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[meteortrails]

it’s literally endlessly fucking funny to me how certifiably insane post timeskip sabo is about his brothers. he remembered who luffy and ace were and they immediately rocketed to #1 on his priority list with absolutely no contest. he devotes himself to being an older brother with the same fanatical obsession that he’s been using to lead revolutions and luffy is so used to ‘older brother’ meaning ‘guy who has attached a significant portion of his self worth and meaning in life to you’ that it fully doesn’t even register as weird to him. he manages to secretly make luffy a vivre card and luffy acts this is reasonable rational behavior!!! just normal older brother shit for them to be fully neck deep in your business without ever mentioning it!!!! cannot believe they ever managed to make us think sabo was the normal rational one. what the fuck lmao

[divinector]

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[detweilerboy]

Just wish people would know that addiction is just the absence of hope/inability to plan ahead for whatever reason. Anyone would and could just stop if there were achievable short term goals & security in their lives

[iamthatonefangirl]

tension - nsfw bucky barnes

word count: 1.8k based on this ask. disclaimer: rough sex. fully consensual by all parties. a/n: I love u all sm

~~~

“Bucky, goddamnit!" you yell, "you know better by now! you can’t be putting yourself in danger like that!”

you’ve only just retreated to your private quarters, your anger finally boiling over in response to his reckless actions on the field.

“you’re not invincible, you hear me?” you continue to yell at him when he doesn’t say anything, too focused on yanking at his bootstraps, not bothering to respond. 

“so, what? you’re just going to ignore me? real mature,” you continue, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand there in wait. after a moment, before you can speak up again, he finally kicks off his boots and stands to face you.

“everything we do out there is dangerous! I know you’re not so naive that you don't know that,” he tries to argue with you. he’s not quite yelling, not yet. not like you are.

“there is a difference between putting ourselves in danger for the greater good and deliberately being reckless in the process!” you reason. does he seriously not get it? does he not understand that you’re worried about him, concerned for his safety?

“you don’t like the way I do things, fine. you don’t have to. but I am still your boss–”

“oh, fuck that!” you interrupt him. “don’t pull the ‘boss’ card on me. we are partners first and foremost. don’t pull that shit with me.”

he sighs in frustration. “fine. yes, fine, you’re right. but–”

you proceed to interrupt him again, still upset. angry. because you love him, you need him to be careful, to realize that it’s not just him anymore. 

“yes! I am right! but you’re not listening to me!” you yell out in your frustration. you don’t know what to say, how to get your point across with your mind being dragged in so many different directions.

“I am trying to listen, but–”

“no! you’re not, Bucky!” 

he says your name once, twice, a few more times as you continue yelling at him about how he isn't listening, he never listens–

suddenly, all the air is pushed from your lungs, your back being shoved up against the wall. 

“I am listening,” he grits in your ear. “now it’s time you listen to me.”

only then do you realize the position you’re in. 

his vibranium arm is pressing against your chest, exerting just enough strength to hold you in place against the wall. he’s breathing heavily, eyes staring you down, glaring daggers through you. 

he’s pissed, but he’s waiting. he’s looking back and forth between your eyes.

waiting.

you barely give him a nod before he’s grabbing your hips tightly, ripping you away from the wall and dragging you to the floor underneath him. he moves so quickly, you’re hardly even aware of the change as it’s happening. 

“you’re gonna be good and keep your mouth shut while I fuck you, you hear me?” he says, glaring down into your eyes. he doesn’t move a muscle, his weight on top of you preventing you from going anywhere. he’s straddling you, hands gripping you with a strength that reminds you you’re not going anywhere.

there’s nothing behind his eyes. they’ve gone cold, grey, lifeless…

it almost reminds you of him.

your whole body shivers. 

and then he’s moving again with fervor, reaching for the zippers of your suit and tugging at them to expose you to him as quickly as possible. 

“fuck, it's about time you listened,” he grits, all while tugging the fabric out of the way, ridding you of your suit as fast as possible. he never once attempts to remove his own gear.

when you make to reach a hand for the hem of his jacket, hoping to get your hands on him, too, a metal hand reaches out and stops you in your tracks. he holds your wrist so tightly, you can't move.

“did I say you could do that?” he hisses, stopping all of his motions and glaring you down. you’re stunned, once again frozen from the weight of his gaze staring deep into your eyes. 

“no,” you whisper, forcing yourself to respond in your trepidation. he lets go of your hand with a careless flick of his wrist. 

something about the demandingness of his tone, the forcefulness of his actions makes you crave it, need him to take you, use you–

except the second you open your mouth to say something, you remember what he told you: keep your mouth shut.

you could speak up, piss him off even more, convince him to be as rough with you as possible and relish every second of it. 

or you can keep quiet and maybe he won’t spend hours tormenting you before letting you come. 

you shut your mouth in the hopes of the latter. 

he’s gripping tightly at your flesh, now bared to him in nothing but your undergarments, his hold on you never once letting you squirm away from the cold floor beneath you. his fingers dig into your skin as he brings his mouth to your chest, nipping over your collarbone as he goes. 

“so goddamn pretty, and yet you’ve still got that mouth on you,” he comments between soft bites at your skin. “thought I’d fixed that by now.” 

something about those words makes you want to beg, plead with him to rail you into oblivion until you can’t speak a single word. you try like hell to stay quiet, but you can’t help the soft whimper that arises from the back of your throat. 

“oh, you like that, huh? were you trying to rile me up just so I’d put you in your place?” he asks, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning out. 

“yeah. you're so fucking eager for it, I bet you were,” he continues. at that moment, he yanks the cup of your bra out of place, surging down to wrap his lips around your nipple.

he’s trying to force you to respond, to break his rule, you determine, when he bites down just hard enough to make you gasp out in shock. he wants you to break, wants you to give him all the more reason to be rough with you. 

you’re almost inclined to give in. 

you let out another tentative moan, louder this time, just to see what he’ll do. 

he responds with a sharp slap to your outer thigh, making you gasp at the sting.

“that’s enough of that,” he mumbles, pulling his mouth away from you to watch as he rips your underwear clean off your body. he brings two flesh fingers between your legs, pressing up against your hole, teasing you. “shit, you like it when I slap you around a little bit? hmm? maybe I ought to do this to you more often,” he grits, pulling his hand back and placing another harsh smack to your thigh. 

you’re a mess, your mind starting to go cloudy the more he touches you like this. you give it your all to stay quiet, all the while you’re blissfully unaware of the way you begin to drool down your chin. 

“think I like you better this way. goin’ all stupid and making a mess of yourself,” he tells you while reaching his metal hand up to wipe your chin dry. “yeah, how about I be real nice and help you keep quiet, yeah?” he taunts as he begins to press his thumb into your mouth. your body responds before you can tell it to, immediately sucking on the vibranium like a lifeline. 

your eyes have fallen shut, stuck in a stupor and completely unaware of the pleased expression on his face.

you stay there, focused on nothing but keeping quiet and holding his thumb in your mouth as he pops the button of his cargo pants just enough to shove them out of his way. 

“now, baby, you’re gonna be real good for me, aren’t you?” he asks. 

you nod your agreement, not once opening your eyes. 

“so fucking needy for me,” he mutters under his breath. 

and by god, he doesn’t waste another second before brutally thrusting into you like his life depends on it. 

it’s all you can do to hang on for dear life as he shoves your thighs further apart, giving him a better view of the absolute debauched sight between your legs. he’s relentless, taking out all his pent-up stress on you and watching the way your cunt opens up for him.

“she’ll take it no matter what, won’t she? any way I give it to you, you’ll beg for it all the same.” his words are clipped, breathy as he lets go of the rest of his post-mission energy. 

you’re not even listening anymore, no longer able to keep yourself quiet with the way he's using you. you never even stood a chance. 

but he’s clearly distracted, no longer concerned with keeping you quiet as all his focus goes towards taking what he wants from between your legs. 

your lower back begins to ache from the force of him repeatedly pounding into you while you’re stuck on the hard floor, uncomfortably stuck and made to just take it over and over again. your jaw grows sore from his grip on you, surely making a mess of yourself once more as his thumb presses down on your tongue. 

just as you consider signalling to him I’m done, he pipes up. 

“you gonna talk back to me like that ever again?”

you shake your head vehemently no.

“you sure?” 

you nod yes. 

“good girl,” he says, and with that, you feel him letting go, filling you to the brim with his release. the aches throughout your body begin to relax as he eases his grip on your jaw and your hip, giving you a reprieve from his rough treatment. 

“you okay?” he whispers to you, and you nod, still out of it.

next thing you know, he’s helping you off the floor and carrying you bridal style to the bed. once he lays you down, he brushes your hair out of your face and observes your facial expressions carefully as you begin to come back to yourself.

“I was worried about you, Bucky,” you tell him quietly. “I need you to be careful. it’s not just you anymore, okay?” you open your eyes just then to look at him.

he knows. he knows he acted like a reckless idiot, scaring the hell out of you and turning around and excusing his own behavior.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby,” he tells you. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“please, when we’re out there… I need you to remember what we’re fighting for. I need you to remember that I care about you, I love you. I need you to come back in one piece.”

he sees how sad your eyes look, how scared you are that something is going to happen to him. 

“I know. you’re right, I know,” he says, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

after a moment, you pull back. “now fuck me like you love me,” you smirk.

“yes, ma’am.”

