught their eye and they’re curious about what it is. I know a lot of people are selling merchandise of popular media. Even just a banner of your brand to get them curious about who you are and maybe interested in seeing what you make and taking a business card so they can look you up later. It’s better than someone just buying a pin and forgetting you exist. Lastly, put out a tip jar. You never know just how generous your fans are feeling.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I’m mostly involved in the webtoon sphere! I am definitely inspired by my fellow Webtoon creators, @lark-wren, who created the series Woven. I love their work and seeing them interact with their readers on Tumblr. Same with fellow Webtoon creators, @miranda-mundt-art and @astrobleme-enterprises, who created Lovebot.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, 66! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @66sharkteeth and follow their webcomic, City of Blank, over at WEBTOON.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #webtoon #webcomic #comic artist #66 shark teeth #city of blank

685 notes · View notes

blusocket · 7 days

Text

I've seen some people express some confusion about what Fortnight is about, why it opens the album, what's happening in the video, etc, so here's my attempt at an analysis. For the most part I'll be referring to the characters in the video with the names of the people playing them (Taylor and Post) but at times I'm going to be making direct reference to the events of Taylor's personal life and referring to the muses by their names (Joe and Matty) for the sake of clarity and simplicity.

The song itself uses the suburbia conceit as an extended metaphor for the beginning of her relationship with Matty (he's the neighbor she runs away to Florida with, Joe is the cheating husband.) For more eloquent and detailed thoughts on the narrative of the song you can check out Jaime @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes's post here.

The video is really dense, and I'm not 100% confident in every aspect of my interpretation, but I feel pretty sure that it's making extensive use of visual metaphor in order to tell roughly the same story as the song, just in a different setting. To start, Taylor wakes up chained to a bed in a white dress.

To me this suggests that she's been driven mad by being left at the altar, and is now trapped, surveilled and controlled, in a type of asylum. This represents the end of her relationship with Joe--waiting for a marriage that never came, feeling trapped, mentally unwell etc.

She then takes 'forget him' pills which reveal Post's tattoos on her face when she looks in the mirror.

This represents Matty (the "miracle move-on drug") and shows that he made a mark on her while she was still in the asylum--that is, still in her relationship with Joe. Additionally, in the wide shot where we see the mirror, its size and shape are very reminiscent of a one-way mirror, often seen in interrogation rooms and psychological experiments, further reinforcing the idea that Taylor is imprisoned here.

She then is able to go to the typewriter room and do her work, creating art about how she's feeling, shown by her repeatedly typing "I love you, it's ruining my life" on the typewriter. She's still in pain and feeling trapped. While there, she encounters Post and they create art together, which creates beauty and color in her life. The blue and gold obviously reference her writing about Joe, but the fact that her work is gold and Post's is blue may be a deliberate choice to draw parallels between Matty and Joe, as she does on numerous songs throughout TTPD.

The next scene, where Taylor's hair is down and she and Post are wearing the same black coat and pants, takes place inside her head (symbolized by the shape of the papers they're laying on.) She is dreaming about them being free and creating art together, represented by the papers surrounding them and book she's holding, which has the word "us" written on the cover. She's writing their story before it's begun.

She then reaches for his hand in her fantasy, accepting and asking for this relationship

Then we see that she's being studied and experimented on--the results of the lie detector test read "I love you, it's ruining my life." Her pain is an object of fascination.

Interestingly, Post is part of the group experimenting on her, but when the experiments begin to cause her pain, he liberates her.

This inspires Taylor to destroy the place where she's been trapped, which we see through her opening the filing cabinets that cover the walls and destroying the mirror. I also find the shot of her standing still while papers burn around her interesting and significant; I interpret this as Taylor destroying her own work about Joe. By choosing to leave, she is metaphorically burning--rejecting--the story she wrote about them.

Finally, Taylor and Post enter the dangerous outside world together; the rain echoes the lyric "I chose this cyclone with you" on the album's title track. While I do feel the meaning of Post being in the phone booth is somewhat ambiguous, the framing and the accompanying lyric--"I've been calling ya but you won't pick up" suggest that he's attempting to communicate with her but can't reach her. They are free of her prison, but still separated.

Then, he hangs up the phone and reaches for her hand, and she takes it. The final shot of the video is a close up on their linked hands, presenting us with a cautiously optimistic ending--they are lost and vulnerable in the middle of a storm, but they have each other.

I feel this is a somewhat less sinister, for lack of a better word, portrayal of the start of Matty and Taylor's relationship than is suggested elsewhere on the record, though I believe Post's character being part of the group experimenting on her is significant and the editing creates some ambiguity about exactly when and why she decides to break free. But I hope this clarifies how the video sets up the beginning of this story, the fallout of which is then chronicled over the course of the rest of TTPD.

#taylor swift #the tortured poets department #ttpd #fortnight

199 notes · View notes

bejeweledblondie · 7 months

Text

König Headcannons

A/N: just like Ghost’s headcannon’s I’m taking inspiration from my experiences living on a military base

Warnings: NSFW

König x F! Reader

• König initially first met you while you were volunteering with the United Nations & Doctors Without Borders

• you were administering vaccines to children in the Middle East, & providing medical services to the underprivileged communities

• he was awe of your empathy & kindness towards these children, you treated them like they were your own & took your job super seriously

• KorTac was providing security for the community from potential terrorist attacks, as taking any western countries citizen for ransom seemed enticing

• After a surprise attack on the camp that was set up, he immediately brought you to safety & held you as you sobbed into chest out of fear for your life & all those innocent civilians that caught in the gunfire

• “shhh, schatz it’ll be okay” he whispered to you

• he finally asked you out after months of waiting for the right time

• you were giving him his flu shot when he asked you out

• your first date was in his off post apartment, he had cooked you homemade Austrian food

• his cooking is divine, he always chef’s it up in the kitchen

• you guys moved in only a few months into dating (which seems early but in the military world you’re slacking)

• he proposed with his Oma’s ring

• he also asked your parents over FaceTime for your hand in marriage, they were reluctant but he was very persuasive

• you’d probably wind up working at the hospital on post, & the soldiers that come in 100% know you’ll take care of them

• during Christmas leave both of your families meet in Vienna for Christmas time, I mean cmon Vienna is gorgeous at Christmas

• you two announce your pregnancy at Christmas dinner

• his Oma jumped up & ran over to hug you

• this man’s genes are freakin strong

• you definitely get pregnant with twins

• König is deployed when you find out & you tell him over FaceTime

• he cried pure tears of joy & his whole team celebrated

• due to the fact he’s like a giant he produces large babies

• you’d have to get a c-section for the birth because of it, & König makes it in the last second.

