#well which part of the song is the right part and then I was like sometimes subtlety doesn't win you any prizes bc why was pete | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarahisslytherin · 2 days

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•❣•୨୧ 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 ୨୧•❣•

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

summary: benedict has always been against marriage, but when he meets the princess one fateful night he can't help but fall in love.

contains: fluff and a lot of flirty banter.

a/n: another series cos it was just too much for a oneshot! this was so fun to write i just adore him. to the anon who requested this, i hope you love it and all its upcoming parts!

word count: 1.2k

You feel a heavy gaze on you as you glide across the ballroom. The chandelier above you twinkles with a warm glow, the light catching in your hair as you’re spun around by this suitor and that. The king has tired of begging you to select one for yourself and has threatened on more than one occasion to marry you off to the next prince to set foot in the palace. You know he doesn’t mean it, but you also know it is your duty to carry on the royal bloodline. Your father is right. You must choose. But certainly not this young man dancing with you. No, he’s far too boring. Not unsightly by any means, but he doesn’t make your stomach flip, doesn’t make you giggle as if possessed by an unearthly amount of joy. Still, you feel the eyes of another on you.

Benedict Bridgerton has long been a firm believer of marrying only when absolutely, undeniably in mad love. He hasn’t found that, not yet. That is why when his sisters begged him to accompany them to the royal ball he only agreed under the condition that they leave him free to speak to all the lovely women attending. Perhaps he might be able to take one home tonight and part ways come morning. That had been his original plan, anyway, which lay discarded from this very moment on; the moment he laid eyes on you.

Your current dance partner bows before you as the song comes to a close. He gives you a playful smirk before leaving you, and you resist the urge to laugh. You sigh, exhausted. You’ve got half a mind to find your father, tell him you’re not feeling well and retire to your bedroom for the remainder of the night. You’re grasping at the ruffles of your gown to turn and leave when he appears before you. He has a boyish grin fit to make the most reserved of women melt, and his ocean eyes glimmer like moonlight on waves. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?” You couldn’t say no if you tried.

It’s a different ballroom tonight, but you feel yourself searching faces in the crowd, hoping you might catch a glimpse of that handsome stranger you danced with only a fortnight ago. It was no simple feat escaping the palace. You struggled to squeeze into your gown on your own, but couldn’t risk any of your ladies in waiting knowing about your little disappearing act. You slipped on a cloak and placed a mask over your face. You followed an emergency tunnel beneath the palace grounds until you finally found yourself beneath the pale glow of moonlight. You knew it was mad, but you simply had to see him. He consumed your dreams, and when you were awake, your daydreams. He had been whisked away too soon by his family. You couldn’t even get his name, only his surname: Bridgerton. They have always been a respected household, and at tonight’s masquerade ball you can only hope to encounter them.

Music fills the halls of the Featheringtons’ estate, but the plucking of strings and sweet melody of the violins does little to soothe your nerves. You resolve to distract yourself from your anxious mind and seek out a dance partner. They’re playing a lively song, one that makes you laugh giddily as you hop to the rhythm. You’re so overjoyed, you almost forget all about that Bridgerton lad and his blasted piercing blue eyes. That is, of course, until you step aside to catch your breath and are met with them for the very first time since the night of the royal ball.

“So we meet again, Princess.” he teases, and your eyes go wide.

“How did you recognize me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“The same way you recognized me, of course.” he smirks, almost as if he weren’t speaking with royalty. “I would know those sweet eyes anywhere.”

“You’ve got quite the silver tongue, haven’t you, sir?” you smile, your cheeks taking on a faint blush as you fan yourself coyly.

“So I’ve been told.” he replies cockily. He gets closer to you; simultaneously too close for comfort yet not close enough. You’re not sure what to make of this man who makes your heart pound in your chest like no other has ever done before. This man whose name you do not even know.

“Tell me,” you demand in the tone you have grown accustomed to using to get what you want, “what is your name?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” he giggles like a mischievous schoolboy, and you’d be lying if you said you don’t find it endearing.

“You know mine.” you retort. “The entire kingdom knows it.”

He feigns shock, clutching his heart and letting his jaw drop. “Why, aren’t we full of ourselves?” You laugh, your eyes crinkling behind your lace mask.

“I know one of us certainly is.” you tease him back, and he loves every second of it.

“Princess?” he asks, but is quickly hushed by you.

“Lower your voice, do you wish for the entire ballroom to know of my presence here?” you urge him.

“Forgive me, Pri-” he begins once again, but you give him a playful shove your father would have undoubtedly reprimanded you for, seeing as it isn’t very ladylike. “Forgive me, my lady.”

“Much better.” you smirk, satisfied with yourself. “You are forgiven, my lord.”

“Now you tell me.” he says. “What is a lady like yourself doing at a ball like this? Surely you’ve been to better ones.”

You’re suddenly thankful for the white mask hiding your bashful expression from him. “You’re right, I have. But, you see, I was hoping to run into someone.”

He replies with a playful, “Oh?”. You can tell he is clearly intrigued by the information you’ve provided him. “What a coincidence. I was hoping for the same, though I must admit, never in my wildest dreams did I think my hopes would come true.”

“Well”, you go on, “I dare say they have.”

Suddenly, his eyes change and all playfulness is replaced with earnestness and solemnity. He lowers his voice down to a baritone only you can hear. “Princess, you truly must know you have haunted the chambers of my mind since the moment I laid eyes upon you. I may not be royalty, but I have other virtues you will discover if you only allow me. I can love you like no suitor or prince has done so before. Say the word, my lady, and I am yours.”

You’re a bit taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you can tell by his eyes, those gentle eyes, that he means every word he utters. And his words couldn’t have described your own feelings any better. “You’re quite the poet.” you grin. “But how can you be mine if I don’t even know your name?”

He laughs once again, and the tension is lifted. “Benedict Bridgerton, my lady.”

You extend your hand to him and his lips ghost your knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bridgerton.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Benedict beams, rising once again. “and I’m hoping the next dance will be, as well?”

“Of course.” you nod, a glint in your eye only Benedict can catch. “I’m all yours.”

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl @enchantedbytomandhenry @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @dd122004dd @marvelspogue

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton

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g0dlyunsub · 1 day

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red herring.

in which spencer can’t stop teasing you about how you constantly try to draw his attention away from your rather flawed board/card game skills.

pairing :: spencer x reader

warnings :: none? some [really slight] sexual tension but it’s mostly spencer being his witty self.

word count :: 1.3k

author’s note :: second post is now up! i’m a sucker for pure fluff that involves constant bickering, especially when it involves spencer’s ginormous brain. mention of his glasses like thrice. i also just realized i missed the opportunity to title this as reid herring, but i'm too lazy to change the cover :3

accompanying song :: show me by mac ayres and chris anderson

you let out a deep sigh before you can stop yourself, and you instantly try to fake cough to mask your disappointment. spencer’s quick to notice, however, and he flashes a smile at you. his glasses hitch up slightly as his nose lightly crinkles, and you can’t help but look and admire. in comparison, your smile is always turned downwards and you’ve never felt comfortable displaying a wide smile like his.

you’d find his smile to be refreshing any other day, but right now, it’s more of a nuisance than anything.

“what, can’t admit that you’ve lost the last seven games of chess?” spencer chuckles playfully and rests his chin on his hand.

you huff in frustration and tap the table with your index finger. “you’ve been playing this game since like what, when you were a week old? your elo rating is probably well above candidate masters and-”

“so what else do you want to try? i’ve handicapped my queen, my bishop, do you want a rook gone next?” the rim of spencer’s glasses gleams under the lighting as he asks, and you hate how everything seems to be on his side.

“no,” you pout, and tip over your king to surrender. “i want to play something different.” you fold your arms in front of your chest as you speak and lean back in your chair.

“you know, if it helps, i could explain the strategies i used to counter your plays. these seven- well eight games, we’ve played the italian defense three times, the caro-kann setup twice, the sicilian defense once, which is pretty impress-” you cut spencer short when you clear your throat and raise your eyebrows.

“can we not… talk about chess right now?” you pout once again, and push the chess board to the side of the table.

“well. is there anything else that you want to play?” spencer adjusts his glasses as you scratch the back of your head in contemplation.

“old maid. i’m a natural at that game,” you suggest, and you notice the corner of spencer’s lips tug into a smirk.

“oh, i bet you are. try me.” confidence oozes from his words and your heart beats just a little faster. he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“i’ll deal the cards.” you grab a deck of cards from the drawer of your desk and shuffle the cards in a swift and fluid manner.

“that’s right, in a classic two-player situation for a deck of 1 card to a deck of 51 cards, the latter of which is the standard for a game of old maid, the expected probabilities for the dealer winning are always higher than the non-dealer. if you’re really going for the win, i’d recommend playing with a smaller deck of cards, but the difference is really minimal. you’re looking at a simulated probability of 50.4 percent with 51 cards versus 51.8 percent with 23 cards.” spencer rolls the facts off his tongue like it’s common sense, and you blink rapidly in stunned confusion. he’s playing it off with a goofy smile again. ugh.

the next hour is filled mostly with intense silence, and you could swear a part of your brain was going to short circuit from mental exhaustion any minute.