~~~

✦ masterlist ~ join a tag list ✦

bucky tag list part 1: (send an ask or dm to be removed)

@avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy @mandoloriancookie @starstruck-cowgirl @doubledizzy22 @yvespecially @shereadzzz @blaineandergel @flow33didontsmoke @iiamlynn @belovedmoony @tellybearryyyy @doilooklikeagiveafrack @analovesmarvel @izzy698 @ketchumid24 @annabethboleyn @luv4kook @buckyseternaldoll @planetzeidy @thegirlfatherr @cieraboobear @wint3rbarnes @quinnofdrama @jeannie-beannie @buckysslut @peaceinourtime82 @poiscntree @sooberrt @yaboyguzma69 @dragonsoverall @barnesonly @drxies @morgan-getty

[lieslab]

Enjoy the ride and let loose

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Vampire Chan X gn reader

Summary: A lonely vampire has been searching high and low for a new pet.

Genre: Alternate reality

Word Count: 2.1K

Trigger warning: Graphic details of blood, broken bones, brief mentions of a bar, drugs, alcohol, urine, vomit, blood, more blood, mainly blood.

A/N: Someone asked for a Chan request based off the Railway music video. So um... you know what? I have nothing to say for this. This was a written sin. My heart is fluttering and I don't even swing that way. I need to go to bed. Tomorrow, we can all touch grass together

_ _ _

Empty promises and eternal salvation from a man cannot save you. The last moments of your life speckled few and far between. Grimy memories faded between who you were and who you’ve become. The dim alleyway sparse with orange light, it wasn’t the best way to get home. 

Another night working your ass off at the bar. Overtime meant more money. Customers blended together. Drinks poured. Shot glasses chimed. Rims lined with lime and salt. Beers overflowing with foam. Spirits that quite literally possessed and inebriated everyone that consumed them. 

Not the best life, but the pay was too great to give up. So you went home when the blanket of night covered the sky. You poured, sloshed, wiped, scooped, and slipped your nights away as the keeper of spirits. Keeping tabs, shutting them, and opening another. You didn’t know what downtime was, but you knew about exhaustion. 

Four twelve hour days were kicking your ass. Days blended together. You barely remembered anything. Taking the alleyway home, collapsing on the worn floral couch, waking up soaked in the scent of someone else’s alcohol. 

The dingy bar, tough crowd, scent of tobacco and skunk. When white lines appeared, when the needles came out, you kept your head low. Just as your boss instructed you to. The less you saw, the better. 

Morally, your skin soaked with sin, but what else could you do? Life didn’t throw you the greatest hand of cards. You did what you could to get by. If that meant working your ass off, nearly collapsing in the middle of that alley on the way home, so be it. 

