#this woman can write

[rexalogy]

Every Taylor Swift song

[lwh-writing]

Ghost King Isn't the Only Title Danny Has

Okay, so you how monarchs can have multiple titles? Like how the heir to the English throne is both Prince/Princess and Duke/Duchess of Cornwall? And how monarchs can get titles and epithets that just stack onto their preexisting names/titles? Like "Catherine the Great" or how Daenerys gets her famous list of "Stormborn, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, etc."?

Well, there are dozens upon dozens of names for the Infinite Realms. The Ghost Zone might be what Amity Park calls it, but there have been hundreds of names for it throughout history. The Afterlife, Sheol, Heaven & Hell, Purgatory & Limbo, Valhalla, and so on and so forth.

So when Danny finally gives in and lets himself be crowned, he doesn't just become the Ghost King. Oh no. He is crowned "King Daniel Fenton, First of His Name, Protector of the Infinite Realms, Defeater of Pariah Dark, Liege of Fright Knight, Ice Mage of the Far Frozen, and Hades of the Underworld."

And then a few months later when Danny inevitably gets summoned and pops up on the Justice League's radar, there's some serious side-eyeing going on because 'Diana, why didn't you mention your uncle looked like a teenager? Why does one of the most powerful gods like to hang out in teenaged form anyway?'

Just... give me an unknowning Danny accidentally inheriting a niece along with the crown, and that niece just so happens to be Wonder Woman.

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[hel1anthus-annuus]

Love this bitch for having multiple gender filters on. He’s transmasc, he’s a woman who’s a man, she’s nothing at all

[loveaetingkids]

(Like or reblog if you wanna use)

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

[gardensofthemoon]

Jiang Cheng is so. Is just so. He’s WWX’s shidi. His Sect Leader. His brother. His not-brother. His best friend. His enemy. His executioner. His most important person. His chance at forgiveness. His childhood sweetheart. His estranged acquaintance. His wife. His ex-wife. His home. Always, always his.

[snowdrop-yoongi]

my favorite thing about baek hyun-woo's portrayal is that he isn't even a loser. he's an incredibly cool and competent lawyer who also happens to act like a loser

[neongreengummiebears]

Not to sound like a boomer on main, because I love my phone- I do. But I really miss the day when I could hang out in public without having to hear everyone else's phones. I don't care if there are babies crying (because babies cry sometimes) or if other people are having conversations (because that's what people come to cafes and such to do) but hearing tinny little phone sounds blasting out loud out of their speakers drives me insane. I'm only in my 30's, why are you making me complain about how things were "back in my day" like I'm 80? Public phone noise is prematurely aging me. Send help.

[lesbincineroar]

well and truly if u as a jojo fan ever err on the side of oh hirohiko araki is progressive and hes for gay rights and womens rights and trans rights. look im immensely interested in stone ocean which could trick you into thinking i agree. but holy fucking shit this author has the most GARDEN VARIETY antiblackness and homophobia and misogyny written in every inch of his stories. every Actual lgbt character in jojo is dead or an especially cruel villain or both. cant shade a person of colour with dark skin when hes the one doing the colouring (not shueisha's digital colours) to save his life. & now he cant think of a single way to make readers sympathize with a woman aside from making her suffer deeply. my friend i cant tell you what to do but i can remind u this fifty something year old man is not going to fight for your rights‼️

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Before Bruce revealed his identity

He stated in a game of truth or dare that he has slept with a least one person in the Justice League before finally extracting himself from the stupid game.

The League promptly lost their collective shit.

[aurpiment]

I had a dream that I was watching The Terror again and it was… a bit different.

There was a plot where Francis Crozier was pregnant. Not by Fitzjames, no; they weren’t close like that. I think by someone who was 1) a casual hookup and 2) dead. He was confiding in Fitzjames about it, though, and complaining of breast soreness. Fitzjames asked him if he was sure he was pregnant and he said yes, that he recognized the symptoms from when he was younger, and then told a story about how his mother had helped him get an abortion when he was a teenager so he could pursue his then-incipient naval career.

Unfortunately, in the dream, I was watching this version of The Terror with my father and brother and they were confused. “But he’s a man! How is such a thing possible?”

“Transgender,” I explained impatiently, because it was obvious this was the direction the show had gone with the character, even though the actor playing him was still cisgender actor Jared Harris.

“But still, no way this would happen,” I added. “I mean, look at him. He’s GOT to be post-menopausal.”

