#And then we see what happens if you don't think about your own wants and needs and identity

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image IDs: Tweets from hors d'oeuvres (horse divorce) (@/ corviiid).

On Sep 4: anyway the real dichotomy in ace attorney is narumitsu who dance around being effectively married on the soulmate plane for 30 years before having a tearful revelation in the middle of a murder-conspiracy vs klapollo who are like wanna go on a date after work yeah okay sure

phoenix is alike apollo. take it from me, a married man. ur love life Will be torrid for 2 decades. 3 if u count the years when u were 8 and working out the connecting b/w homosexuality and court but it Will be worth it. apollo is like klavier is bringing thai food to my apartment

On May 12, 2019: judge: well then, mr wright? what is this decisive evidence? phoenix: (this is it... i can't afford to get this wong!) phoenix: Take That! everyone: ... ... ... judge: this is your wedding ring phoenix: yeah. miles please help edgeworth, standing at the opposite bench:

On Nov 5, 2021: kay: you gotta put yourself out there mr edgeworth i mean you never know! mr right could be just around the corner edgeworth: ? no, it's a work day. he'll be in his office downtown. kay: what? edgeworth: what?

On Sep 7: klapollo. is so good and so funny. diva rock-star prosecutor who is like human form of the concept of vtubers. net worth of a small nation state. has his own barbie doll. dating: man who has invented a category called "most normal person on earth" and is trying so hard to win it

apollo is like klavier i cant date you i would feel guilty if we were dating but i didnt support you by watching you new reality/lifestyle show but i cant because it's on at the same time as the local news and i have to write the forecast in my pocket notebook every night

klavier is like ach i understand boyfriend forehead. you are too insecure to join me on the red carpet. i assure you that everyone will find your suit that you bought from target as charming as i do and apollo is like no i know that

On Aug 30: thinking about phoenix wright getting his badge back after eight long years and immediately taking on a case without checking who his client is and then when he finds out his client is an actual fucking orca he's like Aw brother. Golly gee. Well this might as well happen

On Oct 12: trucy, mouth full of pocky: so you'd think klavier is the cool one in the relationship but actually he get excited about well drafted contracts. it's not him phoenix letting trucy give him a pedicure: so it's apollo? trucy: no phoenix: well, that's all the options trucy: yeah

On Jan 21, 2020: naming one child kristoph and one child klavier is really like going these are my two cats this one is named geoffrey and this one is named placemat

On Sep 5: does anyone remember that one tumblr post about what if there was an anime where every episode is the protagonist dodging the first episode of another anime because she wants to be just some guy. realising that that's apollo justice

orphaned when his father died in a fire and mother disappeared and lost her memory? that's just how it is, won't look into that. raised in a foreign country by a guy who becomes an infamous insurgent? don't want to talk about it. will never bring it up. i want to be a solicitor

On May 3, 2021: phoenix becoming an attorney to see miles again proving he's been thinking about miles for 15+ years and never stops and then in investigations miles proving that he thinks about phoenix like eight times a day every time anything happens but never by name that's too intimate

just a whole ass relationship of miles microwaving a lasagne and thinking This microwave lasagne, once so cold, is now warm to the touch. Much like my heart, which was changed by... that attorney

maya voice That's why you bought out the grocery store's entire supply of bratwurst? To meet Edgeworth?! and then edgeworth doesn't even like bratwurst

halfhearted bratworth joke

(miles edgeworth tripping over a crack in the sidewalk) That's right... I could have fallen so much farther if I had not been caught by a certain /End ID]

in honour of twitter violently lowering itself into a pit of lava, i’ve started saving some of my favourite tweets from my twitter account in case it all goes down. i guess i’ll start posting them here on tumblr in chunks - the ace attorney ones go here, though i know i haven’t been all that active lately!

this is also a heads up that i’ve made a new general blog @corviiids for all the yammering that’s been on twitter up until now. if you’re INTERESTED in yammering, you’re very welcome to come over and follow me there too.

