#var replies

[inverse-problem]

What if you drew a Mindflayer please

I saw you like snakes so I drew her with a snake friend :)

[lazysunjade]

💌 Post 4 pictures from Pinterest that describe your OC. Send this to 3 other simmers to keep the chain going! (you have more characters, do it!)

V A R Y A | P I N T E R E S T

proactive bottom top. effeminate seme energy. "yehl, but with more testosterone".

[flowerysubmissive]

Brain said best it can do is Deprorny….or would it be hornpressed?

I need it to do better tho 😭! The serotonin machine is broke too often 🥲. Deprorny has my vote the other sounds like some strange new juice fad haha.

[sseastar]

to everyone who replied to my recent riize post with volleyball ily muah muah

[mrfoox]

Oliver: ok... Why do you like/prefer bigger/fat people?

Me: um... Bc they're soft. Have you hugged an fat person? They're very soft to hold

Oliver: -laughs-yeah okay... Yeah that's nice

[chelseacult]

I Should Hate You

Katie McCabe x Chelsea!Reader

Summary: Katie is tasked with marking you.

Word Count: 1.1k words

You knew that playing Arsenal at the Emirates would be a struggle. The roaring celebratory crowds anytime an Arsenal player started a run. The equally enthusiastic boos every time you and your teammates so much as touched the ball. Nothing out of the ordinary. What you weren’t expecting, though, was your current position. 

“Sorry, darlin’,” says Arsenal’s Irish superstar as she untangles her body from yours. She stands and reaches both of her hands out for you, a small smile on her face. You might’ve appreciated the gesture if she hadn’t been on the offensive end of all the fouls you’ve encountered during the last 60 minutes. But she has been, so you don’t. Instead, you brush her off and pull yourself up before returning to your original position. 

“That’s, like, the 10th time she’s fouled me. I swear she has a personal vendetta against me or something,” you gesture around aimlessly as you take your place next to your best friend. 

“What has she done now?” Lauren James asks with a quiet laugh as she kneels down to retie her boots. 

“Aside from embarrassing me repeatedly for the past hour, she just tripped me. On purpose, probably.” You reach a hand down and help LJ up once she finishes tying her laces.

LJ lets out a laugh at your reply. “Right, well, that’s called ‘marking.’ Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” LJ squeezes your shoulder with a smirk before the referee blows her whistle, signaling for play to start back up. You share a laugh before attempting to clear your mind and get back into the game. Your attempt starts fruitfully, and you forget all thoughts of your complications with the Irish woman. 

You begin running up the wing as your teammates initiate an attack. “Heads up!” Erin yells as she sends the ball soaring toward you from the 18-yard box. Before you can even think about your next move, a sharp pain shoots through your ankle and shoulder, and you find yourself on the ground once again. Your teammates shout, and the crowd erupts in deafening boos as the referee shows your assailant a yellow and then points to the spot. 

“Oh, bullshit! I hardly touched her!” exclaims a voice you’ve grown all too accustomed to hearing today. 

“Want to explain why I’m on the ground then?” Nathalie helps you up as you glare at Katie. “I’m okay,” you assure Nathalie quickly, brushing off her questioning of your fitness and turning back toward the Ireland captain. 

“I don’t know, but I think VAR’s about to find out,” Katie states with a smirk (that you wish you could smack off her face) as she raises her eyebrows and gestures behind you before crossing her arms. You turn to see the referee walking to the penalty check screen. An intense suspense fills the stadium as everyone awaits the referee’s final decision. 

“Has to go our way. She completely clipped you. Studs up and everything,” speaks your captain, Millie Bright. She joins the swarm of fellow Chelsea players that has now formed around you, the Arsenal players having disbursed. 

After a thorough review of the penalty decision, the referee swiftly returns to the pitch. With a firm expression, she announces her reversal of the call, awarding the decision in favor of Arsenal. 