You picked yourself up by the bootstraps because nobody else was beside you. One more day. One more conversation from intoxicated customers. One more day of dodging empty beer bottles, dealing with screams from angry customers you cut off, and the pesky reminder from your boss. Keep your head down, stay quiet, if the cops show up, you’re just the bartender. Nothing ever happens there. 

The needles poking out the women’s bathroom trash said different. Puddles of half-digested fried greasy food littered the floor, only twice, on a good day. The men’s bathroom? You begged your boss to close it. No matter how good the drunken aim, urine missed the urinal and soaked the speckled underbelly of the flushable device. 

No matter how strong the disinfectant cleaner, the gloves provided little relief from the disgusting feeling of urine soaking your hands. It dripped off the gloves. Murky ammonia scented puddles haunted your dreams. If you weren’t consumed by the scent of booze, it was the ammonia and sweat. It never got old. 

Day five happened to be the day you met the devil. Half-asleep and stumbling in the alleyway, you narrowly dodged the dumpster behind a factory. Late at night, all the workers left hours ago. In a sleepy haze, the world spiraled out of control. 

You tipped left and over-corrected right. Your legs stumbled, your head jerked back, and a soft groan of annoyance filled the air. “Why does my goddamn house have to be so far away?” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

There was no time to spin around. Your eyes opened wider, just in time to find the silhouette of a hand shooting out to grab the bottom of your chin. Your eyes widened, your hand jerked upright to stop them, they grabbed your shoulder and then- 

Blinding pain. 

A sickening crunch. 

The morbid realization that your own neck could snap so easily. 

Your legs collapsed. 

An unknown laughter echoed in your ears. 

The night swallowed you whole and sucked you into its vortex. 

You didn’t make it to the sixth night of your shift alive. 

_ _ _ 

When you woke up, you were sure you were dead. An icy numbness harnessed your bones. It curdled your marrow, tucked away everything, and it stole your breath. The usual comforting stum of your heartbeat against your own chest disappeared. 

You scrambled to your feet, pushing out your hands to investigate your surroundings. Way up above, high window panels let in pale lighting, but other than that, darkness settled. It barely illuminated what you could make out to be some sort of cell. Iron bars, a heavy duty padlock wrapped around the door, and more darkness. 

Beneath your feet, a soft squishy material. Perhaps, a rubber mat? You brushed your shoe against it, trying to understand. Your sneaker scraped and then fell silent. You grabbed the bars and shook them, to no avail. 

“Easy there. You can’t get out of there if you try. Iron bars reinforced with iron, iron, and more iron.” A snicker laced an unknown’s voice. “Besides, you’re starving, aren’t you?” 

Step. Step. Step. Step. 

Chains rattled against one another. You searched around the area, not daring to push yourself too far against the bars, for fear of the unknown outside. A large white metal frame rusted away, coated with a thin layer of dust, it stretched in two different directions. Heavy footsteps wandered closer and closer until- 

Thunk. 

You didn’t recognize the man standing before you. You tried to comprehend everything about him all at once. The way his dark hair parted and framed his face. The single white eye and the other nearly dark as the night you fell victim to.

A large black leather bag dressed in small silver chains and a pair of handcuffs. He scrunched his shoulders up, relaxed, sucked in a deep breath, and smiled. “You must be starving, hm?” 

“Who are you?” 

“Who am I?” His lips tugged into a smirk. “Who am I? Who am I?” He chuckled, glanced over his shoulder, and grinned. “They want to know who I am. Should I tell them?” 

You took another step to the weathered bars. Across the way, similar cells sat, but they were a little different. The iron bars across your cell tucked you inside. On the opposite side of the hall, half-wooden stall bottoms were lined with thinner bars. 

Something shrieked and a pale hand jutted out. First one, then another, and then another. More and more lunged from the depths of darkness. Corpse-like fingers wiggled and grabbed air. Detailed veins coated the outside of their hands. Something groaned. Another soft shriek caused the man’s mood to sour. “Shut it! I didn’t ask if you were hungry!” 

“How many people are you keeping here?” 

He paused at your question and began to crane his head back towards you. “People?” You nodded, which led to another amused grin on his end. “Tell me, do you think your heart still beats with life?” 

“It has to be.” 

“And if it wasn’t?” 

Your head shook. Confused by the question and annoyed that you couldn’t get a proper response, you changed the question. “What’s your name?” 

“You can call me Christopher. As for you, my new little pet, I bet you’re starving. The new ones are always starving. Not many make it to this point. You’ve already beaten roughly ninety percent of those who have come before you.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he squatted, ripped open the zipper, and pulled out a dark pouch. With ease, he pushed it between two bars and tossed it towards you. It landed with a soft plot at your feet. 

Nausea filled your body at the sight. You could only describe it as a pouch full of blood. His eyes didn’t leave your body. Like a predator watching a prey, he observed your every move. “Better drink up while it’s still warm.” 

“Is this a sick joke?” You whispered. Confusion filled your eyes. You glanced at him, but from the look he carried, something in you knew this was something much darker than the anger of a drunk customer. 

“Drink up.” 

Behind him, another screech. He scowled, spun around, and grabbed the closest outstretched arm. Olive skin smeared with purple bruises in the faint sunlight. He snagged their wrist and began to squeeze it. 

“How many times do I have to mend your behavior? A new pet means being on your best behavior. You know what happens to those who don’t listen to me?” 

The hands began to retreat back into the darkness. When the only hand left was the one he held, his eyebrow furrowed. “Do not. Test me. Again.” He jerked the arm up and swung the wrist in a circle. 

Another sickening crunch caused you to gag. A faceless entity shrieked and jerked its hand free. The man glared for a few moments until he sighed and spun around. Another smirk appeared on his face as he sauntered back to your cell. 

“Where were we? Ah, yes. The blood. Drink up, you’re dehydrated.” 

“What’s wrong with you? Where am I? Please,” you uttered desperately, “I just want to go home.” 