“is it… here? hm?” spencer observes your facial expressions for any note of change, but you wouldn’t give it to him. you remain unphased as his fingers trail between your cards and pull the rightmost card from your grip.

your heart makes an ecstatic turn when he takes the old maid and it takes everything in you to suppress your smile. so much for being a profiler.

your excitement doesn’t last, however, when he slightly cocks his head to the side and starts to shuffle his cards. it’s endgame, and you might be able to come out of this with your first victory.

you lean in ever so slightly, brushing your fingers atop each card and pausing in between. your eyes lock onto his hazel beads, and neither of you blink.

“it’s not this card.” you move to the next card, and spencer raises an eyebrow.

“are you sure? you know, statistically speaking, when one shuffles their deck of-” your hand snakes under his cards and you lay a finger to his lips.

“shh, i’m trying to concentrate,” you whisper, and everything goes silent. the tension between the two of you hangs suspended in the air and it’s increasingly harder for you to focus on the game. in fact, you’re thinking of everything but the cards in front of you.

you draw in a deep breath and settle on the card that sits second to last in his right palm. when you turn the card over, a frown instantly overtakes your face. the old maid had instantly made its way back into your set of cards.

the rest of the game is torturous; each turn, spencer discards his pairs one by one, and your disappointment seeps through your loud sighs.

you set the last card on top of the messy pile of pairs. it’s a loss, again.

“spence, i’d beat you in any target game like darts.” you lift your head with an exhausted groan.

“you know, phil taylor, a 16-time world darts champion, is often cited to utilize geometry to his strategic advantage since he aims for the triple 20 section, which is one of the highest scoring areas of the board. it takes practice, of course, to nail the angle down, but an estimation of the dart's projectile motion offers great leverage to your precision.” he looks at you as you start to stack up the cards and stuff them back into their case.

after a pause, he continues: “can i not impress my favorite person once in a while?" he reaches for your hand to interlace his fingers with yours.

his thumb rubs the cave between your thumb and index finger in a circular motion, and you feel your body relax under his touch. you suppress your excitement at the mention of the word favorite by pursing your lips.

“you always impress me, spence. wait – hey, is that a red herring, coming from you?” you question, pulling his hand towards you.

“perhaps. and i’ll actually address mine, unlike a certain someone…” a sly grin spreads across his face.

“but what about that one time you-” you start, raising your other hand to contest.

“hm. interesting. that’s your first whataboutist reply in two days,” spencer cuts you off short. what an actual jerk.

he breaks into a small fit of laughter before he waves his hand to control himself. you, on the other hand, aren’t impressed. he stands, his figure towering over you as you remain seated.

“come on, let’s grab a cup of coffee before we head out for the weekend. i’ll walk you home.” spencer motions for you to get up, and you reluctantly follow suit. you’re glad you could spend more time with the witty doctor, but you hadn’t expected to accumulate even more stress after work was over. a cup of coffee is exactly what you need to get a moment of relaxation.

he hands you your cup of coffee and turns to face you while stirring his drink with a coffee stick.

“hey, uh, listen. it’s been really nice playing with you today, and if you wanted to play again sometime, talk about strategies, stuff like that…” he trails off, watching you as you take a sip of your hot drink.

“of course, if you’ll ever consider adopting me as your apprentice,” you jokingly respond, and a glimmer surfaces in his eyes. before he can respond, you lean in and embrace him.

“i’m just kidding. invite me for a card game any time.” you look up so your forehead sits right under his chin. he’s surprised at your sudden move, but he sets his cup down and returns the hug.

“poker next?”

“oh hell no. get out of here.” you laugh and take his hand as you walk out of the office while he desperately scrambles for his cup with his free hand. both of your laughs echo down the hallway and trail behind as the elevator doors close.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #bau!reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg x reader #dr spencer reid

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smilingbuckley · 2 days

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday

who am I kidding. This is no tidbit. Right now I'm working full time on the fake dating fic - hopefully until I finish writing it. I think I only have one chapter left after this one. Though this chapter is getting loooongg. Anyways, enjoy!

“There are Mexican wedding traditions?” Buck asks him, surprised. He never really looked into that. He should.

“Well, you’ve got los padros y los madros, who are basically like godparents and sponsor the wedding. The well known mariachis, that perform religious songs. A lot of weddings take place during a mass. You’ve got wedding coins, el lazo… lots of things, really.”

Buck blinks a few times, “Did you di all that?”

Eddie laughs, “God, no. Shannon and I had a small and quick ceremony – Shannon’s family wasn’t religious. Or Mexican.”

Buck hums, “But… if you ever got married again, would you… want that?”

Eddie thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ve never really felt as in touch with that part of me as others did, you know? And most traditions are religious, which I… don’t know if I am. I’m still questioning that. But… I don’t know. Maybe some? Or like, just hints of them? Obviously I would include the food. And some music, look at those people swinging. Wouldn’t mind showing some salsa moves either,” Eddie laughs. “I don’t know. I’d probably just want the classic traditions, not really anything religious. Just close friends and family, not so big as this. And outside at a beautiful place. We’ve been to too many calls where floors collapsed.”

“True,” Buck nods. Someone offers them champagne and he takes it.

“What about you?” Eddie asks him.

“Well, I’m not Mexican, so I doubt it would be appropriate,” Buck answers.

Eddie snorts, covering his mouth and nose with his hand. He shakes his head as he laughs, “No, smartass. What kind of wedding would you want?”

“Oh. Right. That makes more sense,” Buck answers, his cheeks blushing again. “Uh, I don’t know. I guess if I just have the people I love with me, anything would be great. But I agree on the outside part… maybe in a garden with a lot of flowers… though I don’t know if that’s such a great idea for people with allergies. Could be a beach. In the spring, so people aren’t too miserable from the heat yet. And when flowers are blooming and still brightly colored. I’d maybe want some clichés, Maddie walking me down, Jee as a flower girl. Bobby my best man.”

“Bobby? Not me?” Eddie asks.

Buck had just taken a sip of champagne and starts coughing.

Hell no would Eddie be his best man! He’d be his groom. But he can’t say that right now.

Taglist:

@buddieswhvre @diazsdimples @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck

@theotherbuckley @jesuiscenseedormir @loveyouanyway @chaosandwolves @mattsire

@mel-vaz @inkmortal-trash389 @princess-of-the-snake-pit @nilletellsstories @laundryandtaxesworld

@specialbrownieeater @m1kayu @trustme-imnormal @darkrose6578 @mage8

Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#911 #evan buckley #buddie #911 fanfic #eddie diaz #fanfiction #buddie fanfiction #writing #911 abc #911 on abc #snippet

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samandcolbyownme · 2 days

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Sam originally won the poll, but I got carried away with a Dealer!Zach Justice one which you can find right here.. so now onto Dealer!Sam. Enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, Dealer!Sam, mentions of smoking weed and cigarettes, mentions of drinking, reader is slightly drunk, reader gets high, reader gets cheated on, unprotected sex, biting, scratching, hair pulling, choking, oral (f rec), fingering, creampie, filth

Word count: 3.5k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

The music was blasting through the club.

You could feel the bass beating within your body each time it thumped out of the speakers.

You were having so much fun.

Key word, were.

As the song changes, you look down at your empty cup, deciding to make your way to the liquor counter, it occurs to you that you haven’t seen your friends in like four songs.

After grabbing your drink your spot Kira. You raise your hand, waving to her and you watch as her eyes go wide and she smiles.

“There she is.” She mouths, pointing towards you. You continue to make your way over when you’re met with them halfway, “Where’s Twyla?”

Kira and Leah look at each other, “She went to the bathroom, she isn’t feeling well.”

You pout slightly, sucking your drink through your straw, “Oh no. It’s her birthday.” Leah nods, “No I know. I think if she pukes a little, she’ll be fine.”

She laughs and you shrug, “Have any of you seen Clayton or any of his friends?”

You feel the energy in the room shift, almost like they didn’t expect you to ask about your own boyfriend.

“What?” You look between them confused before letting out a sigh. You look up, “Oh. There’s Tyler.” You push through them and even though they try to stop you, you pull your arm away.

You walk around the crowed of people and before you can ask Tyler anything, your gaze falls to Twyla making out with Clayton while sitting in his lap.

“What the fuck.” You watch as they snap apart and Kira runs up, “We tried to keep her busy.”

“Wait.” You look at Kira, “You two.. you.. you’re defending her? Supporting this?” You scoff in disgust, “I’m done. I don’t know what kind of friendships and relationships you guys have but I don’t want any fucking part of it.”

You drop your cup on the floor, spilling it over the so called friend’s feet and walk away.

As you walk out of the building, you dig around in your purse to try and find your lighter. You continue to ignore your name being called from behind as you bring the cigarette and lighter up.

You round the corner, taking a long drag as rest your back against the brick wall.

You just needed to take a second to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

As you keep walking, looking at the semi blurred lights from the cars that pass by and the street lights you walk under, you get a good idea.

You pull out your phone, going to a specific contact, hey Sam are home by chance?

A few minutes goes by and he texts you back, yeah, you need your usual?

You hold the cigarette between your lips as you type, no I’m having a shitty night so I’m just looking for something for me.

He responds right away, I’ll leave the door unlocked, I have to pack a few things, so just come in.

You flick the done cigarette as you cross the road to make your way to Sam’s.

——

You push the door to Sam’s house open, “Sam?” You walk in, closing the door, “I’m here.”

“In the den, sweetheart.”

You smile at the nickname as you kick off your heels.

You walk in towards the living room to get to the back den, “Hey.” You walk in, seeing Sam laid out on a giant white bean bag chair as he packs weed into small baggies, “What’s goin’ on?”