• he still had his hood on & was in his tactical gear scaring the entire nursing staff

• imagine their surprise when he just asks where his wife is

• you have a girl & a boy

• they’d definitely be named after his grandparents

• he sings lullaby’s in Austrian to them to introduce them to his home country’s culture

• he hates leaving for deployments now that they’re born & he definitely became more ruthless on the battlefield due to it

• he 100% would bring the babies to work whenever it was a mandatory fun day or a super relaxed day at work

• these hardened military men would be all over your babies & arguing as to who gets to hold them next

• they’re very well protected & König made sure of that

• he’s a family man at heart & he will do anything to protect them

✨NSFW ✨

• you weren’t very experienced when you met König & when you first saw his cock you were in absolute disbelief a man could be that hung

• you let your intrusive thoughts win & asked if he’d fit inside of you

•it took a lot of foreplay for him to fully fit snug in you

• he definitely would say the most absolutely filthy things in Austrian to you even if you understood them or not

• massive size & breeding kink

• he just loves how small your hands are compared to his cock you need both of them to jerk him off

• when he found out you were pregnant he was elated that his efforts worked out

• loved to see your body change & baby bump grow

• also loved how horny you were as a pregnancy symptom ( it killed him that you’d have to deal with that alone while he was deployed)

• like most military men he too has a collection of your nudes & plenty of videos of him fucking you

• he loves your hips & how wide they are to him it digs deep into the primal instinct of carrying his babies

• König is just as stealthy in bed as he is in on the battlefield

#call of duty #cod imagines #ghost call of duty #könig #könig modern warfare #kortac #könig x you #könig cod #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig fanfiction #könig call of duty #könig imagine #cod masterlist #könig x y/n #könig x female reader

783 notes · View notes

maryrouille · 4 days

Text

Toxic romanticization of studying

In a word of introduction, my profile partly shows that studying and exploring is wonderful. But as a person involved in science*, I would like to show healthy and true patterns of this beautiful adventure in acquiring knowledge.

The inspiration for writing this post this time was not the phenomenon from Tumblr (although you can also observe it here), but from Pinterest. There you can come across cycles composed of quotes and photos whose aim is to motivate young girls to learn, succeed and get good grades. These images often also show examples of characters from movies, TV series or real life that you can aspire to be like. Overall, I have to agree that it really works! But I would like to draw attention to certain elements that need to be verified.

1. You shouldn't get up at 5am

First of all, the correct amount of sleep is one of the most important factors affecting the proper and effective functioning of our brain. During sleep, nerve cells regenerate, organize information acquired during the day and consolidate memory traces, which is directly related to learning. Lack of sleep increases impulsivity, deepens negative thinking and slows down the body's reaction time!

2. You can be a genius without good grades

Of course, good grades are a pleasant confirmation of our knowledge and praise for hard work. However, sometimes it is worth considering whether the structure of exams themselves, especially those with closed questions, affects the results. We often study for one specific exam, the knowledge of which may be very… limited and sometimes not useful, so it is worth prioritizing the topics that we study hard.

3. It's not cool to think you're better than others

We are different and have different priorities in life. It is also worth considering how many people escape from the rat race and start a slow, stress-free life. So we have to agree that judging people based on grades or responses under stress (sic!) is not cool.

The good thing about romanticizing studying

As I have already said, these types of collages are really motivating. So let's talk about what's great about them and what's worth highlighting and saving for later.

1. Knowledge is beautiful, but your outfit and surroundings can also be

We know that we should never judge a book by its cover, but… the issue of social perception painfully confirms that we do and will continue to do so because this is how our brains work. And isn't it nice when someone looks at us and thinks this girl is so classy?

Moreover, a nice outfit that makes us feel good gives us a lot of self-confidence. There are also many studies confirming the positive impact on motivation and concentration of a neat and aesthetic workplace.

2. Not just cramming, but also discovering

Broadening your horizons is easier with passion and real commitment. And to achieve this, the topics must really interest us. Not everyone has yet found something that they are extremely passionate about in science, so that is why you have to dig deeper and discover different areas.

3. Don't be afraid to use your knowledge in practice

Schools and universities, unfortunately, have their own rules and they do not always allow you to show your 100% potential. Thus, share your knowledge with others externally, write essays, blog and social media. This form of activity also makes you learn things faster and easier. In addition, contacts with others will expand your knowledge.

Therefore, I must say that it is worth choosing your inspirations carefully. Nothing helps you enjoy studying better than a clear head and lack of prejudices.

*This post was inspired by my own experience with studying. If anyone is interested, I think I can share my mistakes that did not help me in an academic adventure :)

#study aesthetic #healthy studying #study motivation #studyblr #dark academia #light academia #studyspo #study inspiration #study inspo #study blog #studying #productivitytips #studyblr community

173 notes · View notes

meanbossart · 1 month

Text

Lore Ask Compilation: "Every Other Question Is About The Drow's Dick" edition

Oh I LOVE Minthara, her dialogue is absolutely fascinating and in my opinion some of the best written In the game. Experiencing her in my Evil Durge playthrough without having been spoiled to her companion scenes prior was great - the amount of depth they managed to add to her, without it at all feeling forced or rushed, and considering how much less time she gets to develop at our side is really well done. While nearly everyone's quests had me immersed, she was one of the few characters who really made me pause and think about the things she had to say to me, what she truly meant by them, and what they meant for me as an avatar doing an evil run.

We have a lot of characters in this game that are meant to be full of wisdom and experience, who are meant to be the ones who say the right thing at the right time that inspires us to make the correct choices, but I don't think either Halsin or Jaheira (and I love Jaheira) made me feel like I knew so little about life quite as Minthara did.

And, of course, she's absolutely hysterical. 10/10 I wish she had a proper companion quest past being rescued but I understand why she doesn't.

[MORE ASKS UNDER THE CUT]

It doesn't connect to the urethra since the slit in on top, so he nuts and pisses normal.

Also you 100% are not sorry, stop lying to me.