“Home? In this state?” He laughed and shook his head. “This is your home for now. Monsters get lonely, you know? Every monster deserves a pet.” 

“Please,” you whispered desperately. You stepped closer and grabbed the bars. Not caring about the filth, you pressed your face against them. “I have a job and a life. That’s all I want. I won’t tell anyone.” 

“You won’t tell anyone I kidnapped you?” He whispered, thoughtfully. 

“Never.” 

Heterochromia eyes stared at yours. His face softened for a moment and he leaned closer. The scent of metallic blood hit your nose, but it didn’t stop you from trying to sway the stranger. 

“Promise?” He asked. 

He stopped your nod by grabbing your chin. “Interesting.” You stayed still, allowing him to run a thumb across your bottom lip. Nerves bombed your stomach and then dived back up like military helicopters. 

You didn’t pull away and you didn’t breathe. The soft pad of his thumb traced your lips again. “You know, I’ve always dreamed of someone like this. To have something, a pet, to share companionship.” 

You kept quiet, hoping it’d work out in your favor. Too busy studying his eyes and focusing on his face, you didn’t catch his second hand drifting towards the leather pouch. His sharp nail punctured another warm pouch. 

“Even monsters can get lonely.” 

For whatever reason, you clung to every word; a pastor preaching a convicting sermon, a sinner and a saint, a monster and a pet. Something pulled you to him, but you couldn’t explain it. Otherworldly and unnatural, it oddly felt comforting. 

“Open.” His thumb tapped your bottom lip. Your lips parted and his eyes lit up. “So obedient, just the way I like them. Stay like that for me.” His thumb went up and began to brush along the side of your cheek. “There you go. I won’t hurt you.” 

Before you could understand it, plastic filled your mouth. His other hand wrapped around your chin. You tried to jerk away, but you couldn’t. In an iron grip, he squeezed the bag of blood. The metallic taste filled your mouth and your face scrunched. 

“Shh. Just swallow. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you. I know it’s weird at first, but trust me. This is for your own good. Come on, swallow for me. Come on, sweetheart.” An index finger slipped down your throat, trying to coax you into submission. 

You hesitated, but followed his instructions. “Ah, there you go. Not too bad, hmm?” 

When your eyes pulled away to look over his shoulder, he gently squeezed your chin again. Your eyes met his and your legs felt weak. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” 

He squeezed the plastic bag more. Sticky liquid pulsed into your parted lips. Too much, some dripped down the corner of your mouth. It fell down your cheek, slid beneath your chin, and drifted towards your shirt. 

“Such a messy little pet. How cute.” His thumb stretched out before you could stop him. He caught the end of the trail, hooked his thumb between his lips, and sucked.

You should have stepped back. He let go of your chin. You should have pulled away, but instead, you didn’t move. You watched in awe. Those feelings of fear drifted away. You swallowed without being instructed. 

The fresh blood rushed through your brain and awakened something in your soul. Something ignited and that sleepy haze disappeared. The man’s dimpled smile stretched once more.  “I think we’re going to do great things together, little pet.” 

Staring back at him, you couldn’t respond. Caught in his trance, the moans of pain and shrieks of horror from the unknown bodies behind him, none of it mattered. It didn’t matter that you were sipping someone’s blood. 

You died in that alleyway, but in the middle of this abandoned prison, something deadly; and far more intoxicating than alcohol, bloomed in your bones.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

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[ravens-two]

Mini-PAC: Your Person's Love Language

This one is a smaller reading, and it has no extended version. It includes your person's love language and how they express their love/feelings/emotions.

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone.

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Five of Pentacles, Two of Wands, Gratitude

"All that I am and all that I'll be, forever in gratitude I'll eternally be."

Words of Affirmation/Acts of Service

Hi, pile 1, this person has been through a lot and knows that life can be incredibly hard. That's why they do their best to make it easier for you. That's their love language, making life easier for you. They are quick to show their support and to offer help whenever you need it. They don't have any problems with saying thank you or apologizing when they're wrong. They might have in the past or they might still struggle in other relationships (with people they aren't as close with), not with you though.

They know what it's like to not have anything, including support from others, and they never want to see you there. They could have become the type of person that tells you to get it together and pull yourself by your bootstraps, but they're not. Again, this comes from a deep sense of empathy. (It actually reminds me of that Doctor Who quote "All that pain and misery, and loneliness, and it just made him kind".)

They're the type of person to do the whole "I love you, no I love you more" game. I also see them telling you that they love you as soon as they wake up or before falling asleep. They just really like to say it. They have no problems with expressing their feelings, although I'm getting that they're also private people (this side of them is just for you). I also see them being like "do you need me to listen or do you need advice?" whenever you have problem. They are quite selfless when it comes to you.

Pile 2

Seven of Cups, Judgment, Bear Medicine

"There is no tomorrow without the healing of the past for in stillness you shall find yourself right where you are."

Acts of Service/Quality Time

Understanding is the word I keep getting for your person, pile 2. I get the feeling that your person is quite silent. They remind me of a cat actually, they love spending time in the same room as you while each one does their own thing. They enjoy just reaching out a hand to you and hold hands while doing something else. In general though, I see a lot of silence. This is a comfortable silence, though, there's no awkwardness here. I also think that they're deep thinkers, so when they share their thoughts with you you'll know that it's something important for them. I don't think that saying "I love you" comes easy for them, but you'll know that they really mean it when it comes out.

A bit similar to pile 1, is that when you have a problem your person is ready to step in and help however they can. They're the type to silently act, instead of talking about what they would do. Where I really see the Acts of Service thing though, is them just doing things for you without you having to ask. Like offhandedly mentioning that you need to change your tires, they'll just do it without even saying anything (always respecting your boundaries of course). Or you might mention that you really like a certain brand of chocolate so they always keep that brand at their house so that you can have some. Your person is really thoughtful and they pay a lot of attention to what you say - and what you don't say too.

I get the feeling that they like to be left alone whenever something's wrong, so I feel like they'll do the same for you. Instead of asking what's wrong or try to cheer you up, they'll just sit beside you and keep you company.