“Come on! That is shit!” Guro shouts as the referee cancels the previously awarded penalty. The thunderous cheers of the Arsenal fans drown out her shouts. The dramatics of the Norwegian winger do nothing to ease your spirits like they usually would. The game ends shortly after, ending in a 3-1 Arsenal win. 

You deflate, refraining from diplomatically shaking hands with the Arsenal players after the game. You’re standing off to the side watching a bantering Sam Kerr and Caitlin Foord when you sense a presence walking up behind you, followed by the feeling of two hands on your waist. “Think ya better fire your diving instructor,” the voice whispers in your ear before the accompanying hands pull you toward their chest. 

You pull away from the person completely and turn around to face the Irish woman who has recently been the absolute vain of your existence. “I know that you know that call was fucked,” you say sternly.

Katie mock gasps, raises her eyebrows, and drops her jaw. “You want us to what?” she jokes and feigns disbelief.

“Stop,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. She steps closer to you at this reply.

She laughs, “Ah, that’s not a word I hear too often. The eye roll is a different story.” You’re unsure if the innuendos were intentional. The way she’s not even trying to hide biting her lip answers this question for you, though. She smirks again at your lack of response, and you only kind of want to smack it off her face this time. You feel your face heat up as she keeps her eyes trained on yours. You nervously look away and busy yourself watching Niamh’s post-match interview, hoping that Katie will just walk away.

You keep your eyes on Niamh as you feel Katie step close to you again, despite something urging you to turn your head toward the other girl. Katie keeps her hands to herself as she leans close to whisper in your ear this time; her lips brush against your ear as she murmurs, “The more you try to ignore me, the more I want to be right here.” Your breath catches as her words linger in your ear. 

Katie pulls away after a tension-filled minute, her expression combining smug delight and amusement. She clearly enjoys the reaction she just pulled out of you. She steals a quick glance at your lips before looking back up at your eyes and holding out one of her hands. Your mind is still whirling from the earlier feeling of having her body so close to yours. You just stare at her outstretched hand. 

“See something you like?” she asks as she wiggles her fingers and turns her hand around and back. Your eyes jump back up to hers. “Yeah. Your yellow card earlier,” you choke out.

“Katie!” someone yells from behind you before Katie can reply. Probably one of her teammates. You can’t be bothered to check. Katie nods at the person before turning back to you. Her hand still outstretched, she reaches for one of yours and shakes it with no help from you.

“Until next time, love, yeah?” With an ever-present smirk, she finally removes her hand from yours and starts to walk away. “Unless ya don’t feel like waiting that long. Up to you,” she winks and joins her teammate (whose identity you’re still unsure of).

You’re pretty sure she just put the ball in your court.

a/n: first fic 👀 hopefully it's not terrible. I have mixed feelings about my first post being for an arsenal player but!!! advice is appreciated. thank you alright bye

[just-wrting]

Secret Admirer

Title: Secret Admirer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.

Word Count: 1721

Master List

A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.

You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.

Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?

“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”

She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.

“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.

“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”

“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”

At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.

“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”

Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.

“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”

Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”

You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”

Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.

—-

“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.

You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.

“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?

“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.

You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”

You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.

“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”

He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”

“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”

—-

You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.

“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.

She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”

With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”

You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.

“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”

J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”

J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.

—-

After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.

You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.

“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”

As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.

The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.

“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”

She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”

You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”

Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just  leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.

Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.

“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”

You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”

You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”

Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.

“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”

You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.

“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”

This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“What if I am?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”

Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re more my type than you realize.”

“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.

“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”

Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

[shitsndgiggs]

maybe a arda guler x physio reader whos also turkish but it takes place in the beggining if the 23/24 season so when he first came to madrid and yk he got injured so he ends up spending a lot of time with the physio and starts to confide in her bc shes turkish too

THE ROAD TO RECOVERY - ARDA GÜLER

When Arda suffers an injury in the beginning of the season, he requires extensive rehabilitation

Arda Güler x turkish physio! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun was rising over Real Madrid’s training complex. The new season had just begun, but the air was heavy with concern.

