#we’ll see if this gets literally and traction

[blaithnne]

Hey, so, this might sound weird, but your post about Ragatha tadc is seriously fucking me up. But thank you for writing it! I've had to face a lot of hard truths over the past few hours lol. I hope it's ok that I talk a little about what I mean.

I have known that I'm autistic for years, but I've never once considered that I mask in public, let alone mask at all. I've always struggled with making friends, and even when I did, I never felt like I was close to anyone. I never understood what I was doing wrong. I'm kind and cheerful, and I try to see the bright side of things and help people where I can. I always thought that was my genuine personality, and I think I am, but now I think I'm realizing I put on an act for people.

The latest episode of tadc stuck with me right after I watched it. I connected with Ragatha in a way I hadn't before, but it wasn't until I read your post that I understood why and realized all of this. She's the first character in a long time where I can say, "Oh. She's me. Literally me."

I don't even know who I really am anymore. I've spent so long sanding down my edges and trying to fit in, and never be annoying or considered uncool, that I don't think there's anything underneath my mask.

Anyway, I'm sorry for venting all of this unprompted. I just wanted to thank you again for making that post. It really meant a lot to me. I hope you have a wonderful day.

Oh dude, thank you so much for sending this in because you are REAL ASF!!

I think the best part about my Ragatha post getting so much traction is the amount of people who have opened up about relating to it. I mentioned briefly in the tags of that post that I wasn’t actually sure if what I was talking about was a common autistic experience or if it was really just a me thing, it’s something I had chalked up to autism after some personal introspection but not something I’d ever seen anyone discuss. I made the post in the first place because it was an angle I hadn’t seen anyone highlight. So it’s been really comforting to find out that I’m not alone in this struggle, and if this post has helped you figure out something new about yourself then that’s truly an honour.

Masking is weird. Autism is weird! We as autistic people tend to take things very literally, which extends to the definitions of our symptoms. We’ll be asked whether or not we take everything literally, and we’ll think “well no, I don’t take every single thing I hear literally, so I don’t do that”, without realising that we’re doing it right there and then! I think it’s the same with masking, or at least it was with me. I always thought masking was more intentional, a choice one makes — a mask you can take on and off at will, but it isn’t, and that’s what makes it so hard to deal with.

Masking is something you learn to do from a young age, it’s a learned behaviour which become almost instinctual. This makes it really fucking difficult to unlearn, because by the time you realise you have to, you’ve already built your identity around the walls you’ve put up, and now it’s up to you to figure out what’s real and what’s fake, what you need to keep in order to survive in this world, and what you need to discard for the very same reason.

I spent years of my life terrified of being disliked, because for a very long time I was. So I learned how not to be, I learned to be polite and quiet and funny and I built my identity around being those things. I learned what everyone in my life liked, what different social groups valued, and I became a copy of whoever I was talking to. Every friend I made would talk about how we had the exact same sense of humour, because I only laughed when they did. I have forever sworn off playing Cards Against Humanity, because I realised that when you build your identity and value your self worth around the idea that you’re the funny one, putting yourself in a situation where your ability to make others laugh is judged and ranked is ridiculously stressful. It’s funny the things that prompt realisations about yourself.

Eventually I realised that in making myself a perfect copy of everyone I interacted with, I had robbed the people around me of the chance to get to know me. What would people think of when I was gone, what would they miss? How can you miss someone who only mimics you, who’s just sort of generally nice and not really much else. I had no unique identity, no personality for people to latch onto. I used to take pride in the fact that even those who were notorious for disliking others still liked me, until I realised it was only because I had provided them with no unique identity to dislike. I realised that at least if I was hated, I was thought of, I was known for who I was and not for what I did. I was appreciated when I was around but not missed when I was gone and that realisation absolutely killed me. But I also think it sort of saved me.

Realising you’re masking is the first step to unlearning how to do it. It’s a long process, it’s one I’m still undergoing, but it’s so worth it. Finding your voice and your identity is absolutely a worthwhile endeavour, but that doesn’t make it easy. The hardest part for me was finding the courage to be disliked, accepting that not only was it inevitable that some people would dislike me, it was actually a good thing! Those things that some people will hate about you — maybe you talk too much, or you’re often quite grumpy — are the very same things which others will love about you. You have to give people a person for them to get to know, to be drawn to, not a perfect copy of themselves who can satisfy their every desire and laugh at all their jokes.

You don’t need to be perfect, nobody really wants you to be. You have to be you. You have to figure out who that is. You have to allow yourself the space to be messy and ugly and weird and unique, you have to learn not to care what people think about you, and oh my god that’s the hardest thing in the world. I’m talking here with a lot of authority and like I know all the answers, but I only came to this realisation within the past two years, after I graduated high school and moved away from everyone I’d ever known growing up, and finally got my diagnosis. I’m still bad at remembering this stuff, I still automatically put on a front when I talk to people, because I still don’t know exactly who I really am without the mask. And even the parts of me I do know, I struggle to figure out how to show them in a socially acceptable manner. I struggle to approach conversations in a way that’s not methodical and quite calculated, because I don’t know how else to.

But I’m also getting better, bit by bit. I’m learning to work with my autism and not against it, accepting that I will interact with the world differently from others, and some people might not like that, and that’s okay. I’m learning to uncover who I am, the hints of my true identity peaking through the mask. Maybe it’s okay to approach conversations a little methodically — I recently learned that when people start up small talk by asking about the weather or some such thing, it’s usually not actually because they care about the weather, it’s because they want to talk to you! They’re just looking for a way to start a conversation, they’re saying “I don’t know what to say to you right now, but I want to talk to you, so I’ll start with this.” Isn’t that so sweet? All these things that neurotypical people know instinctively, I’ve had to learn manually, and it’s given me a greater understanding and appreciation for the people around me.

I have a terrible memory, but I’ve learned to memorise almost everything when it comes to my friends and what makes them comfortable and happy and what their lives are like, and that’s not bad information to have in the slightest. What’s important is that you don’t build your identity around that information, you allow yourself to use the knowledge youve acquired over the years you’ve spent masking without it consuming you, use it to help you but not to define you. All this stuff is just tools to give people a bridge to get to know the real you, so make sure there is a real you for them to get to know. You’re beautiful and unique, there is somebody absolutely wonderful underneath that mask of yours, and it’s your job to give people the honour of getting to find out who that is. If someone doesn’t like what they find, that means you’re doing a good job. You’ve shown them what you’ve got and they’ve made their decision, and now you’re one step closer to finding someone who’ll appreciate you. If you hadn’t shown them the real you, you might’ve spent years following that person around and let them befriend your mask, only making it harder for you to open up to them after you’ve gotten to know them better.

You know another thing I’ve learned about myself lately? I ramble a lot! I go on and on and on and my big long paragraphs will surely annoy some people, but if just one person reads this and it helps them, then it’s worth it. Besides, it helped me quite a bit to write it all down. Thank you for sending this ask in anon, I hope life treats you well, and I wish you the absolute best of luck in finding your identity. I have a feeling you’re going to like what you find!

[sofitai28]

jmart doodles bc I missed them :(

[alittlegiraffe]

Can you write smth where Marshall's girl is literally a Marshall 2.0 but instead of rap she's in a rock or metal band?

This was out of my comfort zone because I am decidedly not badass, but I hope you like it!

Title: Matching Tattoos

You and Marshall were, in a word, unstoppable.

The two of you had more in common than either of you could have imagined when you met. While he was the rap legend, known for his sharp lyrics and unapologetic delivery, you were carving your own path in the world of rock. Your band had been gaining traction over the years, your voice a perfect mix of raw emotion and power, and your stage presence unmatched.

People often joked that you were a female version of him. Same drive, same no-nonsense attitude, and the same tendency to pour your heart into every lyric.

You wore the title like a badge of honor, but it did lead to one problem: the two of you were competitive as hell.

It started one night after a long day in the studio. Marshall had just finished a verse for his next album, and you were sprawled out on the couch with your guitar, working through a new riff.

“I’m telling you, this one’s gonna hit number one,” you said, plucking the strings idly.

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, leaning against the doorway. “You planning to outsell me now?”