Pile 3

Tower, Ace of Pentacles, Cardinal Medicine

"Thy self bleeds of sacredness, an honor fit for the Gods. You are worth all the seas and all the skies and all the desires you hold inside."

Gift-giving/Quality Time

Your person wants to give you the world, pile 3. Their love language is definitively gift-giving, but it's not just about big gifts or luxury (although it could be the case for some of you). For most of you I just see your person being like "look at this cool rock I found today" or "I saw these flowers and they reminded me of you". They just love giving you little trinkets. Especially things that they find unique or special in some way. They think that you deserve something that no one else can possibly have. This can even include commissioning art work or jewelry just for you.

On a more day to day level I also see them just buying your favorite treats. They just want to get home with something special for you, be it your favorite meal or candy. They are very giving in general, and if you say you want something they won't hesitate to buy it for you. Also, I get the vibe that they're incredible gift-givers. Your birthday presents are always incredibly thoughtful.

They might also enjoy creating things for you or singing/playing music for you. They like to have a good time, so having enjoyable experiences is also a love language for them. This could be a dedicated date night where you try new stuff (food, places, activities), going on vacation to new places (just the two of you), or even going to the cinema to watch a new movie. They want to spend time with you while you both do something that you enjoy.

Pile 4

Three of Wands, Emperor, Ringing the Bells

"Ring thy bell to cast them out, ring thy bell and dance about. Swirl the sounds amidst the winds, nowhere to hide, for all will ring."

Physical Touch/Words of Affirmation

Right away I can tell that this is a physical touch kind of person, pile 4. They are very fiery and might get too handsy at times, but it's not just about that for them. They just love to feel your body against theirs. They love to hold hands, wrap their arms around you, and for some of you they love biting (gentle and playful bites on your hands, arms or shoulders). They're not embarrassed by other people and just really love PDA. They like to be touching any part of you all of the time, I feel like it gives them a feeling of safety and comfort. For some of them, they were a bit touch starved for a long time, and now they're making up for it.

I also get the feeling that this person gives the best hugs! It's probably their go-to to comfort you. They'll have no problems telling you that they love and how much you mean to them (although I feel that they crave more to hear you say it, rather than saying it themselves), but their way of showing you how they feel is through touch. They might kiss you to show you that they love you or to communicate their anger or frustration with a problem. This also means that for them sex is also a way of showing you how they feel. They expect you to pay attention to the way they behave during sex to know how they're truly feeling.

When it comes to Words of Affirmation, again I don't think that they struggle to tell you that they love you - in fact I think that they say it rather often - it's more that they struggle with expressing their emotions. Again, they also prefer to receive love this way. They want to hear you say that you want/love them.

[all-pacas]

list of chase's political/social opinions:

fat people are gross/lazy

death penalty is bad

murder is wrong, soldiers do not get a pass

if society promotes teenagers as sex objects, it's not wrong to talk about them as such

not a huge fan of illegal immigration because it took him so long to get a green card, but also not a fan of the right-wing politician they're treating who has those views, so ???

if a closeted gay man wants to stay in a miserable marriage, what's the problem

"if you're a burden on others you should kill yourself" which is super ablest, but he also makes it very, very clear he's talking about his abusive mother and how he wishes she had died quickly instead of him being forced to care for her and his sister when he was still a child! like, it's a fucked up thing to say, but in the conversation it's more specific than generalized, you know?

euthanasia is fine

list of foreman's political/social opinions:

poor people are scammers/lazy/take advantage of the system

poor people are drug addicts

he makes several republican-leaning jokes circa 2004 - he makes a john kerry joke at cameron in one episode and a france joke in another; these were both common right-ish wing jokes of the time

what i am saying is he is such a classic small r republican. pull yourself up by your bootstraps etc etc.

death penalty is fine

racism is bad

euthanasia is wrong

being gay is fine, not using protection and getting HIV is kind of your own fault tho

list of cameron's political/social opinions:

she personally "could never" get an abortion, but we don't know if she is pro-life in general or it's just a personal thing of hers.

"no one" wants an autistic/disabled child. there's also several examples of her trying to white knight house, drugging or lying to (fat, disabled) patients "for their own good", she's lowkey a bit ableist!

death penalty is wrong.

euthanasia is wrong (although she might come around).

killing evil people is okay; killing for the "greater good" is fine (i don't actually think this is hypocritical related to the above bullet points! she differentiates between societal good and personal evil.)

cheating -- whether an affair or to get ahead -- is always wrong

[lesbiansforboromir]

Alright, I was holding off for journalistic integrity but now that I've seen the WotR film I can make posts about it without restraint.

Jesus christ the racial politics of this film are atrocious. Some character might as well just tell Wulf 'not to play the race card'. Wulf is a liberal snowflake who blames racism for all his troubles and can't pull himself up by his bootstraps and he is also brown-skinned and obsessively pursues our PORCLAIN white dainty-drawn female protagonist with both romantic and murderous intent. Oppression of dunlendings by the Rohirrim exists only in Wulf's head apparently, though it can be tasted in every spat 'dunlending' perjorative that comes from Helm or Haleth's mouth. But Hera has absolutely no racism within her of course! She refuses Wulf because she doesnt want to marry anyone and Wulf just assumes it's because his dunlending blood disgusts her, so entitled of him!

But also maybe the racism is '''justified'''? If it exists? Which it doesn't! But IF it did, don't worry because ONCE AGAIN all the dunlendings are just greedy, clutching, unwashed, skull wearing, violent barbarians with no unique culture to speak of and no reasons to be making war on Rohan except to sieze what isn't theirs (ignoring the fact that it totally was theirs until Rohan seized it from them and OH BOY are we ignorin' that) And the only dunlending we see not frothing at the mouth for violence or showing any introspective depth at all is General Targg who is the mouthpiece with which we get to hear 'the girl (Hera) is right' whereupon he is promptly killed by Wulf.