Man, I thought a lot about this one because I play so fast and loose with the content the game gives us that I'm positive there must be SOMETHING I'm completely disregarding, but I couldn't think of anything! I've chosen to pick slightly less obvious interpretations to some lines and text but nothing that completely deviates from canon, I don't think. If anyone has noticed something I neglected to mention, feel free to let me know - not because I want to revise it, but just because I'm curious!

For the second part of the question, not really. Larian did a great job of giving us plenty of room to play around in the dark urge's background, I think I'm yet to see something that I find to truly "not fit" in the ample freedom they've given us. I have my preferences, of course - I'm shocked to find that most dark urge's are NOT big hulking beasts, for example - in fact that seems to be the minority by far, but I realize that I have my... Uh... Biases.

You can see a cute little divot through the fabric if you look closely LOL

And nah, I think his penis has seen enough sharp points for a lifetime.

Well.

Unless someone decided to add some bite-marks to it.

HMMM, I... Don't think so.

He didn't cry as a baby, he didn't cry as a child (and this isn't something I just decided on now - this is a major reason why his foster drow mother even kept him around) he didn't really cry growing up or at any point during the campaign. I think he is capable of it - sadness in him just tends to be far more confusing a feeling than anything else.

He will have emotional moments in ANE, whether or not that will culminate in crying is something you will have to wait to find out LOL

Astarion has noticed this and just took it as a character trait - the drow doesn't cry, he just gets confused, angry, frustrated or simply bottles it up. While he can be demanding of his emotional maturity, he isn't going to try and dictate how he should experience his own feelings. If it did happen it would definitely catch him majorly off-guard, perhaps even shift the perception he has of him to a certain extent.

Oh my god you just know they All managed to be utterly quiet about it for as long as humanly (and unhumanly) possible until like, I don't even know, halfway through the Shadow-cursed lands where one day Karlach finally turns back to the group around the campfire after a half-nude drow has strut past and she's like "SO

"DOES ANYONE KNOWS WHY HIS DICK HAS A SNATCH"

And Wyll is like :0... Karlach you can't just ask people that.

And then she pointedly turns to Astarion and starts trying to interrogate him on how it works while Gale covers his ears and Shadowheart is like:

This is gonna blow you guys backwards but he does not do those things in front of people and thinks its rude if you do.

HMMM Mostly physically but it's a little subtle. He really enjoys interacting with Astarion's (and previously Orin's) hands - kissing, holding, caressing. Touching hair and faces as well. He can engage in more overt physical affection but usually Astarion has to be the one to initiate.

A disarmingly earnest proclamation of love and adoration here and there as well - he isn't shy in the slightest to tell people how he feels about them, he just isn't constantly reminding them of it unless inspiration strikes.

Most of all I think he expects his loved-ones to see his care for them in his tendency to go out of his way to help them achieve their goals.

He went with them to the Shadow-cursed lands but I never helped him fix the curse, so he stayed behind when the gang went onwards to the city. DU Drow didn't really like him so it was good-riddance as far as he was concerned.

If he had come along and propositioned him during act 3 - uh, you know the really mean rejection line you have as a choice during that dialogue? Yeah, that one lmao.

Alas, DU drow is just monogamous. He could entertain group-sex with a partner for fun at the most, but not ever a third person in the relationship. And In my personal interpretation (but by all means - everyone else have fun with their poly arrangements!) of Astarion and his delivery of the "this is about Halsin" line, I also thought he was lying about being comfortable with it, so I write him as monogamous as well.

Nothing. Nada. Not a thing. Say what you'd like about Bhaal but he sure knows how sculpt them out of his murder-meat.

(Thank you!!!)

#ask compilation #DU drow lore #bg3 spoilers

147 notes · View notes

firegirl888101 · 7 months

Note

how would the harbingers react to a reader who's good at drawing? like, they like to draw the harbingers or other things

Good at drawing?

I'm shit at drawing so I'm not really sure what to say, that's why I didn't reply to this for awhile. But, I eventually got a couple things when my friend was sketching some stuff in front of me.

Sorry that the current Insatiable Madness chapter is taking so long, I've been studying a lot these past couple of days.

I also got another ask where it asked about Halloween. I don't really celebrate Halloween, because I never grew up with it. I've always been too shy to trick-or-treat and I didn't have many friends (and still don't) who'd want to go with me. Quite sad actually, but it's alright. I don't think I missed out on much.

Is anyone expecting me to make a Halloween special? I don't mind doing it, but I'll need inspiration as I wouldn't know where to start 💀

Actually, the more I think about it, I do have one fun idea. (Harbingers going trick-or-treating??? Halloween party if that even exists? Idk, I'll have to do some research.)

|You can take this with Yandere and without - some will probably lean towards yan though.|

So, to begin with:

Pierro wouldn't be too bothered. I feel if Y/N had a skill they were confident in, and wanted to show it, he'd let his curiousity get the better of him and check it out. But, if it's something like drawing he'll probably leave a comment then leave. Whether it's positive or negative, you be the judge. This man is like a slate slab. No personality I'm sorry 😭😭 (When I see more of his character, maybe I'll like him more?)

If you were to draw this man, he'd be humbled. A Grandpa who received his very first present from his grandchild. Would definitely frame the damn thing in his office (which originally was your parent's) he'd put it on the desk. It's his office now, don't argue for it back.

Capitano would show interest. Not too much since he's the main captain of the Fatui, but still interested. If he's bored, or deems the 'fort' (the house) safe, he'll sit down with you and watch what you're doing. Occasionally asking you if he could doodle with you - but I think that would be very rare. His main objective in his mind is guarding you when your own is low whilst you're having fun, doodling or drawing something.

Would 100% deny the picture of him at first. He'd think, that looks like me, but it can't be. Yes, it's him, you'd reassure. Eventually he does take it and folds it in his coat. After that, he'd probably leave the room in embarrassment. Since then on, he'd definitely keep all drawings you've made of him in his pocket. There's too many? Let's put it in the second pocket. That's full too? Looks like he's buying a new coat. Oh? There's room in his military coat he hasn't worn in two years? That'll do just nicely.

Dottore would be intrigued if he saw you practice anatomy - or if you drew more of a gorey scene. I think he'd be even more interested if you liked to draw the human body with extra things (such as arms, legs, eyes or even got rid of a few), and question you on your design choices and if it already exists somewhere. (He's not fooling you, he's obviously taking inspirations for a new experiment). If he didn't know, or wasn't good, he'd probably ask for tips on how to sketch ideas like yours. He reassures you it's not for any experimentation but once again, he's not fooling you at all.