“Maybe,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, rockstar. What’s next? You gonna start bleaching your hair, too?”

You threw a pillow at him. “Don’t tempt me, Slim.”

The playful banter continued until, out of nowhere, you blurted, “You know what we should do? Get matching tattoos.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “Matching tattoos? That’s a big step, don’t you think?”

You grinned. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Something badass, like a symbol of how much we’ve been through together. You and me against the world.”

He studied you for a moment, then smirked. “Alright. But if we’re doing this, it’s gotta mean something.”

---

The next day, you found yourselves in one of Detroit’s best tattoo shops. The artist, a heavily inked woman named Janelle, greeted you both with a mix of awe and excitement.

“So, what are we doing today?�� she asked, pulling on her gloves.

You looked at Marshall, and he nodded. “We were thinking something that represents us. Something simple but powerful.”

You grinned, pulling a sketch out of your pocket. It was a minimalist design of two microphones crossed with a guitar pick behind them, surrounded by a jagged soundwave.

“This,” you said proudly.

Marshall looked at the design and smirked. “That’s dope.”

“Where are we putting it?” Janelle asked, raising an eyebrow.

You pointed to your forearm, and Marshall nodded. “Same here.”

You went first, sitting back in the chair as Janelle got to work. The buzz of the tattoo machine filled the room, and Marshall stood nearby, watching intently.

“You look way too comfortable,” he teased.

“Please,” you said with a smirk. “I’ve had worse pain than this.”

When it was his turn, you leaned over the chair, watching as the ink began to take shape on his arm.

“See?” you said, grinning. “Now you’re officially part of the band.”

Marshall chuckled. “Guess that makes you my opening act, then.”

As you walked out of the shop, bandages covering your fresh ink, Marshall slung an arm around your shoulders.

“You know,” he said, glancing at you, “this might be the coolest thing we’ve ever done together.”

“Damn right,” you replied, leaning into him. “Now every time we look at these, we’ll remember that no matter what happens, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Marshall stopped walking, turning to face you. “That’s a promise,” he said, his voice serious. “No matter what, it’s you and me.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And as you walked down the street, matching tattoos marking your skin, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, the two of you were more than ready to face them together.

[bucket-of-f1]

TIRE COMPOUND YAP

Alright gang, it’s time y'all knew about the chaos that was (and is) Formula One tire shenanigans.

But first, some technical details (aren’t you just so excited):

In Formula One, the cars all have wheels (oooh) Attached to the wheels are tires (aaah). The tires are made of rubber, but because it’s F1, this ain’t your normal black circle that us peasants slap on our piddly little Peugeot. Nah, these things are insane.

They’re made from a combination of natural rubber and a mix or multiple synthetic rubbers of various names that I cannot pronounce without using at least 98% of my Latin root knowledge (i.e. styrene-butadiene copolymer, polybutadiene, and bromobutyl).

They’re then constructed into the actual tire, which has the three main components that you see in any tire (if I remember my high school auto shop notes correctly, don’t worry I’ll double check this before I post it):

Bead

Sidewall

Contact Patch

Here’s a diagram (of a normal tire) I edited to show these. The “tread” section is where the contact patch would be.

The bead is where the tire meets the wheel itself. Very thick, pretty inflexible compared to the rest of the tire, and has steel bands embedded to keep it strong and in-place. There’s also molded/carved ridges to grab on to the wheel (remember, a wheel is the metal bit that the tire is connected to). This acts as a sort of tire for the tire, gripping on and making sure that the tire doesn’t slip off its mount.

The sidewall is a LOT thinner, and very flexible. All rubber, made to be the part that shifts and flexes under load, which these cars experience a lot of (we’ll get to that in a sec).

Last, the contact patch. The most important part (arguably). Made of rubber and steel bands throughout, this is the part that’s actually in contact with the tarmac, as the name suggests. It has to be strong — the kind of strong that survives bouncing over kerbs at 100+ miles an hour, the kind of strong that can do miles and miles of constant strain, rolling at 215 MPH down straights and slowing to 60, 30, in the span of a hundred meters. Or, more strenuous, taking the faster turns. If you try taking any form of curve at 140, 160 MPH like these guys do, you’ll get to watch your tire explode under the pressure (shortly before you wrap yourself around a tree or telephone pole and take out my power again).

Now this is cool and all, but I can hear it already: “Bucket, what about the actual tire compounds? You know, the only part of this we’ll ever actually need to know while watching F1?” And to that, I respond: “Oh god I’m so sorry that’s what I meant to be talking about this whole time and then I got carried away sorry sorry sorry.”

So tire compounds:

When you’re watching F1, you’ll notice that the tires are color coded. You can see it off to the side of the driver’s name in the race order, and you’ll hear it called out.

There’s five basic types, but I’ll get into the nuance after the overview (image of tires for reference below).

Slicks:

Softs (red)

Mediums (yellow, sorry there’s no yellow color)

Hards (white)

Soft tires are marked with a red ring. They are, literally, softer than the other tires. The way it works is this: the softer the tire, the more it sinks into the ground. Softs spread out more, making a larger contact patch. More tire in contact with the road = more traction. Think about it like dragging your hand down a window: soft tires are like putting your entire palm and all five fingers flat against the window, then dragging down. A lot more resistance, because you’ve got more of your hand gaining traction against the window. More contact/traction means slowing and turning faster, and it heats the tire up faster (which allows for even more traction, because a hot tire sinks/sticks to the ground better than a cold one). The downside to softs is that they degrade faster, wearing out to have less traction and a higher chance of blowing out. They may be the fastest tire to slap on that car, but you’ll only get 20-30 laps out of them.

Hard tires are the opposite of softs, marked with a white ring. They last a really long time, like they’ll go almost the whole race length without blowing out. Their downside is that they take much longer to heat up, and even once they do they’ll always provide less traction than soft. It’s like putting a finger or two on the window and dragging down.

Mediums are smack in the middle, marked with a yellow ring. Lasts longer than a soft, more traction than a hard, but not a specialist at really anything. Imagine four to five fingers, but no palm.

Grooved:

Intermediates/inters (green)

Wets (blue)

Intermediates and Wets (green and blue rings, respectively) do the same job to different degrees. They’re both a build for wet weather, but Intermediates are for when it’s not AS wet as you need a Wet tire. Basically: Inters are for a a drying track and maybe some drizzling rain, when slicks aren’t good but Wets are too slow. Wets are for when it’s anything more than that. These tires are quite soft, but they’re also grooved, like civilian tires.

Current F1 uses these five compounds, but what most people don’t know is that compounds also have sub-compounds that Pirelli, the manufacturer, decides on a per-race basis. They range from C1-C5, with 1 being the hardest most durable and C5 being the softest and fastest. Pirelli decides what C-rating range will be available to teams on the weekend: for example, tracks that put more stress of the tires, like high speed circuits and circuits with high temperatures, call for lower rankings, C1-C3. Circuits with less stress, or circuits that may require higher grip, are C3-C5. Softs can be C3-C5 (usually C5), Hards can be C1 and C3/4, and Mediums are C2-C4 (pulled all this info from Pirelli’s site so it better be right).

You can actually see the compounds listed during pre-season testing:

So yeah, that’s how it works, in way more words than you ever wanted. If you made it this far, I congratulate you. Pat yourself on the back. Go get some water. You now know how F1 tires work!

But it wasn’t always this way (history dump incoming).

Y’see, at one point, there were less restrictions. And then there were more for a while. And then less. Because F1 is always changing.

In the 50s and 60s, five companies (Dunlop, Englebert, Firestone, Continental and Goodyear) made tires. In the 60s, Dunlop had the genius idea to make the tires wider for more grip. Like, MUCH wider.

In ‘71, Firestone upped the game by introducing the first true iteration of slick tires in official Formula One racing, at the Spanish Grand Prix. From the early 80s onward, the FIA started having some fun messing with how big the tires could be, prompting companies to learn to make and optimize different sizes.

Coming out of the 1996 season, Goodyear was the only manufacturer for tires. Then, at the beginning of the ‘97 season, Bridgestone joined. [insert Spider-Verse prowler sound effect]

This sparked the first major tire war of modern F1. I guess Bridgestone won, because Goodyear pulled out for the 1998 season.