You shake your head, sitting down in the gaming chair infront of the desk, “Well..” you laugh slightly, “My boyfriend cheated on me. With the girl who was said to be my best friend.”

Sam’s mouth drops and he shakes his head, “What the fuck is wrong with people?” He frowns, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You half frown, “It’s okay. I’m now starting to realize how much of jerk he was said to be.” Sam raises his brows and looks down, “Yeah, love will fuck you up more than any drug ever will. Come over here.”

You look at him and he looks up, nodding for you to come over to him. You walk over, sitting down on the beanbag next to him, hands in your lap, “I’m here.”

Sam reaches down, and comes back with a joint, “This is a new strain I literally just got in. Haven’t sold it yet, but it sounds like you could really use it.”

You smile as you take it from his fingers, “Do you let all of your customers try out the new ones?”

He smirks slightly, “I mean Colby, but other than that.” He shakes his head, “Never really let anyone close enough to.”

You didn’t really know what Sam meant by that, but you would soon figure it out.

After taking turns hitting the joint - Sam really was right. You did need this, “Can I ask you a question?” You turn your head, looking at him as he turns his towards you.

Your eyes scan over his face, taking in his red eyes behind the clear frame of his thin, gold framed glasses.

And how his blonde, fluffy hair pokes out from under his bright pink sweatshirt that’s being lit brighter from the bluish purple LED lights.

Your heart was racing, you wanted to kiss him.

“Y/n?” Sam laughs slightly, “You’re here, but you’re not here. Where’d you go?”

You blink a few times and shake your head, “Sorry.” You giggle out, “I’m actually feeling pretty good right now, I think the alcohol in my system prior helped.”

“If you were drinking, how did you get here?” Sam asks, concern in his tone.

“I walked. I was only two blocks over.” You look back over at him and he sighs, “If I would have known, I would have came and got you.”

You smile slightly and shake your head, “I sobered up a little once I seen why I left, you know?”

He nods and you lay a hand on his arm, laughing, “I’m fine, I’m here aren’t I?” You laugh some more and Sam laughs with you, glancing down at your hand on his arm with a slight smile, “Yeah, no I get ya.”

He lays his head back and looks at you, “So anyway, you wanted to ask me something.”

You look at him confused while you think, “Oh! Yeah, yeah.”

You move around slightly so you can turn towards him more, “Do you remember the first, time I came to buy off of you?”

Sam smirks, nodding immediately, “I do. You were wearing those high waisted jeans and that cropped grey sweatshirt.” He chuckles slightly, “I remember seeing you pull that hundred dollar bill out of your little white cross body purse.”

You laugh, “I thought maybe you would have cut me a good deal if you seen how pretty I was.”

He looks over at you, “If I knew it was for you and not your douchebag boyfriend at the time.”

“No I understand.” You lift your arm, resting your elbow on the top of the beanbag and resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, “Do you remember the text you sent me after I left?”

“I was so nervous.”

“I could tell.” You smirk, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, “what was it?” You tease, “I don’t say this often but you’re too pretty to be buying drugs?”

Sam smiles huge and covers his face, “Oh no.” He looks at you through his fingers and tries not to laugh, “This is why..” he sighs, “Y/n.”

“This why what? Sam.”

You groans playfully and pulls his hands away from his face, “Don’t tell anyone that I’m nice and shit.”

You smile, “What happens at Sam’s house, stays at Sam’s house.”

He smirks, “That’s the motto.”

You laugh slightly and stare at him for a few seconds, “Why’d you keep selling to me then?”

Sam looks over at you, brows furrowed, “Whatcha mean, sweetheart?” You bring your one leg up and tuck it under your other.

You keep your thighs pushed together, but that doesn’t stop Sam from noticing your drive riding up your fishnet covered thighs.

“Like, I mean.. stop me if I’m reading too much into it, please.. but at the same time, if you said I was too pretty to buy your drugs, why did you..” you shake your head and look over at him.

He chews on his lip as he sits up, “Because I was afraid I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

Your eyes bounce from his lips to his eyes, “You had my number.” You smirk slightly and he shrugs, “You had a boyfriend.”

You both stare at each other for a few seconds before both bursting into laughter.

“Do you care if I hang out here a little bit longer?” You ask and Sam shakes his head, “Stay the night if you want.”

You smile slightly, “Only if y-“

Sam cuts you off, “Sweetheart, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hang out with you. So please, it’s not any burden to me. I swear.”

He chuckles and you nod, laughing nervously, “I’ve.. actually wanted to hang out with you, too. So I’m glad you were free tonight.”

Sam shrugs, “I would have made myself free either way.” He stands up and nods towards the door, “I’ll get you something to change in to.”

You stand up, following him upstairs to his bedroom.

As Sam rummages through his dresser, you bend down to reach up under your dress and pull your fishnets down.

You step out of them as Sam turns around, freezing as he watches you step out of them and stand back up.

Your eyes meet his and you smile slightly, “Sorry, I had to get these things off.”

He shakes his head, handing you the shirt and pants, “You’re fine, um.” He chuckles, “Pants are totally optional in his house, so just, feel free to make yourself at home.”

He winks and you smirk, “I’ll keep that in mind.” You point to your dress, “Can you unzip me?”

He nods and you turn around. You couldn’t lie, you were turned on by his touch.

His hand gently laid on your hip as he used his other to drag the tiny zipper down your back, “There you go.”

He steps back and you turn, hand holding the dress to your chest, “Thank you.”

Sam motions to the door, clearly stalling, “So, I’m going to, uh. Go back down stairs.” He claps his hands together and steps towards the door, “Roll, um, I’ll roll another one.”

You nod, “Sounds good.” You drag out, chewing on your lip.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then everything happens so fast.

Sam has your dress pushed down, pooling at your feet before he pushes you back on the bed. His lips trailing down your neck as his hand slides up and down your body.

You let out a moan as you feel his hand knead and pull at your boob, “Sam.” You breathe out, “P-please.”

Your head was already spinning, you were anxious for how you were going to feel after.

“Can I taste what you have between those pretty little legs of yours?”

You whimper in response, “Yes.”

Sam moves down the bed, lips connecting with your skin, “You’re so beautiful.” He doesn’t even take the time to pull your panties down, he just pushes them to the side and goes in for it.

You gasp, arching your back off the bed, “Oh fuck.” You moan out loudly, hand moving to the back of his head as his tongue moves in and out of your aching cunt.

“F-fuck fuck.” You look down, taking in the sight of Sam between your legs.

Every time you’ve seen him, you couldn’t help but have at least a dirty thought or two.

“Holy shit.” Sam groans against you, “You taste so fucking good.” His hands grip your hips harder and pull you towards him, pinning them down as he moves up to suck on your clit.

You throw your head back whining, eyes rolling back as his tongue flicks over the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips.

You were so close already and Sam pushing two fingers into you was getting you there faster and faster.

“Sam, Sam. Sam.” You gasp out, “Shh-shit.”

You pull his head into you more, trying to move your hips, even though you really can’t. Sam groans against you, his fingers rubbing that perfect little spot that’s urging you to cum for him.

“I-I-“ You let out a loud moans legs squeezing as far as they’ll go. Sam guides you through your high, lifting his head, “Such a good girl.”

You moan louder at his words and he raises a brow, “Mm, someone has a little praise kink I see.”

You open your eyes, looking up at Sam as he crawls up your body. He dips his head down, lips brushing against yours, “You are so fucking hot.”

You smirk, closing your eyes as his lips press to yours, moving in sync. Your arms slide around his neck and you pull on his sweatshirt.

He sits up, taking his glasses off and setting them on the stand before removing his sweatshirt. Your hands run down his torso and he bites his lip when you hook your fingers into his waist band.

Your eyes move up to meet his and you pout, “Please fuck me.”

Sam’s lips twitch into a smile as he pushes down his sweats and boxers in one swoop. He leans down, elbows by your head as he hooks your leg over his hip, “You sure you w-“

You cut him off by crashing your lips into his, “I need you.” You grind your hips down, trying to feel for his cock, “Please.”

He leans his weight into his right arm, leaning down to slip the head of his cock between your folds. Your legs tighten around his waist and he smirks, thrusting his cock the rest of the way into you.

You let out a choked moan, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling.

Your head was spinning more, another orgasm and you swear you’d pass out.

“S-Sam.” You breathe out, “Fuckfuckfuck.”

Your nails dig into his shoulder, earning a groan from him and you gasp, turning your head to press your lips to his.

He moans against your lips, “You were..” he groans, leaning back as he thrusts deep into you, “..Made for me.”

You squeeze your walls around his cock, pulling him closer to you, “I always knew there was something about you.”

You lay a hand on his cheek, furrowing your brows as you moan out, feeling that build up slowly grow, “You’re just, so different.”

“You’re are so beautiful.” He breathes out, crashing his lips onto yours. His thrusts grow faster and his hand slides up to grip your neck, squeezing slowly as he leans his head back.

He watches as your face twists with pleasure.

Your eyes roll back as you grow more dizzy.

“Cum for me, one for time, baby.” Sam whispers, “Please.” His lips attach to your neck and you moan, squeezing his cock with your walls repeatedly,

You arch your back, moans muffled by Sam’s hand on your neck as you cum around him.

You whimper, rolling your hips as you and Sam work your way through your high, low groans escaping his lips as he moves his hand to kiss up to your lips.

“You have me so close, baby. Where do you want me?”

You tighten your legs, voice coming out in a soft wimper, “D-don’t stop.”

