#something something - while i recognise that there are plenty of people on this show with good cause to want to overthrow the status quo

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | My Queen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Queen!Reader

Plot: The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there’s a willing soldier at your disposal.

Warnings: 18+. Smut and mentions of violence.

Words: 4OOO

“There are guests, Your Majesty,” John tells you with pity in his voice, not mentioning it because he thinks you have forgotten, but because he needs you to be aware of the important fact. If you tried hard enough, it wasn’t too much of a task to remember your duties and who those entailed, but it was a relief to have John around to remind you of such things, since you valued your duties and relations with the outside world dearly.

You glance around nervously and give him a guilty pout, grabbing the last of your belongings.

“I know, I am so sorry, but this is important. Send them a plane and I will get back to them as soon as I can,” you plead and quickly rush out of the room to the main entrance hall, John following you as you make your way to the prepared jet.

Mind occupied by making sure your small legion is armed and ready to go as you walk, you get brought to an abrupt stop when two large men block your path. Raising your head, you glower curiously at the rude interruption. As busy as you have been the past weeks, you study each and every encounter you plan, so you know exactly who the two men are.

“Captain Wilson. Sergeant Barnes.”

“Your Majesty,” Sam’s greeting is curt, yet kind. “I don’t suppose a sudden departure is part of your infamous warm welcome?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You have an awful lot of courage speaking to a queen this way,” you warn him, your tone formal before your features soften towards your guests. “But I apologise. Something important came up and I hardly think sending you into war with me is considered a warm welcome.”

The man you recognise as James Barnes lets out a humoured scoff. “Clearly, you don’t know us very well.”

Your eyes dart between the men suspiciously and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, hardly able to contain it at the sheer boldness coming from the men. After a pregnant pause and your legion having left the hall to board the jet, you slowly turn to John.

“John. You heard the men. Get them suited and onto the jet.” Sharing one more glance with the men, your eyes lingering on the twinkle of mischief in Bucky’s eyes, you brush past them and step onto the plane without another word.

…

“It’s not often a queen goes into war with her people.”

“Well, unfortunately my legions are struggling on their own,” you explain to Sam calmly.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, brows pulled together in slight worry.

“John? Could you please bring them up to speed while I get ready?”

As John takes over and shows the two heroes what their next mission will be as they serve someone else’s queen, you step over to the side and let one of your generals help you suit up. Slipping into the modern metal, rusted with nano technology, the shimmering suit glides over your body perfectly.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice Bucky Barnes losing interest from John’s briefing and your eyes lock with his. There’s a rush of heat pulsing through your body at the sheer boldness of Bucky not breaking eye contact once he gets caught staring. His eyes rake up and down the sleek suit and lock back onto yours, a knowing smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth before he drags his eyes away and turns back to his previous conversation.

Leaving you absolutely flustered and furious.

Did he just ogle a queen?

…

Bucky is startled enough for it to nearly show on his face when he sees the feral look you have on yours. He knows that look, has worn it plenty of times himself. Battle doesn’t quite leave your body and mind as soon as it is over. Even with your spectacular win, which Bucky knows is mostly because of your reliability and skills as a powerful leader, the raging chaos of adrenaline lingers like you have days worth of battles to fight still.

He came in to check up on you post-battle, easily slipping past your guards, to find you pacing in your blood-splattered gear around the chamber before what he assumes is your bedroom. The hall is large and decorated wonderfully, but so very empty with your restless figure pacing through it. He’s certain he can feel your energy buzzing all the way up to the impossibly high ceilings.

Having enough decency to announce himself, he gently knocks on the door from inside of the room. When you whirl towards him in your frenzy, he finds it amusing enough to plaster a smirk onto his face. “Restless, my queen?”

You huff through your nostrils. “I still have fight in me.” He knows. “I want to kill them for springing that attack on us.” He knows that too, but the gravel in your voice awakens a slumbering beast inside of him and fire starts curling around his bones.

“I think you gave them enough hell for what they did to you,” he assures you and something in your eyes seems to soften at that. You did give them hell. Rightfully so.

“But this energy–” You shake out your trembling hands to rid yourself of that restlessness. Bucky nods and slowly prowls closer, hands gliding into his pockets as he slants his head to the side to observe you.

“I know,” he acknowledges, “it takes a while to wear off.”

“How do you handle it?” you ask him, taking a steadying breath as he crosses the room. “After a fight, how do you get rid of all of that energy?”

Bucky flashes you a grin, his brows raising with intrigue and a mischievous shimmer in his eyes. “I hardly think I could speak about such methods to a sophisticated queen.”

“Sophisticated, my ass,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at the broad soldier. “You hardly felt like you had to be appropriate when you were watching me put on this suit,” you say with a scoff, ushering to the intricate metals you’re wearing.

“In my defence, I hadn’t seen you fight yet. Whereas now,” he shrugs, “I’d prefer staying in your good graces.”

“You fuck it out, don’t you?”

Bucky’s blink is the only sign of his surprise and he cocks his head at you again. “Excuse me?”

“The only way to get rid of the energy after battle is to get your dick wet,” you clarify, “isn’t it?”

Bucky chokes on a laugh, stepping even closer to you now with his hands still in his pockets, close enough to make you have to tilt your chin up. “You have a filthy mouth for a queen,” he breathes and to accentuate his words, his eyes drop to said mouth.

“I didn’t become queen by being prim and proper,” you explain with a little less fire than you intended to say it with.

“No,” he breathes, “you didn’t.”

Another restless shudder up your spine reminds you of your predicament, your thudding heartbeat not coming to a rest. You sigh, searching those blue eyes still trained on your lips. “Care to help a queen out?”

“You want to see me bow for you again, don’t you?” He smirks and finally raises his eyes to meet yours.

You can’t help but smile slightly, giving him a guilty shrug, because yes, you loved seeing him bow for you earlier as you stepped onto the battlefield. Not just that, plenty of pretty men had bowed for you. It was Bucky’s willingness and respect as he took a knee for you that was particularly invigorating. He matches your smile and takes a long second to let you take in what he is about to do, before slowly sinking to his knees in front of you, steady hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“Your people are awfully lucky to get to serve you every day,” he murmurs, looking up at you with eyes of fire and submission. That manages to make heat surge to your cheeks and ears, swallowing hard as you take in the sight before you. “May I?”

It takes all of your power not to nod too eagerly before he starts working off the buckles and belts of your suit, the nanotechnology wingmanning perfectly as the metal retreats into the hard base of the suit.

Soon, you are in nothing but your underwear. Bones and muscles are trembling beneath your skin in response to forcing your body to be utterly still. Chemical reactions are ricocheting against the barrier of your skin to make you spring apart. So much energy. So much fire and passion and fury still roiling inside of you. A heavy blanket settles over it – desire. But before you can order him to act on it, Bucky comes back to a stand.

“Close your eyes,” he mutters.

“I’m close to fighting you, Sergeant Barnes,” you promise him, showing your active restraint, but deciding to close your eyes anyway.

He huffs a soft laugh and you feel his eyes burning into your skin, a knuckle brazenly trailing over your collarbones and down the centre of your chest. “I will take you up on that another day,” he answers and your blood heats up at the fact that Bucky revels in both of those sides of you. Most men cower at your bloodlust, but not him. He kneels before it.

Speaking of him kneeling–

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” you remind him and his hand pauses.

“I didn’t particularly think it would be fair to leave you standing as I proceed to immobilise your legs, my queen,” he drawls and you snap your mouth shut. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you find him having taken a step back, holding out his hand for you to take.

Carefully taking it with a questioning look in your eyes, Bucky leads you to your bedroom like he has been there a thousand times. Slowly and deliberately, he guides you to your own bed, still fully clothed himself in those black leathers.

“I expected it to be more rough,” you admit steadily. “Fucking out that energy...”

Bucky turns back to you, hands now on your waist as he pivots you with your back to the bed, the backs on your legs touching the foot of it. “Fucking you roughly won’t do the trick,” he explains. “Fucking you thoroughly will.”

If you weren’t quaking before, this would do the trick. Your heartbeat is pulsing between your legs, hammering for attention, the seams of your underwear teasing you more than the man before you. It paralyses you, that desire coursing through your veins like syrup, makes you fall quiet. Only for a short while.

“Then do it.”

Bucky’s brows raise again, not having expected you to fold so fast. “What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” you hiss at him. “I need you to fuck me before I explode.”

Bucky smirks at you again and you’re so tempted to smother that smirk – you have your ways. “I am not yours to give orders to.”

You restrain from rolling your eyes at him, the close proximity making you prone to holding your breath and making your words coming out strained. “I’m not going to beg for it.”

“You already have,” he reminds you, not an inch of him giving away that he might be unravelling. “And I think you will, sweetheart. I think you are seconds away from begging for it.”

As if in answer to his outrageous insinuation, a shudder racks through your bones and flashes of that wild battle make your nervous system rush to life again. It’s so frustrating, to have so much energy begging to be released.

His solid eyes and steady hands on your waist make you want to sink into him for relief. You want Bucky to tear you apart, almost similar to the way he tore apart those monsters earlier. Calculated, precise and only slightly unhinged. His fighting earlier was like a choreography your body wanted to study and practice until it can memorise nothing else. The way his muscles moved, the precise strikes of his metal arm, the focused crinkles in his handsome face, his thick thighs planting him firmly onto the ground – your ground. Fighting for your lands. For you.