Arda Güler, one of the club’s most promising young talents, had suffered a partial tear of the internal meniscus in his right knee.

After numerous consultations with various specialists, including myself, the decision was made to proceed with surgery.

Following the successful operation, the real challenge began: Arda's recovery. I was entrusted with overseeing his rehabilitation program, and given our shared turkish heritage, I felt a special responsibility to support him not just physically but emotionally as well.

On the first day of his post-surgery rehabilitation, I found him seated on a treatment table in the physio room, his knee wrapped in bandages.

He stared at the floor, his usually bright eyes now clouded with worry and sadness.

"Merhaba, Arda," I greeted him gently, trying to catch his eye. "Nasıl hissediyorsun?"

He looked up briefly, his voice barely above a whisper. "İyiyim," he replied, though the sadness in his tone was unmistakable. "Biraz ağrım var ama iyiyim.

"We'll take it slow and steady," I assured him.

He gave a small nod, his expression softening slightly. "Teşekkür ederim," he murmured.

Over the next few weeks, Arda and I spent countless hours together. Our sessions were intense, involving various techniques to treat his muscles, joints, and the nervous system.

I used a combination of manual therapy, stretching, and strengthening exercises, always ensuring he felt comfortable and supported.

Our conversations provided a welcome distraction from the physical pain. We talked about our favorite turkish foods, shared memories from back home, and discussed the challenges of adapting to life in Spain.

I became more than just his physiotherapist; I became his confidant.

One afternoon, as I guided him through a series of leg exercises, I could see the frustration in his eyes. “It’s hard making new friends.” he admitted, his frustration palpable. “Most of the time, I can’t even understand what my teammates are saying.“

I nodded understandingly. "Bu normal, learning a new language takes time" I said. “I’m sure it’s comforting to have someone who speaks the same language as you.”

He sighed in relief. "Evet, it feels good to talk to you“ he said, his shoulders relaxing.

“I’m here for you,” I replied softly. “We can talk about anything.”

As the weeks turned into months, Arda’s progress was remarkable. His dedication and resilience were inspiring.

One day, as we were wrapping up a session, Arda looked at me thoughtfully. “I miss my family and friends,” he confessed.

I gave him a reassuring smile. “You have a new family here, Arda, Your teammates and me,” I said.

He smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude. "Bunu duymak güzel," he replied softly.

Our bond grew stronger with each passing day. I was not just helping him heal physically but also providing emotional support. We often joked to lighten the mood.

One day, as Arda finished a exercise, he asked me with a grin. “What other sports do you think I should try? Maybe dance?“

I laughed, shaking my head. “Definitely! Maybe you could become a ballet dancer” I teased back.

He chuckled, the sound a welcome relief. “Even the thought of me in ballet shoes is funny,” he said, laughing.

As Arda's recovery progressed, we reached a milestone – his return to light training with the team. He was both excited and nervous.

“I believe in you,” I said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know you will get trough this successfully and score many goals."

"Teşekkür ederim," he replied, his voice filled with determination. “Your support means a lot to me.”

In the weeks that followed, Arda's confidence grew alongside his physical strength. Our conversations became lighter, filled with jokes and laughter.

One day, as he was finishing a particularly tough exercise, he turned to me with a soft smile.

"Sen olmasaydın, bu kadar ilerleyemezdim," he said playfully.

I laughed, shaking my head. “It was all of your determination that helped you,” I replied.

As he continued his recovery, our bond only deepened.

Arda knew he had a long road ahead, but he also knew he wasn't walking it alone.

[inexplicifics]

Hello from Ufa, Russia! Could you add me to the map, please?

Also, for wip ask game some L/A/M?