Also in 1998, hoping to reduce car speeds, the FIA required all tires to be grooved, like modern Inters. This lasted until 2008, where all tires had to have four grooves running down the center (with the exception of 1998, which had three grooves).

Bridgestone had a good run of about two years, but in 2001, Michelin joined the fray. Then, in 2005, the FlA had the genius idea of banning tire changes mid-race.

And sweet baby Jesus did this combo eventually result in one of the funniest and most boring races of all time. I'll write about that another time, but l'll tell you this: Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

If you know, you know.

Unsurprisingly, largely as a result of that race, in 2006 they reinstated tire swaps.

in 2007, Michelin pulled out, leaving Bridgestone again the sole provider. There was some fun color coding issues and solutions as rules shifted, but nothing wildly interesting other than some confusion in the first race of a season where people weren't exactly sure how hard of a compound they were using.

2009 saw a shift back to slick tires and changes in aerodynamics to encourage mechanical grip (i.e. things like the tires giving grip as opposed to the wings pushing the car down for traction).

After 2010, Bridgestone left, and the power vacuum was filled by Pirelli, who's held it since then. So far, their 2011-current run has only had a few notable moments, the biggest being the 2018 season. They introduced two extra compounds on either end of the spectrum: pink hypersofts and orange superhards.

These were dropped in 2019 in favor of our current system, to make it easier both on teams and fans to understand and work with.

So... yeah! Tires :3

As always, feel free to pepper me with asks about F1. I do love answering them. This blog is a light in my life that really helps sometimes.

Love y’all.

[noahschnappinfs]

Quite frankly I don’t think the hate for Noah will ever fully go away. This is because a lot of the people throwing hate at him were never even fans of the show or him to begin with.

We still see the show having an immense amount of fans despite all the claims to boycott it, and it’s bc those claiming they wouldn’t watch it because of him never did anyways. And even fans saying they’ll just pirate it, probably already did that on a regular basis to make edits/take screenshots for all the content they watch. It’s just their attempt at feeling morally superior while guilting other people, as if that removes any guilt they may have for supporting it still.

I know a lot of people that watch Stranger Things, friends and family alike. And even the ones who are on social media, who are also sympathetic to Palestinian’s plight, seem to think that the hate for Noah is blown out of proportion. Honestly, most of them were indifferent to him before all of this, and if anything they seem to like him more because of what he’s going through.

Since a lot of the hate is coming from non-fans, that hate will never go away unless something happens that magically changes their feelings about it. And as long as it’s still a popular opinion amongst those chronically online, with a lot of people feeling obligated to go with the crowd and do what everyone else does in order to thrive on here, it’s going to continue to be the norm.

It’s unfortunate that posts demoralizing him and wishing him harm do immense numbers, but the reality is most of those people have no knowledge of him outside of this. And as long as all those people feel that way, hate for him will continue to exist and pressure people who don’t even hate him to feel compelled to just because so many people feel that way.

Then again, people are so fucking stupid and fickle in their outrage, that something as simple a bunch of fans ignoring the hate and loving his role in s5 could make a lot of people switch up just because that becomes the louder majority, making those that lie somewhere in the middle on their feelings about him revert to liking him to feel apart of the more popular opinion at the moment.

i agree that certain part of the internet will always hate him but considering how fast the sentiment online changes, i think things will get good enough that the hate towards noah won’t be the norm like it’s being these past few months. just look at how twitter made the likes and now tweets supporting noah have way more likes than before. people like him but are afraid of being called out which is very sad that people feel that threatened but i think we have a good foundation there. as soon as it’s not dangerous (for lack of a better word) to like him publicly, i feel like we’ll get to a very good place. it’s slowly getting better because we’ve also seen how tweets wishing for his death or attacking him used to get over 100K likes but now they don’t get that much traction because people move on and get fixated on other stuff. there’s also the fact that people who had strong negative feelings about him are starting to see that the level of hatred he received was way out of proportions and are being more being more kind towards him. it’s also important to remember that real life is completely different because people in real life literally were lining up to take pictures with him at that niall horan’s concert.

the show is so mainstream that it’ll never actually suffer in terms of viewership and i think noah can get the GA on his side by showcasing his talent this season. one thing that i’ve always said is that noah was extremely lucky that this all happened before S5 was released because he’s got plenty of opportunities to show to that big audience who he actually is and his talent. like i mentioned before, i agree with you that there’s a fringe of the internet that will hold the grunge forever and obviously there wil people that will never like him for many reasons but i see a big room for growth here, it’ll depend a lot on how he manages the months right after st5 comes out and i hope he and his team is already preparing for that.

[sailtomarina]

The door is locked

They fumbled at the fastenings of their clothes, eager to take advantage of the time gifted them. Shirts and pants were dropped unceremoniously to the ground. A loud tear rent the air.

“I liked that pair!” Hermione protested, even as she curled her fingers into Draco’s boxer briefs to tug at them. 

She’d introduced him to the Muggle style shortly after they had first started having sex, loving the way they hugged his tight arse and emphasized just how wonderfully fit he was. 

“I’ll buy you a dozen more,” he muttered.

He reached around and unsnapped her bra in one smooth twist of his fingers. The prat had done that the first time, too, and she’d been so shocked at the time that she’d bit down hard and made his lip bleed.

“That’s not the point, dear.” Hermione was going to go mad if he wasn’t inside of her soon. She’d been so wound up with everything lately and it had been far too long since their last shag.

“Save me your arguments on frivolous spending and waste. I can just vanish them so they never go near those barbaric landfills.”

She scoffed even as she warmed at the fact that he’d remembered her lecture on sustainability, a movement that didn’t seem to have any traction in a magical world where objects could literally disappear, be repaired, or transfigured into something new.

She crowed in delight as his cock sprung free, thumping against her stomach with a satisfying smack. They maneuvered their way to the bed.

Squeak!

Hermione tugged out the fuzzy snake on which she’d landed and raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s Scorpius’.”

“I know it belongs to our child. I’m just wondering why it’s here and not with him.” Hermione spoke slowly, as if Draco, too, was a toddler.

“Must’ve missed it in all the chaos. Please, let’s just—” He descended, lips covering hers and attempting to turn her mind back to what they’d started.

She yanked her head away and smacked him over his glorious blonde head with Slither the Snake.

“He’s going to want it back and we’ll get interrupted. Again.” 

They’d had to lie to their own child and pretend they were only hugging. She’d never seen Draco snatch up his pants as quickly as he had when Scorpius demanded in on the hug and leapt up to join them. Her husband hadn’t stopped pouting for days afterward and it had taken her a surprise visit to the underside of his study’s desk to get him to relent.

“The door is locked and Wimsy is under strict orders to leave us alone for at least two hours,” Draco said. He nearly whined, grinding against her to remind her of his prominent need.

“Wimsy!”

A House Elf with plaited pigtails popped into place at the foot of their bed. She didn’t even blink at the sight in front of her, even when Draco yelped and yanked at the blankets to cover them.

“Mistress called?” Big blue eyes blinked innocently up at them as she twirled her lavender skirts around her. Hermione was pleased to see she wore the matching slippers she’d gotten her.

She extended the green snake. “Please take this to Scorpius, and remind him to share with Lyra.”

“Yes, Mistress. Wimsy has the children well in hand.”

Just as quickly as she’d appeared, she disapparated and they were alone once more.

Draco gasped as the covers were yanked off him and cold air kissed his bum. Hermione pinched one cheek before rolling them both over to pin him to the mattress below her.

“Now, where were we?”

WC 603

Twitter prompt from @DramionePrompts

Cross posted on Tumblr  and AO3

I have a definite weakness towards boxer briefs. They look absolutely divine and I encourage more to try them if they never have.

[ameagrice]

heyy so I saw your post being like America wtf and I totally agree bc I’m devastated, I live in a red state and people out here are fr all over trump it’s actually so fucking bad. as far as for the amount of traction that Kamala had, it was real, but people are liars man. Like genuinely. people say they’re voting blue or are undecided but vote red bc they don’t want people to know that they’re voting for trump. Also, gen z guys in america are all buying into red pill bullshit pushed by conservative podcast bros who are trump supporters. It’s literally just shitty as fuck. Also, women who voted for trump. I actually don’t have a reason they just fucking suck. Also racism and misogyny is totally rampant

First of all, I want to say I’m so sorry to the women and people of colour over there. What’s happening and what is likely to happen is absolutely not okay in the slightest. Everyone here is heartbroken for you all. I cried for you all last night and I was not the only one.