He smirks, shaking his head, “Once I do it, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

“That’s fine with me.” You bite down on your lip and Sam nods, “You asked for it.” He pulls out, “Flip over for me, sweetheart.”

You roll over onto your stomach and Sam lifts your hips, and within seconds after, his cock was deeper than it was before.

You were going to lose your mind.

Sam’s hands rub over your hips, “Doing so good for me, baby.”

You push your hips back, moaning at his words, “Fuckfuck, Sam.” You grip the sheets and pull, moaning even louder as Sam’s fingers drag down go rub your clit.

Your walls clench around his cock and he groans, “Got one more in ya, sweetheart?” He throws his head back, using both hands to grip tightly into your hips, “Fuck, cum with me. Cum with me.”

He leans down, planting a few kisses on your shoulder before sliding a hand up to your neck, gently squeezing.

You bring a hand up, laying it on top of his hand and he squeezes harder.

Your moans are growing quieter the harder his grip gets. Your eyes roll back and you can’t help but throw your hips back to meet Sam’s.

Your jaw hung slack as the fucked out euphoria feeling settles in.

Your hand drops to the bed and the band in your belly snaps yet again, leaving you there, moaning silently as your walls milk Sam’s cum into your cunt.

Sam’s hand falls from your neck and his lips press to your cheek, “Are you okay?”

You giggle weakly, “I’m.. great..”

He smirks and looks over his shoulder as he hears the door bell rings and knocking on the door, “What the fuck?”

He look down at you, “If you can get dressed, please do, but if not, just stay here.” You slowly sit up, worry settling in, “Okay. I won’t go anywhere.”

Sam leaves, closing the door behind him.

You get up, slipping on the shirt Sam gave you and fixing your panties before walking to the door. You crack it open and hear Sam let out a laugh, “Dude, I don’t know what to tell you. She isn’t here.”

You hear Clayton groan, “I’m serious man, just-“

“No. I’m not selling you anything, y/n isn’t here. Buh bye.”

“Why the fuck did you sell them to her and not me?” Clayton argues and you bite your lip as you wait for Sam’s response.

“Because, I actually wanted to keep seeing her, she’s quite pretty. Maybe I should give her a call now that, I’m guessing you two are done for, huh?”

You hear a loud thud, maybe a lamp being knocked over, and you open the door more. You walk over to the steps and bend down.

You’re able to see Sam holding Clayton up against the wall and he’s inches from his face, “Maybe don’t go kissing your girlfriend’s best friend and you wouldn’t be in this situation, right?”

“How do you know about that?” Clayton asks lowly and Sam smirks, shrugging his shoulders, “Maybe she stopped by on her way home to grab some weed, maybe she didn’t.”

You bite your lip, seeing Sam stick up for you like this, was so fucking hot.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Clayton asks with a scoff, “of course.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Now you’re calling her a slut.. alright.” He moves Clayton towards the door and spins him to look at him, “You ever try to speak or get in contact with y/n again, I’ll make a little phone call to officer Ziebler down at the- um. Shoot, what is it?”

Sam look up at Clayton, “Oh, yeah, the Adult Probation office.”

You cover your lips and Clayton shakes his head, “How do you know about that?”

Sam shrugs, “I have my ways, now, as I said when you got here, buh bye.” He pushes him out and closes the door.

You walk down the steps and Sam turns, stopping with a smirk, “You don’t listen, do you?”

“Actually.” You walk over to him, “I listened to that whole thing so..” you purse your lips, fighting back a smirk, “That’s gotta count for somethin’ right?”

He chuckles, pulling you in for a kiss, “C’mon. I’ll roll us another J.” He wraps your arm around your waist, “Because after that, I need one.”

“Well you know what they say.” You laugh, glancing up at him. He smirks, “And what’s that, babe?”

“A joint.. or three.. a day keeps the bad mood away.”

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

I hope this was good, let me know what you think! Thank you for reading! I love you all so much!🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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prismatic-bell · 2 hours

Note

Not to be that goy, but my web browser skills are non existant, and you have been a vital resource for learning about jewish perspectives for me. (Ie. If this ask is too much to deal with. I get it. Ignore it and/or tell me to fuck off)

It has been nightmarishly difficult to differentiate between non antisemitic palestinian advocacy and antisemitc palestinian advocacy. So for the most part my involvement has been, i do not have the spoons for this so im staying out of it and unfollowing and blocking anyone being a blatant asshole about it.

Is the boycott of eurovision one of the less antisemitic parts of the pro-palestine movement or am i going to be treating this as yet another dog whistle?

Dogwhistle.

1) claim #1: Israel should not be allowed to perform because it’s committing genocide. Aside from the fact that quite a few experts have said IT ISN’T: let’s remove every country that’s committed genocide since 1901–

….oh. Well, that’s embarrassing. (And I missed Sweden and its attempts to get rid of the Sámi, so it’s even worse than that graphic makes it look.) Maybe just the ones doing it right now, which is surely just Israel—

…..or not.

Clearly, it’s not actually about genocide.

2) claim #2: Israel should not be able to participate because it isn’t in Europe. There is a small amount of merit in this—except that nobody is calling for Australia, Azerbaijan, or Armenia to be removed on the same grounds. Incidentally, if we’re going based entirely on geographic location, there are two other countries that ought to get the boot by virtue of being at least partly over the Europe-Asia border.

So it’s not actually about location.

3) claim #3: Israel shouldn’t be able to participate because it’s a colony. I’m going to say something controversial: most of Israel is not, because you can’t colonize a place you’re indigenous to, HOWEVER, because the West Bank was intended to be specifically a Palestinian state, I think the settlements there could count as colonization. Okay, I’ll give you that one. Surely the protestors are calling for the removal of all countries that currently have colonial holdings—

….oh.

Special shoutout to the UK, by the way, which IS a colony. The Welsh, Cornish, (some) Irish, and Scottish people are under English rule, and the English have very cleverly put it into their own laws that none of those countries can declare independence unless England says it’s okay.

(Also, I feel like if you’re going to yell about colonization and Eurovision, maybe we should discuss how all Eurovision entries must be in English.)

So it’s not really about colonization.

Claim #4: Israel is trying to sneak propaganda in with its song, so it shouldn’t be allowed to participate.

This one is so fucking stupid I’m just going to say “judge for yourself.”

youtube

Yes, it’s about the grief of 10/7. But if you didn’t know that, you WOULDN’T know it, and grief is not political.

So it’s not really about politics or propaganda.

And finally,

Claim #5: Israel shouldn’t be allowed to participate because it’s an ethnostate and those are bad.

So first, Israel is not an ethnostate. Only 73% of its population are Jews; over a quarter belong to other ethnicities. But sure, I’ll play: every country with a population that’s 74% or more from one ethnicity is now disinvited from Eurovision!

….oh.

Also, wanna know why Poland is crossed off in red? Because it’s 98% one ethnicity. Now THAT is an ethnostate.

But this one is getting warmer, because….

It’s not about genocide, or colonialism, or politics…but it is about how many Jews there are.

It’s antisemitism, plain and simple.

#you ask nina answers #Nina blogs antisemitism

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buildarocketboys · 2 days

Note

53 + peterick lmao

Haha this one was so perfect for them! Fluffy early band ficlet, Pete takes Patrick out on a 4am ice cream date!

53. “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!”

It's 4am, and Patrick is wide awake.

Not that this is such an unusual occurrence for Patrick. His preferred sleeping schedule lingers somewhere between 3 or 4am and 12 or 1pm. But as a high school student, that's not really sustainable so he's usually at least trying to sleep by this time.

Right now he can't, though. He's thinking about the conversation (argument) he and Pete had earlier. Replaying it over and over in his mind.

Ugh, but Pete just makes him so angry sometimes. They were rehearsing a few of their songs in preparation to record them at Joe's next week.

And then Pete had wanted to change a lyric.

And another.

They weren't sensible changes, either. Half the time, Pete seems to want to replace one word with forty. It's ridiculous.

And he's so smug about it too! As if he thinks-knows-that his lyrics are so much better than Patrick's.

The worst part is, Patrick can't help thinking he's right. Patrick knows he's no poet, or wordsmith. His lyrics are juvenile at best. He's all too aware of this, as Pete well knows.

Pete's words are beautiful, poetic, the metaphors winding and flowing through his writing like a river to the sea.

But at least Patrick's lyrics fit the rhythm of the damn song!

After one too many of these changes, Patrick had lost his temper.

He'd yelled, "If you know so much better than me, maybe you should write the fucking lyrics!"

Pete had gone quiet at that. He hadn't talked for the rest of the rehearsal, which they all mutually decided to cut short. Which doesn't bode well for the recording. They all need the practice.

Patrick knows he went too far, but also - he can't see how he's wrong. Pete needs to put up or shut up when it comes to the lyrics - he could at least work with Patrick when it comes to making the lyrics fit. But the man has no sense of rhythm, at least not on purpose. He doesn't seem to see an issue with adding another twenty words to a verse.

He just gives Patrick an infuriating little smile and tells Patrick that he knows Patrick will make it work.

Pete seems to think Patrick is some kind of musical genius. Which is flattering, he guesses. Except he's really not.

Patrick's perseveration is interrupted by a tapping at the window. He jumps, then twists around, pulling the curtain back to reveal Pete's face at the window.

He groans.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hisses once he's opened the window.

Pete pouts at him. "Now that's not a very nice way to greet your best friend, is it?"

Patrick grits his teeth. "It's four in the morning!"