If you were to draw him he'd treat it like glass. Nobody has ever given him a sketch before - bonus points if you draw him injured whilst you're angry with him. He'd treat it as if you drew him with love, and not as if you'd stab him in the heart if you ever got the chance. What do you mean he shouldn't like it this much? It's a work of art! He'd be very quick to correct the drawing if you got anything wrong. Who knows what this man has in his body at this point.

Columbina would join you in your drawing activities. Maybe add some glitter if you have any. The second you complain about cleaning up, however, she has somehow disappeared and has become very forgetful about the events upstairs. 'How curious!~' She would hum to herself with her usual smile. Is definitely the type to ask if you could draw her. Who are you to refuse? Especially when she gives you that look of daunt hope and kindness which makes you drop your pen in fear. Before you can give her an answer, you've already picked up your pencil and began to sketch her beautiful headpiece.

When Columbina receives her multiple sketches, she's overjoyed. Oh, look how you drew this part! How you drew her clothes! She's quick to kiss you on the cheek as a thank you and runs off somewhere. Huh, you feel like you've just been used.

Arlecchino will roll her eyes at first. She's seen many children in the hearth draw for her. Her initial thoughts were vague, she didn't really see much of your hobby. That was until she actually saw what you were drawing. She would stare as you worked, your pencil delicately brushing against the paper you most likely bought the other day. It soon will become a habit to watch you work, becoming a therapeutic source for her. She sometimes questions why you're drawing... certain things, but she wouldn't actually stop your creative mind from working.

Handing Arlecchino the drawing you drew of her would make her blood rise to her cheeks slightly. Sure, she's received a lot of gifts in this sense before. But from you? What an honour! She'll accept it with a soft smile she'd usually show the kids, and pat your head treating you like one. Little do you know she's trying so hard to control her cute agression response by not tearing the paper.

Pulcinella would react very similarly to Pierro. However, he'd have more experience with complimenting and encouraging 'a child' in a hobby they're having fun with. If he saw your skill, he'd probably compliment it whole-heartedly with a chuffed smile. Massaging his mustache like some aristocrat, in the 1940s... Anyway, he'd be very pleased when he watches you draw more and more. He's happy that you're spending your time doing something you like under the tense situation his coworkers (and him, but he doesn't like to admit it) have brought upon you.

I do not see you drawing this man at all. He's a short, dobby, old, looking as man. I don't see him as the type to ask either, at all. He's minding his own business in your house and plans to keep it that way until the situation is resolved.

Scaramouche really doesn't care. We've all got our own likes and dislikes, but he's not bothered about yours. Will most likely purposefully pass by you working on a piece and insult it just to get attention. He'd never actually mean it though - he just never tells you that important fact. As time progresses he'll sneak into your room just to look at more sketches or finished drawings you've done, and assess your progress from each year if you've been practicing for a long time-period.

Now, here's where things get interesting. If you were to draw him and never show it to him, said puppet finding it for himself in one of your drawers, he'd first feel angry. Why wouldn't you show him this? It's of him! ...But then he'd quickly realise it's because of the way he treated you when you were working (oops). If you actually handed it to him and let him keep it, he'd be delighted. You actually drew him? He didn't even have to manipu-- he means 'ask' you to draw him? This is a good step forward to where he wants to be in your heart.

Sandrone would be delighted to know that she's finally found a use for you in her head. She never thought that purposefully walking past you one evening would lead to her shuffling through all the sketches and designs you've done with awe. Where did you get this idea from? How can she recreate it? Would you be happier and more devoted to her if she were to make your dreams true? She digresses. Watching your creative little mind draw your ideas to life inspires her also, and makes her want to recruit you as a special exception to the 'no non-artificial beings' allowed in her workshop. Thinking of all the monstrosities you could design with her help sends pleasurable shivers up her spine.

Drawing her, however? This was rather unprecedented. Out of all the things-- no, people you could have drawn... and you decide on her? And ooh! You even drew her slave she likes to travel around on, how thoughtful, you're already expressing your adoration for her works! Trust me, don't draw her. You'll give her daydreams that will never happen.

Signora, like most of the harbingers, wouldn't care at first. She hates your house and hates your world, why in Teyvat's name would she be interested in what you're doing? That's what she used to think, until her arrogant slick eyes caught sight of what exactly you were drawing. In my opinion, there's only a couple things that would interest Signora. Drawing dresses, if you were interested in fashion designing, would definitely be the main one. Viewing your designs after you finished them would soon become a small hobby for her, and soon, she'd eventually ask you to draw her in one of your designs.

You'd say yes, of course. An excuse to draw a drop-dead gorgeous woman in one of your designs for free? No way you were going to pass this opportunity! For her hard work in modeling, you'd definitely pay back twice and give her a drawing of her in her harbinger uniform too - which I think would flatter her a bit too much.

Pantalone wouldn't care, and would never become interested. He's a very rich and successful banker, not any ordinary man. As soon as he sees you drawing somewhere in the house, he'll shrug and go the opposite way. He knows what it's like to be interrupted through a thoughtful process, and he doesn't feel like getting an earful from you if he interrupts it. What he does think about, however, is if you're making money from it. Maybe an online business. He asks, and receives a very disappointing answer. No? What do you mean no? These are good, he'd pay for a portrait! Well, if Mora was a usable currency here. Ugh, the thought of being a poor man in this world makes him disgusted.

Drawing him would result in lots of praise. He'd be very happy you used your own time to draw him. He didn't even have to pay for it, it was gift! You even said so yourself. Immediately taken from your hands and framed somewhere. You can't seem to find the drawing though... Pantalone insists it's still in the house, but no matter where you look you just can't find it! Oh well, it's probably better you didn't know where it went. (You would have never been able to find it, he hid the location so well after all.) Pantalone told you he'd give something back to you as a thank you, but you're not holding him to his word.

Tartaglia would be interested the second he sees you doing something he hasn't seen you do before. That looks interesting, let him give drawing a try! He'd boast how his siblings love his drawings he creates, but you knew he was lying to set a cheery mood. Your understanding was backed when you actually saw his 'Amazing Drawing'... It was embarrassing to say the least. He would heed all your little tips and eventually get good at drawing from your guidance! I can see him as the type to use these skills later for his siblings, and as the type to continue drawing even if you begin to get bored of it... He's skilled with his fingers after all-- okay I'm sorry I'm done.