My queen, he had called you. You suppose he does answer to your commands, then. But you might just beg for it. If only because it feels so tempting. To whine for his pleasure, sob for it and make him serve you like he wanted to do earlier. How awful, for a queen to want to beg for it.

“Please,” you almost gasp from holding your breath for too long.

He hums, low and deadly, his finger kneading gently and appreciatively into your soft flesh. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs and before you can shout in outrage, he slowly dips down and presses his pillowy soft lips to your collarbone, instantly making your head tilt backwards.

His hands pull you close enough for your front to be pressed to his and your hands automatically grab his shoulders. His lips part and his tongue traces a singular line over the thinnest piece of skin on your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His mouth moves up, tongue dipping in and out to raise your pulse as he suckles at your skin. Your fingers curl slightly and your body starts to nearly shake with jitters at the adrenaline coursing through you like an electrical charge.

Bucky bites down on the tense skin beneath your ear where he hums against you, the sound ringing in your head like a gong. His hands have travelled to your back, stroking up and down the bare skin until your bra pops loose with you barely noticing. You tremble with need when all you are left in are your panties and Bucky pulls away to once again sink down to his knees.

You swallow hard at his stare from below you and follow his silent command to sit down at the edge of the bed. Hooking his hands around your knees, he presses them apart and lifts one leg over his shoulder. Your fingers dig into the soft sheets with anticipation and you only break the intense eye contact to watch his tongue trace his bottom lip. He hooks your other leg over his shoulder and drags you to the very edge of the bed, getting comfortable on his knees.

“Is this where you want me?” he asks, but you don’t deign to answer him. “Kneeling before my queen.”

“Something tells me you don’t mind being there at all,” you answer tightly and his hands stroke up and down your calves lovingly. Bucky presses one kiss to your inner thighs, taking in a big whiff of air and groaning at the smell of your arousal.

“There is something about eating a meal on my knees that speaks to me,” he drawls, his eyes settling on said meal, only covered by the thin fabric of your panties. He presses another kiss, right over the damp fabric. You shudder.

“Then eat,” you bite back, scrambling to hang onto your power as a queen.

Bucky gives a wide grin, keeping his eyes on your soaking core. His hand lifts and his finger loops into the fabric, making you bite your lip painfully hard at the brief touch. He pulls the fabric to the side, spreading your legs enough for him to dive in, but not doing so yet. “That is no way to speak to your soldiers.”

Your soldier, Bucky supposes after today he is. You’re torture. Your smell, your voice, your body, the sheer power you have over him – over everyone.

Your hand finds his hair and you rake your fingers through the thick, brown tresses. Your eyes are soft when Bucky looks up to find them. “Will you take the honour of being my soldier?”

You’re genuine, he’s sure of it. Bucky can tell you’re asking him for so much more than just this. And considering his current predicament, he will consider his duties as your soldier later. Right now, he can only nod, entranced by the queen who has her legs wrapped around his head. He can only think of one duty right now and that is to rid you of all of that devastating warrior energy the only way he knows how.

Bucky buries his face between your legs and begins his feasting. Nudging his nose against your clit and prodding his tongue in and out of you. Licking every inch of your warm, wet, lovely cunt as if it’ll guarantee a place in your kingdom for him.

Sam will kill him for never returning home, but by the heavens, he can’t find it in him to care enough. Not with you tasting so heavenly and– fuck, those goddamn moans.

…

He was right, he was so fucking right. The slow and steady and longs thrusts make your body hiss in delight. The thorough swivel of his hips when he’s buried into you as far as possible, releases every bit of pent up energy that suffocates you. The sharp snap of his hips right as he’s about to hit home makes you shudder and sob, clenching around him every time as if you feel every thrust like the very first one.

Bucky strikes your deepest spot with each one, your hair between his fingers, your back arched to meet him and your cheek pressed into the mattress. Your eyes flutter painfully against your will, your toes curling when pleasure wraps around every abdominal muscle, your pussy spasming around him in need for release as the pressure between your hips grows to be unbearable.

The sounds that slip from your parted mouth sound inhumane. Soft and pitiful whimpers between huffs of breath. Oh God, oh God. You need him to slow down for a second, except he’s not going fast at all. He’s slow and deep and oh God, he’s so fucking deep.

You grapple for a grip in the sheets, any tether to reality slipping from your mind after every move he has already made. The last of your control, your power as a queen, slips away from you on a phantom wind, desire clouding every piece of domination inside of you. It’s all his now, you are all his now.

Within a short second, you get hauled up by your hair, arched against his heaving, sweaty chest until his mouth nips at your earlobe. Your hands grab his hips behind you, nails digging into his firm skin.

“You still there, my queen?” he coos, and you feel his grin as his mouth grazes over your neck possessively. Your answer is the harsh tightening of your nails into him and the groan he lets out makes you clench around him wantonly. “Oh, somewhere. You’re somewhere in that sex-riddled brain of yours. Losing your mind a little, are you?”

You swear you mean to speak a sentence – a word, at least – but the sound that comes out sounds like another garbled moan and Bucky laughs at your demise. He quickly presses a loving kiss to your shoulder, a deep thrust settling him so deep inside of you, you flutter helplessly around him.

“Don’t worry,” he hums, another deep thrust following as the hand in your hair slips to securely grip your throat and move your ear back to his mouth. “Next time, I will let you take the reigns. You can tie me to the bed and use me to make yourself come. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” You pulse around him and he snickers. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Prefer to have control and use the ones that serve you.” He bites your ear softly and squeezes your throat. “Oh, but you look so pretty like this. Don’t take this away from me, sweetheart.”

It's a whirlwind of emotions that rush through you at his words. You feel his desperation to have you like this seep through his ignorant confidence having you exactly like he wants you. The last of your working brain cells are screaming yes, yes, yes at his request. You’ll let him have you like this every day for the rest of your life. And it flashes before your eyes, him waking you up by slowly fucking you, hand back in your hair and lazy mouth muttering filthy things against your skin. God, he’s filthy.

Your vision is swirling as his pace picks up and blood flow to your brain is slightly limited by his grip. Ecstasy is rushing through your head and limbs with heavy tingles, and your moans raise in pitch. The metal hand bruising your hips with its possessive grip, slides between your legs and messily toys with your clit, the feeling making you want to buckle over.

“Shit!” you gasp and throw your head back into his shoulder, thighs quaking at the stimulation. Too much, it’s too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every inch of him glide in and out of you with an ease and precision that feels degrading and embarrassing. Bucky’s breath is equally laboured now and his grip on you turns from possessive to desperate, like he cannot get enough of you into his hands.

“Come for me again, my queen,” he purrs in your ear, knowing what that term now does to you, and you nod blindly. Following his command blindly, unable to resist the feeling of his deep thrusts and his firm circles on your clit any longer, you let the warmth of your orgasm consume you. You tremble and shake and stiffen at his touch and he doesn’t stop. “Come on, keep coming. Keep fucking coming, baby.”

You choke out a sob, surely drawing blood with your nails as you gasp for air, for any word to make him ease up on you, but he only stops when you buckle over and your trembling form succumbs to the sheets below you. Curled up on the sheets, bearing the waves of pleasure that haunt your every nerve, you feel Bucky’s exhausted and sex-glazed eyes watching you carefully. You faintly feel the trickle of him come pulsing out of you and it nearly makes you smile.

Two hands, one scorching with heat and one a welcome cool, gently stroke up the sides of your thighs, cooing sounds coming from Bucky as he watches you come back to your senses. Lips follow his soothing touches, warm kisses being pressed to your quickly cooling skin.

“How’s that post-fight energy?” he asks softly and your eyes finally flutter open to meet his curious ones, the blue shimmering with… Pride.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you.”

He laughs, “Again?”

You breathe a soft laugh and he at last presses a kiss to your lips. If you had the energy, you know your body would betray you by lifting your head to chase his lips.

You finally let out a defeated sigh, letting the corners of your mouth lift to a lazy smile. “Thank you.”

“At your disposal,” he mutters back with slight amusement and you open your eyes again to look at him. God, he’s beautiful.

“Are you,” you dare to ask, earnest in your eyes, “at my disposal…?”

“It would be an honour.”

“Likewise.”

“That is more than I’ve ever had before.”

“The honour?”

He nods. And then leans in, his mouth brushing your ear as your eyes flutter closed again, goosebumps rising over your skin. “I will bow for you any day,” he breathes softly, “my queen.”

[demigirlravenqueen]

Historically ever after part 5

Darling Charming 2 New And Improved!

I wanted to do an updated version of this post because, it was really just my second attempt at doing something like this so it's not really the best and I've learned quite a bit more about 18th century fashion since then and I'm not really satisfied with that post anymore. Darling was the fist character that I decided to make these posts on because everybody kind of knows that her design was 18th century inspired. I think that it's just one of the recognisable historical styles .

Starting with the dress, it has an open front showing another layer underneath like most styles of dresses from the Georgian period which usually had a petticoat underneath as well as a matching stomacher if one was worn. The robe robe a la francaise is, I think the most iconic for this look. The robe a la francaise also featured large box pleats at the back and were commonly worn over side hoops which gave the iconic wide hip look.

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I think that darlings dress more closely resembles an English gown or robe a l’anglaise which is more fitted and less often worn with side hops therefore usually having a more round skirt shape.

Either way it doesn't really matter as I doubt that the people designing these outfits really had this in mind. But I'll leave this article by the American Duchess which dose a good job explaining the different styles of 18th century gowns if you're interested.