[lover-of-mine]

soooo 👀 the fit of buck's clothes in that bts video 👀 👀 would love to know your thoughts 👀 👀 👀

I know, right? The way his clothes keep getting more oversized is making me vibrate. Usual shoutout to @stagefoureddiediaz, Kym talked about the fit of Buck's clothes changing back in season 7 and we were talking about it earlier, so Kym 🫶🫶

Okay, so before season 7, Buck's clothes were too tight a lot of the time, we all joked about how his buttons were about to pop off or how his arms would rip through his shirts, or how we can see the outline of his muscles perfectly. Like, sometimes it would honestly look like he was one wrong movement from ripping those.

But they changed to putting him in more oversized stuff for season 7 (and started shortening his pants, but I digress) and gets more obvious in s8.

It is partially attached to Tommy and how tommy gives him the right path but isn't the right person, since his clothes start to get looser when he starts dating him. The shirts don't fit right on his shoulders, they don't sit right on his chest, they have the wrong fit in his arms. So his overall aesthetic still doesn't fit exactly right.

The whole thing with the changing the way his clothes fit in the other direction is very indicative of how Buck still doesn't fit in his own skin, he thought dating men was the answer but he was Buck dating Tommy, he didn't look further than that, and he is spiraling further with what we know, spinning like a top one would say lol, and both scenes we saw of his clothes (yesterday's uniform possibly included), include VERY loose shirts.

I keep being drawn to the fit around his arms because my god, for a shirt to look that big on Oliver's biceps it has to be BIG lol. And while his shirts have been looser, they haven't been this big yk? And today's video, with the cropped fit, how lose it is, like, Buck is GOING through it, which makes me think this fit is from 810, just to add the emotional distress of the kidnapping to his abandonment issues being extremely triggered between the breakup and Eddie leaving.

It's all about the way Buck still hasn't gotten it right. We know Buck is on his way to figuring his feelings for Eddie out, and therefore finally understanding the final piece of the puzzle that allows him to stop over-correcting. But he's not there yet. The choices he's making don't fit exactly right. And his clothes will be the wrong size until he's ready to fight for Eddie.

But Anna what makes you think all this means buddie and that Buck's clothes will fit when Buck is ready and buddie is coming?

Well, I believe there are clues about the general idea behind buddie going canon hidden in the coming out scene. I have talked extensively about the blue and yellow elements, the way I believe this is Buck's shade of blue. I think all of it is indicative of what's to come.

And that includes how perfectly that shirt fits. The seams are resting on the right spot on his shoulder, they are the perfect length for his arm, they're not overly tight around his chest or biceps, nothing looks too big or too small.

And this isn't an accident, everything about the show is very intentional, so the clothes getting looser as he lets Eddie go even though he doesn't want to? It makes me very !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because the oversized fit also plays into the way we haven't exactly seen Buck in his signature jewel tones, the bright reds and blues, this season yet. And I think that once buddie happens he will be walking around with his brighter colors in shit that fits right lol.

So we are on the lookout for Buck in clothes that fit right and in this shade of blue.

As always, if you read all this I love you 🫶

[myloveer0]

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

All of the Ambessa's fic are mostly smut. Now i want write different this time ;)

Part I

The night of the gathering was full of noise, the endless chatter, catching up with your cousins which you hadn’t seen in ages, and men cheering at the current football game. It was so noisy and chaotic which was stressing you out.

But still, there was something comforting about seeing those familiar faces. Your aunties laughing out loud echoing from the kitchen, your uncle's bad jokes that somehow got worse every year, the kids running around and toddler crying the brain out.

Family gatherings were never your thing. Too many questions, too much noise, and way too many relatives. You just don't have a choice but to obey your mother since it only happens once a year. Everyone minding their own business. It was almost funny, though, how everyone acted like nothing ever happened. Just last year, there was that massive fight over your Grandpa’s inheritance and the land rights. You thought your family would never be the same again.

But here we were, gathered like old times—those heated arguments maybe forgotten. This is what families like. Everyone was busy bragging about their new cars, job promotions, or perfectly curated family vacations.