Drawing him can go one in two ways. I see him as someone who will whine about being drawn. He'll say: 'Have you drawn me yet?' in one of the most annoying voices he cna muster. He knows and understands you find it annoying when he asks you to draw him, so he's found a loophole. Just keep asking questions related to it until you get the hint! ...You got the hint weeks ago, but you're refusing to do it. Well, you're refusing to show him your drawings you've already finished and hid out of sight. Showing him these drawings would make him really happy! Would fold his favourite and carry it around with him everywhere like some of the other harbingers. His next commission he's planned to ask you is of a drawing of Capitano. You eagerly declined, not wishing to impose on the Captain's privacy.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #fatui harbingers #yandere harbingers #genshin #pierro #capitano #il dottore #columbina #arlecchino #pulcinella #scaramouche #sandrone #la signora #pantalone #tartaglia #childe #fatui #genshin fatui

259 notes · View notes

moons-of-dewclan · 4 months

Note

Uhh I’m sure you’ve been asked this before but!!! Do you have any advice for making a clangen comic? I’m kinda doing a disaster clan but in intervals of 5 moons, and I can’t fit in the specific prompts on one image (and I’m too lazy to draw like 5 pages) so uhmmm do u have any advice? :3

The reason I go in intervals of five is because I’m a curious guy and I draw and play clangen on separate devices so uhhh oh god am I oversharing I’ll shut up now

MY TIPS WON'T BE GREAT bc my whole art experience is 'do what i want when i want how i want and if it's not fun i don't do it' SO IT'S NOT A TECHNICAL THING BUT LKASNDLKASD I CAN TRY!! what's been good for me in clangen is, • always mark down your seasons! bc it sucks to forget what season the event took place in when you go to draw it • don't shove every tiny prompt and event into a moon if you don't want to (it's a lot of work..) • it's ok to have a clan of 40 cats and only follow 1 or 2 main characters. if the pressure if the amount of cats you end up with is too much, IGNORE EM. + silhouettes are ok if you wanna imply a full camp. use stamps even • IF an event happens that you think is going to have a damper on your enjoyment for the comic (like if your favourite cat dies), RELOAD AND PRETEND IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. authenticity is not Real in media you make for fun. unless it's fun for you for favourite main character BillyBreeze to kick the bucket to a random event, you don't have to save and go with it. if it makes you go 'euuhh..' and not 'NOOO!! (smiles in hidden)', 'ok' or 'OHOHO ;)) OMG COOL', screw it. never put anything above your muse and inspiration. • which brings me to, save after every event you like happening! so patrol events, or something. in case randomly something rly weird happens that doesn't make sense with the story or what your cat would do, you can just restart • if you develop your cat, and they do something wildly out of the personality you developed/hc for them, you can ignore it in favour of character consistency (I WILL NOT LIE, i wanted to 100% never change or refuse anything in the game, but i changed lyre's personality after the prompt came up saying that he MAULED VANILLABRIGHT FOR DOUBTING HIS LEADERSHIP. ARE U INSANE HE WOULD NEVER. plus character development is allowed, even if ingame events don't represent it well. so do what you gotta do. game files are easy to change!) • FOLLOW THAT LAZINESS. and follow fun. do what will keep you having the most fun through the entire thing. if you wanna end at 30 moons, do it. if you wanna stop and restart and do a different idea, do it. your own enjoyment matters most. so the second you go 'ugh i don't wanna'- DON'T. whatever it is, don't. nobody is paying you for this, do what you want. (unless they are paying you for it.. then damn, lucky)

#kasks #tips a la ka (results may vary)

177 notes · View notes

its-time-to-write · 6 months

Text

this is 100% self indulgent. no one asked for this except me and I have zero excuse for how it turned out. i have no defense, no witty rebuttal, no nothing. i wrote this because i wanted to, and at the very least i hope this inspires someone to write their borderline-self-insert fic and post it publicly.

this fic is set after season 3. enjoy😂

(oh now might also be a good time to mention how much I love Man City. bc it’s a lot.)

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

Calling Lake Como beautiful is like saying space is big. It’s true for sure, but it feels like an understatement. It’s June and the weather is absolutely gorgeous, perfect for the wedding you’re attending. It’s for two good friends of yours, and it’s going to be a party full of football royalty. You’re mostly excited to see friends who are WAGs from other teams who you’ve connected with over the past year and a half.

Oh, and you suppose it will be a nice vacation with Jamie, too.

You’re staying at a beautiful hotel that’s been open since 1910, and you swear you’ll never stay somewhere as beautiful again.

“Getting ideas for the house?” Jamie teases, and it sends a thrill down your spine with the way he refers to his house as your collective home.

You grin as he spins you around the Suite Greta. Everything is golden, from the drapes to the pillows to the sun catching on his face.

“No,” you reply, “but maybe for a vacation home?”

Jamie laughs as he catches you up in his arms. “I could see us here in the next off-season. Not sure we’d get out much,” he muses and you wrap your arms around him as tight as they can go.

You’re here for a full week but Isaac’s wedding is only one day. You and Jamie have plans to see everyone who’s in town, as well as have some time to yourself.

“Sasha wants to go out for dinner tonight,” you tell Jamie as he unpacks his suitcase.

“Girls only, or will Jack be there?”

“Let’s see,” you hum as you scan the group chat. “Isabel said she and Erling will be there, so looks like it’s a couple’s thing. That’ll be fun, right?” you ask with just a hint of anxiety. Jamie and Jack are friends, they’ve run in the same circles for years, but you’re not sure how he’s going to feel about being outnumbered two to one, City to Richmond, at dinner.

“As long as Rodri ain’t there, I’m fucking chuffed,” he says as he lays out his suit on the bed.

“Chuffed? Is that a thing you say now?” you ask, flat on your back on the bed.

“Yep,” he replies. “I’m posh now, babe. Sorry you Americans can’t do it as well as we Brits.”

“I have it on good authority that we do it very well,” you smirk. “But I don’t think that’s something you’ll get to experience tonight. I haven’t seen Sash or Isa in ages, so we’ll probably talk for a long time and then I’ll be tired when we get back to the room.”

Jamie groans. “You’re sadistic, woman. The shit you put me through.”