I absolutely loved watching Kamala Harris’s rallies live on tv, and followed along on TikTok and Instagram. I think we all genuinely had some hope for a while, and I hope she runs again. In her speech last night it definitely sounded like this isn’t the last we’ll see of her, so although Trump is here for another four years take comfort in that he can never get in again after this.

Secondly, racism and misogyny are rampant everywhere at the minute. In the UK it has always been a big thing in daily life and I can’t think of one day or one age of my life where I didn’t encounter misogyny and sexism, it’s just increasing. But with the Trump win in the states I’m so fucking scared for you guys. Really. I wish there was something we could do. The whole election win felt so off and wrong and honestly I think they need to do a recount.

You all have my best wishes and I’m here for support. All the best 💛

[mahomadjicks]

Im not gonna lie this is the nail in the coffin for me with clash…

So uh, nahhh. Im good

Between being not too fond of the manager worship in the fandom and the clash team lobotomizing their own game, in my eyes im just done.

Rather than becoming bitter or anything like that, I’m putting this blog on ice indefinitely. if you like me or my art in general, regardless of toontown, look at these;

Main Blog (Random stuff I like/reblog)

https://www.tumblr.com/softpopdrink

Squirrel and Hedgehog related blog (current fandom/art I draw)

https://www.tumblr.com/weaselfactoryex

I still like the idea of Toontown. I may like a few posts here and there going forward. I may or may not finish Greening Sideshow. We’ll see. I’m a small blog, so me leaving wont make a huge difference.

See yall later.

(Below is a rant section, so please ignore if you dont care for that.)

Is it just me, or does it seem like the clash team is bending their own backs to cater to the more ravenous, clash manager obsessed sides of the fandom? Being a fan of normal cogs, or TOONS for that matter sucks. Godspeed if you like anything besides Clash in general. Rewritten fans are just that, written off and not as noticed as their clash counterparts. You can see the interaction disparity just by looking on the tumblr tags. It literally took a ‘manager-like’ update with the new department heads for the game to get any sort of traction.

If you’re a fan of a server like ODS/Realms/literally any smaller server then god…I dont know what to say. I’m so sorry. What little attention you get for that hard work, and the small teams that are still holding on despite being brushed aside CONSTANTLY. You all are certainly strong. It must be absolute HELL to constantly be told to use your talents for clash or rewritten. Or to be told that your work would be great (as a feature for a larger server)…

Corporate Clash itself seems to be buckling under the swaths of new fans only arriving for the manager cogs. A lot of the updates and lore changes post 1.3 just seem to further weaken and break the game. Mechanics wise, the clash team seems to think that making manager fights hellish or straight up impossible to beat unless you do very specific character builds or strategies is a good thing. SPOILERS!!! Its not. Sure, you pat the back to anyone who unhealthily studies the game or looks at the wiki, but to new players who just wanna casually go through the story? They get chewed up and spit right back out by some out of nowhere cheat for the umpteenth time—

Looking at lore is a shaky subject in Corporate clash, so i understand wanting to tweak things. Alas, the clash team seems to want their cake and to eat it too…by wiping away 90% of Pre-1.3 updates without acknowledging the massive gaps in lore that opens up. Its not like they can’t look back and reference lore either. If a lowly fan like myself can piece things together then why cant the staff of literal game? They claim that old lore is confusing, when it literally takes a couple google searches to find what they’re looking for! The clash managers LITERALLY are the results of actions and events in Break the Law, aka, pre- 1.3 lore. To remove that removes their point of existence. Removing The CJ’s prior existence in the game, as well as him quitting, LITERALLY removes the reason why the CLO, and the Litigation Team exist in the overall story. Absolute nonsense.

Okay. Something slightly more positive.

I can understand why they wanna distance theirselves from Coach Z. Having a character associated to a homophobic old man sucks. I’m not too mad about that.

I understand why the Clash team thinks their choices are beneficial. Regardless of how much I stomp and whine, going forward, the clash manager cogs are the ‘blueprints’ of success for Toontown servers going forward. All of them are great challenges (when not constantly buffed) and breathe life into a 20+ year old game. Each of the managers are great characters in their own right, i just wish the fans didn’t treat them as the center of the universe.

At the end of the day, the clash team isn’t getting paid for all they do. They do all this stuff, updates for free, and that’s amazing. It’s just not for me anymore.

(Rant section over)

[masterbloggerau]

Top 5 Advantages of Buying a Display Home: The Wow Decore

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Buying a home with established landscaping not only saves you the hassle of designing and planting, but it also gives you an immediate outdoor oasis to enjoy. This aspect particularly aligns with the concept of Cheap House and Land Packages Adelaide, as it adds considerable value to your investment without breaking the bank. - Modern Design Trends Display homes are meant to showcase the latest design trends and innovations. When you purchase a display home, you're essentially buying into a modern and up-to-date living experience. From open-concept layouts to smart home technology integration, these homes often incorporate the best of contemporary living. So, if you're someone who appreciates sleek aesthetics and cutting-edge features, a display home might be your perfect match – and it's not just because of the Cheap House and Land Packages available. - Move-In Ready Convenience The best thing about buying a display home? It's move-in ready. As soon as the keys are handed over, you can start living your life without the hassle of renovations or waiting for construction to finish. Everything is already in place – from the fixtures to the paint on the walls. This level of convenience is a major draw for busy individuals and families who want to settle in quickly. And when you think about it, this convenience complements the idea of Cheap House and Land Packages perfectly – you're getting a complete package without the added stress. Conclusion  So, whether you're a first-time homebuyer or looking to upgrade, consider the unique advantages of purchasing a display home. The immersive experience, high-quality finishes, ready-made landscaping, modern design elements, and move-in ready convenience make it a compelling option. With Cheap House and Land Packages Adelaide gaining traction, there's no better time to explore this avenue and discover the perfect home that's not just a house, but a well-designed lifestyle. Read the full article

[krakensdottir]

I think it’s more that the Metatron theory completely invalidates any investment in the entirety of S2. It also feels like desperate reaching to ‘fix’ a story some people weren’t satisfied with. Some stories are trope-y for a reason. Pratchett in particular was VERY fond of storybook tropes. Sometimes he subverted them, often he played them in a cheeky sideways fashion, but he was all about the power of narrative. Why wouldn’t this be an homage to that?

Personally, I’m not seeing a lot of wildly out-of-character behavior here. More just things that contradict what fans expected. ‘Oh, Crowley wouldn’t say that!’ Maybe not in your fanfics, but you didn’t create these characters. ‘Oh, they’re being too mean to each other here!’ Bro they’ve known each other for 6,000 years, we have no idea how hard the ups and downs have been. We’re only getting glimpses of what’s happening now and then throughout their history. We don’t actually fully know what’s in-character for their interactions or not. We’ve been extrapolating for four years now, and Gaiman pointedly does not read our meta-analyses. He is not always going to match our expectations.

Tbh the only thing I found jarring at times was the uptick in, well, goofiness of the humor. But there’s literally a new comedian helping to write the story with Neil this season. The tonal shift is to be expected, and I anticipated there would be one.

(As someone pointed out, this also feels eerily reminiscent of the ‘secret episode’ theory for BBC’s Sherlock that gained an equal amount of traction. Not that I’m putting Gaiman’s writing on par with Moffat’s - but I also don’t think GO S2 is anywhere near as ‘badly’ written as Sherlock’s finale was. I can point out plenty of ‘bad’ writing tropes in S1, for that matter. Bad writing is highly subjective. Sometimes story consistency takes a bit of a backseat to Giving People What They Want, and that’s not always necessarily a bad thing. It’s certainly better than what Sherlock did.)