Oh but of course, what else could Helm have done? Freca was some greedy FAT man (boy does everyone love calling him fat, happy to lean into THAT aspect of canon) whose lands were too prosperous for his own good (hang on isn't keeping your lands prosperous the platonic ideal of lordship?) And he called a 'Witan' (no he didn't, he came to one of the regular councils of lords that Helm called himself) just to make a scene about how Helm was going to marry Hera to a lord of gondor which is bad because Gondor has some nebulous hold over Rohan so Hera should marry Wulf instead (literally none of that, Freca simply asked Helm to wed his daughter to Wulf, his son, a completely normal and legitimate political strategy to secure a better relationship with the King's family since Helm already mistrusted him for having dunlending blood. Freca is a lord of Rohan, he is rich, he traces his ancestry back to King Freawine, this could not be a more reasonable suggestion in canon.)

SO OBVIOUSLY Helm had to get angry and call Freca fat again (true he did do that) and THEN claim that Freca only wanted his throne (there was never any suggestion of this in the books, it was just the offer of marriage which insulted Helm) to which Freca answered "Old kings that refuse a proffered staff may fall on their knees," and Helm is like okay lets take this outside.

And now THIS change is actually so important in understanding the extreme nature of the Rohir/Helm favouritism that is the main focus of this film. In the film Helm pretty much immediately takes Freca outside, he reassures Frealaf that Freca just needs to be shown his place, this is the only way to settle the matter, if he doesn't embarass him here then Freca will try to take his crown and slay his family apparently, his hunch ig etc etc. Freca punches Helm three times in full view of the whole of Edoras including Freca's two men who came with him, then Helm punches him back and he is knocked out cold and dead by the time he hits the ground. Film!Helm does not realise he has done this and tells Freca to get up, Wulf realises his father is dead and threatens Helm with revenge, swords are draw against him which he tries to calm before Wulf attacks him. Helm incapacitates Wulf, his sons draw THEIR swords and Helm exiles Wulf for drawing his sword on his king. Messy right? Like not a good thing to do, generally brawling with your lords is a bad idea full stop, but if you fear for the lives of your children then idk maybe it's excusable? And then it's just an unfortunate series of events right? And Freca was rude and insulting to a king in his own halls, heat of the moment etc etc

I feel so comfortable in telling you that Helm murders Freca in cold blood in the books, fully intending that to be the outcome.

He does not take him outside initially, Book!Helm tells Freca that this marriage dispute isn't important and they will deal with it later. And then;

When the council was over, Helm stood up and laid his great hand on Freca’s shoulder, saying: "The king does not permit brawls in his house, but men are freer outside"; and he forced Freca to walk before him out from Edoras into the field. To Freca’s men that came up he said: "Be off ! We need no hearers. We are going to speak of a private matter alone. Go and talk to my men!" And they looked and saw that the king’s men and his friends far outnumbered them, and they drew back. "Now, Dunlending," said the king, "you have only Helm to deal with, alone and unarmed. But you have said much already, and it is my turn to speak. Freca, your folly has grown with your belly. You talk of a staff! If Helm dislikes a crooked staff that is thrust on him, he breaks it. So!" With that he smote Freca such a blow with his fist that he fell back stunned, and died soon after. Helm then proclaimed Freca’s son and near kin the king’s enemies; and they fled, for at once Helm sent many men riding to the west marches.

(Appendices, 'The House of Eorl', emphasis mine)

I think we can all agree that forcing someone out of your city, isolating them away from their fellows with threats of violence, telling them you will break them, killing them in one blow and then proclaiming their kin your enemies and forcing them to flee to escape a murderous pursuit, is pretty clearly premeditated murder. There is not much nuance here, Freca tresspassed over a line with Helm that Dunlendings are not allowed to cross and Helm killed him for it.

And listen like, the description of this whole story within the appendices is barely more than three pages. This is not an obscure missable aspect of the tale, nor is it outside of what rights they had to adapt. The choice was made, actively, ONCE AGAIN by the Warner Bros cinematic universe makers, to drastically alter book events in order to sand down any immorality within Rohan's narrative, especially where the Dunlendings are concerned. And in the end the only 'mistake' Helm is allowed to learn and grow from is some nebulous and trite 'not believing enough in his daughter' schpiel, which needs to be the subject of a whole 'nother post actually.

And what's agonising is they COULD have done it like they were so close, there are multiple moments where me and my friend watching were like struck!! With grief! Over how impactful this moment could have been if only the racism actually existed as an acknowledged theme in the story. If only it was something Hera had to come to terms with, if only IT was the true driver of these horrors to the point where it's Avatar, Hera's father, a man who loves her and whom she has loved all her life, turns into a cold icey ghost of brutality, far more vicious and barbaric than the people he so reviles, and reveals to her the terrible truth of his actions and motivations. It's agony I tell you.

Anyway I did not like the film.

[novsart]

EMERGENCY COMMS!

not gonna go into why i need these because it feels kinda shameful in a silly internalised way (i never judge other ppl for emergency sales/comms!! it's just me that needs to just Pull Myself Up By My Bootstraps and Try Harder hahah) but IF u want some nice art this month, i'd really appreciate it & be so happy to draw something for u!! BUT no real pressure, it isn't life-threatening reasons or anything like that!! just yes i rly need an income this month 😬

offering: full comic pages, youtube video thumbnails, book covers, fanart, illustrations, CD/album covers, etc., physical objects: stickers, clay things, badges, or glossy cards!! i can print those & send them to u! dm me about quantities & stuff!

reblogs very appreciated ❤️❤️❤️ thank u

[codingflicks]

Bootstrap Cards Design

[bambiesfics]

ngl I love bimbo but i'm scared for Ellie 😭😭 if she got poor for spoiling her??

Ellie is poor from spoiling her. Ellie’s like a broke working class gay. She’s the more masculine version of the stereotypical queer Starbucks barista, she’s like the Butch waiter at some random mom and pop restaurant. (This is just my silly headcanon u can choose to pretend Butch!Ellies a professional soccer player or something if u would like tehehe). But I head canon Ellie as like a “pull yourself by the bootstraps” gruff character. Which makes me think that she works hard so she can spend harder, I definitely think her accounts always nearing empty and she just barely manages to save money each paycheck. Which isn’t even because readers selfish or a gold digger, Ellie’s just a huge liar about how much she gets paid, and a liar about all aspect of her financials. She withholds so much that reader just knows not to press, that it’ll get her irate. So reader just respects that and buys the things Ellie encourages her to buy.