You smile and remind him, “You’re the one who picked me, remember?”

—

Jamie is technically the one who picked you. You had just moved from America to London, got a temp job at a Richmond FC, and the rest is history. You don’t work at Richmond anymore, haven’t for a while, as you’ve been able to start your own thing in between attending matches and events and whatever else Jamie’s invited to. Being Jamie’s girlfriend is a full-time job on its own, and he definitely spoils you beyond what you’re used to. He’s the one who bought your dress for the wedding and it freaked you out just a little bit until you called Sasha (an angel, by the way) who laughed and talked you off the ledge.

“Comes with the territory, babe. They’re just boys with more money than they know what to do with. Jack’d buy me the moon if he could figure out how. Enjoy it. It’s been a while since anyone’s seen Tartt this happy.”

So you do. You had been living together for almost a year now so you’d think that a dress wouldn’t push you over the edge, but there you go. You’re trying to be calmer about it. It’s better ever since you met Sasha and Isabel.

You had been stuck in a room while Jamie talked to his old manager, and they had noticed your deer-in-the-headlights expression. You’re right in the middle of the two, age-wise, and from similar enough backgrounds.

“Here’s my number. Come over to my flat tomorrow for brunch. We’ll get you settled, babes,” Sasha had said. You went and it had been amazing to finally make real friends, even if they were technically on the opposing team.

You’re excited to see them, excited for Isaac to finally get married, and excited to spend a full seven days with Jamie by your side. It’s going to be the best.

—

You enter the venue arm-in-arm with Jamie, practically dancing across the grass. The sun’s shining and there are all sorts of people you know and love. It feels a little surreal to be here.

Earlier, back in the room, you had slipped into your dress carefully to avoid getting makeup stains on the front. The skirt fell just at your knees and puffed out ever so slightly, with thick straps instead of regular sleeves so you could fully enjoy the warm weather.

“Do a spin,” he had said, voice full of glee. You’d acquiesced, twirling around to let the blue tile print billow out before he caught you, kissing your shoulder so as not to ruin your makeup.

Now, you’re holding onto him and trying not to wrinkle his linen suit when you hear someone shout your name.

“Sasha!” you screech, running toward her as best you can with your shoes on the grass. You squeeze each other into a tight hug, uncaring about about the state of her hot pink dress.

“Hey man,” Jack says to Jamie, who grins and shakes his hand. “You’d think they haven’t seen each other in fucking ages.”

“It’s been twelve hours,” you say. “And before that it’s been like two months. Anyway, don’t you two have some football to discuss or something? Or headbands? Or-”

“Really short socks,” Sasha helpfully supplies.

Jamie shakes his head. “Fuck off, Attwood.”

“Fuck you, Tartt,” she replies.

“Oi, you two wouldn’t even be friends if it weren’t for me. You could be a little nicer,” Jamie says.

“Oh is that Hughes?” Jack asks before either Sasha or Jamie can escalate. Their entire friendship is based off sniping one another and neither you nor Jack are particularly in the mood for it today.

Jamie turns to look. “Oh mint, looks like things are starting. You saved us seats?”

“Yeah, with Haaland and Isabel,” Sasha returns, linking her arm through yours. “C’mon, did you get yourself a parasol?”

—

It’s the most beautiful wedding you’ve ever been to. Stella looks stunning in her gown, Isaac stoically sobs his eyes out while Colin surreptitiously hands him a tissue. Even Roy seems to be having a good time, but then again Keeley once told you that he “really fucking loves weddings.” You hadn’t believed her, but his lips are in a straight line instead of a frown so maybe she was right.

There’s a group of City and Richmond players together, and it’s a little strange to see how friendly they are off the pitch. Dani is explaining something with lots of hand gestures to Phil while the rest of the group jokes around.

Sasha sneaked you and Isabel away to get drinks for yourselves and you were about to get away unnoticed when Erling caught Isabel’s arm and asked for a drink too, so now you’re ordering for your boyfriends as well as yourselves.

You don’t really care, there’s a part of you that’s reveling in the sheer joy of being young and hot. Sue you.

“Cosmo, please,” you say while the girls order drinks of their own. Sasha raises an eyebrow so you shrug and say, “Jamie likes what he likes.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs “Tartt,” but it’s with the affection of an older sister so you elbow her and ask, “What did Jack want?”

She makes a face. “Heineken. He also likes what he fuckin’ likes.”

You wheeze out a laugh as Isabel comes to join you. She smiles as she sips from something lavender colored in a martini glass. She cuts an elegant figure in her yellow, billowy dress. You smooth your dress and open your mouth to say something when a voice calls your name. You look to see your ex walking up, hand-in-hand with his wife. You know, the one he left you for.

“Jake,” you say in surprise. God, you need your brain to form coherent thoughts right now. “What are you doing here?”

He grins, far too wide and goofy to be real. Not like Jamie, you think.

“Oh, you know, Emma’s loosely related to the bride on her dad’s side. She asked for an invite, so here we are. Who are you here for? Bride or groom?”

“Both, actually,” you reply automatically. Jake’s words are grating, not so much in content as they are in tone. He always had a way of saying things condescendingly, like everyone else was a stupid little kid.

“Oh,” he says in what you think is supposed to be surprise, “that’s funny. I didn’t know you knew anyone out here. You’ve been living in England all alone, right?”

Emma just hovers by Jake’s shoulder. She’s not contributing anything to this conversation except a snooty little smirk.

“No,” you say. “I’m not alone. This is Isabel, by the way.” You look around for Sasha, but she’s disappeared. Smart girl.

Isa doesn’t extend her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she says and Jake takes her at her word. He puffs up his chest a little bit as he asks, “Where are you from? You don’t sound British.”

“We’re from Norway,” a voice behind her says. “I’m Erling.”

Sasha has reappeared with Jack, Erling, and Jamie in tow. You mentally congratulate her with a well done, Sash as you feel Jamie’s arm loop around your waist.

He feels like a solid wall against your back, a glimmer in an otherwise garbage moment.

Jake takes stock of the three men who are looking at him with less-than friendly stares. You’re not sure what Sasha told them, but you’re absolutely positive Jamie recognizes Jake. You can practically feel the hairs on his arm bristling.

Jake finishes his assessment and deems it appropriate to talk. “So, how do you all know each other?”