So the overall feel of this theory is ‘I didn’t like how some things about this season felt, so it must be fake! There’s a true story that we’ll see in four-ish years, wait and see!’ Maybe it’s my own biases speaking out here, my preference for a linear narrative over reality fuckery that makes a story much harder to follow. But I really think this is a stretch. And a mistake Tumblr has made before.

THAT SAID, I do think OP is on to something. I think the Book of Life is important, I think the Metatron’s machinations are deeper than we know. Some of the clues they pointed out may well lead somewhere. I am fully expecting to be surprised.

But I am nowhere near sold on the equivalent of It Was All A Dream. And I tell you what, I’d be really pissed if it was. That’s one of the ultimate horrible writing tropes.

So yeah, if this gains a lot of traction, I will genuinely be staying mostly out of GO meta for the next few years. Miss me with that, thanks.

some ppl in the tags need to stop being allergic to fun

"metatron theories ruin the characters' moral complexities" girl pls sometimes it's fun to imagine there's a silly goofy plot twist. Both things can be true! Both things may be complete bs! Only Mr Neil Richard Gaiman knows for sure, so why not lighten up and Yes And some stuff in the meantime? We gotta do SOMETHING for the next three years.

[leviathans-watching]

mfil - 41

-` ♡ ´- m.list | no taglist | next | wc: .8k

-` ♡ ´- a/n: four more chapters :)

*NOT CLICKBAIT!!!* when asmo learns that you, the newest exchange student has a youtube account and following somewhat comparable to his own, he decided right then and there not to like you. however, after an unfortunate (and misleading) exchange goes viral, he has no choice but to fake date you in order to save face. will asmo crush you and put you into place like you deserve? or are those funny feelings in his stomach not hate, like he had thought? like, subscribe, and maybe fall in love (with this smau) to find out!!

you freeze. is he going to tell the truth?

you don’t know what you’d do if he did. or what you’d do if he didn’t.

schooling your expression, you turn to him. he too, seems to have just realized what he read.

“our first kiss,” he repeats, quieter. “well, mc and i had just begun dating, and i was at their, well, diavolo’s house. like i am now, actually. we wanted to make a video where i did their makeup, because it sounded fun. so we got all ready, and it was as i was leaning over them, beginning the process, and they looked up at me. i just froze, heart racing.” he sighs, almost fondly.

and look, you can only spend so much time with someone lying before you learn their tells, and asmo… doesn’t seem like he’s lying.\

you don’t dare to think that he might feel the same way as you. he hates you, remember? can’t stand your presence.

“they actually pulled me in first,” he continues, and the chat explodes. you guess the audience hadn’t expected that. “and i was so surprised. now, i’m not going to go into too much detail about what happened next–” he says, winking at the camera, and you, unfortunately, remember how he’d ran away right after “–but let’s just say that mc is a pretty good kisser and i definitely enjoy kissing them.”

it takes you a second to move past that and remember it’s your turn for a question. get it together, mc.

“well, i’m glad you think that,” you say, a bit stiffly, and his eyes sharpen. “after all, otherwise things would be, er, kind of awkward. anyway,” you add hurriedly, turning to read the chat. ot’s moving really quickly, with so many people reacting to the story. one message in particular gains traction, with many people spamming it: kiss right now.

you lean back, sending a wide-eyed look asmo’s way. he reads the message, then freezes slightly.

“we should probably give the audience what they want,” you mutter, not entirely selfless in the pursuit, now that he talked about kissing you, you really want to do it again. even if it is a stupid idea, which is absolutely is.

asmo’s face is unreadable, and he turns to the camera, a smile sliding into place. “fine, fine. we see the messages. we’ll kiss. but nothing crazy, at least not for free.”

“asmo!” your cheeks heat and you hit him in the arm. he laughs, and you realize he probably said that to mess with you more than anything.

his hand comes up around your cheek, and you gulp, suddenly nervous. you shouldn’t even be nervous! he was the one that ran away last time, not you!

gently, you lean in, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. it’s nothing crazy, like he’d said, and what you’re feeling must be relief for that. you stare at him after he pulls away, completely forgetting about the live, the camera, the chat, and he does the same.

after a long moment, you finally break the moment, pulling all of the way away from him. “well,” you say to the live, clearing your throat, “it’s been great, but i think asmo and i are going to call it a night. thanks for tuning in and asking questions! i love you all!” you don’t even let asmo say anything, just ending the live.

“you realize everyone thinks we’re going to have sex now, right?” he asks, and you put your face in your hands. “oh, come on,” he says after a moment, “is kissing me really that bad?”

you give him a dark glare. “i should be asking you that,” you huff. “i mean, after all, you literally ran away the last time we kissed.”

that shuts him up. but not for long. “i was just taken by surprise,” he whines. “kissing you is fine.”

“so you weren’t lying on the live?” you ask, and his throat bobs as he swallows. now’s not the time to get distracted by that smooth skin, damn it!

“i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“the truth,” you say, exhaling nervously. “i want to know if you still actually really hate me.”

“o-of course i do!” he says quickly, and really, what had you expected.

“well, the feelings are mutual.” you stand. “i think i’m ready for bed now. good night.” you don’t even wait for him to stand, turning off the lights and crawling right under the covers. he can figure out how to deal.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim ad your own

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Hiddleston - Watch It Burn

A/N & WC - This was utterly self indulgent and I'm not sorry whatsoever. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction. Mary is fictional. 1.4k blurb.

Warnings - Social media relationship exposal (?), smut: unprotected sex, posessive sex, 18+.

Summary - When Tom gets a call from his publicist, he's loath to do what she asks, and once it's done, it's clear to see why.

After a long, late, languorous night, the very last thing you want is to be woken by your boyfriend Tom’s phone ringing. Again.

Why does this always happen after the most tiring nights? And why so damn early? Do Tom’s entourage not understand the concept of no calls till 10? And there’s so many: you’d think one of them has a clue. Between his agent, manager, stylist, publicist and just-in-case attorney you’d think one of them has a brain cell or a clock.

“Tommy…” you grumble, grabbing a pillow and slamming it onto your face, muffling the noise slightly.

He kisses your shoulder, “Sorry baby,” and rolls over, tugging the sheet with him, to answer. “Hello?”

The unfortunately distinguishable voice of his adenoidal publicist trills down the line. “Good morning!”

“What do you want, Mary?” he asks, his voice deep, laced with sleep. He’s just as tired as you are, though he’d never risk sounding inarticulate.

“Well that’s no way to talk to your wonderful publicist!”

You scoff, wonderful. She’s the worst one on his team, always so cheery! It’s a nightmare.

“Well you shouldn’t have woken me up then, should you?” he bites right back, only to pull a hand taut over his face. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Late night.”

His hand rubs your bare hip beneath the duvet at this, causing you to squirm away with muffled giggle, accidentally kicking him.

“Well don’t stay up so late! It’s nine a.m, Tom, come on. You couldn’t be this flaky if you were on set at the moment.”

“I’m so close to putting the phone down right now,” he warns.

“Okay okay. I need you to post on Instagram.”

He sits bolt upright, letting the sheet fall around him, his god-like abs on full display.

“You’re joking, aren’t you? This is in jest. I’m not going back into that internet hellscape. What do you take me for?” he demands.

“Well I’m sorry Tom”—yeah, and she really sounds it: you roll your eyes—“but you’re losing traction. You need more media attention and to build up your image. The fastest, most efficient way to do that is to post on Instagram. You, the dog, the effing skyline. I literally do not care. Just post something before you become a nobody.”

You roll over indecorously in bed, hearing him heave a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. You place your hand flat on his warm, toned stomach, calming him.

“Yeah fine. I’ll do it within the next week.”

“Today or tomorrow,” she chirps with a forced, nasally brightness, “or we’ll have to stage a headline.”

He doesn’t even grace her with a reply before ending the call, his face like thunder as he flops onto the pillows with a great huff.

“You’ve gotta go back on Instagram?” you inquire, trying to keep your voice soft.

“Yeah. Good grief, I hate it. That place is malignant.”

“I know, Tommy. Maybe I can take your mind off it…” you coo.

Your hand snakes lower, fingertips dancing over his exposed, semi-hard member.

He hisses through his teeth when you clasp him in your hand, “Baby, what are you doing?”

“Distracting you.”