Ellie wants to be readers little sugar daddy, she encourages reader to drain her pockets subtly. She says stuff like “hmmm I think this skirt would look nice on you” and readers like “you think? It’s a bit flashy, and I don’t have enough on me at all for it.” And Ellie rolls her eyes “You know I’ll take care of it.” Ellie’s acts like she hates it, but she loves handing her babygirl her credit card just to watch reader bounce up to the cashier with a big dolly smile. She loves the little hesitant glances you throw her over your shoulder as you silently ask for permission to buy the clothes, always checking in with her cause you feel a little bad and just wanna be sure. She loves giving you a relaxed nod, but deep down inside, Ellie just shudders at the way you’re going to model that skirt for her at home. Nothing else on but the skirt too. Ellies a sugar daddy, the ‘sugar’ is just silent. Ellie loves seeing reader walk around in skimpy shit under her watchful gaze. She loves seeing reader bounce up to her with stupid things like “can we get matching bracelets?”

I headcanon that Butch!Ellie literally thrives off being a caregiver. I think on one hand she does so for horn dog reasons, but I think the a larger part of it, that’s more emotional, is that Ellie wants to take care of reader to make up for the caregiver relationship she used to have with Joel and no longer has now that he’s dead. Taking care of you, of bimbo!reader, is Ellie’s way of assuming his fatherly role but for herself, a way to feel connected to him once more, see the world partially through his eyes. Well that is until reader carries Ellie’s baby or something, which would then be like the ultimate “I’m just like you dad” moment for Ellie. The day she’s bouncing her own daughter in her arms for the first time. When she really sees, just how Joel saw her.

[divinector]

Bootstrap 5 Responsive Profile Cards

[nolonger100daysoftavvyfanart]

Act End Flash Liveblog

Spoilers ahead, probably

genuinely embarrassing how long i assumed this was a loading screen for. to be fair, it *does* look like an hourglass.

At this point i think the two options (note from the future: there is only one option, i have misunderstood) are seperate meat and candy thingies. Or maybe the Vriska/Anti-Vriska theory is right, and it represents that? Either way, i bet it'll spin when i click it.

...

I don't know why i was expecting to be able to liveblog that. That was all so fast... gonna watch it again

Was this guy born with knife and fork horns? That'd lock him into some kind of food industry from the start. Or maybe his company carved his horns for branding. It'd make sense for a Crockercorp owned company to do that, i guess.

wait, why did Tavvy leave by going up top the wing when there's a door at the bottom?

That was one hell of a youth roll.

Isn't that John's shirt?

nice dave indeed

Tavvy just killed that guy. For no reason. That's going on his report card, and Sollux has every right to kill him now.

Either that missile was made of bird bones and plaster of paris or Tavvy has some serious deflecting ability

I love how Sollux mourning his food is the most detailed part of the flash

I guess that wasn't heroic or just. The light kind of implies Jake's hope reality manipulation let him put his thumb on the scale, right?

It's been a good long while sicnce we've seen that cool godtier regeneration effect, too.

Ohh I originally thought she was twisting their necks, but growing their heads is even more gruesome

I like how both sides are kind of terrified of the gods

I was wondering if they were going to bring back the last jack. Do you think he asked for his mech to be dog shaped specifically

Jake did something again, but like last time it was a small bit of a big flash so i bet nobody will remember again.

That is the opposite of a hug

Where did she get that gun from

It's not even a weird troll bug gun that's a whole regular gun

did she have a Jake level?

she sure *shut* them up

did Jane merge those guys? Expeienced godtiers can do some *weird* stuff

Didn't some of the guys in the Crockergoon crowd have both of these weapons? But at least one of them was being used by the LOBsTER. The Plasma Sword industry is booming, and it's clearly not owned by Crockercorp. I bet it's Sila's parents selling them to both sides.

It's interesting that Rose just walked toward the bullet. That's kind of a bootstrap paradox, since she's only accepting her death because she predicted it... that's nothing new for homestuck though.

H4H4 WH4T 4 CL4SS1C JOHN PR4NK, PR3T3ND1NG TO B3 VR1SK4

Also, 10:08. Arc number again, kind of.

So helltier beats seer of light predictions... I wonder if that's anything to do with the inversion stuff the baloneyscholars were on about. Like, she's super voidy now? That'd explain why she looks like that.

Like grimdark, but more cheerful about it?

I wonder if it'll be something different on the bottom of the glass... like a Meat version, or maybe the anti-vriska?

seems the same

Ok yeah that was the same

Ohhh they swap when you click it, i thought it was selecting either side of the hourglass

that makes more sense actually

still worth rewatching a third time

wait a minute, if i watch it on youtube i can go take screenshots so my liveblog makes sense! Except the part where I said I shouldn't have been expecting to be able to liveblog it, because now I will have been able to.

Now i just need to read the news, check the bingo card and write some report cards.

[writeyouin]

Hello!! Omg I love your writing SOOOO much!!! If holiday requests are open, I was wondering if you might gift us with a V for vendetta Christmas fic? Like, something fluffy where reader is stuck in the shadow gallery and is having a real blue Christmas UNTIL... V surprises them with something unexpectedly festive? *cough* mistletoe *cough* ❤️❤️❤️

V X Reader – Christmas Blues Part 1 of 2

A/N – Okay, so I got two very similar xmas requests for V for Vendetta, so I’m doing this as a 2 parter. Part one is this, part 2 will be smut. You can read part one without part two.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

V stared at you, certain you must find his expression mocking behind the jeering grin of his mask. He had never intended to hurt your feelings, only to let you down gently as it were. He knew he didn’t do enough for you. There was never enough time, and his work was important… But weren’t you also important?