Pete shrugs. "So? You're awake, aren't you?" When Patrick continues to glare at him he says, "Also, be quiet - don't wanna wake your mom up."

Patrick rolls his eyes, arms crossed tightly over his chest (only partly to hide his Batman pajamas), then sighs. Relenting, he scrambles back so Pete can climb into his room proper.

"Shut the window," he says, "It's freezing." January in Chicago is no joke.

Pete does so, a grin playing round his lips. It fades when Patrick says, "What are you doing awake at 4am anyway?"

Pete presses his lips together. Instead of answering, he says, "I could ask the same of you."

Patrick stares back at him, stony-faced. He asked first.

Pete sighs, pushing his hair back. "Couldn't stop thinking about earlier," he admits.

Patrick lets out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, me too."

Pete looks up at him, eyes sparkling hopefully. "Thought I could make it up to you."

"Make it up...to me?" Patrick asks. He'd figured Pete was mad at him. Too late he registers Pete's raised eyebrows, and scrambles to correct himself. "How?" he asks, crossing his arms again.

Pete grins, so effortlessly charming that Patrick kind of hates him for it. Patrick could never be so laid back in a million years.

For some reason, Pete likes him anyway. God knows why.

Sometime after they became best friends, Patrick resolved to stop questioning it. Sometimes it's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm taking you out for ice cream," Pete announces.

For a moment, Patrick's not sure he's heard correctly. "Ice cream?" he splutters. "Pete. It's 4am in midwinter in Chicago. We are not going out for ice cream."

"Why not?" says Pete. "You once said that if you could choose one food to eat for the rest of your life, it'd be ice cream."

"Well, yeah, but..." Pete remembers that? How many of the stupid things Patrick says on a daily basis has Pete retained? It doesn't bear thinking about. "Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!"

Pete waggles his eyebrows. "C'mon, Patrick. You know you want to."

Patrick's stomach flip flops in excitement. Pete is always doing shit like this, getting Patrick to step out of his comfort zone, while always, always being there to hold his hand. He pretends to be annoyed, but really he loves it.

"What if my mom finds out?"

Pete shakes his head. "She won't. Just sneak out the window with me. We'll be back before she wakes up."

Patrick moves to the window and looks out dubiously. He's seen Pete do it before - shimmy down the drainpipe and onto the garage roof, before jumping down.

But Pete's athletic. If Patrick tried that, he'd probably break an ankle. Or worse.

"I think I'll go out the front door," Patrick says. He's pretty sure he can make it without his mom waking up. He's an expert at ninja-ing down the stairs in the middle of the night.

Pete shrugs. "It's your funeral." He heads for the window, obviously planning to return the way he came. "Wait, you do want to come, right?"

"Yeah!" Patrick exclaims - a little too loud and enthusiastic. He cringes, and they both listen for any sound of his mom stirring in the next room. "Yeah," he says. "I just need to put, like, ten layers on."

Pete's got a shit-eating grin on his face now. "Alright. See you on the other side, sport." He punches Patrick's shoulder and has disappeared out the window before Patrick can object to the childish nickname.

Patrick sighs and then starts pulling on clothes at random, grateful for his floordrobe for once, as it means he doesn't have to open his squeaky closet door. He darts down the stairs, ninja-style, and stands at the front door for a full minute, pricking his ears for any sounds from his mom's room. When none come, he slips on his shoes and unlocks the door, closing it softly behind him before half-jogging to Pete's car.

Pete smirks as he slips in. "Impressive," he says.

"Oh shut up." He rubs his hands together as Pete starts the car, waiting for the heaters to warm up. "Where do they serve ice cream at 4am in Chicago in January anyway?" he asks. "It's, like, 20 degrees."

Pete grins as he pulls out of Patrick's driveway and guns the engine. "I know a place."

The place turns out to be a diner on the edge of the city.

When they enter, there's nobody else in the place. No customers, no waitresses, not even anyone behind the counter.

The lights are on but nobody's home, thinks Patrick, then giggles.

Pete glances at him. "What's so funny?"

Patrick shakes his head. "Is this place actually open?" he asks.

Pete nods. "Sure it is. The lights were on, the door was open, right? They're probably just out back, having a smoke. Hey!" Pete calls loudly. No answer. He sighs in frustration. "Just wanted to get my boy some ice cream," he mutters under his breath.

Patrick feels his stomach lurch. Something about Pete calling him his boy does things to him. It's kinda like Pete calling him his boyfriend.

Kinda, but not really, he tells himself firmly, as Pete dings the little old-fashioned bell next to the register.

They hear footsteps coming their way. "Finally!" Pete says, as if they've been there for hours. Patrick rolls his eyes fondly. "Why don't you go pick out which flavors you want?" He nods toward the glass box under which a smorgasbord of ice creams are displayed.

"Woah," Patrick says. He scans the flavors, trying to pick his favorite, wishing he hadn't forgotten his glasses. A waitress arrives behind the counter to serve Pete.

"Hey there, darling, sorry about that. You been waitin' long?" she says to Pete, batting her eyelashes, and suddenly the ice cream is the last thing on Patrick's mind. He watches her flirt with Pete, nails digging into his palms, thinking that is the fakest accent he's ever heard in his life.

Pete seems to fall for it though, much to Patrick's disgust. He grins up at her and says, "Not long, no," in this breathy little voice he uses whenever he flirts with girls. Patrick feels sick, for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

"What can I get ya?" she asks.

"I'll have a coffee," Pete says. "And for my friend here..." he trails off, obviously waiting for Patrick to give his order.

Patrick realizes he's been staring at them, open-mouthed.

He slams his mouth shut as the waitress says, flatly, "Oh. Hey there."

"Pete, I...I don't have any money," he admits. He'd been so focused on getting out of the house undetected, and so excited about sneaking around with Pete in the middle of the night, that it hadn't even occurred to him to bring his wallet.

Pete reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him close so he can wrap his arm round Patrick's waist. "That's OK, honey. My treat."

The waitress purses her lips. Patrick feels a zing of delight in the vicinity of his stomach, even as he can feel his cheeks burning.

"Uh, are you not having anything?" he asks Pete.

Pete shakes his head. "Just coffee. I'm not hungry."

"I'll just have some vanilla then," says Patrick.

"Aw, no, c'mon Patrick," Pete says, eyes crinkling in disappointment. "I'm taking you out on an ice cream date, you've gotta have at least two flavors."

The waitress looks at him dubiously - 17, chubby, wearing about 15 layers of clothes. Privately, Patrick agrees with her - why would Pete want to take him on a date, of all people? Even a friend date, which he's sure is what Pete means. But he raises his chin and looks her in the eye.

"Um, OK," he says after a moment, when the waitress has looked away. "I'll have, uh..." he glances at the flavors again, and chooses pretty much at random, "Bubblegum and rocky road."

"Good choice,' says the waitress, smiling a little.

"And put those in a cone!" Pete says as she goes to scoop the ice cream. He nudges Patrick. "It's not ice cream if it's not in a cone, right?"

"Do you remember everything I've ever said to you, or just the ice cream-related things?" Patrick teases.

Pete looks at him, deadly serious. "Patrick Stump, I remember every word you've ever said to me."

Patrick rolls his eyes, but he can't help but smile. He takes the ice cream cone the waitress offers him and they go sit in a booth in the corner.

Then he remembers their argument this afternoon. "Even the bad stuff?" he asks, swallowing nervously.

Pete's eyes soften. "Yeah, not that there's much. But I don't hold it against you." He sips his coffee. Patrick's pretty sure he's just being kind - they argue a lot, and Patrick's not always the most objective or logical when his temper gets the better of him. "Besides, you're usually right, anyway."

Patrick snorts. "Am not," he says, because that's definitely not true, and he doesn't need Pete to mollycoddle him.

Pete flashes him a grin. "Yeah y'are. Like this afternoon-"

Patrick sighs. "Can we not talk about that?" He realizes his ice cream has started to drip down the cone and onto his hand, and launches a rescue mission with his tongue. Pete is silent for long moments and Patrick thinks he's dropped it, but when he looks up again he catches Pete watching him.

Pete clears his throat. "You were right," he says. He sounds kinda weird. "I was being annoying, making all those lyric changes."

Patrick sits back in his seat, satisfied that they're finally in agreement. "Yeah, you were."

"But was I wrong? I mean, didn't my changes make the songs better?"

Patrick snorts. "If changing one word to forty makes a song better, sure." Now that he's cooled down, though, he actually thinks about it. "Your words are better than mine," he admits quietly. "They're more poetic, or whatever."

Actually, Pete's words are kind of really fucking beautiful, but he'd never tell Pete that. It's one of the things that annoys him the most when Pete asks to change the lyrics. Not only are they almost always better than Patrick's lyrics, they also make Patrick feel things. Things he's not sure he wants to feel.

"Exactly!" says Pete, then cringes when Patrick scowls at him. "That's not...that's not what I meant," he says quickly. "I love your songs, Patrick. You know that."

Patrick does. Sometimes he thinks Pete's the only one who likes them.

"But you're a musician. I...I get the feeling you don't really care about the words."

Pete picks his words carefully, but Patrick can't help feeling a little offended. Patrick does care. Sure, he cares about all the other stuff - the melody and the rhythm and the harmonies - way more, but it's not like he's not trying! He tries really hard with the lyrics, they just never come out any good!

"It's not that I don't care-" he starts, then sighs.

"But you see what I'm saying?" Pete asks, pressing his advantage.