We also have those lovely elbow length frilled sleeves which were common on fashionable gowns.

The print on her dress really resembles some of the floral patterns common during this period, such as these ones I found in the Met's online collections.

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the underlayer's pattern is more subtle and and resembles these silk woven fabrics.

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Her hair is swept back and curled in a way that's meant to reference the large fancy hair styles iconic to the period, mostly around the mid 18th century. Feathers, ribbons and jewellery were all pretty common hair pieces.

Her hair is also verry light which is again a reference to white powdered hair.

While were talking about hair I'd also like to mention that we plenty of primary sources indicating the use of blue and pink hair powder during this time. I don't know a lot about that (or just historical hair in general I'm trying my best), but Abbey Cox did a great video the history of coloured hair, and after watching that I was able to find portraits showing it. It's such a niche fun fact that I don't think that it was intentional and they probably just chose blue to go with the colour scheme they already had but it's still cool.

Her jewellery was interesting to look into, full disclosure I don't know much about jewellery outside of the Victorian era and even then my knowledge is pretty limited so I was mainly digging through the V&A archives and comparing them.

Her necklaces are I think the most similar. You got the jewels arranged in a circle around another jewel and the elaborate patterns.

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I think her bracelet is more armour inspired I'm not really able to get a good enough look at it to notice much detail.

dangly earrings sort of like hers I've seen a lot of but rather different.

With her flower shaped ring I was either expecting to either find nothing or something similar but smaller which they made more bulky for doll production. I didn't find a similar ring, most were verry simple in shape, but I did find this broch and gasped verry loudly when I did because it was so similar.

I might do another one on her dragon games outfit, but I don't really think there's anything there, and this post is getting long, nothing compared with what I have in the works for Lizzie but... I have homework to do and this has already taken up enough of my time.

As always, feel free to add on or correct me.

Part 0.5 Part 1 (original darling post) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[jojotichakorn]

i think the post-fire topmew scene is a perfect illustration of what some people are struggling to either understand at all or reconcile with while watching ofts.

top expressed the sentiment that he could deal with his trauma just because mew was there. some people are going to jump to the conclusion that the voice of god, manifested through top, is saying that if you just find the right person, you can suddenly easily deal with your trauma. in reality, there is no voice of god - there is just top, who has changed and dealt with some of his issues throughout the series, but who ties all that change directly to mew, and so he thinks him dealing with his trauma is also thanks to mew.

mew expressed the sentiment that top was the one to take leadership and deal with the situation all on his own. some people are going to breathe out - thank gods, the voice of god, manifested through mew, is saying that of course mew didn't magically heal top's trauma. in reality, there is still no voice of god - whether positive or negative - there is just mew who saw how top dealing with everything and who also wanted to comfort his boyfriend.

it is so easy to fall into the idea that everything said by characters in fiction is exactly what the authors think. but - while i do not personally like certain things being inserted into fiction unchallenged, because i think they can contribute to the further normalisation of already normalised horrible behavior (e.g. certain depictions of rape in media contributing to rape culture) and i also acknowledge that this line is drawn at different points for different people - it is important to recognise that we're not always going to get what we want and sometimes the authors just explore something entirely from the characters' pov. not everything is going to be a fable that ends with a moral lesson and an easily digestible quote.

and i think it's crucial to point out that this particular show has always positioned itself as a mess on a mess wrapped up in another mess, and ALL characters in it were allowed to be very selfish and hypocritical and at the same time found themselves in certain situations they didn't necessarily "deserve" to be in. but some media is just not about what someone deserves and what is morally or ethically right or what is fair or what is good. and if that's not your cup of tea - that's fine. but watching something that people made posts about saying "disclaimer: i am turning my morals off while watching ofts" because it was abundantly clear it was going to be complete chaos and then expecting it to be something else is kind of like watching hannibal and then asking "hey, why is this show named after a cannibalistic murderer is not really condeming murder and romanticising cannibalism?"

essentially: don't come to a coffee shop to order a three-course meal - there are plenty of restaurants.

[pigeonwhumps]

Blackmail

Finding Safety masterlist

Whump Girl Summer day 6: Blackmail

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch (plus @justplainwhump bc you've been waiting for this)

While at university in Canada, Aaliyah is forcefully reminded of her past as a pet.

Set a few years after Cass and Aaliyah move to Canada. Aaliyah's in her second year.

1.8k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, rape/non-con, sexual slurs, flashbacks, conditioned whumpee, degradation, self-degradation, blackmail, non-con nude photos, discrimination, briefly implied homophobia, dehumanisation

Aaliyah closes her laptop and removes her headphones, stretching widely. She's enjoying researching for this essay but despite her ability to stay in one place for hours at a time she's getting stiff. And her ears are aching.

Her roommate Zac looks up from his own textbook. "You want to take a break? We have plenty of time."

She picks up her tablet and chooses her words from the symbols. Zac waits patiently, something he's good at and which she's always grateful for, given how some people act about her AAC software.

"Get water. Will be quick."

"Take as long as you need, I'll look after your stuff."

"Thank you."

She heads out of the library and crosses the corridor to the water fountain, drinking as much as she can and splashing a little on her face too. It feels nice.

She hears footsteps behind her and moves out of the way in case whoever it is wants to use the water fountain.

They don't. Instead, they bark out an order.

"Respect."

Aaliyah drops to her knees before she even knows what's happening. No, this can't happen here. She didn't even realise she still did that.

She tries to get up but her body's locked. If she gets up before Master says she can–

No. No, she's not there, she's safe, Master isn't here. He never will be.

So why can't she move?

"I thought so," says a confident, sneering voice from behind her. "See, my cousin's studying in the States, and his frat house just bought a box boy. So cute and eager to please. Combination of some sort, I think. Apparently you're not gay if it's a boxie you're fucking. Anyway, he showed me their pet on a video call and it's funny. The way you cock your head, your inability to read and write, and you always cover your left forearm, no matter how warm it is or what else you're wearing. You're a WRU slut, aren't you?"

Aaliyah doesn't respond. She doesn't reach for her tablet, or move her head, or try to get up. She can't do anything, and that's probably enough of an indictment by itself.

"I knew it." The voice is gleeful now, and he grabs her arm in a bruising grip, pulling her up and pushing her along. "Disabled restroom should be free, right?"

Distantly, Aaliyah realises she should resist. Master isn't here anymore to make her do this. She doesn't want to do this.

But she's not a person. And it has never mattered what she wants.

The boy shoves her into the bathroom and she tumbles to the floor, ending up sprawled on the tiles.

She hears the lock click with a dreadful finality.

"Now, I don't know any of the positions, but I want you on your hands and knees. I'm sure you know how to do that, at least. Oh yeah. And strip."

Aaliyah obeys with shaking hands, throat tight. She wishes the floor wasn't so white and the light wasn't so bright, it reminds her too much of the facility.

She flushes as he looks her up and down. She's not sure how he knows her, but she recognises him from somewhere. The name will come eventually, she thinks.

She doesn't want him seeing her. This isn't like when she plays with Cass and Calixte, this is different, it's like she's a pet again.

No, not just a pet. Owned.

"You really are hot. No wonder you volunteered to be a slut, your looks are your best asset. I don't see why you hide them, I mean most Romantics don't, right? They seduce and manipulate using them. Your looks might not be your very best asset though, I think I'd like to try you out now. You're bottoming, obviously. Let's see how good a slut you can be for me."

Aaliyah holds back her tears as the boy climbs on top of her. She's been taught how to hide her emotions, she's an expert at it, and she blinks her eyelashes seductively at him as he positions her to his liking. She ends up on her back, legs spread between his. He looks at her like she's a banquet.

"Oh, you really are a nice-looking pet. Keep your eyes on me, I want to see your face while I fuck you. I hear you Romantics are trained to love your owners, and really, that sounds ideal."

He's not her owner. He's not. But as he opens the lube in his pocket and slicks her up, teasing her with his finger, she finds that difficult to remember.

He positions himself and slides his cock inside with a wink. Fuck. She hates this. She wishes she could go back to not caring, but now she knows what it's like not to have to do this, not to believe it's all she's worth, not to have an owner (and that's the most important thing she's learnt, and the most painful), it seems impossible to do. The boy isn't her owner, but he feels that way.

So many people fucked her in training, and then there was Jacob, too, so maybe it doesn't matter if he's her owner anyway. She's a WRU slut at heart, after all, and with her owner gone it would make sense that she's a general slut for everyone now.

No... no, that wouldn't make sense. Not the way she'd like. She has Cass and Calixte, although she doesn't want to think of them right now, doesn't want them associated with this.

She buries her emotions deep down where they can't show, covering her anger and sorrow and utter terror with a veil of pleasure. She desperately wants to curl up in a ball and cry it out but she can't. She has to behave, and do what she was made to do.

She's a good pet at heart, after all.

He fucks into her, not caring how she feels about it, and she turns the small moans and sobs that escape into sounds of enjoyment.

"Oh, you're so good at this pet, my god. Keep doing that, this is good."

Aaliyah wants to stop. Just stop, stop giving him this, stop giving in, kick him and stop him from ever doing it again. But she's a good pet, so she won't. The lights are bright and it's so white and she knows she can't disobey or she'll get shocked. The handlers will use their batons if she fights back.

No. No, she's not there, she's free. Free and still a pet and still being fucked against her will.