Your lips are on his a moment later, a mess of teeth and tongues. He yanks you into his lap unabashedly and grips your hips tight as you begin to leave marks down his neck.

He takes all his frustration out on you, both in bed and a short while later in the shower. He fucks you carnally, whispering dirty things in your ear that heat your cheeks. He lets you bite his hand and his neck when the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

And then he shampoos your hair, tenderly kissing down your spine.

This man’s facets are utterly astonishing, even after all this time.

He kisses you languid and slow while you finish off in the shower, water lashing down on both your backs as you clean the exertion off one another.

Once you turn the water off and head out, Bobby takes your place in the bathroom, pawing at Tom’s legs after patiently waiting for his walk.

He picks Bobby up and gives him a good fuss before wiping the steam off the mirror.

“Baby, do I look sexy today?”

“You always look sexy,” you tell him, “but extra sexy today. Why?”

You don’t get a response from him, but don’t think too much of it. He sometimes comes out with weird questions like these, doubting himself and his looks and abilities. You just suppose this is another one of those times and you can show him how sexy he is once he comes back into the bedroom.

Tom, however, is taking his publicist's advice about starting a media storm. Not that she said that… but her threat about one of those awful staged headlines that’ll get him in the shit again implies he needs to make a splash, and soon.

Adorable Bobby on his hip, towel tied low, phone looking tiny in his big, veined hand, heavenly abs tensed, golden-auburn hair tousled in natural curls. Yeah, he thinks to himself, I do look handsome. Sexy, even.

So, in a mood so unlike himself, he snaps a couple of pics, and after putting Bobby down and sending him out to his basket with a chew toy and a promise of a walk in a few, he flicks through and finds the only one he really likes: the one that truly shows off his Herculean, god-like stature.

Tom, however, doesn’t look too closely in order to prevent him deleting them all. And nor do you when he shows it to you.

“Christ you look good,” you whisper, hand carding through his curls and tugging. Hard.

That’s all the incentive he needs to click post after drafting whatever brief, witty caption he came up with on the walk from the bathroom.

When his phone blows up, he decides to ignore it. He’s been absent from social media for well over a year so this is to be expected. He also silences it for a few hours: texts, calls, the lot.

He just goes about his domestic life with you: cooking brunch, walking Bobby, reading, writing, dancing around the living room.

Until, a short while later, his landline phone rings. His publicist, again.

“Tom. Do you realise what you posted? Or— or, even better! Do you realise what the hell you’ve done?!” she screeches.

“Mary,” he says calmly, trying to keep all condescension from his tone, “I did what you asked. I posted, I got attention. What now?”

“Christ, okay. Clearly you’ve no clue. Open up your Instagram right now.”

You’re beside him, your face cold with panic as you fumble for your phone and pull the photo up.

Taking a closer look, your heart patters, jerks and stops. Then it begins an erratic rate a moment later. “Oh… shit.”

You show Tom and watch the palpable horror wash over him. “No. No no no no no.”

“Eloquent as ever, Tom,” she deadpans in that shrill, falsely bright tone. “Fix it on your end. I’ll get started on damage control.”

“I’m so sorry, Mary,” he bleats, “I’m deleting it now.”

She puts the phone down with a despairing sigh.

Tom’s baby blue gaze meets yours, stress broiling there like a storm.

“What have we done, baby?”

You chuckle mirthlessly as you reply, “Broken the internet.”

And you have. Because the details in the picture are impossible to construe any other way.

Handprints, big and small, on the glass of the shower; hickeys on Tom’s milky neck; actual teeth marks on the webbing of his hands, scratches from you raking your nails down his muscular chest.

You may as well have written ‘Tom had sex’ in the steamy mirror for all the obviousness it presents.

“And what the ever-loving fuck do we do?” he asks, head falling to his hands as his heart rate picks up.

Unsure of what else to do, you take his face in your hands and turn him to face you. Your eyes lock with his, and you search them for every emotion inside, layered and battling. Eventually as you hold his gaze, trust wins over... underlined by lust, and love clouding it all.

As casually as you can, you brush a kiss to his temple, his nose, his lips, and let an easy smirk overtake you. “We watch it burn.”

[lonestvrr]

hi everyone ! i'm veronica ( she / they , 23 , pst ) & a revolution veteran , if you will. i wanna start off with a little fun fact or disclaimer ? , that like oliver & his fc cody , i'm also native american ( but mixed , too ! ) , so i'm taking my own experiences with that & all of the complexities that come with being half white / white passing to this group & with oliver . also , another fun fact about me is that i play six different instruments ! maybe not super well , but i still do & i would love to learn more . ♡

。・ * ☆  ꒰ cody christian.   twenty five.   cis man.   he / him. ꒱        hold your f*** horses !   oliver newell   has just been spotted walking into revolution headquarters. they are best known for being the   singer, mandolin, fiddle & guitar   in   blue ridge rebels   and have been signed with the label for   three years.   they share a lot of interesting things about life in the music industry on their social media, so make sure you don’t forget to follow them at @  olivernewell.  fans know them for being   outspoken  but i swear they’ve got a   loyal   side as well. maybe that explains why they’re always associated with   the rumble of an old truck’s even older engine starting up, the thrill of a friday night football game and being a shoulder to cry on .   stan twitter even voted them most likely to   go to a fan’s prom as their date.   we’ll see how they live up to that reputation.

you know the boys taylor sings about on her debut album and fearless? that's oliver . not literally , but he's the boy girls think of when they hear those songs . for better or for worse .

☆ oliver james newell , known country boy & man of many talents , was born in maine around 25 years ago . he's a proud member of indigenous tribes of the area , though many people don't know that about him at first glance . although he never shies away from this part of him or talking about it .

☆ when he was thirteen , his family moved to tennessee . at fourteen , to georgia . they moved again when he was sixteen , but this time to austin , texas . it was in austin, at some point, in time where oliver first started to take music more seriously.

☆ growing up , he'd played folk music with his family in maine . he'd learned how to sing and play guitar at an early age , probably around 9 . in georgia , he'd had a small group with some school friends -- but they weren't very good . in tennessee , however , is where he'd first picked up the fiddle in another small band .

☆ although it wasn't until texas that oliver actually started to get good at any of these. during his time there, he'd also expanded past music. oliver was on the football team, having played briefly the year before in georgia, although this time, as the quarterback.

☆ college football scouts were always coming to games and his coaches would insist they were only for him . scholarships and college opportunities poured his way in his senior year , but that wasn't his passion . his little country folk band that played on weekends in his garage or at small local venues with crowds of tens of people just trying to enjoy their meal or their beer was his real passion . besides , school was never really the easiest for him , music was . he figured he'd be unhappy at tradtional college and especially having to play football all four years .

☆ so , he followed his gut and ignored the scholarships . he attended community college for two years and received certification and an associates degree in music. his band began to gain traction during this time , and somehow scored a record deal at revolution records .

。・ * ☆ tldr !

☆ moved around a lot ☆ proud indigenous american but also proud country boy ☆ used to play football , but his passion is music ☆ probably a massive swiftie , tbh .

。・ * ☆ quick stats !

traits : outspoken , opinionated , reserved , loyal , humble , creative , determined , talented , self assured , distant , reticent , gregarious , understanding , patient , reckless , shy , quick learner but a little airhead-ed at times . will let you vent to him at anytime and anyplace . will hold the door open for fifty people at a time , if you'll let him . will drive you around and offer to carpool . hopeless romantic & a gentleman . age + sign : twenty five + tbd height + build : 5'10 , tbd orientation + gender : bisexual , cis man ( he / him ) . likes : tbd . dislikes : tbd .

。・ * ☆ wanted connections !

☆ fellow band members !! pls whether they've both been there the entire time with oliver or if they're more recent additions is up to you !! <33 ☆ family / childhood friends oliver moved around a lot , so potentially this could work for something there ? ☆ a staff bestie pls ☆ touring band members ? he can't play everything by himself on stage , probably . but he'd probably try . ☆ anything & everything ... gimme gimme gimme <33

。・ * ☆ spotify & mock blog !