"Yeah. I guess." Patrick pays attention to his ice cream for a while before he speaks again. "What's the point of this, Pete? I mean, what can we do different?"

Pete's face lights up with a grin. This is clearly the point he's been wanting to get to the whole time. "I write the lyrics. You write the music."

Patrick considers this for a while, his tongue worming its way into the bright blue ice cream. He doesn't miss the way Pete is staring at him, but for now he just lets it happen. Pete isn't like other people - he likes being under his gaze.

"How would that work through?" he says. "If I write the music, we'll still run into the same problem, trying to fit your lyrics to it." In fact, it'll probably be worse, Patrick thinks.

Pete shrugs. "It's just an idea," he says. "I don't know, maybe I could write the words and you could fit the music around them?"

Patrick screws his face up. Nobody does it like that. That's just not how songwriting works.

But.

Sometimes when he looks at Pete's lyrics, he hears the beginning of a melody. Usually he pushes it back, annoyed at the distraction when he's trying to fit them to the tune he's already got.

But what if he let that impulse run free? What would happen then?

"We could try it," Patrick says tentatively.

Pete's face is split with a grin. "Yeah?"

Patrick shrugs. "Yeah. I'm not saying it'll work, mind you. Nobody writes songs like that for a reason."

Pete lets out a breath. "I know. But we're not like everybody else." He claps his hands together, satisfied, breaking the tension between him and Patrick. "We'll do the recording like we were always gonna, with your lyrics. I'll try not to mess with them too much."

Patrick raises an eyebrow.

"But after that, we try this, yeah? It's an experiment. And if it doesn't work, we can go back to you writing the songs."

Patrick nods. "OK," he says, and attacks the rest of his ice cream with gusto, while Pete sips his coffee and watches him openly.

Pete drives him back at 5:30am. His mom gets up at 6. He should be fine.

Patrick's quiet on the drive back. Just thinking.

"You OK?" Pete asks as he pulls up on Patrick's driveway.

Patrick nods, offering him a small smile. "Just thinking," he tells Pete.

Pete nods encouragingly, and Patrick adds, "Do you actually have words to give me? You know, if that's what we're gonna do?"

Pete nods. "Oh yeah." He leans over Patrick and opens the glovebox, pulling out a hardcover notebook. Patrick's seen him writing in it before. "Here you go." He hands it to Patrick.

Patrick takes it reverently in his hands. "Pete... isn't this basically your diary?"

Pete nods, not looking at him. "Technically it's a journal. But yeah." He breathes shallowly. "But I trust you."

The gravity of that trust is not lost on Patrick.

Pete turns around finally to find Patrick staring at him.

"What?" he says, but his cheeks are ruddy. "You're my best friend."

Patrick blinks, his eyelashes fluttering. "Yeah..." he breathes.

Pete leans forward and brushes his thumb over the corner of Patrick's mouth. Patrick's heart stutters in his chest.

Pete's eyes flicker to Patrick's lips, and for a moment, Pete thinks he's going to close the distance between them.

Then he leans back, breathing hard.

"Might want to wash your face when you get in. Your mouth is blue."

Patrick chokes out a laugh. "Yeah. Will do." He opens the passenger door.

"See you tomorrow?" says Pete hopefully, and Patrick smiles.

"Yeah," he says, squeezing Pete's hand. "Tomorrow."

#qorktrees #asks #ask meme #peterick #patrick stump #pete wentz #fob #my writing

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sonobeunitsarecool · 2 days

Text

Milgram LINE stickers - Amane

arma bianca LINE stickers

...mood whiplash. I have three slides (I'm just doing this in google slides) for the stickers from The Purge March, because the flags have text on them. Plus the little * things will be in two bits, because some of the words used in the songs are... kind of funny in their childishness?

* In Japan, it's common for a circle (O) to mean the same as a tick mark in English. It just means "correct", and the X is the same thing for both languages. What Amane is doing is holding her arms up to make an O, to show that she is correct in her answer (kind of like a gameshow, and she is the host). In the second image her arms are still in the O, but her answer was wrong, so the X is on the little stand in front of her, as well as behind her (like she's in a gameshow, but as a contestant). The one that I've captioned as "No, bad girl!" has めっだよ on it, which is kind of like... when you go, "hey!" to a kid or a pet that's doing something wrong. It's a warning/reprimand. Amane is either treating herself like a small child, or like a pet that needs training. "It is indeed" is... kind of a poor translation. The text is ですよ, with です used as "it is". So, at the end of sentences like "I'm happy", "It's a box", that kind of thing. よ sort of... is like "y'know". A better translation here would be "(and ---), is that!".

* It's captioned as "'Tis ordained", because that's what the English subtitles say when it's said. However I am not entirely sure what it means here, probably something along the lines of listing, or saying that these are the "first" things you should consider? “Doubtlessly, clearly, absolutely, unequivocally, beyond any doubt, GUILTY” is just... "(absolutely 5x) unforgivable" in Japanese. I think the subtitles give the right feeling, and also I just think it's more interesting that way. Imagine if it was "very, very, very, very, very GUILTY". That's no fun! The flags... Pink: 人は運命を生きよ/"Thou shall follow thine destiny" More directly: One should live their destiny Blue: 人は卑きを捨てよ/"Thou shall discard vulgarity" More directly: One should renounce what is despicable Yellow: 信じたものに納めよ/"Thou shall deliver unto those thou believest in" More directly: Give back to those you believe in Green: 道を外��ずに果てよ/"Thou shall follow thine course, then perish" More directly: Do not stray from your path, and make it to the end Yeah, it's not exactly such "old-timey" words, in the Japanese, but they all still read as "commandments", of a sort. Same kind of thing... but maybe a little less ominous...?

Wow that's a lot. One more! (has nothing to do with the stickers) In The Purge March, the part where Amane goes, "You're sorry? I don't care!" is 謝ったって、べーだ！ in Japanese. The first part is the same, but べーだ！ doesn't quite mean "I don't care" in Japanese. It's the sound made when pulling down your eyelid and poking out your tongue, a childish and mocking act. It's kind of like putting your hands near your face, wiggling your fingers, and blowing a raspberry. ...I guess that means "I don't care!", but the whole thing is just so childish and petty. I love it. Amane is so very "I'm not a kid! (at least when you're watching me)", but also "Doubtlessly, clearly, absolutely, unequivocally, beyond any doubt, PETTY" and I love her for it.

#milgram #milgram line #amane momose #momose amane

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anna-scribbles · 3 days

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Any songs on the tortured poets department or the anthology that remind you of Emilie agreste or any other ML character? (though I know Emilie’s your special interest) I feel like the albatross and I can do it with a broken heart remind me so much of Adrien, and I always love your Taylor swift lyric analysis posts.

EXCELLENT question considering taylor swift just released an emilie agreste album. (and you’re so right about the adrien songs i definitely thought so too.) there were 6 songs that stood out to me as emilie songs, the first being:

I Can Fix Him, No Really I Can

this one is. well. it’s obvious that emilie is into toxic men. i love the idea that when she first got entangled with gabe, he was just an absolute broke problematic punk bisexual disaster (we can't ignore the harriel evidence) who her parents hated sooooo bad. and like literally everybody was so right that he was bad news but emilie was so confident that she could fix him until she finally realized that she was fr dying and he was actually going to terrorize the world about it. oops.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

already mentioned as an adrien song (which it is) but emilie and adrien are admittedly very similar and this song hits on exactly why. it’s about having such a tight control on how you’re perceived by others, putting on a fake persona that can be idolized and adored by everyone no matter how you’re feeling inside. it’s about being SO good at your job that you can’t actually get out of it. accidentally mythologizing yourself. losing your grasp of what is performance vs authenticity. you get it

Clara Bow

OKAY THIS ONE MAKES ME CRAAAZY. okay okay okay. so SPEAKING of accidentally mythologizing yourself, the song clara bow hits on a lot of the same themes as icdiwabh but there's this added sense of inevitable circularity to it that just drives me insane. I especially think a lot about adrien almost inheriting his mother's space in the public eye - the way emilie's acting career and universal adoration paved the way for adrien to be famous from birth, the kind of fame that makes his life almost unlivable at times. the whole bridge articulates it beautifully, I think - "beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours/demanding more" and "it's hell on earth to be heavenly." the idea that the world demands beauty from emilie, and she gives and gives until her ambition eventually breaks her, and she passes the performance down to adrien. and he takes up the mantle. the future's bright, dazzling.

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

so again, we return to the alleged bisexual punk disaster youth of gabriel agreste😭 this song is mostly related to my personal way that I imagine gabe and emilie's early years lol. I imagine that one of the things that drew emilie to gabe initially was that he was so opposite of the way her british nobility family was, and she was trying to escape that life. but eventually, once the money and success got to him, he became someone exactly like the family she once ran from. and she became different too, in a way she always regretted. hence the "say that I loved you the way that you were." the part of this song that feels VERY emilie to me is the "I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools/changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules/all to outrun my desertion of you." I think that emilie is very malleable, easily adapting her personality and presentation to fit whoever she's trying to please at the moment. but she never plans to stick around for long.