A hand slaps her cheek, the stinging pain bringing her back to the present.

"Hey. Bitch. Don't zone out on me now, I was enjoying your attention."

Aaliyah bats her eyelids and does what she should. It hurts, but she's made to take that, so she does, even if she desperately wishes she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Almost anywhere.

It seems like an eternity before he comes inside her, which is usually permission for her to orgasm too. The boy sighs blissfully and withdraws.

"You are an excellent pet slut." He does up his trousers and pulls his phone out of his pocket, cocky grin back on his face. "Just gotta do something."

Later Aaliyah will wish she had punched him or covered her face or run or something, but right now she just lets herself be manouvred. She's a pet, she doesn't have any free will, and anyway she can't bring herself to move. It's all too much, all over again. He takes photos of her face and her barcode and the two together, and other parts too, making it very clear who and what she is, and what she's done.

"Nice photos. I won't share them so long as you don't tell anyone about this. And, well. I might come up with more terms later. Gotta finish college before I can move and get a Romantic of my own, after all. Do we have a deal?"

Aaliyah nods, barely keeping the tears at bay. How did she end up like this?

"Great. See ya."

He stalks out of the bathroom without so much as a backward glance, and Aaliyah locks the door again before sinking to the floor. Now, the tears come. They can, now he's gone, she doesn't need to keep such a tight rein on her emotions now she's alone.

She didn't... how did this happen? How could she let something like this happen? She's not a person, this is a clear reminder of that, because a person wouldn't be so useless. They wouldn't have a barcode that makes them so easy to control. Master's dead and she's still a pet, still owned in every sense except the completely literal one. She scrunches up under the sink, giving herself a few minutes to cry messily, snottily. Not silently pretty, as a Romantic should.

She takes a deep breath, then another. Then she gets up and leans over the sink, scrubbing her face, wiping away the tears, making her eyes less puffy.

Maybe Zac will assume she's had a panic attack and not ask too many questions. She hopes so.

She dresses hurriedly with shaking hands, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up in Cass' arms. But she can't do that, because then he'd ask and she'd tell him and she can't risk those photos being shared.

As a pet, she's not allowed wants anyway.

She brushes herself down, takes another deep breath, and heads back out.

Zac spots her as she re-enters the library and frowns. As soon as she's close enough, he murmurs, "Are you okay?" She nods. She's fine, she always is. "Okay. If you say so. Another half hour, then we'll go get food?" She nods again. She's in no shape to use her tablet to communicate right now. Zac squeezes her shoulder and looks back down at his textbook, frowning thoughtfully and highlighting another line.

Aaliyah opens up her laptop and puts on her headphones, pressing play. She prepares to draw down her notes and bookmark the sections she needs for her essay.

It's hard, so much harder than earlier. She was enjoying it before but now she can barely concentrate. Her head swims as she tries to settle back into the research. She has to rewind the audio of her textbook several times as she zones out, constantly replaying the last half hour or so. It hurts, physically, mentally, everything, she was hoping she'd never feel that hurt again.

She's useless. She can't concentrate, can't even read or write. She doesn't know things that everyone else finds obvious, that they all stare at her for not understanding. She's trying, she really is, but she's hopeless at it.

She's been pretending to be a person for a while now, but she's not. She never will be. She's a pet, and that's all she'll ever be.

[freakingoutthesquares]

Shag Pile Carpets Confessions Unknown Publication - Helen. S Stock. 1994 Interview with Russell Senior & Steve Mackey Transcription by me - taken from Pulp scrapbook 2

After thirteen years in the pop wilderness, Sheffield band Pulp finally seemed to be getting the recognition they deserve. What took them so long?

“The thing that we are about is a glamorous thing and we were swimming against the tide in the 80s,” says Russell Senior, the band's guitarist and violinist. “People hated all that stuff, they wanted anonymity and we must have seen quite corny and capricious, really. But now the tide’s swung in our favour in a big way.”

Pulp have been variously described as kitsch’n’sink and their song as ‘Mike Leigh plays set to music.’ “I don't mind that,” says bass player Steve Mackey. “If I saw that written about a band, I'd think it was worth having a listen, because I like Might Leigh. I'd rather they say that than kitsch Electro skiffle, which has been used in the past.”

Pulp songs are also narrative packed, with Jarvis Cockers lyrics invoking cast of odd, yet accessible characters making out and breaking up behind the net curtains. As Russell says, “Most people who write love songs or about sex write from a macro outside view, but Jarvis writes about the minutiae.” In His’n’Hers their latest album, Jarvis, the Clark Kent of the pop world, expressed his fears of interior decoration, of soap on the Rope, pot-pourri and nights on Couple Row. Russell, now a father for the second time, denies any anti couple sentiments. “It's more about not letting mundanity creep into the relationship you have. Getting the his’n’hers towels thing. But I recognise something of myself in some of those slag off lyrics.”

Pulp's last single, Do You Remember The First Time, is accompanied by a documentary of the same title, which is due to be screened on Channel 4 in June. In the film, they ask a host of friends and celebs including Jo Brand, Reeves and Mortimer, Terry Hall, Alison Steadman and Justine from Elastica how they lost their virginity. The results are funny and enlightening. Not much Mills & Boon here, but plenty of damp grass, awkward fumbling and carpet burns. While most of us have trouble remembering the last time, Pulp probe the first times of their subjects in the most sensitive way. To create an intimate atmosphere, they put a ‘sad pretend leather couch’ in the studio, poured the whiskey, passed round the cigs, and the rest is celluloid.

Steve admits, “We didn't ask any embarrassing physical questions like ‘was he rough’ or anything like that. They were all in control of how much detail they told us.”

The film has received good reviews following screenings at London's ICA and nationally, including Manchester's Dry Bar. It also provided an inbuilt chat up line for those present and led to the deflowering of one young Innocent. “It was a boy who was in the video for our single,” says Steve, “and it happened the night we showed it at the ICA, so I thought that was good.”

Whose first time would they most like to know about? “My dad.” Says Steve. “I never found out what happened to my parents, and when they came to see the film, I thought they might tell me. I've got this sneaking suspicion that I was the result of the first time. I wouldn't say they've ever been great lovers.”

All this sex talk in the press would lead to embarrassing confessions. Have they ever given too much away? Steve nods. “I thought that when we did the NME article, they asked us individually to tell our own stories. Once you get in there, it all comes out. Russell laughs, “I just lied.” “I didn't. I told the truth,” says Steve, perhaps a bit miffed he didn't think of it himself. “Yeah, but mine was more interesting,” says Russell. “The truth wasn't.”

“But I don't advocate Scandinavian attitudes,” confesses Steve. “I quite enjoy the fact that English people are they way they are, to be honest.” Reserved? “Initially reserved, but in private quite the opposite, they’re quite bestial when it comes down to it. Not speaking from personal experience, of course!” “You shouldn't be ashamed of your body,” deadpans Russell, “it’s a sinful thing.” “And I want you to be ashamed,” laughs Steve. “Yes,” says Russell, “share my shame.”

While stardom beckons, Steve bemoans his current homeless state, which he agrees this is self-inflicted due to splitting up with his girlfriend, “But I’ve not had a real house in seven years. I went to London and lived in squats for five years, then me and Jarvis had a council house which was worse than the squat and now I'm on Jarvis' floor.” “We've all squatted,” says Russell. “I know we're not the Levellers, but we have suffered bad housing.”

Reluctantly, Pulp agreed that the measure of success is still an appearance on Top of the Pops. As Steve puts it, “If you haven't been on Top of the Pops and somebody asked you in five years time what you do, you couldn't really say ‘I'm in a band.’ It's like getting your Cycling Proficiency Test or your L plates.” Like losing your virginity. “Yeah, the test of you’re in a band now.” So while we await the imminent debut with bated breath, is there anything else they aspire to? “Yes,” says Steve “a Flat.”

Sisters EP will be released on 16th of May. Pulpwood Play the Glastonbury Festival 24th to 26th of June.

[blu-joons]

Real Life Drama ~ Lee Dongwook

Your heart was racing as you walked into the busy room, looking around at the many people who were preparing themselves for the first script read of the latest drama that the network was preparing to air. You felt out of your depth as soon as you looked around, recognising a few faces from projects you’d worked on before.

“Y/N?” A familiar one of those faces smiles as they walked towards the door, “no one told me that you were working on this one.”

You settled as soon as you looked forward and noticed one of the junior directors who had worked with you on your last drama working towards you. The two of you had grown pretty close whilst you shot before, thankful to have her with you once again for your latest project.

Straight away she started to show you around as she noticed how nervous you were, introducing you to as many people as possible before reaching the top of the table, where you’d be sat, with an unfamiliar face sat in the chair next to where your name plaque had been placed.

“This is Dongwook,” she told you, “he’s actually going to be the other lead in the drama with you.”

You took a nervous step back as Dongwook looked across, standing up as soon as he realised that it was you beside you. You bowed straight away, smiling weakly as he bowed to you too, glancing past your shoulder as your friend walked away, leaving the two of you to it as Dongwook invited you to sit to get to know each other better.

In almost no time at all, you found yourself in stitches as you found out more about Dongwook. He had a power in him to make you feel comfortable, assuring you that the two of you would get on famously whilst you filmed together.

“It’s been a while since I actually did something like this,” Dongwook noted, tapping the script laid out in front of him, “I’m hoping that you’ll be able to show me the ropes on this one.”