Hello in Ufa! You're on the map! Have a snippet of a modern college AU:

“As you know,” Professor var Anahid says as Milena takes a seat and begins setting out her pencils and notebook, “due to Professor aep Loernach’s maternity leave, we’ve had to reshuffle some classes, so please say hello to anyone around you who you don’t recognize. In Nilfgaardian, naturally.” Milena smiles and turns to the man who’s just sat down in the next seat over, and who definitely wasn’t in her first semester of Nilfgaardian 201: she’d remember a six-foot-tall redhead with remarkable musculature and a formidable scowl. “Hail, sir; honor and glory to you,” she says carefully, minding the gutturals. He looks a little startled. “Hail, lady; honor and glory to you and your house,” he replies. He’s better at the gutturals than she is, but he’s got a fairly thick Nordling accent, which makes some of the vowels a little odd. “I’m Lambert,” he adds, in Nordling Common. “Milena,” she says, offering a hand, which he shakes. “You do the gutturals very well.” To her surprise, his ears go pink. “Ah - thanks,” he says, ducking his head a little. “Your accent’s fuckin’ elegant.”

[mrchiipchrome]

Hi prompt 32 with Fridolina Rolfo please if you are still taking prompts

prompt 32. -It’s you and me, always forever.

If you want to request, there's a prompt list linked in my masterlist.

------------------

“KANELBULLENS DAG PEOPLE, NATIONAL HOLIDAY! You get a cinnamon bun, and you get a cinnamon bun, and the biggest one is for you my love.” You enter the Barcelona locker room hollering in Swedish, a large paper bag in your hand. 

Handing each woman in the room a cinnamon bun, they each quietly thank you, some pressing small (or in Pina and Patri’s case, really sloppy) kisses to your cheeks. The steam floating off the baked goods gives the women an indication of their freshness.

Placing the last and biggest one in your girlfriend's hand, you can’t help but watch as her entire face lights up. 

You had both been missing your native country a little extra lately, and celebrating the holidays that were so important to the swedes always reminded you of home. 

It was especially fun to see the confused expressions on your teammates' faces whenever you burst into the room with traditional clothes on or different types of homemade sweets in your hands.

“Not that I’m not appreciative of this, but why did you get us cinnamon buns?” Lucy asked you, face full of joy and simultaneous confusion. 

“Ohh, in Sweden there’s a holiday called kanelbullens dag where we just eat cinnamon buns. The day actually originates from this company who in celebrating their 40th anniversary made a day solely for cinnamon buns.” You tell the team in between bites of your own cinnamon bun.

“So, you just have a day for eating cinnamon buns?” Mapi asks, still confused about the whole thing.

“Yeah pretty much” You reply, the crunching of the sugar pearls filling the room. As you look around the room, you see everyone eating their cinnamon rolls happily and you can’t help but be filled with joy.

The joy that the cinnamon filled bread always brought to everyone back home extended out to the locker room and you couldn’t help but smile. Smile at the childish expressions filled with satisfaction and genuine happiness.

You get pulled back into reality by your girlfriend placing her legs across yours, the woman sending you a smile sweeter than the treat you’d just finished.

“Tack älskling, det var verkligen fint av dig att göra det här.” Frido tells you, the beautiful smile lighting up her face in that delightfully unique way. Leaning your face closer to hers, you bring your thumb up to the corner of her mouth, wiping away the little cinnamon that rested there.

You lick the sugary sweetness off your thumb before telling her,

“Du vet att jag älskar dig, visst gör du? Det klart jag kommer göra saker för att göra dig glad.” You tell her softly, only so that she can hear you. The others didn’t need to know, they’d only tease you for being whipped.

“Jag älskar dig med” She confesses, planting a loving kiss on your forehead before getting ready to walk out of the room. 

You catch her hand in yours before she can move too far away from you. Pouting your lips, the blonde quickly gets the hint and gives you a passionate kiss, on your lips this time.

After she pulls away, you keep her near to press a few more pecks to her lips.

“Baby, it’s you and me, always forever. I’m yours until the end of time, it’s my only mission to make you smile.” You whisper against her lips, the blonde’s cheeks darkening several shades.

You would run across the universe and back if it meant you could get your girlfriend to smile just that much more.