Jamie scoffs and looks away, while Jack stares at Jake like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

You wonder what it is with your affinity for J-names.

“We’re footballers,” Erling says before anyone can take more offense.

“Premier League footballers,” Jamie adds, as if it means anything to Jake.

Jake’s American, like you, and he’s never been much for sports anyway. He wouldn’t even recognize David Beckham if the man were standing under a poster of himself.

Jake says, “Right. Hey, weren’t you on one of those trashy dating shows?” and Jamie stiffens.

Sasha mutters, “Fuck’s sake,” under her breath as Erling and Isabel take pointed interest in something in the distance.

“No,” Jamie replies shortly. “The fuck were you talking to my girl?”

Jake looks to you in surprise. “Oh! You two are together? That’s… well, that’s… I guess I just didn’t expect her to be whoring around like that. But hey, move to another country and all morals go out the window, right?”

That’s the thing about Jake. He never speaks as if he’s actually trying to be offensive. He just says what’s on his mind. And you’re a little concerned that what’s on his mind is going to land Jamie (and quite possible Jack) in jail. Neither of them are especially known for backing down from a squabble. “Cut from the same cloth,” Pep was rumored to say.

“Fuck off, mate,” Jack interjects. “Just fuck off. Everyone here loves her, and you can’t talk about her like that.”

Your ex reevaluates the situation at hand and decides the best thing to do would be to take Emma’s hand and walk away.

“Strange that his wife does not speak,” Erling remarks.

You grimace. “You could’ve stopped at ‘strange.’ No idea what I ever saw in him.”

Jamie has a crushing grip on your waist so you wiggle a bit to get him to loosen up.

“Prick,” he mutters. “How the fuck did he even get here, anyway? He’s in fucking America.”

“His wife’s loosely related to Stella. They asked for an invite,” Isabel volunteers.

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Oi, if he tries to talk to you again, I’ll grab Roy and we’ll fucking kill him.”

“Yeah, ‘cause McAdoo’s never been above a little violence at a party,” Jack grins.

You return his smile and say, “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure his mother-in-law would kill you.”

Erling huffs out a laugh. “Never a dull moment in the Premier League, is there?”

Isabel grins and loops her arm through his. “I’m tired of all this,” she says. “Let’s go dancing. There’s a band and we don’t have to think about anything other than celebrating, yes?”

“God yes,” says Sasha.

Jamie still looks murderous, but you squeeze his hand once and whisper, “I’m fine, babe. It’s fine.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he lets you pull him along to the dance floor with the group.

—

There are so many people that you don’t even catch a glimpse of Jake and Emma. You’re not sure what they’re up to, and fairly certain they don’t know anyone else here. You on the other hand, are living your best life as Jamie sings along to “Ain’t No Mountain.” He’s swinging your arms around as he sways in time to the music. You just let him lead you however he wants. The song ends and he presses his lips to your ear so you can hear him over the sheer volume of everyone talking. “D’you want a drink? I can go get you something.”

You nod and mouth my usual, please, so he salutes and begins weaving his way through the crowd. You watch him as long as you can before spinning back around with a smile.

A smile that quickly fades when you realize Emma is right in front of you.

She says, “Cute dress,” and for a moment, you believe she’s being sincere but then she follows it up with, “Did you borrow it from your grandma’s closet? I’ve seen people do that.”

Right, because grandmas are known for wearing dresses like this.

“What? No, Jamie got it for me,” you say.

“Oh cute, is it from Walmart? I think I saw something like it there last week.”

Emma is trying to draw blood. You suppose she’s taking her shot now as opposed to back then because she thinks there’s no one around to call her out. No one who knows her.

You say, “They don’t have Walmart here,” instead of “It’s Dolce & Gabbana,” because the second phrase would make you sound like a prick. There’s a part of you that wants to be a prick, though, wants to channel that part of Jamie that’s ruthless, vicious and cruel, messing with the opposition before he cuts them down.

The first time you saw it, it was hard to believe the Jamie on the pitch was the same Jamie who played with your hair while you cooked, or put a sticky note on his fridge titled “Babe,” detailing everything you’d ever said you liked.

Emma sees she’s not getting to you, so she changes tactics. “Must be hard being here without any friends,” she remarks. “All alone. And you’ve never been especially extraverted. Are those people the only ones here you know?”

God, Jamie, where are you?

You open your mouth to respond but are cut off by someone with a distinctly midwestern twang say, “I heard one of my favorite countrywomen was here.”

You turn to see Ted Lasso grinning at you in a black suit. It’s the same smile you remember, albeit his eyes are a little sharp. You’d bet anything he knows exactly what’s going on between you and Emma.

“Ted!” you smile as a rush of relief floods your system. You step into his arms for a hug as he says, “Hey, sweetheart. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” you say. “Kind of great, actually. I wondered if you were going to be here! Have you seen Jamie yet?”

Ted shakes his head. “Y’know, I haven’t. Why don’t we find him together?” He offers you an arm and you take it gratefully, choosing not to spare Emma a glance.

“She seems like a real bucket of laughs,” Ted remarks.

“You have no idea. That’s my ex’s wife.”

Whatever Ted thought you were going to say, he certainly wasn’t prepared for that. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on a short, “Well I’ll be danged.”

You laugh and stand on tiptoes to try to see Jamie. You don’t see him, but you catch a glimpse of an especially tall, blond head.

“This way,” you tell Ted. You brush past Phil who smiles at you, past Colin and Michael, and past someone you’re pretty sure is a Beckham.

You make your way to Erling and Isabel as they dance to the music in their own corner.

You frown. “Have you seen Jamie?” you shout.

Isabel shakes her head. “He was looking for you,” she calls back.

“Oh,” you say, “Ted, this is Isabel and-”

“Erling Haaland,” Ted says, hand outstretched. “Pleasure to meet you, son. Big fan of the way you play the game.”

You miss Erling’s response, startled by a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Sam standing behind you.

“Sam!” you exclaim with a grin, “You look so handsome!”

Sam returns your grin and strikes a pose. “I’ve been sent on a very important mission. I am to retrieve you and bring you to Jamie and I am under no circumstances allowed to let a small rat man named Jake speak to you.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Jamie’s words, not mine,” Sam clarifies. “Although I must admit, I have seen this rat man. I do not like him very much.”

“You and me both,” you agree. You wave to Isabel and pat Ted on the arm before following Sam.