“No way,” you smiled in reply to him, glancing down at your script too. “I mean I’m nowhere near as experienced as you, with a CV as long as yours you should be able to adjust to any role that’s given to you, not many actors get to work as successfully as you do.”

Dongwook’s head shook at how kind you were back across to him. “I’ve heard good things about you, the director over there seemed to have plenty of compliments for you when I asked her if she knew anything about you.”

“We’ve worked together before,” you told him as things began to make a lot more sense for Dongwook. “I think she’d tell anyone that I was nice just to make sure that no one causes any trouble for me whilst I’m on set.”

“Well, I happen to think that she’s right, you seem very nice Y/N,” Dongwook smiled across to you.

“O-oh,” you stuttered, turning away from Dongwook’s glance momentarily, “thank you, but you’ve got four months of working with me yet, I’m sure that there’s plenty of time for me to change your opinion of me.”

A chuckle came from Dongwook as you played yourself down, already feeling confident that the two of you were going to have a ball filming together over the next few months.

“I have a feeling that I’m going to be laughing a lot with you on set,” Dongwook grinned, full of relief that he had been given a co-star that he was bound to get on with famously.

Another smile appeared on your face as you tried your best to hide your blush, not wanting to get too flustered around Dongwook, especially on your first meeting.

“Do you make all your co-stars so comfortable?” Dongwook then asked you.

Your head shook in reply to him, “just the ones that I think are lovely,” you responded, leaving Dongwook smiling just like you were as you found yourself managing to make him shy too.

The two of you were talking as if there was no one else in the room, forgetting that you did in fact have a job to do. As others walked in, neither of you were interested, finding yourselves having too much fun laughing between yourselves instead.

Several of your other co-stars tried their best to introduce themselves, but as the two of you broke into giggles once again, they walked away and reminded themselves to head over at a more convenient time to get to know the two of you.

“What are you doing once we’re finished here?” Dongwook asked you once the two of you eventually managed to stop laughing for just a moment. “I mean, there’s a restaurant down the road I like, we could get to know each other better.”

“Luckily for you my schedule is clear,” you smiled back at him, “if it’s a restaurant that you like though, I’ve got high expectations that I’ll enjoy it.”

“It’s my treat, that way if you don’t enjoy it, you’ve not had to spend any money on the food.”

Your head nodded back to Dongwook, “in that case, I’ll have dinner with you. If we’re working together, we need to get to know each other better, right?”

As Dongwook had promised, you found yourself enjoying your meal at the restaurant that night, and for several other nights whilst the two of you shot your drama too. On the final night of filming, you found yourselves there once again, smiling still like you did on the first day of meeting.

The months had flown by, but the laughter was absolutely still there between the two of you. It was tainted slightly as you sat down to dinner one final time, knowing that tomorrow you wouldn’t reunite at work and spend more time laughing and joking around with one another.

“I feel like I’m going to be pretty lost not seeing your face tomorrow,” you told Dongwook as you toasted what would hopefully be a successful drama for the two of you.

Dongwook couldn’t bring himself to admit that it was the end as he looked across at you. He had never imagined himself finding a colleague at work who he could bond with anywhere near as well as he had bonded with you.

“I still want to see your face,” Dongwook suddenly spoke after giving himself a minute to think, “I don’t want this to be the last time that I see you Y/N.”

“It won’t be, we’ll have all of the press release soon, and plenty of interviews too,” you tried to reassure Dongwook, but his head shook in reply to you.

Shy eyes looked across the table to where you were, “I don’t want to not spend all of this time with you anymore, I’ve loved being with you.”

“We can still make time for each other Dongwook.”

“I don’t want to just make time, I want to just be with you Y/N. I want to see you, laugh with you, bond with you and continue on as the two of us like we are right now.”

Your eyebrows knitted together as Dongwook spoke, “we’re going to remain friends, those are all things that we can still do together.”

“I don’t want to just be friends though Y/N,” Dongwook told you, taking a sip from his glass of wine, “I want this drama to become real life for us both.”

“How long have you wanted for this to be real?”

“Since the very first day I met you, I think I fell for you.”

---

Masterlist

[sal-absinthii]

Had a dream that I was Regulus Black post-wizarding war, trying to keep my head down and just go along with life, but people kept recognising me and threatening me

At some point I was looking for a specific philosophy book in the video games section of a large shop that which was also a library. They didn't have it and I was disappointed. They were selling merchandise for the various Hogwarts houses and I fondly pulled out a Slytherin shirt. Kids reaching for other houses looked at me with disgust and anger, but I noticed that most of the Slytherin ones were gone and there were still plenty of Hufflepuff shirts left on the shelves. I wanted to react with anger at the kids, but I was in this half-kid, half-adult state where it wasn't clear which I was and both parts were furious and ready to fight but the adult part said I couldn't fight pre-teens, not because they didn't deserve it but because I had business that made me take an undefined job at the school and couldn't have it getting back that I had beat up some students over the holidays.

Then I was a child wandering alone around my old neighbourhood and there was no one around but I could sense a large, hidden monster stalking me, and I knew it couldn't attack until it was fully dark, but the sun was going down. For some reason I couldn't stop and go inside, and no one could help me, I just had to keep scootering around and trying to keep the panicking side of me under control by lying to it and saying it was ok. My instincts said I had to stay hidden, but also to keep moving, and also to act as though everything were normal, it was very important that no one who saw me could know I was afraid, because no one could know, and the whole time the monster I wasn't sure if I believed in was lurking, waiting. There was a small dog that was somehow relevant.

Then I was at work, doing my usual evening shift, logging in the stuff the courier would bring back, only it was in a semi-apocalyptic town, which was either deserted or burning with riots. An old classmate of mine I had been friends with at school showed up out of thin air, not clear if she recognised me as a classmate but she at least didn't know I was who I was, to give a fierce homophobic/transphobic/racist tirade and to rant in particular against "the system" that forbade such open talk. I didn't know if I agreed with her or not, but I was struck by how it suddenly seemed so unusually extreme to hear these words when I know that while we were at school this was completely normal and taught to us explicitly in many cases, and that she'd never questioned it, and I wondered how she'd been able to go 15 years in the real world without doing so. Odo from DS9 came up and told her she'd better leave because he would not tolerate it, and she cursed him out but left, giving me a dirty look when I didn't take her side against him and making rude remarks about nonhumans. He yelled "get out of here and don't let me catch you coming back, Riddle" which actually was her last name. I still didn't know if I agreed with her or not, part of me did, but I like Odo and am sympathetic to him and decided I'd rather be on his side than on the side of the girl who once was a threat to my existence at the school. He told me it was my job to stay later and do something involving lighting candles, which I didn't want to do because the riots were getting closer.

When I finally left, I had a hard time figuring out how to get home, which was far away, on the other side of the country it seemed, and I had no transportation. I tried to get onto the road but it was crowded and I had to force my way in, splitting up a group of bikers, who I thought would be angry at me but weren't when I told the group behind me they could go around me to rejoin the group in front of me, and I was in a very large cauldron on wheels, and I went like this for a while. A huge gross van I couldn't see inside but which it looked like someone lived in kept trying to run me over.

I don't know what happened in what order or if things jumped around, but I was trying to get away from my old classmate because I had a mission to protect Harry Potter, whom I barely knew, and I found him in a botanical garden getting ready to jump from a cliff onto a large boulder far below, which he claimed was a hologram only he could see through and was actually a very deep, beautiful, still pool. I tried to reason with him. He said that it was hidden as a test so that only the most worthy could find it, people who did not know fear. I said that even if it was true, he didn't know that the pool was deep enough to safely jump into, or that it was even water at all. I said it was not a good thing to not know fear at all, that being fearless is not the same as being brave, it's being naive and stupid, and that I knew that he did know fear, but he wasn't paying attention. He jumped and I shrieked LAB SAFETY! but he disappeared as soon as he hit the boulder and I guess he must have gone through it. I was supposed to keep him safe but instead I had let him jump possibly to his death for no reason and now I couldn't find him.

My coworker who gets angry when people call her a redhead was there and there was some plot about a club that only allowed redheads, I dunno, I can't remember but it was somehow important and part of the riots/apocalypse.

I was a child scootering again, in California summer twilight, with the sense I often got as a child that I was on a very large and empty movie set rather than in the real world, getting brief moments of impulse to hide in a bush or behind a tree for no reason, just that it was extremely important that anyone passing by did not see me. The monster was nearby all the time. I made myself imagine I was Edward Norton in American History X and that I could be scarier than the monster and could bluff it out of attacking me but only if I stayed very focused.

Then I was Regulus Black again and I had made it home, briefly, when someone knocked on my door and told me someone had vandalised my car. People were always after me for being a Death Eater and this was pretty common but I thought no one knew who I was here. It was the large ugly van that had tried to run me down, with mangled wheels and apparently ownerless. I went out to look at it and woke myself up yelling "I'M GOING TO KILL MY FUCKING NEIGHBOURS"

[rolling-restart]

hellooo, maybe some tw/gr hurt/comfort (either in desecration universe or something else, whatever you feel comfy with!!)

Hi anon, you made me realise I wrote plenty of hurt and literally no comfort for tw/gr so far. This one has some fucked up dynamics so proceed carefully.

Toto wasn’t looking forward to going back to the hotel. The podium celebrations put him on a such high that deliberately facing something, someone, that was certainly going to deflate him wasn’t very appealing. 