-------------

Translations:

Tack älskling, det var verkligen fint av dig att göra det här. - Thank you darling, it was truly sweet of you to do this.

Du vet att jag älskar dig, visst gör du? Det klart jag kommer göra saker för att göra dig glad. - You know that I love you, right? Of course I’m going to do things to make you happy.

Jag älskar dig med - I love you too

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Uncommon Fruits & Vegetables

to include in your next poem/story

Black sapote - a Mexican persimmon (Diospyros ebenaster) with an almost seedless dark-fleshed fruit.

Buddha's hand - a citron (Citrus medica var. sarcodactylis) that is cultivated in eastern Asia as an ornamental and for its very fragrant fruit which is split into several usually pulpless sections.

Cherimoya - a round, oblong, or heart-shaped fruit with a pitted pale green rind that is borne by a widely cultivated tropical American tree (Annona cherimola) of the custard-apple family.

Loquat - the small yellow edible fruit of an Asian evergreen tree (Eriobotrya japonica) of the rose family.

Medlar - the crab apple-like fruit of a small deciduous Eurasian tree (Mespilus germanica) of the rose family.

Oca - the cultivated tuber of either of two South American wood sorrels (Oxalis crenata and O. tuberosa).

Pawpaw - the edible green-skinned fruit of a purple-flowered North American tree (Asimina triloba) of the custard-apple family.

Salsify - the long fusiform edible root of a European biennial composite herb (Tragopogon porrifolius).

Skirret - the sweet edible tuberous root of an Asian herb (Sium sisarum).

Sunchoke - or Jerusalem artichoke; a perennial sunflower (Helianthus tuberosus) of the U.S. and Canada widely cultivated for its tubers that are used as a vegetable and as a livestock feed.

If any of these words make it into your next poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

More: Word Lists

[inverse-problem]

ultrakart (ultrakill mario kart). either they're the ones driving or they're playing the game terribly That is up to you. Godspeed

new ultrakill secret level unlocked

[falseflea]

which skeksis are your favourite to like, draw interacting?

(Also, sorry if all these dark crystal asks are bothering you. Please don’t feel pressured to reply if they are.)

DONT WORRY I LOVE THE ASKS :P

my favourites to draw together are alwayyyssss Lach and Ok , i think they are the bestest friends ever , featured drawing is actually from like a week ago

My other favourites are Mal and Tek and its probably because i just enjoy drawing them apart so why not together ... but I also find it funny to draw Tek terribly afraid of that thing

Additionally : Skeksis i want to draw together MORE are Sa and Mal because theyre like abnormal siblings to me, i dont draw SkekSa nearly enoughhhh

AND So and Var , ive drawn them together maybe onceee, great shame ! because i also think theyre very funny together

[lemonhemlock]

You have a point about Driftmark’s writing, because to this day I’m baffled at people not finding Alicent’s anger valid, I can’t blame that on the writing. What I can blame the writing and the framing for besides the “Aemond stole Vhagar” thing is the “But now they see you as you are” *mic drop* moment, and the scene where Rhaenyra gets her stitches, meanwhile Aemond was literally blinded and that’s barely given any attention and ends with “but I gained a dragon so it’s fair” when it would’ve been fair only if it was Vhagar who took out his eye. Like again, I understand that Aemond was de-escalating the situation, but I do think it was purposefully framed as if that was the truth of it (especially seeing as the stealing comments never get corrected)

you see, when i first saw the scene, i interpreted alicent's speech to rhaenyra as being pretty explicit - "you do whatever the hell you want all the time (i.e. even have children out of wedlock with no consequences), you are so privileged that nothing is off limits for you and you even feel entitled to maiming my son like it's your birthright, you care about no one other than yourself while the rest of us have to play by the rulebook". i would say it's a pretty accurate dressing down of rhaenyra, to which she had a projecting reply - "now they see you as you truly are" - supposedly violent and cruel for demanding luke's eye in return, when a couple of minutes ago, rhaenyra was asking for her little brother to be tortured. not to mention that rhaenyra was actually the socially & legally transgressive one with skeletons in her closet

and i have to say that even emma d'arcy sided with alicent in this scene in interviews and didn't seem to think rhaenyra had the right of it. i think that if team discourse hadn't degenerated so much, people would have been able to VAR replay the scene and accept that rhaenyra should have been carded. but the stan-ification of hotd has left many with worms for brains.