No, nothing could compromise his mission. If all went according to plan, he would be ready to blow up the Old Bailey in another two years, thus starting his revolution. Yet, doing such things took time, and there was so much that V had to learn and prepare. He didn’t have time to rest – not even on Christmas Eve. However, in telling you so and seeing your disappointment – Well, it was just another way in which he was a monster.

The worst part was that you were taking it in your stride. Granted, V could see how upset you were as your eyes became glassy with tears you refused to shed, but you didn’t complain; it seemed that you knew just how much his work meant to him.

And so, V left you, stating a humble apology as he passed you and made his way to the roof. He had to hurry. There was a train to catch – a train straight to the Chancellor that was jam-packed with priceless intel.

Even when V left you, you still refused to cry. A small part of you had known this would happen. It was quite likely that V didn’t celebrate Christmas anyway. How many times had he told you that the holiday was stolen from its pagan roots? Or that the name was changed to suit its Christian hosts? And now that the UK was stuck in a dictatorship, the Holiday was only used to control people – it was like a gift the Chancellor could give or take away at will.

If the population was good, they would get their later curfews and sparkly light shows, but if they ever needed further subjugation, then a false threat would be created by Suttler’s goons, and harsher lockdowns would be put in place. Then, said imaginary threat would then be taken care of just in time for New Year’s Day so the people would have a chance for revelry, all while feeling a false sense of security under their great and powerful leader.

So, that left you all alone, as usual, but you knew you couldn’t blame V. To act as he had was simply his nature. You could no more ask him to change than you could ask birds to stop flying or fish to cease swimming. You simply had to pull up your bootstraps, pick some traditions, and enjoy the Holiday spirit.

That was easier said than done since there was nobody to lift your spirits and hype you up as you did all the things you were supposed to do. After eating dinner alone, listening to Christmas music, and hosting a lone trivia card game, you were quite thoroughly depressed.

In the end, you put on a film from V’s collection. In your current mood, It’s a Wonderful Life seemed to be the right choice; besides, you liked picking a film from Suttler’s blacklist, and It’s a Wonderful Life had been banned at the start of his reign for its socialist views.

Partway through the film, you spotted V’s sparring partner – the suit of armour he tormented during his favourite movies whenever he thought he was alone. Well, if he could be V’s movie frenemy, then he could also act as your film friend.

Slowly, you started talking to him, giving your opinions on the film, and of its characters. At some point, you began acting out scenes, much as you had seen V do, though where he chose violence, you chose love. The suit was your James Stewart, and you, Donna Reed, though sometimes, you would switch roles if you thought it was a particularly good Stewart scene. You lassoed the moon for your metal friend, then you switched roles and offered it a broken mansion for its honeymoon.

Although there was no mistletoe kiss in the film, you stole some you had decorated the fireplace with anyway, placing it over the armour’s helm. It was almost as if you would have felt silly kissing it without the mistletoe, even though it was ridiculous to peck the metal beak either way. You turned away from the unmoving man so that when you did kiss him, you would be able to swing around dramatically and give him that world-ending, 1940’s bombshell of a kiss.

The film played alongside in the background as George Baily returned home safe – he was loved and cared for, and then, it was the perfect moment to swing around, throw your arms over the broad shoulders and kiss –

V?!

Your momentum carried you forward as your lips pressed against the cool metal of his mask.

You tried to scramble back, hurrying out apologies but V held you steady.

“Don’t.” He told you. “Don’t apologise.”

“V, I- I thought you were-”

“I came back,” He said as if it were the only thing that mattered. In truth, he had rushed through his mission, stolen the required intel on a USB and hurried back without even so much as looking at the data. Leaving you the way he had didn’t sit right with him. You were an amazing person, always forced to put yourself second since you did everything you could to please V. He didn’t want things to be that way. He wanted you to have more.

Granted, the two of you weren’t yet in a relationship, but you had just kissed him, albeit inadvertently, and V was no fool; he knew the feelings you harboured for him.

“(Y/N),” He whispered your name, placing a gloved hand on your cheek. “You have given me more than I could have ever hoped for. You are a virtuoso of my heart, vibrant and vivacious as you pass through the veneer of villainy that masquerades so violently in the vales above. Of all that resides here in the Shadow Gallery, you are the most valuable to me. Although it is entirely selfish of me to ask such a thing of you, I hope that you will stay with me… always.”

You trembled against V, entirely terrified to open your mouth in case no sound came out. He waxed poetry so eloquently, and you often failed to make yourself say all the things you thought without tripping over your words.

Still, you couldn’t stay silent at such an important time in your life. V was – He was everything and to have him by your side would be like capturing the stars themselves, cosmic and inexplicable as they illuminated your heart and mind, burning any darkness or fear away.

You couldn’t look away from V, knowing his gaze must be expectant beneath the mask. Realisation dawned upon you, you didn’t need fancy words, or masses of poetry to complete the moment. All you needed was what V valued most; the truth.

“I don’t want to spend a day without you. I love you, V.”

“Then, by all means, let us abandon our fat metal friend,” V spared the suit of armour a backward glance, thinking how you could have kissed it instead of him, “and retire elsewhere. I myself do not celebrate this holiday, but I would love to partake in some of your more beloved traditions.”

[techav]

Lights & Switches at VCF Southwest 2025

Front panel computers were well represented at VCFSW this year.

There was this mini S-100 system featuring the [Don Caprio] IMSAI front panel replica and a reproduction Cromemco Dazzler video card.

This miniature PiDP-11/70 got to sit on display next to its full-size PDP-11/05 brethren (which was itself featuring a UniBone peripheral emulator).

This SCELBI-8B reproduction was waiting for anyone to try their hand at bootstrapping a computer using just a handful of switches.

Blinking lights of the Altair 8800 could be found all across the show floor in the form of an 8800 Mini, a proper vintage 8800b, an 8800a clone running on a Raspberry Pi, and an 8800 Clone.

There was also this beautiful HP 5036A Microprocessor Lab, an 8085A CPU trainer that had nothing to hide.

In all, it was a great year for toggling switches and watching blinkenlights!