However, some things in life didn’t have to be fun to be worthwhile. Toto especially couldn’t stand the image of George crawling in a corner, trying to recover from what he thought a devastating failure. Toto took a deep breath and declined the offer for further celebrations elsewhere to jump in his car. 

He didn’t know the streets of Montreal too well. However, George’s location on their Life360 app was always on so he just followed the directions from his phone. Toto still couldn’t believe how George agreed to set that up, which meant him knowing George’s whereabouts 24/7 but George just jumped at the idea. Toto assumed that it gave the young man a sense of security, even though in the shape of literal surveillance. Toto also had his smartwatch data delivered to his phone, to see George’s vitals at all times. He was glad he didn’t have to discuss their relationship with anyone else due to the nature of secrecy. What people would say shouldn’t concern him. Controlling? Paranoid even? What worked for them worked for them and thankfully it was no one’s business. 

George’s heart rate had been over 110 since Toto lost sight of him in the paddock then he got a notification of his watch being taken off. He could believe that the poor boy literally ran to their hotel to escape the piercing eyes of the media in the face of his DNF. Toto knew it was nothing serious in the big scheme of this but George was, as always, dwelling on it. It was endearing, really, how sensitive the boy was to outside inputs. It also filled Toto with protective urges, to shelter George and if anything affected him profoundly, comfort him. 

Toto leaped the distance between them in a matter of minutes and he entered George’s hotel room without knocking. It wasn’t really necessary in their dynamic. If Toto was to take care of George efficiently, some boundaries must be overlooked. 

The sound of the shower filled Toto with relief. Even though Toto had a hold of George at any time, it would be perfectly possible for the boy to just throw away his electronics to really be left alone. But his George knew better. Toto took off his shoes and lounged on the bed with his phone while waiting for George to emerge from the ensuite. 

He waited. Ten minutes, then twenty minutes but there was no sign of the George finishing his business in the shower. Toto got up impatiently and slid the Japanese door of the bathroom slowly. There he was. George was sitting in the shower, knees against his chest while scorchingly hot water rained on him mercilessly. He jolted in surprise when he realised the intruder but he buried his face back between his knees. 

Toto took a couple of seconds before making a move. If only George wasn’t miserable, this would be a treasured sight. Something no one else but him was allowed to see, George at his most vulnerable. He didn’t pay any mind his shirt and slacks getting wet when he opened the glass door of the shower. He stopped the water and took a good look at George. His skin was bright pink with the hot water but his eyes were shinier than ever with silent tears. He didn’t protest when Toto got him on his feet as if he wasn’t hundred percent aware of what was going on. He was unstable on his feet so Toto moved slowly to wrap a towel around his shoulders. They were dripping water everywhere but Toto couldn’t care less. 

They somehow managed to collapse on the plush covers when George finally showed a sign of recognising Toto’s presence by burrowing his face in the crook of Toto’s neck.

“I fucked up…”

Toto caressed his damp hair, trying to get a hold of more of his body to hold, to squeeze to provide some sort of comfort. 

“Shhh, no.”

“I did.”

His words were wet with the incoming fresh tears.

“It’s not a big deal, Schatz, you will have days like this sometimes.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have…”

Toto interrupted his complaint with a kiss, salty with the boy’s tears. When George broke the kiss, his piercing eyes were locked on his, searching for a lie, fake comfort. Doubt.

“Do you hate me?”

Toto sighed. 

“How can you say that?”

“Well, you should. I lost us points.”

Even though his heart ached with his beloved’s pain, Toto felt irritation rising in his chest.

“Now you cut that talk. No one can talk about my driver like that.”

George scoffed and tried to make himself smaller by wrapping himself around Toto. He definitely was going to need new clothes to leave the room. 

He wasn’t surprised when he heard George sob. At moments like this, there was nothing he could do but rocking George and rubbing his back until he let it all out. Winning can wait another day, even a month. Nurturing this hurt little animal was more important. 

“Are you still proud of me?”

His voice was small but the expectation behind the voice was echoing in the great cavern of George’s yearning. It made Toto’s heart a little lighter. It was such a fitting position for the younger man to be in. Everyone had their optimum functioning point and George’s was yearning. Forever chasing the appraisal and never being able to fill that hole himself with genuine self-worth. It could be disastrous in the hands of someone else but Toto figured out how to keep that boiling side of George in check. His need for affirmation was like a bottomless abyss and the only cure for his condition was bound to fail since it was not sustainable. There wasn’t enough compliment and praise in the whole universe that could appease the poor boy in Toto’s arms. But it never hurt to try and stop him from eating his heart out too much. In return, Toto knew George’s soul was his.

“I am. I am and always will be very proud of you.”

[alarrytale]

I'm a casual solo Louis stan and not a solo Harry stan.//

So you´re listening to Louis´ music but not Harry´s? Why not a solo Harry stan? Does it mean that you´re not listening to Harry at all? I´m just curious, I thought you are listening to their music equally just like you love them equally as people and because you also like them as an artists and songwriters

Hi, anon!

Yep, bascially. I've mentioned how i'm not a solo harry stan plenty of times. What did you think that meant?

During 1D i saw how Harry was favoured, given the best and most appealing image, and given the most solos, PR-deals and opportunities. I saw how he was groomed by the Azoff and Columbia to have a solo career later on. Sony having more faith in solo Harry than in 1D is what i believe made Sony want to put 1d on hold to launch H. Z saw it coming and bailed to steal his thunder. The other 1d boys was left to fend for themselves. None of this never sat right with me.

When Harry released SOTT i was pissed and not keen on hearing it. So i didn't. Some weeks later i was at a shopping centre in a dressing room trying on a sweater. The store played music and suddenly i recognised the words "Sign of the times" being sung. I then figured it must be SOTT but i didn't recognise Harry's voice at all. Out of the blue my fight or flight response kicked in and i bolted. I've never had such a visceral reaction to a song in my life. My heart was beating so fast. I hated it and it just felt wrong. So why force myself to listen to something that only makes me think of Harry being Sony's puppet and golden goose? It didn't help that Harry totally distanced himself from anything 1D and wouldn't mention them. Bg being tied into H's career too isn't helping.

I used to turn off the radio when they played Harry, but it's gotten better. And i've been in situations where i couldn’t escape. I was at the dentist and the radio was on and of course SOTT came on while i was in the chair lmao. I was there for max 5 minutes and heard the entire song. Nice timing. I guess i've heard like five of H's songs. WS is one of those stunt songs that again reminds me how his image is faked to make money. It's not that hard to avoid hearing his songs. I've read all his lyrics and seen most of his music videos on mute. I watch clips from his shows on mute or wait for gifs. I don't feel like i'm missing out tbh. I'm happy he's an artist and a songwriter. He clearly loves it and is good at it. I just personally have little interest in listening to his music due to the circumstances.

[20001541]

The Villain Yoichi post has got me thinking about a Hero AFO au now…

I get his whole character is him literally trying to be a dehumanised villain, but it has made me think if there was ever a point in his life where he could’ve at least recognised any humanity in himself. He’s had plenty of chances… (killing his brother that was the most important thing in life mostly)

with the way he grew up and such, I don't think there could've been a time where he recognized any humanity within him.

he had to be vicious in order to survive so he wouldn't view himself as exactly human like, especially if he compared himself to other humans when he starts learning more about the world around him and sees that he's unlike other human children. more akin to a monster, with people either seeing him as a diseased creature to be ignored or something to be fear.

which I think could've played a part in why he became attached to the demon king character as he saw himself in the demon king, someone who people hated and feared. but despite people's fear and hatred of the demon king, they still paid tribute to him because he was powerful. and upon seeing a character that reminds afo of himself have this, he decided he wanted that for himself too and in turn tried to closely emulate the demon king as much as possible.

granted I don't think he started actively dehumanizing himself thing until after he read the captain hero comic, but my point still stands that he would have difficultly seeing his own humanity as a child because of how others demonized and ignored him growing up.

also when yoichi died I think he would've been too far deep into the whole dehumanizing himself and rewriting reality stuff to reconsider how he viewed his own humanity. considering I think afo's emotions getting out of control are what killed yoichi, that event might've further pushed him into denying his human side as having strong emotions are what caused him to lose control of a quirk that costed yoichi his life. therefore it's better to suppress human emotion to avoid another event like that occuring. and even though he places all the blame on kudou, deep down I think he is aware that he's the reason yoichi is dead. so though he won't admit it, it was an event that caused him to latch stronger on his rejection of that part of himself.

but hero afo is a tricky one for me, as I think in order for it to happen he would've had to have had a strong support system growing up. but I keep asking myself, would that be enough? because while being orphaned and having to fend for himself played a huge role in how he turned out, the nature of his quirk is something that would be difficult to manage. even if he had a parent/guardian who loved him, they would struggle with a child like afo with how his quirk gives him the urge to take. they wouldn't even have the resources to help with him as it's during a time where anyone with meta abilities were persecuted, and despite being well meaning they could encourage him to suppress that desire as a way to keep others from noticing his abilities (and we know how well suppressing ones desires would work out, *cough* himiko toga *cough*)

maybe if you showed him a comic about a hero who went through similar things as he did but still became a hero as they became an adult and people showered them with praise and glory as a kid then maybe.....? haha I'm not sure.