that being said, i think the main issue is NOT clarifying that dragons cannot be stolen - a mistake in an otherwise solid episode. the dialogue should have made clear that aemond was within his rights to shoot his shot at claiming vhagar AND that it was the right decision bc vhagar accepted him (if VHAGAR didn't have a problem with it, why should anyone else? that's how dragons work, they are not pets). it would have been a welcome addition because the public are not 100% familiar with asoiaf dragon lore, so it's basically a piece of exposition that's missing. so if another character is shown on screen claiming it's theft AND they're not ever corrected or challenged in any way, then our brains automatically assume that's the correct assessment bc that's how the medium of storytelling in film works. so if the viewers got that extra information - that aemond was jumped by 4 other kids and maimed basically for shit talking - then they would have been more primed to see through rhaenyra's bullshit.

as for the scene with rhaenyra receiving stitches, perhaps that could have been balanced with one of aemond being comforted by someone, congratulated for gaining a dragon and reassured that what happened to him was not justified. i hesitate to add more, bc i do feel like there's a point where you can make things too explicit and you should trust your audience to piece 2 and 2 together without spoonfeeding them everything. rhaenyra should be allowed to be hypocritical on screen without big red signs pointing at her. the problem is more of an accumulation, not necessarily in this episode, but overall throughout the season. too many of her bullshit statements go unchallenged. once in a while, someone should pop up to contradict her or at least have passers-by give her the side-eye or something. (maybe in season 2? hopefully)

for example, a cool retort after rhaenyra said she was wandering bc she couldn't sleep would have been for someone to say that she and daemon arrived at the same time because they must have both been mourning laena together. thus, you bring back to the forefront of the audience's mind that team black can't be arguing that aemond disrespected laena's memory when daemyra are out there fucking on her grave. is it absolutely necessary? no, i think viewers should have arrived to that conclusion on their own, but apparently a large chunk of them are incapable. at the end of the day, you can't solve everyone's media comprehension problems, you can just try to make good art and hope for the best. however, i would include such a comment at least in later episodes, bc it's too good of an objection to let go

[canirove]

Kylian Mbappé Imagine | one

Author's note: So far I had only shared my Mbappé imagines on Wattpad because that’s where I’ve been getting the requests, but since people are liking them so much, I thought about starting to share them here too 😊 Yesterday I posted some kind of masterlist with links to Wattpad, so some of you may have already read this, but I wanted to post it here for people who don’t have an account there, don’t want to open it, or just want to have these imagines archived somewhere. Hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜

Little summary: you are dating Kylian and PSG is playing against Monaco, your ex's team. He didn't treat you well, and now you fear something bad may happen during the game.

Masterlist

"How was training?"

"Great. I'm ready to kick some Monaco asses tomorrow" Kylian says, sitting on the sofa next to me.

"Monaco..."

"Wait, no, sorry. It was joke. I'm sorry" he says, hugging me. "I had forgotten about him."

"Lucky you" I chuckle.

"It's gonna be ok, you'll see. That jerk won't dare hurting me."

"You don't know that, Kylian. I still haven't forgotten about the texts he sent me when he found out that we were dating. They were fucking scary."

"You should have blocked him the moment you broke up. But hey, they were just words. The words of a coward. Only cowards will treat the person they love the way he treated you" he says, caressing my cheek.

"But what if..."

"I'll be fine. We'll be fine. You are staying home, right?"

"Yeah... I'm too nervous already. If I go to the stadium, it will only get worse."

"And Alex is coming to stay with you, right?"