I Hate It Here

this one makes me laugh bc "I'd say the 1830's but without all the racists😒" ABSOLUTELY feels like something emilie agreste would say😭 and feel like she cured racism. but as for the actual song, I see emilie as always tending toward escapism. no matter how content she's trying to be in her situation, she's always stitching together an escape plan in the back of her mind. she doesn't like being tied down. she's such a romantic, and constantly disappointed by reality. always planting secret gardens in her mind

The Bolter

THE BOLTER!!!!! IS THE EMILIE AGRESTE SONG OF ALL TIME. TO ME. okay okay every single line but especially verse 2. "he was a cad, wanted her bad/just like any good trophy hunter/and she liked the way it tastes" just SAY gabriel and emilie. just say it. also the "splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless" SCREAMS emilie to me. one of the first things that ever came to me about emilie was her being flighty and kind of unreliable, as well as deeply attention seeking. I think of her as someone who gets restless if she's in the same place for too long, who has trouble with commitment. it's easy for her to feel trapped, and her impulse is always to break free. thinking about how content she was to leave behind her loved ones, "there's an escape in escaping" really defines her character to me. and of course it bleeds into adrien's struggle with confinement and tendency to run away when he's feeling unwanted etc etc <3

THANKS FOR ASKING A QUESTION SO RELEVANT TO MY CURRENT INTERESTS<3 umm I will throw in a bonus adrien song which is robin. ok goodnight

#anna rambles #asks #ml #ttpd #ts #emilie agreste #thirteen #it's thirteen related. let's be real #im done with finals so I finally had time to finish answering this ask dfsnkjdsk #I get so many lovely asks but I always want to spend like 3 hours answering them but I do not have time #THANK U FOR THE ASK. IT WAS FUN.

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yunnuys · 5 hours

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Happy birthday to you

Spending your birthday with jjk men | Part 1 Part 2

Incl (^_−)−☆ Satoru Choso (nanami suguru toji will be in a part 2!)

Satoru Gojo:

Honestly every day with Satoru is like your birthday. He has no problem with spoiling you and gifting you with all the things you could ever want. Even when you two are miles are part he doesn’t miss a chance to show you how much he loves you. The two of you like to spend birthdays together every year, but unfortunately this year Satoru was sent on a very important mission. Of course you were bummed out but Satoru always finds a way to make it work.

That’s why you’re sitting at your desk getting ready to FaceTime him because he “has a surprise for you.” As soon as the clock turns midnight Satorus face pops up on your laptop and you immediately press answer. The minute you seem him on the screen you can’t help but to burst out in laughter. The man is wearing the most ridiculous get up with a birthday crown and sash, the background of his hotel room decorated with birthday decorations.

“Ouchhh is that how you greet your amazing and handsome boyfriend? Happy birthday by the way beautiful.”

“Sorry Mr princess.. you look great as always but I can’t help but imagine the look on the employees face seeing a man like you buying all this alone. Thank you Satoru.” You smile at him as you take in the scene in front of you, but he doesn’t miss the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just a few more days baby, don’t look so sad cmon it’s your special day.”

“I just miss you that’s all.” You shrug. “Plus this is probably the biggest mission yet and you-“ You’re cut off by Satoru waving you off. “Don’t worry about me okay? They don’t call me the strongest for no reason yeah? I don’t want you to looking all saddddd cmon give me a smile baby.” “Satoru-“ “Please? I could be dying and the last thing I would want to see is my pretty girl smile.”

“Satoru don’t even joke about things like that.” You scold him as you roll your eyes, the slight pout on his face makes the corner of your lips twitch. “Alright fine.” You flash him a quick smile. “Happy now you big baby?” In which he immediately stops sulking. “Now! Time for the grand finale! I get to sing you happy birthday.. one moment please.” He disappears for a few moments before coming back with a half eaten cupcake. “I’m sorry I got hungry earlier and I couldn’t resist.” Satoru places a bright pink candle in the cupcake and starts immediately belting what is probably the worst rendition of a happy birthday song ever. But it does its job in cheering you up, forgetting about the being miles apart and the fact he’s on a life or death mission. If there’s one thing Satoru will do it’s to make sure that every moment with him is a happy one. “What do you wish for baby? Don’t forget to make a wishhhh.”

You both know what you’re wishing for although you don’t say it out loud. You close your eyes as you make your wish. “How am I supposed to blow out the candle Satoru?” Satoru smiles and holds the cupcake in front of the camera. “Like this… blow it out on the count of three… 1…2…3.” Once it hits three you lean in and “blow” the candle out, meaning Satoru just did all the work. “Perfect! You did perfect my angel, you’re so good at what you do.” Rolling your eyes at him playfully you take a moment to scan his features.

“Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, I really do. Thanks for making my birthday feel special.”

“Well that’s because it is of course, and I love you too.. my lovely birthday girl.” There’s a silence before he speaks again. “Listen I have to go okay? But I promise whenever this mission is over I’ll be on the first flight home and whatever you wished for I’ll grant it. So don’t worry about me ‘kay? See you soon.”

“Goodbye, Satoru.”

“Nooo we’ve talked about not saying goodbye.”

You smile slightly at the reminder and nod softly. “Right, see you soon.”

About a week later you find out that the wish you had made, was not granted.

Choso Kamo:

The two of you have been dating for only a couple of months, and it just so happened to be your birthday today. Honestly Choso has been excited to spend today with you since he hasn’t ever celebrated anything like it. To be honest you’re just as equally excited!!! The past few days leading to your birthday you’ve been thinking about how Choso has never had a birthday celebration of any sort since he doesn’t exactly know his birthday, so you wanted to do something special for him.

The morning of your birthday you found it weird to wake up to an empty bed, over to your left was a letter with sloppy letters ‘went out this morning!! do not worry about me!! i will be back this afternoon i am totally not buying things for your birthday, -love, your Cho :)’. You crack a smile at how obvious he was and how bad he was at keeping secrets. One of the things that you loved most about him. The plan was to go out and buy cake, couple of decorations, and his favourite snacks. Today was your birthday yeah but you wanted to surprise him as well, so you immediately get out of bed and get ready. The trip to the mall and grocery store was very quick and easy. As you’re in the party supply store getting a few gift bags, your phone vibrates in your pocket.

I’m at home, where r u? :(

Cho!! Srry had to run out and grab a few things, I’m on the way!

You put your phone back in your pocket and quickly check out. Before heading back into your shared apartment you put the gifts together with the card you bought him. As you enter the apartment it’s unusually quiet. “Baby?” You call out as you enter the kitchen. “I’m… in the room! Give me five minutes then you can come in.” Choso calls out from down the hallway. It’s perfect because it gives you time to get the cake together. Once done you make it down the hallway to the bedroom. “Cho I’m coming in is that alright?” The noise of shuffling around followed by a thump and silence makes you raise an eyebrow. “One… second…” more silence. “Okay! Come in” Choso finally calls out. You hold the cake with one hand and open the bedroom door. “Happy birthday!” You say as soon as you step into the room.

“Happy birth- huh?” Choso blinks at you, looking at the cake in your hand then back to your face. “Oh did I mess up the date or something, I could’ve sworn it was your birthday today… plus I don’t even know mine.”

“No.. noo, you’re cute honey. You definitely didn’t mess up the date. I wanted to surprise you.”

“I don’t get it… you wanted to surprise me? On your birthday? Isn’t it usually the other way around?” His face of genuine confusion makes you giggle.

“Yeah maybe… but I wanted to celebrate it with you! It could be our special day instead of just mine, I thought it would be nice you know? I even bought you a cake!” The realization hits Choso as he beams at you. “Wow you’re so thoughtful I would’ve never thought of this… oh! And I got you a cake too. One moment.”

He shuffles through the many many gift bags on the bed, turning back to you as he pulls out a giant cake plushie. “Look! I know you don’t like sweets so I got an alternative, it’s cute right?” You smile widely as you nod at him. “So cute Cho I love it a lot… wait a minute are you crying? Why are you crying?” You notice Choso looking at the cake and sniffling softly.

“Is that… us?” Choso asks referring to the horrible drawing of two stick figures holding hands out of frosting. “Oh and I’m not crying, my eyes are just sweating for some reason.”

“Uh huh… sure and I’m Batman.”

“You could be.”

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canmargesimpson · 20 hours

Text

Chapter 2:

Chapter 1

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☪ . :☆ﾟ. ───

April 30, 1996.

Eddie, who was at his studio, sat on his piano with some pens and papers, trying to figure out how the bridge of his new song should go. He spent hours, repeating over and over the melody but then stopping at the same part, since it felt like nothing could ever continue it. As if there was no follow up to the story he was writing, like if in the middle of the book the protagonist died and there was no more story at all. It frustrated him so much, he was scratching his head nervously, biting his nails and even smashing the piano tiles whenever he tried to even continue the song. Nothing seemed to work. So when his Motorola cell phone rang, he thanked god to be able to get away from the monster that has become his piano.

“Hello?”

“Eddie!” Steve’s voice called from the over side, in a quite excited way that grabbed the man's attention quickly

“Baby? Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?” he asked

“Lunch break”

“Lunch break? But it's like 10 in the morning?”

“Eddie, it's 2… have you been in the studio all day?” the shift in steve’s voice knew that if he said yes the answer would bring him trouble

“No?”

“Eddie! I’ve told you it's not healthy to spend an entire morning locked in a room with only a piano and a guitar! Go eat something, or even just go to the bathroom”

Eddie huffed knowing that Steve hated the fact Eddie spent an entire day writing and not even eating, but everytime he was there, it felt like time moved faster somehow.