[stranger-nightmare]

Is there like a discord discussing about daredevil/matt murdock. bcos i would love to join

I have never used discord before like I literally no nothing about it but I’ve just made an account and made a server where we can discuss all things Matt / Daredevil if anyone is interested in joining???

I’ll post the link below!!

This chat is open to everyone and anyone as long you’re 18+ bc I just know this chat will get horny real quick😂

Also like I said I’ve never used discord before so forgive me if I’m lil confused about it at first but I’m gonna do my best

I don’t know if this will even go anywhere / gain traction but oh well I guess we’ll see😅

Come join me my horny little bees!!😈🐝

P.S. please no spoilers right away, I’ve only just finished season one, thank you🥰🖤✨

hey join me on Discord! Invite expires in 7 days. https://discord.gg/gzub3Thw

- Hope🐝

[fruitcoops]

SIRIUS/REMUS PLAYING WITH PUPPIES WHILE ANSWERING FANS QUESTIONS

Please know that if we ever met in person, I would literally lift you off your feet and hug you for suggesting this. My afternoon was filled with adorable puppy videos because of this!

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Can I have them?” Remus asked softly, staring at the person behind the camera with big, pleading eyes. “Please?”

“Do the introduction and then we’ll set ‘em loose,” Marlene said.

“Fine. Hey, everyone, welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m Remus Lupin and I’m here today to play with puppies.”

“And answer questions.”

“And answer questions,” he added. “Maybe, like, one or two in between snuggles.”

“You’re going to answer all of them,” Marlene said more firmly.

He rolled his eyes and took the lid off the jar of paper slips. “Can I have the puppies now?”

A door clicked open behind the camera and Remus lit up as four puppies tumbled into frame, racing straight for him. “Hello, babies!” he laughed as a tiny golden retriever jumped on his chest. “Oh, I love you so much. Come here, come here, let me give you kisses.”

“Question number one?” Marlene prompted as he began playing with them and rolling their toys around.

Remus sighed and pulled a question out. “What would I be doing if I didn’t become a hockey player? Physical therapy for su—ope, okay, you can have that one.”

The Irish Setter puppy growled playfully as they played a short game of tug-of-war until the paper tore.

“Oh no, it broke!” Remus exclaimed, giving the pup a scratch behind the ears while it chewed on the leftover scraps. “Yes, that’s all yours now. Next one: what is the best part about playing professional hockey? I get to do interviews like this.” One of the puppies, a medium-sized black one, began chewing on one of the laces of his Converse. “Excuse me—excuse me, young man, that’s my shoelace. Are you chewing it because it’s rainbow? Is this homophobia?”

“Remus.”

“Sorry.” He lifted the puppy into his arms and kissed his head. “Okay, munchkin, what’s next? What’s next? You’re so fucking cute, I just wanna squish you. Um, what’s the most common thing fans say when they meet me?” He laughed and the puppy licked his cheek. “Usually they look at me and go, ‘god, you’re tall’, which surprises people because I’m always around these gigantic guys. Do these dogs have names?”

“If I tell you their names, you’re going to get attached.”

“We have crossed, salted, and burned that bridge, Marley.”

“The one you’re holding is Mercutio, the red one is Juliet, the retriever is Pip, and the fluffy one on your lap is Lucie, after Lucie Manette.”

Remus’ jaw went slack. “They’re named after book characters?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yep.”

“Oh, no.” He reached out and pulled Juliet and Pip into his arms for a moment. “Oh, no, you all have to come home with me now. The next question is…would I ever do drag? Probably not, but I looked hot as fuck in eyeliner, so do with that what you will.”

“Which video was that?”

“It was the fear pong one, which I played with my fiancé and my friends James and Lily!” His voice pitched up as he turned to talk to Mercutio. “I did, buddy! It was so fun! Yes, it was!”

“Remus. Questions.”

“Right. What’s one of my weirdest or funniest fan encounters? There was this one lady, she was like forty-something, and she came up to me while I was at the post office and asks ‘are you Remus Lupin?’ and I said, ‘yes, that’s me’ and she’s like ‘from the Gryffindor Lions?’ and I said yes again and then she went—” He narrowed his eyes and nodded his head slowly. “—‘I knew you were gay. Good for you, kiddo’ and then left. It was the weirdest fucking thing, especially considering I had played, like, one game with the team by that point.”

“Are you serious?” Marlene asked.

“Totally honest. I never saw her again, either.” Juliet put her paws on the front of his Lions hoodie and began licking the edge of his jaw. “Hey, sweet girl, thank you for the kisses. Can I grab another question? No? Okay, we can stay here.”

Pip began yipping and Mercutio wiggled out of Remus’ hold, launching himself at the other dog with a tiny growl.

“Mercutio, no!” Remus gasped, scooting Juliet aside so he could put the two puppies under his arms. His hands were big enough to almost cover their whole bellies. “We’re not here to start fights, you two. Apologize.” They turned their heads to lick his cheeks. “I didn’t mean apologize to me, but okay. You’re so soft and warm, what the hell?”

“Next question?”

“What’s the craziest rumor I’ve heard about myself? A solid group of people thought I asked to be on the team, which isn’t true. I didn’t even know people were considering it until James and Lily’s wedding. Coach wanted it to be a surprise while he cleared it with the organization.” Remus shook his head and slowly petted Lucie as she napped on his thigh. “Is there a celebrity I’ve met that left me starstruck? Ha! Yes. There was a fundraiser a few months ago and Sam Neill was there, which I didn’t know until I turned around and he was about two feet away.”

“What did you do?”

Remus laughed and turned faintly pink. “Um, I made a sort of squeaking noise and he kinda chuckled, which was mortifying in and of itself. He goes, ‘hi, I’m Sam’ and I nodded because duh, he’s Sam fucking Neill, and then I mumbled something about Jurassic Park and he smiled and said, ‘son, you’re blocking the water’ and I just about died on the spot.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Sirius was standing next to me the entire time and silently laughing his ass off. I saw them talking later, and when were about to drive home he hands me this napkin and it has Sam Neill’s autograph on it.”

“He didn’t,” Marlene gasped.

Remus nodded. “He did.”

“That’s the smoothest move I’ve ever heard of.”

“It was incredible.” Juliet waddled closer and nudged a red ball out from under Remus’ knee, which he picked up and tossed before taking out another question. “Do I appreciate when fans come up to me in public or is it annoying? Oh, it’s never annoying. It’s a little weird if I’m eating lunch somewhere or running errands and someone tries to sneak a picture, though. I love all the fans and it’s super fun talking to everyone, so please just come over and say hello instead of failing to be sneaky while I’ve got pizza grease on my face.”

“Even if you’re on a date?”

Remus snorted. “Okay, well, use some common sense. Pip—babycakes, stop trying to eat the questions. There we go.” He settled the puppy into his lap and rolled the ball for Juliet again. “In a movie about my life, who would I want to play me and Sirius?” He paused and looked at the camera. “I would want us to play ourselves, but only because neither of us can act and it would be so fucking funny to make the absolute worst movie.”

“Come on,” Marlene groaned.

“I’m being a hundred percent honest right now! I think it would be hilarious. We’d be terrible.” Juliet pawed at his arm insistently until he grabbed the ball, but she wouldn’t let it go and they ended up playing tug-of-war despite the fact that she had no traction on the floor and kept sliding around. “Aren’t you a feisty one, sweet girl! What is the most memorable moment of my life that I want to cherish forever? This. Right here, right now.”

“Really?”

“I have two dogs on my lap, one under my arm, and the other slobbering all over my hand. This is the best possible place to be. Wait, hang on a second.” Remus carefully lifted Lucie up and laid down, settling her on his abdomen as the other three clambered over to flop on him. “Oh, yeah, this is the peak of my entire life.”

“You’re not going to say your engagement? Maybe the day you started playing for the Lions?”

“Nope. The engagement was incredible and one of my favorite memories for sure, but I was shaking in my skates.”

“Just read the next question.”

“Okay! What’s my go-to karaoke song?” He hummed for a moment, then laughed as Lucie scooted up to rest her head under his chin. “I think it’s probably ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ by Whitney Houston. Lily and I did a duet of that a year or so ago, and it rocked.”