"Yes."

"Good, I don't want you to be alone. But I'll behave and nothing will happen, I promise. Beyond me scoring a hat trick and dedicate you each goal" he says with a cheeky smile.

"Thank you" I reply, kissing his cheek.

It's gonna be ok. It'll be an easy game, PSG will win, Kylian will score, and everything will be ok. It will be.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

Minute 70. PSG wins 2-0, both goals by Kylian. So far the game has been a quiet one and no one has tried to break anyone's legs. But that's just because my ex isn't on the pitch. Yet.

"Oh God" I say when I see that Monaco is doing a substitution after one of their defenders got injured. "He's coming in."

"Maybe they'll put in a striker, they still have time to score a couple of goals" Alex says.

"They won't risk it. He is coming in."

And the moment those words leave my mouth, I see him on tv.

"Kylian said he'll behave, right? He'll be fine, don't worry" Alex says, giving my hand an encouraging squeeze.

"That's what he said, yes" I sigh, my heart already beating too fast.

Minute 88. They haven't crossed paths, my ex busy defending Neymar. But then...

"Penalty!" Alex screams. "That's a freaking penalty! Why do they have to go check the var?"

"Maybe because Neymar is the one who went down?" I chuckle.

"Rude" Alex says.

"It is a penalty for PSG. Kylian Mbappé wants his hat trick" the commentator says.

While he gets ready for it, he notices there is something missing. The most important thing, the ball. And who has it? Yes, you guessed it. My ex.

When he gives Kylian the ball, he says something to his ear, making him laugh at first. But then, he gets really serious, his eyes focused on the goalkeeper.

"That look... Yikes" Alex says. "I would not like to be the goalkeeper right now, he is going to destroy him."

"Urgh, I can't watch" I say, covering my face with my hands.

"Mbappé is ready. He takes a few steps back, a deep breath... And goal! It is a hat trick for Kylian Mbappé against Monaco!" the commentator says.

"He is scored! Look!" Alex says, grabbing me by the arm and shaking me until I'm looking at the screen again. "Awww, he did your thing again. Cute."

"Cute would be the game ending now" I say, trying not to smile but failing. He said he would score three goals and dedicate them to me, and he did.

As he walks back to the centre of the pitch, he crosses paths with my ex again. They start talking, but the chat quikcly turns into an argument, getting closer and closer to each other until they are forehead against forehead like footballers always do. Why? Who knows.

"Oh my God" Alex says as players from PSG and Monaco get around them and try to break them apart. When they finally are able to, Neymar is talking to Kylian, telling him something like "think, use your head", while he says my name and points at my ex.

"I can't watch this anymore" I say, getting up from the sofa and moving to the kitchen.

"It is over" Alex says, joining me a few minutes later.

"Finally" I sigh.

"Do you want me to stay until he is back?"

"Nah, don't worry. I'll probably eat something and go to bed. I've been so tense that I feel as if I've been playing myself."

"Ok" Alex says. "But don't be too harsh on him. He was provoked, too excited after the hat trick, and when you mix it all..."

"He had promised me to do nothing, tho."

"I know, but... Just don't be too harsh, ok?"

"I'll try."

"Will you call me tomorrow?"

"I will. Goodnight, Alex."

"Goodnight."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Hey" Kylian says, walking into our room.

"Hi."

"Did you watch the game?" he says, getting in bed next to me and hugging me from behind.

"I did."

"I scored a hat trick like I told you I would."

"I know."

"Are you mad?" he asks after a few seconds in silence.

"No."

"Then why are you being so cold? Why aren't you looking at me?"

"Maybe because you also promised that nothing would happen with my ex, yet it did?"

"He started it, I didn't."

"I don't care who started. It still happened."

"I'm sorry" he says, hugging me a bit tighter.

"I hate this. I wish we wouldn't have to see him ever again."

"Well, that may actually happen."

"What?" I say, finally moving to look at him.