[inkskinned]

i know people are good because of this: the universe often assigns me side quests. in a circular strangeness; despite my inability to locate my-own-anything, i am almost-always finding someone else's lost things. dogs, coats, phones, cash, laptops. it happens so often it's almost tiring; suddenly being looped into a tiny amount of detective work.

but when i'm with other people who are not used to this: the response is almost invariably delight. yes, maybe they are simply thrilled by the mystery. it's just... they light up so much. i think maybe more... i think they like the opportunity to do something kind.

a few weeks ago, i was at a bar and i found a wallet as soon as we stepped outside. i felt nervous to ask for help, worried i would be holding up the night. i picked it up and said go on without me, i should help this get back to its home.

instead, three people pulled out their phones - to find him on facebook, to help cancel his credit cards. two people went back into the bar to tell the bartender, two others went calling down the street. group texts, facebook posts, instagram stories. people, without even seeing what happened, start offering help to me. fifteen minutes and: someone knows someone who knows the guy. the cheer that went up - just for finding him, just for this small thing. someone gets him on the phone. strangers dance around me, hopping on their feet - are you the girl that found that wallet? good for you, that's a good thing you're doing/same thing happened to me and somebody did what you're doing and i thank god everyday for people like you/i can't believe you found him so fast this is so exciting

i gave it back to him in a parking lot. i watched his shoulders sag with relief. there was cash in it still - he checked the pocket, and then sheepishly held the money out to me. i didn't take it. i held up my hands. "it's no problem, man. i know you'd do the same for me."

i don't know him, to be honest. i don't know if he is the same kind of person i am. but he nodded at me.

and i know people are good. i know people are good, because the way this story ends isn't surprising. we wave goodbye awkwardly. my friend loops their arm around me.

"i can't believe we got it back to him," they said. "i'm going to be riding that high for weeks."

[ineffable-grimm-pitch]

coriolanus snow spends nearly the entirety of tbosas shit talking sejanus in his internal monologue only to throw himself bodily at sejanus when he sees him again in twelve and you know what? he’s so real for that

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Anyways rlgl au Moon is the kind of guy who loves to cook and has an aesthetic blog about foods and recipes. But he really doesnt like eating because then he has to have his chest compartment cleaned and thats never nice.

So Sun and Y/N come running like a couple of pavlovian dogs whenever they hear his phones camera go off.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Meet your Death (dp x dc)

Danny remembers the day he died in patches.

He can’t remember what day of the week it was, but he can recall with perfect accuracy the feeling of the rubber jumpsuit on his skin. Sam and Tucker’s voices in his ears as he unlocks the front door are crystal-clear but what Sam had actually said when she’d dared him to go in the portal is buried deep in his brain. Jazz says it’s normal. She says memory can get weird when trauma is involved. Her books write that it’s good to talk about it but Jazz must see something in his face when she relays the information because her voice softens as she tells him it’s ok to let it be forgotten too. Then, she hugs him and Danny melts into it: his sister gives the best hugs.

So yeah, Danny doesn’t remember the day he died very well.

That’s why he doesn’t really understand why he remembers the woman so perfectly.

He’s not sure if she was real or a product of his electrocuted brain but she appeared like magic, just as he let out his death wail.

“Oh, damn. That’s not a fun way to go,” she’d said with a grimace.

And all of a sudden Danny had been out of his twitching, painful body, seeing it from the side. “What happened?” he asked, terrified.

He had felt her put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry kid,” she said, and she sounded sincere. “You’ve just died.”

“What? No,” Danny had babbled. “No, I can’t. I’m going to be an astronaut.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” the woman repeated, squeezing his shoulder.

“But-” he tried as he caught sight of her kind expression and it calmed him slightly. “I’ve never even been kissed!” Danny had continued nonsensically.

The woman had let out a laugh. “Personally, I think it’s overrated,” she shared like a secret, good-humouredly.

“I still would’ve liked to try,” he’d pouted which had her ruffling his hair fondly and something settled in his chest at the gesture. Elsewhere, something clicked into place and most of the fight left him, his protests dying on his lips.

“Come on, honey,” she’d told him before putting her hands on his shoulders to steer him away from the portal. “Time to go.” So, Danny had let himself be directed after one last glance at his body.

He hadn’t even taken one step before a terrible pain shook his whole body and he fell to his knees.

“Danny!” The woman exclaimed, but her voice sounded faint to his ears.

The boy’s hands flew to his chest as he curled on himself, as the pain burned through his limbs before he once again let out a blood-curling scream. And all of the sudden he was back in his body with Sam and Tucker looking down at him, their faces full of horror.

“Danny!” Tucker had exclaimed and Danny had seen what looked like tears in his best friend’s eyes, meanwhile, Sam had looked him all over frantically to find an injury. Danny had tried to tell them he was ok, but his mouth had felt like cotton and his eyes had felt so heavy.

Just before his eyelids had slid closed, he’d thought he’d seen the woman from before peering at him confusedly over Sam’s shoulder.