I feel like with his quirk it would be very easy for him to be pushed into the path of villainy. not even being born in the current age of heroes would've helped him much as we saw how the quirk counselor treated toga's desire for blood. the desire to take others quirks would even be more demonized. though a kid who is able to take and give quirks would be an extremely valuable asset for the hero commission if they learned of such a thing.....

that's my thoughts on it

[laufire]

feel you about the pettyness towards asoiaf. yeah it was fun to read during my high school years yadda yadda but it steered like the worst discourse i've ever witnessed in my whole life and now we're stuck with people who think that any single female character who doesn't not passively accept gender roles has internalized misoginy. worse bc they act as if grrm is the only writer ever and lowkey forget that also women wrote fantasy since a while and that grrm isn't the only one who write women as protagonists in a fantasy setting lol

I could try to be fair and recognise the books' merits -something they aren't scarce of!-, but plenty of people sing their praises on the regular and frankly, the very idea exhausts me.

The fandom that surrounds the 'verse has succeeded in effectively ruining any joy I could've gotten out of it. It's not so much the Fandom Drama TM. Every large fandom has ridiculous in-fighting, shipwars disguised as clamours for justice, hypocrisy, rampant misogyny :)... I'm not new here. I've had a lot of practice, and I pride myself on how I excel when it comes to finding my own little corner to enjoy a piece of art to my heart's content no matter what anyone else does. But with this one, I'm unable to. At most I will passively reblog some occasional good edit or meta that crosses my path, but I don't think I could put anything of myself into it, iykwim.

And I won't lie, at least a large part of it IS the undue praise I feel GRRM receives. It pisses me off seeing how low people's standards still are regarding the treatment of female characters. That makes me resent the canon 'verse, not just the fandom's interpretation of it. Over the years I kept seeing him getting compared only to male writers such as Tolkien; and yes, I agree, prominent female characters >>> no female characters of importance, LOL. But, seriously? Is that really all we're going to demand here? For fuck's sake. The bar is below ground.

How about we compare him with female SFF writers and see how he fares? I haven't read a tenth of what I'd like from Ursula K. Le Guin, and I already think her inventiveness is beyond his scope. Ana María Matute was a Spanish author that often wrote medieval-adjacent fantasy and her prose was vivid and lovely and heartrendering in a way GRRM could only dream. Angela Carter depicted the very horrors he embeds his stories with in a far more chilling way he ever could. Their female characters certainly surpass his. And that's just scratching the surface.

As I said, I wouldn't erase it from existence because I still think some of the female characters books & show have given us are beyond amazing. I love Catelyn, and Cersei, and Brienne, and Daenerys, and Arya, and yes, Sansa! (my issues with her fandom's tradwifery nonsense, I liked her from the beginning and I still do when I put them aside, that's just a fact). But "I wouldn't erase this particular canon from existence" is not exactly a great endorsement xDD

[eloquentornot]

I watched all of MythicalSausage's stream live today.

(Except for a few minutes here and there where I had to get up and do other things, but for all of those I paused it then came back and watched on double speed until I was caught up. I was in the chat, live, as much as I could be.)

This is the VOD. I recommend. But I think part of the experience was seeing it live. Spoilers under the cut.

So, if you've seen his most recent episode, you'll know it ended with him trapped in yet another alternate dimension by Evil Sausage.

(If you saw the end of Jimmy's recent stream, the one he stopped suddenly because he realised he had the wrong meeting time, maybe you saw the moment Sausage told Jimmy a quick secret, changed his voice and said "I'm not the Sausage you know" to which Jimmy ran away, wondering if it was Xornoth or something.)

At the start of this stream, Sausage said there would be no lore, that it was strictly a material gathering stream in preparation for an upcoming big build. Chat asked him how he'd escaped, and his response? "What are you talking about? What do you mean, escape? No lore here, this is a no lore stream!" Or words to that effect.

The music was different, during this stream. Instead of Sanctuary's usual tunes, it was dramatic, sometimes dark, reminiscent of season 1!

He didn't go in the church, saying it was closed for renovations. He loved the dark tower, and could go in there fine. He forgot the names of Sanctuary's people. Eddie and Maria were "protected" by magical iron bars over all the exits of their house. Sunny was offline, being used as a battery for a future technological project...

It was pretty obvious very quickly to chat what was going on. We all called it out, that it was Evil Sausage in disguise. He continued to say this was a no lore stream. He started work on some interiors, taunted us with a tale of a dark sorcerer defeating a wizard and destroying a dragon egg, continued to deny that anything strange was happening at all.

fWhip interrupted, with exciting news about the Minecraft update! He asked for help with the new structure at spawn, and Gem came as well and there was plenty of messing around out of character as friends, but also I think he was actually fully in character as much as possible? Like, he somehow simultaneously was just himself hanging out with them while also giving vibes of being Evil Sausage Pretending To Be Sausage!?

At 1000 likes, he promised to tell us a secret. We all knew what it would be. I have never before asked fellow viewers in chat to like the stream I'm watching, and I will never again unless this specific kind of situation happens again. I don't normally catch streams all the way through like this. This is so exciting!

Fully in-character, he nevertheless involves chat, it's like being in a pantomime almost, only the only one of those I've ever actually been to I was too young to appreciate, and now I understand, it's another form of collaborative storytelling!

Also btw while the gang was messing around, fWhip showed him a shulker head and was surprised he didn't recognise it, and Jimmy said the name Hermes. So that plot point is looming closer!

When the likes goal was reached, it was time. The tension rose as he gradually prepared to tell us the secret. Chat was racing past, everyone screaming, we all knew what was coming, and yet...

That music box, from the previous stream featuring Evil Sausage. The game screen is hidden, and sound effects play. Then, his voice. Distorted. Our suspicions confirmed. It's him!

Then, the screen comes back, and he hasn't changed his skin! Evil Sausage is still fully disguised as normal Sausage! Then he sends us to where the real one is trapped, the music is Sanctuary's again, we tell him what's happened and then suddenly we're brought back! Evil Sausage goes to his dark Mythland, where for some reason it seems like the grey collared (evil?) Bubbles is trying to stop him from reaching the summoning circle! But he reaches it anyway, does some more magic, and... That's it. Apparently... the real Sausage is now permanently trapped six months in the past. Before even Bubbles or Eddie appeared to help him, let alone the Staff that allows him to travel between dimensions. (It also seems Evil Sausage has lost the Staff, and there was a "joke" at the start of the stream that the Staff is "sentient", so perhaps there's something there...)

We're sent back to Sausage, trapped in the past, for the end of the stream. He plans to escape the only way he can: to live out those six months again! We will see him again, soon, but for him it'll have been half a year...

I just can't describe how exciting this stream was! To watch the story unfold, live, able as an audience to interact with the character, it was so amazing! I do prefer videos to stream VODs for length, but I hope I manage to catch more streams live like this in the future if I can, it was so fun!!!

[renegadepack]

when writing “beautifully happy & painless romantic,” one of my favorite parts was imagining where the members of the pack were in their lives. as it wasn’t the focus of the fic, i didn’t dive too much into the details. but i do what i want and really love thinking about it (plus i’m always down for more pack content) so i’m beginning to write longer pieces focusing on each of the members. here’s leah’s.

Leah was the first one to leave La Push with no intentions to come back for any significant length of time. Seth, Sue - of course she would visit them. And some of the guys - Paul, Quil, Embry, even Jacob - she had grown close with and knew she would miss. But even the love she finally found couldn’t erase the memories in every nook and cranny of La Push. She was haunted by the losses, by the betrayals, all the hurt and anger that had built up for years. Even if the wounds no longer hurt, the reminders did. She had to move on, in every sense of the phrase.

After a year working at the library, and picking up shifts at the diner, she had enough saved to make it a few months on her own. Some quick packing skill, and one bus ticket later, she was in Seattle. She had found a small apartment in an old, neglected part of town, but cheap rent was cheap rent and she didn’t care to be picky. 

After some time to settle in, and plenty of trips to thrift shops to furnish her apartment and fill her closet, she began to look for work. Something to fill her days, and keep her bank account a positive number. Her diner experience made it easy to get some serving jobs. They weren’t her favorite, but she was good at it.

With an income secured, Leah knew it was time to branch out further. She loved her life, but couldn’t deny she felt a little lonely. She joined a women’s running group hosted by a local athletic store, and found she fit right in. her last years at home, she had felt so angry, so closed off. And she had every right to be, but it was nice to find herself opening up, joking and laughing with people like she used to before… everything.

The running group led her to a local gym, where some of them worked and all of them worked out at. While there one day dropping off something for a friend, she saw sign-ups for yoga classes. She laughed, remembering telling Jacob she might pick it up to help with her anger. She didn’t need that aspect of it anymore, but signed up nonetheless. One thing led to another, and she found she loved it so much that she applied to be an instructor.

A few months later, all the teachers at the gym were asked to take part in a promotional photoshoot. Leah went along with it, expecting some free food and the ability to dick around with her friends. Until the photographer showed up, a girl Leah vaguely recognised, and she got the feeling her life was about to change. For the better, this time.

Angela became her friend quickly. They had pretty much nothing in common, but that only meant they had plenty to talk about. Before too long, Leah knew she wanted Angela in her life forever, however she would have her. Luckily, (and obviously to anyone who had been watching them since they had met) Angela felt the same. A few more weeks went by, and both their leases were almost up, leading to them looking for a place together. Like they expected, what they found was small, but they made the place cozy and theirs.