"This was our last game of the season against Monaco, we won't be playing against them anymore. But a very reliable source told me that he is leaving."

"Leaving? Where?"

"Turkey" Kylian snorts. "Sorry, sorry. But he isn't playing that much here, and a Turkish team was the only one interested on him."

"And you won't have to play against him anymore?"

"Nope. The team he seems to have signed with doesn't play the Champions League. It is over."

"For real?"

"For real" he says, caressing my cheek. "That jerk won't be bothering us anymore, and now we'll be able to focus on being happy together."

"Finally" I say, letting out a big sigh.

"Will you forgive for the fight, then?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On if the kiss you are about to give me is the best kiss ever" I smirk.

"Lucky you, besides having a hat trick scorer as your boyfriend, he also happens to be a really good kisser. One of the best in France. In Europe. In the world!"

"Yeah, sure" I chuckle.

"Do you want me to show you?" he says with a mischievous smile.

"I'm looking forward to it" I giggle. "I love you, Kylian."

"I love you too" he says before kissing me and showing me that, indeed, he is one of the best kissers in France, Europe and the world.

Though if you ask me... He isn't just one of the best. He is the best.

[vicnormansstuff]

Un rêve m’obsédait.

J’imaginais la naissance d’un mouvement baptisé Confrérie des Chemins Noirs.

Non contents de tracer un réseau de traverse, les chemins noirs pouvaient aussi définir les cheminements mentaux que nous emprunterions pour nous soustraire à l’époque.

Dessinés sur la carte et serpentant au sol ils se prolongeraient ainsi en nous-mêmes, composeraient une cartographie mentale de l’esquive. Il ne s’agirait pas de mépriser le monde, ni de manifester l’outrecuidance de le changer. Non ! Il suffirait de ne rien avoir de commun avec lui.

L’évitement me paraissait le mariage de la force avec l’élégance. Orchestrer le repli me semblait une urgence. Les règles de cette dissimulation existentielle se réduisaient à de menus impératifs : ne pas tressaillir aux soubresauts de l’actualité, réserver ses colères, choisir ses levées d’armes, ses goûts, ses écœurements, demeurer entre les murs de livres, les haies forestières, les tables d’amis, se souvenir des morts chéris, s’entourer des siens, prêter secours aux êtres dont on avait connu le visage et pas uniquement étudié l’existence statistique. En somme, se détourner. Mieux encore ! Disparaître. « Dissimule ta vie », disait Épicure dans l’une de ses maximes (en l’occurrence c’était peu réussi car on se souvenait de lui deux millénaires après sa mort). Il avait donné là une devise pour les chemins noirs.

Nous serions de grandes troupes sur ces contre-allées car nous étions nombreux à développer une allergie aux illusions virtuelles. Les sommations de l’époque nous fatiguaient : Enjoy ! Take care ! Be safe ! Be connected ! Nous étions dégoûtés du clignotement des villes. Si nous écrasions à coups de talon les écrans livides de nos vies high-tech s’ouvrirait un chemin noir, une lueur de tunnel à travers le dispositif. Tout cela ne faisait pas un programme politique. C’était un carton d’invitation à ficher le camp.

Vivre me semblait le synonyme de « s’échapper ». Napoléon avait dit au Général de Caulaincourt dans le traîneau qui les ramenait à Paris après le passage de la Berezina : « Il y a deux sortes d’hommes, ceux qui commandent et ceux qui obéissent. »

Du temps où je m’étais passionnément intéressé à l’Empire, jusqu’à prendre mon bain coiffé d’un bicorne, j’avais trouvé cette phrase définitive. Aujourd’hui, tordant mes chaussettes sur un banc de vase du Var, je pensais que l’Empereur avait oublié une troisième colonne : les hommes qui fuient. « Sire ! » lui aurais-je dit si je l’avais connu, « Fuir, c’est commander ! C’est au moins commander au destin de n’avoir aucune prise sur vous. »

Sur les chemins noirs -

Sylvain Tesson