“I know, I'm sorry, I'm gonna grab my jacket now and leave to go eat something alright? Now what are you calling me for?” eddie asked as he stood up from the piano stool and walked to the the little table besides the door and grab his keys

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Steve’s disappointed and warning tone changed to a giddy one which turned Eddie's heart around “So remember I told you I was gonna talk to my colleague, Sarah, whose cousin works at the Orphanage? Well, i got in contact with the director of the place, and told me we could go next Friday at 4”

“Wait really?” eddie stopped his tracks as he walked out of the studio department

“Yes!” he exclaimed “there are about 23 kids, the age ranges are form 2-15 year old”

“I'm not adopting a two year old human, sorry” Eddie laughed nervously. He still won't be completely in love with the idea of a kid in their house, but at least he could hold a 10 minute conversation with a 6 year old. And that was progress

“I know” Steve sighed a laugh “so i told her that probably a kid from 6-12, and that we don’t really have anything in mind”

“Wait” Eddie thanked God that there was no one else in that elevator with him at this moment “you told her about… us? Like… the fact that we…”

“Are a same sex marriage? Yes'' and with that eddie sighed loudly “ she told me that she has had a lot of queer parents adopting, so it's definitely not a problem, we just need to make sure we are suitable for taking care of a minor”

“And how-”

“It's an interview. And before you panic, no, it's not about knowledge about children” another loud sigh came from eddie “it's about it we are… responsible and economically okay to take care of a child. Then they are coming to our house to make sure the kid is gonna live in a safe and decent house. It's just regular procedure”

“Wow'' Eddie smiled, quite shocked that this might be finally happening. They might be finally adopting a kid “and how long to like… get the kid”

The other line went dead. Eddie couldn't even hear Steve’s breathing. Just by this reaction, he knew the answer was not gonna be pleasant.

“Steve?”

“Umm…. they said about…. 6 to…. 18 months?”

“18 Months!?” Eddie exclaimed loudly “Steve!”

“I know!!” he whines back

“I'm gonna be gone! Tour starts in a year and- what if i’m not there? What if the child comes into the home, and i'm not there and then when i come home they hate me? What if something happens to them or me, and I never get to meet them! Steve-”

“Eddie i know! I just… We’ve been waiting for such a long time…. There is hope that maybe it could be less. They say that if it works perfectly, it can be at least 6 months”

“For me to leave in six months? Not to forget, this tour is long, and then i have to do interviews and shit I- steve…” Eddie breathed loudly “I don’t want you to do this alone, because you and I both know it sucks not having a parent around, and I'm letting that kid go through this. I don't wanna be like you dad! I don’t want to leave for over a year, and then just come around to say happy birthday or merry christmas and then leave again! And with the new album-”

“Eddie you would never be like my father you hear me? Never.” Steve sternly said as he sat up from his desk chair to look at the window to where the kids were playing football “I just… maybe… you should just… not release the album maybe?” Steve knew he was on thin ice now.

“Not- Are you crazy?! I’ve been working my ass off with Gareth for almost 2 years now! We can’t just postpone! This is super important for me Steven, I can't just drop my entire work for a kid!”

And the line went dead. In both ends, the men were holding the phones to their ear with eyes closed looking at the floor trying to somehow make this better. To somehow change the entire universe so they could be happy and all could fit. But they can’t. So when Eddie heard the 3 beeps of the dead line, he knew he fucked up and real bad this time.

He left for a Chinese restaurant and bought the usual. He walked back to his studio, and sat back again at the piano while he ate his chicken quietly. And then it hit him. The melody of the song suddenly crashed into him like a train and it all made sense. The story does continue, and this little rocky path made him stumble. But once he placed both hands on the keyboard the story seemed to write itself as he just played along with only one thing on his mind.

Steve.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☪ . :☆ﾟ. ───

#by: me #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #steve and eddie #steve x eddie #steddie parents #dad steddie #rockstar eddie x teacher steve #steddie angst #steddie dads #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie parents saga!

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 3 days

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I really liked reading your thoughts on hypmic and gender roles!! I would like to add some things about hypmic & female characters :]

I like the way Otome is meant to have a delicate (?) image, but it doesn't make her weak (I remember when her solo Just do it released and people talked about how before they had this idea that Otome was more like ruler who gives orders to her soldiers in the background, but after the song it was clear that Otome is actually in the front lines, leading her army)

And Ichijiku, who is sometimes cruel, with this strong image, this is framed not as a good thing, but a front she puts up to cope with her suffering (not that it's wrong for a woman to have traits usually associated with masculinity, but it's bad when you are doing it for the sake of looking "stronger", someone is not weaker for being feminine, as it seems to be something she internalized for herself/she doesn't seem to project that into others so it's just an unhealthy coping mechanism that hurts only herself), we can see from the drama tracks that before traumatic events her voice was much more high pitched (her natural one), and now she uses this lower, stronger tone, to not be perceived as weak (which I think kinda parallels Ramuda speaking in a higher pitch when his natural tone is lower). Basically a lot of the times when trying to write strong women, authors will take away their feminity from the idea that "you need to be masculine to be strong", that wouldn't apply to any of our female cast, even to Ichijiku who does put up a front to not be seem as weak, this is not a good thing & she still has hobbies/likes things usually associated with feminity (but as an exemple of masculine women also being treated well, we have Asunaro Bojo, she is a tomboy but that's not bad at all!!! Good for her, and there is also Iris from rhyme anima, that I could say is not particularly fem??? Also good for her and her cool motorbike)

And Honobono, I think it's really interesting that, in a society that demonizes feminity, she uses that on her favor, her feminity being her main weapon. Also I like her existence as a contraposition to Hypmic's main themes about bonds/relying on others, the power of words to resolve conflict as an alternative to violence / she wants to break bonds, uses her words as a way to do that, showing how powerful words can be when used for evil

As for them making bad decisions, I agree there were times when it was for the sake of plot moving, I also think some decisions are due to them being flawed characters, just like the rest of the cast is (Otome is impulsive and has a very "now or never" mindset, but so does Dice, Ichijiku blindly follows Otome even on her worst decisions, but that's because of her trauma and it's something she has to work on changing, etc)

And I do think a shifting is happening btw them being antagonistic side characters to them being integrated as part of the main cast in recent times!! That being said I'm very excited for the upcoming stage play focused on the girls only & with 2 new original women, I will love to see what they have ready for them

Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts!

I totally agree with your opinion about Otome. Her "coldness" (like, personality-wise) is a good contrast to Ichijiku's hot temper, but neither are in any way weak or frail. And as you point out with Ichijku, this too seems like her way of pushing away her own feelings in order to process them better. (True gender equality is everyone failing to process emotions in a healthy way? lol)

I also get what you mean about Ichijiku and writing strong female characters. (I'm immediately reminded of this comic. In terms of concept art, Ichijiku could fit right in with them lol.) She's an interesting example of a trope I see a lot. In Japanese, it feels like "cute" (可愛い) and "beautiful" (綺麗) exist as two opposite ends of a spectrum, where the latter is associated with maturity and elegance and the former with youth and innocence. Fictional taller girls or girls with more developed bodies often lament that they're pushed into the "beautiful" role even when they identify more strongly with being "cute." On the flipside, shorter girls sometimes wish that they could be taken more seriously if they were closer to the "beautiful" side of the spectrum. Ichijiku is pretty firmly in the "beautiful" camp but seems to desire "cuteness" (see how she reacts to tea parties with Nemu, who is more stereotypically "cute", and cultivates a hairbow collection). Yet she reacts with embarrassment when anything "cute" is brought up, likely because she recognizes she won't be viewed with as much authority if she presents herself in a "cute" fashion. That ties into what you're talking about with the pitch of her voice and her desire to appear strong. It's funny how there are expected societal roles ("cute"/"beautiful") nested within larger expected societal roles (womanhood). If all the female characters were like Ichijku, I'd be a lot more "eh :/" about Hypmic, but as you say, there's a wide variety of presentations, none of which are presented as "weaker" or more invalid. Like Nemu--she's definitely a "cute" character but is written to have an enormous amount of emotional strength following her decision to join Chuuouku. This suggests, then, that Ichijiku is incorrect in thinking she can't be strong and "cute." Likewise, the female characters as a whole can be strong and feminine or strong and more masculine-presenting. It'd be fun to see more female characters who lean into the latter (I'm not going to pretend that Hypmic is bursting with canonical masc female characters) but that seems a bit more progressive than Hypmic is willing to go. If it's still at the stage of "femininity != bad"... I'll take what I can get, haha.

I love everything you said about Honobono!

And I also agree that some flawed decisions Otome and Ichijiku make are due to them being ordinary, flawed individuals. Which is a good, humanizing writing choice! When I said that in the original post, I was referring to the sort of decisions that exist purely to set up the main conceit of Hypmic. The "Hmm yes I think I shall spend our man!tax dollars on constructing a huge, expensive stadium as a trial run for a future government-sponsored sport. Let's kidnap two children in order to convince one of the trial participants to rap against his friend, which is the most effective way to prevent a coup" kind of decisions. Team Rocket-ass decisions. I'm not knocking this concept as a whole, because goofy villainy and contrived plots can be fun. Even in semi-serious works, there can still be a place for contrived plot nonsense; the audience is capable of suspending disbelief when the silliness is not the main object in focus. But when we're later asked to examine some of Otome's decisions and thought processes in a more realistic and sympathetic light, I have trouble reconciling the two concepts in my head. In my opinion, Otome can either be the shadowy figure behind the Team Rocket desk or a real person with complex thoughts and feelings, but asking her to be both is not a great writing choice.

Finally, I can't wait for the stage plays either. I hope I get a chance to check them out! The Hypstages are always super, super fun.

#not a translation #asks #hypmic asks

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