For the first time since her early teenage years, Leah felt settled. She loved the work she did, and the people she did it with. She had cats to cuddle and dogs to walk, and a partner she felt safe with. Visits home felt like a gift, not an obligation. La Push hadn’t been her home for a long time, but the people still were. Her biological and chosen families kept her as close as they could, but she finally had room to breathe. 

She never wanted to go far.

full fic // jacob // sam & emily

more fic // request fic

[monstrousproductions]

Submissions are now OPEN for Season Three!

Hello, friends I'm very pleased to say our inbox has, at long last, reopened! If you haven't had a submission on the programme yet, now's the time to act as Season Three will be the last season of Monstrous Agonies.

You can send your submissions here on Tumblr, via the website or by email at submissions[at]monstrousagonies.co.uk.

Now, since we've gained quite a few new followers and listeners since the inbox closed way back in December, I thought it would be helpful to address some common questions and clarify some points!

What kind of submissions do you accept? We accept submissions for both letters and adverts. In both cases, you can either write the full piece, or submit a short prompt - or anything in between! For example, in Episode Thirty One the letter about a creature who could smell lies and worked in a government office was a three-sentence prompt, while the letter about a creature with rigor mortis was a full letter.

What kind of thing can I write about? Generally speaking, anything! I do encourage you to think about the tone of the programme and use your judgement on whether a topic is appropriate, though. For example, there's a great deal of fantasy violence in MA and plenty of jokes about people being eaten, but the context is always otherworldly and a step removed from real-world violence. This isn't something that's been a problem in the past, though, so if this is your first submission I encourage you to just give it a go. Especially because...

Will you edit my submission? Almost definitely, yes! Some submissions go into the show unedited but most get at least a little tweaking here and there, usually for improved clarity or to get the language more in line with the world-building that's already been done. Sometimes the edits are more substantial, for example if the letter is too long. By submitting, you're giving your permission for me to fiddle about with your submission as much as I feel is necessary - though I do always strive to keep as light a touch as possible. I want to hear your voices, after all!

How long should submissions be? There's no minimum length - you could submit a single word if you felt so moved. Though I'd, uh. I'd prefer you didn't. There's no maximum word count either, but I recommend reading your letter aloud and seeing if it comes in around the 2-3 minute mark. But as above, I will edit it down if necessary so as long as you're OK with that, I shouldn't worry too much.

Can I submit if I've already had a submission on the show? 100%! It's really lovely, actually, seeing repeated names in the inbox and recognising people's styles and interests 💖

How do you decide which letters get used? I try my best to include every submission I get sent, and have very, very rarely chosen not to. However, with the incredibly high volume of submissions I'm expecting this season (I mean, the inbox has been open for less than 24 hours and we're already well into double figures...!) I may have to be more selective. In that case, I'll generally give preference to first-time submitters.

How long will it take to hear my submission? More like months than weeks, I'm afraid, at least for letters. MA has one episode per week and two letters per episode. As I said, we're already past 10 letters for next season and S03 doesn't even start for another month! Adverts usually have a quicker turn-around as we get fewer submissions for those. Most submissions are included in the order they were received, though if you submit multiple letters then I'll usually try and have a bit of a gap between them.

Can my submission riff on previous letters? Sure! If I have any secret plans for those characters that your letter is impinging I will simply... not use your submission 😉

When will the inbox close? Totally depends on how many submissions I get and how quickly. I have 40 episodes planned for S03, and would like to keep a handful of letters for myself (either for plot reasons or just because I have a fun idea I want to do!) so there are a limited number of spaces and I'll close the inbox once those are full.

I have another question not answered here and/or I want to tell you how clever and well-dressed you are! By all means, slide into my Asks if you have any questions, comments, concerns or compliments 😎

Happy writing, friends, and I can't wait to see what you're cooking up for us!

[ladytp]

I was tagged by the lovely @littlefeatherr​, thank you dear! 🥰🥰

 1. Are you named after anyone? Not to my knowledge – unless it was after a very popular and well-known newsreader and journalist around the time I was born… have never asked about it, though.

2. When was the last time you cried? Not counting tears from watching/reading a sad movie/show/ad/book/passage, but crying in ‘real life’…Hmmm, not quite sure, as I don’t cry often. It might have been several years ago when my dog died, or more recently when I have thought about her, or maybe a few years ago when hubby and I had some issues to sort through that made me angry and sad.

3. Do you use sarcasm? Yes I do – and sometimes people recognise it, but unfortunately sometimes they don’t. With hubby I do it a lot and he recognises it for what it is, so that’s all good!

4. What’s the first thing you notice about people? There is nothing specific I pay attention in at first – I guess generally their overall appearance and what they say – the latter being more important than the former.

5. What’s your eye color? “Cerulean” 🤣🤣 Blue, in other words.

6. Scary movie or happy ending? I don’t care much about scary or horror movies, so almost anything is better than them – so from these two choices certainly happy ending.

7. Any special talents? Not really a special talent, but I like to think I’m a pretty good cook. I can also sow, at the level of being able to sow clothes, home textiles and such. The last thing I sew with a sewing machine were fabric linings for two sourdough proving baskets – combining those two things rather well!

8. Where were you born? In a small village in Lapland, Finland.

9. What are your hobbies? Cooking, reading, writing (although I have neglected the last for a long time now, due to increased work responsibilities eating into my spare time…). And oh, cooking!

10. Do you have any pets? Not anymore. I used to have two wonderful Jack Russell terriers but alas, old age had its inevitable consequences… However, now hubby and I do doggy day-care and boarding, so we have one (or two or three) dogs in our place for most of the time – and I love it!!

11. What sports do you play/have played? Jumping over sports pages in the newspaper (when newspapers were still a physical thing). 😉 Several years ago I did gym and jogging for quite a while, but not terribly seriously, just enough to be in shape.

12. How tall are you? About 166 cm (5' 5" in medieval measures)

13. What was your favorite subject in school? Physics and mathematics. There was something fascinating in equations and the logic in all of it. I used to do extra homework just for fun!

14. Dream job? Food critic or some kind of assessor, or a ‘behind the scene’ role in food or wine enterprise – R&D or regulatory or some such, that would still allow me to plenty of free samples and opportunities to partake in food and wine events. What a life that would be!

I’ll tag: @zip001​, @ownsariver​, @sister-winter73​ and anyone who wants to play!

[theartificialdane]

//

“How many dicks did you get?”

“None! And that ain’t a spoiler. I already got my dick, it’s waiting for me at home.” Vanjie grins. “Unless I get too blasted while we up in here.”

///

“Oh but you know they taking those taxes out. I learned that the hard way.”

“Because you won something?”

“No, but my husband found out my ass didn’t know how taxes work. That was a shit show day. He got so disappointed in me he made a powerpoint and everything while explaining. Don’t recommend the course, but the teacher’s real hot!”

///

“If y’all wanted me to come in full gear, I need financial compensation, learned that from Mama Ru. I love feeling cute and serving stunt, but gettin’ in drag takes time, and there ain’t no way I’m sitting down for an entire day of interviews with my dick crying for help. I didn’t even do that for the season 11 reunion.”

///

“What I got in this bag? Everything from the mini bar, this production put me in a nice hotel. You want some tiny vodka? I got plenty.”

///

“I don’t do nothing to anything but my face. The ass you seeing is home grown. I get the squads in, eating the good food, dancing on stage, going along on hikes. It all adds up!

///

“I think marriages one of the reasons Angelina and I get along so good. As far as I know, we were the only two people in the house with somebody at home, and bitch, I’m loyal as fuck.”

“And we recognised that in each other.”

“Fuck yeah. Wasn’t no way I was gonna be flirting with nobody, so we just lit up and got our dranks on to have a good time!”

///

“We was gone for three and a half week, and we were filming everyday. I ain’t saying drag race is easy, but you get time off when you do that. Here, we barely even had time to call home. I should’ve read the contract for real for real, cause I didn’t realise we would be going outside the United States till my manager asked if I knew where my passport was. Normally when me or Brock films stuff, we either in L.A or Canada, but with Marocco, the time difference was fully fucked up.”

///

“I bet the catering was fine for everybody else, but I’m picky as shit. I don’t like none of my food touching, I ain’t eating something if it’s hot when it’s ‘posed to be cold or the other way ‘round, the veggies needa be fresh, not frozen or from a can. I ain’t touching soup either, the only kinda liquid I fuck with, is if it’s alcohol og redbull.”

///

“I quit a few times. I try, but I don’t get the kinda motivation you need to not be a lil bitch when I don’t like what’s going on. If I’d been on this show in like, 2020 or 2019, I probably would’ve quit, cause back then, I didn’t have any of the discipline I do now. Angelina had’a talk me down a few times too.”

“And you also didn’t want to have to tell your husband that you quit a TV commitment.”

“That too! And if we honest, it’s the real reason I stayed on.”

///

“So, Vanjie, we know you’re on air right now, but do you have any other TV things lining up?”

“I do, or, it ain’t for me, but a production company reached out, wanting to do a documentary on Brooke Lynn.”

“Here we go again.”

“And that’s your husbands drag name.”

“Mmh! He’s one of the most decorated drag queens ever. Miss Continental, Drag Race winner, Miss Gay America, he was even an entertainer of the year runner up! And that’s besides the prices he’s got for hosting Canadas Drag Race!”

“The two of you met on the show right?”

“The American franchise! Season 11 baby. We the first ever onscreen romance, and we’re still going strong, so if anybody ever say you can’t find love in a hopeless place, they wrong.”