Pip began gnawing on the cuff of his sweatshirt. “Pip,” Marlene scolded; her foot appeared in frame until Remus waved her off with a smile.

“It’s okay, he can chew if he wants to. It’s an old sweater anyway, and it’s not even mine!” He scratched behind Pip’s ears. “No, it’s not, peach-a-keen! You can go nuts with that as long as you’re cozy. What is…my favorite behind-the-scenes Lions moment? Our groupchat, no contest.”

“Does it have the whole team?”

“Most of us, yeah. You have to earn your spot.” Remus looked over at the camera and Lucie put her head on his neck. “Looks like I’ve been banned from turning my head now, huh?”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Marley, there are very few things that would make me happier than I am right now. I’m being slowly crushed by puppies and I get to cuddle them for free.” He reached blindly into the question jar. “This is a two-part question. Do I prefer big dogs or small dogs, and how is Hattie doing? I love all dogs, but I think I prefer big ones because they’re always so much fun, and I don’t feel like I’m accidentally going to break them if I move wrong. Hattie’s doing well! She’s almost eighty pounds and she’s at home with Sirius right now, probably getting snuggled within an inch of her fuzzy little life.”

“That’s the dream right there.”

“Tell me about it. Alright, sorry ladies and gents, but I have to sit up to get to the questions.” All four puppies made noises of protest when he started sitting up and he sighed, eyebrows pitching upward. “I know, I know, it’s really hard. Here, how about we…” Remus carefully gathered them until he held all four against his chest; their tiny faces looked out over his forearms and he placed a kiss on each of their heads. “Much better.”

“Can you get to the jar?”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to reach in. “Do you want to read it?” he asked Mercutio as the puppy tried to bite the slip. “No? Okay. What is my favorite thing about playing on the same team as my fiancé? That is an excellent question. My favorite thing is that we finally have the same schedule, so we can build in time to hang out more easily. It was hard to do that when we were doing different things.”

Pip yawned and the entire camera crew ‘awww’ed; Remus made a soft noise and nuzzled his floppy ear.

��I adore you,” he murmured. “I really do. Last question: What is my advice to those who want to follow their dreams? Oh, jeez.”

“You can take a minute to think.”

Remus crossed his legs and lifted his knees up so he could hug all the puppies at once while still looking at the camera. “The only reason I got big and strong is so that I can hold four puppies at once. Just thought people should know that. Uh, my advice to those who want to follow their dreams is to persevere. I never in a million years thought that I would get to play on a professional hockey team, but I worked really hard to overcome my injury and stay connected to the sport because I love it. If there’s something you love, don’t be afraid to hold on to it.”

“Wise words,” Marlene remarked. “Do you want to tell the fans where they can find the puppies?”

“At my house,” Remus joked. “But if that doesn’t work, they are up for adoption at Friendly Paws Animal Shelter, which is just south of downtown Gryffindor and has tons of adorable friends like these guys. Can I call Sirius real quick?”

“Sure,” Marlene laughed.

Remus gingerly lowered Lucie into his lap and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a quick number before putting it on speakerphone and setting it down to pick her up again. “Re?” Sirius sounded confused. “Aren’t you still with Marlene?”

“Yeah.”

“…did something happen?”

“Nope, all good. Can we get another dog?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Marlene, what did you do?”

“It’s just an interview!” she called.

“What kind of interview?”

“Baby, they gave me puppies,” Remus said gleefully, burying his face in Lucie’s fluff for a moment. “Like, really good puppies.”

A long-suffering sigh came through the phone. “How many are you holding?” Remus hesitated. “Sweetheart, how many dogs are currently in your arms?”

“Four.”

“Holy shit, Marlene! You gave him four dogs?!”

“They named them, too,” Remus added. “Pip, Juliet, Lucie Manette, and Mercutio. Baby, they named him Mercutio.”

“This was a recipe for disaster.” Despite his protests, Sirius sounded intrigued. “How old are they?”

Remus glanced up at Marlene. “They’re all six to eight months old,” she said.

Sirius blew out a slow breath. “So they’re babies.”

“They’re all up for adoption.”

“We have Hattie already.” Sirius was wavering. “But…she might possibly need a friend. Maybe.”

“You already love these dogs and you haven’t even seen them,” Remus said with a grin.

“The names are perfect! What was I supposed to do?”

“I’m going to sign the video off and then call you back, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t let go of the dogs until I get there, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Once the call ended, Remus faced the camera with a smile. Juliet and Pip had already fallen asleep. “Thanks for tuning in, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe for more content. Endless thanks to Marlene McKinnon for allowing me to spend an hour holding tiny dogs. Have a great day!”

[the-queen-of-ships]

Baker Rasta

Name: Untitled (help me name this!)

Summary: Rasta is escapes and becomes a baker!

Word Count: 567

Status: Unedited, literally fresh out the oven wip? maybe we’ll see

Author’s Note: So I did this on a whim despite me promising to myself I’ll finish that Whitney fic from Cursed Princess Club I need last year, here’s the wip btw hehe. But hey practice is practice and special thanks to @parad0xang3l for the idea. It’s definitely not my best work writing wise because no edits, no read thru and I definitely rushed, but a wip is a wip. Practice is practice, so here ya go!

Also I’d like to think Rasta became famous because a maid got sent baked good from her family where Rasta is. Rasta made it extra pretty bc they were the first who offered her help and there was just some mixture in the noble’s kitchen, one thing led to another and the noble got sent the bread. Is it realistic? Probs not, but do I care? Eh, I'll deal with it later.

~~|~~|~~|~~

Rasta stared at the lines of many maids and butlers in varying uniforms brimming with pride, but she could already see the incoming fatigue after the traction would subside. However, that was something to fret about for later, for now she had paying costumes to take care of!

She didn’t know how so many people from noble blood have come to know her quaint little establishment, but she thanked the Gods for finally taking pity and blessing her with a new horizon. The tides were changing for her, but she couldn’t help but worry about the past she left behind could be chasing her as she grew complacent in her happiness.

Despite it being two full years since she escaped from that family, how could she forget? She started this business with the foundation being the money she managed to haul to herself, little bits of money that her owner would not miss or notice.

Her track could well possibly be sniffed down much easily with the nobles flocking to her for her pastries and being the talk among many people in power. Yes, they gave her money to improve her recipes, living conditions, and help the neighboring shops that assisted her when she was up and coming, but it kept her awake at night knowing they could easily snatch it away and break her safe haven she has spent years building with a flick of their wrist.

“Madame, are you alright?” With the concerned voice, came the loud and bustling voices of her other costumers.

“Ah yes, my sincerest apologies. Oh, it’s you two again!” Rasta begun making small talk with her sweetest smile.

“Oh, you remember us?” The ladies stared at her awe at her memory.

“How could I possibly not remember two lovely ladies?” How could she not remember them? They were the first two ladies that looked to be from noble descent to enter her shop rather than the typical servants she was much more at ease with. “So, what can I get you two?

“Three of everything, please.” Having been used to the large orders from weeks of unending orders for different tea parties. Those usually meant that her treats were a joy to eat, but Rasta couldn’t help herself and asked how they found her little sweets. “Absolutely delectable! Our friend has been feeling down as of late, so we thought it would be a good idea to give her some of your pastries, I swear they could put any well-known chef to shame.”

Rasta beamed at the seemingly unending barrage of compliments, her lips curling wider in a smile as she neatly packed away the little sweets in their own separate bags.

“Oh, one last thing, how do you make them so delicious?” Without hesitation, Rasta answered immediately.

“I make them with love!” The woman found joy in her response, assuming it was a jest, but Rasta could only see truth in the answer she has given.

~~|~~|~~|~~

“Your Majesty!” Navier’s ladies in waiting immediately sprung to their feet as her hand flew to her lip. An unfamiliar look was plastered on the Empress’ face that was indecipherable to the two frantic and concerned women.

“It’s… good.” The two women were shocked to see a smile grace their Empress’ lips, a smile that belonged not to an Empress of a Powerful Kingdom, but of a little girl who many thought has longed died. A little girl who smiled everyday as she fell deeper and deeper for the boy she was to wed until one day she just vanishes.

But now, here she was again like she has always been there... like she never left.

~~|~~|~~|~~