He leads you away from the crowd of people to a stone path illuminated by small lights. This can’t be right, you think but Sam points down the path and says, “This is where I leave you.”

He turns to leave then changes his mind and spins back around. “It was lovely seeing you today, albeit for a short amount of time. I hope I will be seeing more of you while we are here. It is not often I meet someone who makes Jamie more tolerable.”

He speaks with a touch of humor and it’s just enough to dispel any apprehensions about what’s waiting for you in the dark.

You say, “Thanks Sam. Love ya,” which he returns before he disappears back to the main party.

You take a breath and head down the steps.

It’s dark, the light barely shining enough for each step, but as you get farther you see a shadowy figure sitting on a bench under a tree. You smile. You can tell exactly who it is by his silhouette.

Jamie stands as you get closer and pulls you into his arms.

“Thought we’d sneak away to make out a bit,” he says. “And maybe to you wouldn’t yell at me in front of all our friends.”

You groan. “What did you do? Please tell me it has nothing to do with Roy. Or Jack. Oh my god, did you two start convincing people you were separated at birth again? Because it’s really only funny one time.”

“Well…” Jamie hedges.

You pinch his back. It’s the only part of him you can reach at the moment. “Jamie Tartt, you’d better tell me what you did right now or so help me you are going to be sleeping on the couch for the rest of our lives.”

“Oi, don’t fucking do that!”

He reaches back to grab your hands and holds them flat on his chest. “We- Roy, Grealish, and me, might have gotten your prick ex kicked out.”

“You what?” you gasp.

Jamie starts speaking in a rush before you can say anything else. “Look, y’know how protective Grealish gets, especially because Sasha fucking loves you, and then Roy heard that your prick ex was here (not the twat ex) and he said it’s easier for him to get in and out of fights on account of him being a fucking manager but then Grealish said that it’s pretty much expected that fights happen so might as well and anyway, no one’s gonna fuckin’ snitch on any of us because (hate to break it to you babe), but you’re, like, everyone’s kid sister. They’d fucking kill for you so it’s possible that we channeled that into threatening to break all of his bones if he ever ended up in the same country as you again.”

You’re processing all of the things Jamie said plus the incredible speed at which he said them, so all you can manage is a single “Okay,” before he’s talking again.

“Ehm, it’s also slightly-fucking-possible that someone did break his foot.”

“What?” you all but shout.

“Coordinated effort between Isa and Haaland,” Jamie says. “Lad’s a fucking wall, don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“Jesus, Jamie,” you groan. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or pinch you again.”

“You can do both,” he suggests.

You sigh. “I’m going to kiss you. Like, a lot. And I’m not going to worry about getting caught and after we’ve snogged like a pair of kids in high school- sorry, secondary school, then we’re going to eat a bunch more food and dance with our friends. And if you want to get sloshed, I promise I will only take funny videos for myself, and I will not send them to your mum this time.”

Jamie says, “Liar,” as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Fine,” you concede, “I will most definitely send them to your mum. And Simon. We’re on a group chat.”

“Not even gonna fucking ask,” Jamie says as he threads a hand through your hair so he can get at a better angle to kiss you.

—

You wake up the next morning (ahem, afternoon) to Jamie’s foot in your face.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say.

He hiccups himself awake. “Yeah?” he rumbles. “What fucking time..?”

“Late, I assume,” you say.

He groans and flips himself around so your heads are on the same side of the bed. He wastes no time in tangling your limbs together.

“Oi, koala boy. Some of us have morning breath.”

“No y’don’t babe,” he mumbles.

You scratch his head and a shudder runs through his body. “I know,” you say, “my breath is perfect. I meant you. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Cruel woman,” he returns before lapsing into silence. The sun slips through the curtains, and you’re sure it’s going to be another gorgeous day

“Jamie,” you begin then stop.

He says, “Yeah, love?” while looking up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes and you take a moment to freeze this image in your head.

Jamie Tartt, in bed, hair tousled from sleep. Pillowy white duvet, golden freckled skin, warm body pressed to yours.

He kisses your shoulder, rousing you from your thoughts.

“Jamie,” you say again, “I wanted to say-”

“Don’t,” he interjects. “You’re not fucking allowed to say thank you for the bare fucking minimum.”

“But it’s not,” you reply, opting to skate over the fact that he apparently can read your mind. “Bare minimum is like, making sure I’m not alone with him, not getting your friends together to scare him off and break his foot.”

Jamie’s been kissing your skin wherever he can reach as you speak, so his words are interspersed with pecks. “Technically, the foot was an accident. Ask any one of our witnesses. And besides, they’re your friends too. You’re the one who got ‘em all to like ya despite the fact we’re mortal enemies on the pitch.”

“You’re the one who goes tanning with Jack,” you remind him.

“Lies told by the press,” Jamie grumbles. “This is my natural sexy glow.”

You say, “Okay little British boy,” as Jamie decides that his current position is not enough and he wants to lay on top of you.

He says something but his face is buried in the crook of your neck, so all you can feel is vibrations.

You ask, “Hm?” so he lifts his head.

“What if it were us next year?”

“Tanning or breaking feet?”

“Getting married.”

Jamie goes back to having his mouth on your neck as if the air weren’t just punched from your lungs.

You’re quiet long enough that he lifts his head again to ask, “Is that good quiet or bad quiet?”

“Good!” you hastily confirm. “Good, but, babe- you haven’t even asked me yet.”

He says, “I’m going to,” as if you should have known already.

“Okay,” you breathe, “can you give me like a little heads up or something so my nails are done?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, “At the end of the week. Been planning it. Ring’s in my bag, even asked Stella if she’d be pissed that it’s the same week she took on the most un-sexy last name in history. She said she don’t give a shit as long as it’s not at her actual wedding. So.”

“I love you,” you tell him. “Not just because of yesterday or right now. I just think you’re great.”

“I am great, babe,” he says like it’s obvious. “Picked you, didn’t I?”

You crack a smile. “Alright, that’s enough out of you. Do you want to get out of bed or go back to sleep?”

“Sleep,” he replies immediately.

“Thank God,” you groan, “I didn’t want to move. You’re like a weighted blanket.”

“It’s me sexy muscles,” Jamie says. You wiggle under him to get more comfortable.

“Uh huh,” you agree, but the words are hardly out of your mouth before you’re both back to sleep.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

306 notes · View notes