You were doing a decent job of blending into the background, sipping your martini and pretending to care as your aunt went on about her new Victoria’s Secret bag that definitely looked fake.

It was fake, but you weren’t rude enough to point it out. You just kept nodding, trying your best to look impressed.

“So, do you have a boyfriend yet?” Your auntie suddenly asked. Wine glass in hand, eyes sparkling with nosy curiosity. “Anyone special in your life?”

But of course, it wouldn't be a family gathering without that question.

You forced a polite smile, which lead to an awkward laugh the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Your auntie's release a collective gasp, followed by the inevitable assumption. You wanna roll your eyes.

Not surprised… are they asking you because you’re the only adult in the family who still hasn’t brought a boyfriend this year? Just like every other year. Meanwhile, your cousins are busy introducing their partners to the family—even the one who’s still in high school. And there you are… all alone.

“You know, Y/n, your cousin Emily is already married and has a two-year-old son. She’s doing so well! You really should think about settling down, sweetheart. You’re not getting any younger, and it’s harder to have kids when you’re older.”

Ah, yes. Emily—the family’s golden child. Same age as you, but somehow light-years ahead in the game of life, according to everyone else. Married, a kid, probably a dog too, for good measure. It’s like she checked off every box on the ‘Perfect Life’ checklist, and here you are alone while everyone assuming you where still trying to find a pen.

You'd force a smile, nod along, and pretend like it didn’t bother you. But inside? You was screaming. If only they knew.

You were doing your best to avoid another round of those questions when your cousin tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n” he whispered, glancing around while a plate food in his hand. “Someone’s looking for you outside.”

You blinked. “Who?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some lady. But, uh… she looks like someone important. She was kinda scary too..”

That made you pause. Someone important? You racked your brain, trying to think of who would show up here, of all places. But with no other choice, you set your martini down and asked to leave. As you made your way to the front door, a strange feeling settled in your chest.

And then you stepped outside the gate.

You froze.

There, standing by her sleek black car, was her.

Ambessa Medarda.

Your girlfriend.

She wore a sharp red and black suit, tailored to perfection, exuding power with every inch of her posture. The soft evening light glinted off her gold earrings, and her confident stance made it impossible to look anywhere else. Your heart did this weird little lurch, and your chest tightened with a mix of excitement and full-blown panic.

Because what the hell was she doing here?

Behind her—not far away—was another black car, more like an convoy. And there you saw Ricktus, Ambessa’s head security. He glanced in your direction, giving a slight bow when your eyes met. You returned a small smile before starting to walk toward Ambessa.

You barely had time to process before Ambessa large build crossed the distance between you, her hand sliding behind your neck as she pulled you in for a kiss—right there, in the open, in front of your parents house. Your brain screamed at you to stop her, to do something, but your body? Yeah, it had other plans. You melted into the kiss, your nerves buzzing under your skin, and when she finally pulled back, you were left breathless, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Ambessa,”You whispered, glancing nervously over your shoulder to make sure no one had seen. Thank goodness.. you didn't have a front yard party. “What… what are you doing here?”

Ambessa smiled, that infuriatingly calm, self-assured smile that always made you weak in the knees. “I missed you. little one ”

You blinked. “It’s been barely two weeks.”

“Too long,” Ambessa said without missing a beat, seriously? How can she be so clingy and possesive at the same time. Which was kinda cute to be honest. “So, I came to see you. little one. Why? You don’t look happy. I was hoping you’d jump at me out of pure rejoice.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding in your chest. You would have jumped at her—hell, you would’ve run into her arms if she weren’t standing right in front of your parents’ house, of all places. The timing couldn’t have been worse. But God, seeing her again stirred something deep inside you. Yes, it been just two weeks but it felt like forever.

“I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you just stared at her, taking in the way she stood there like she owned the whole damn world, that familiar smirk playing on her lips, the glint of mischief in her eyes. You missed her. More than you’d let yourself admit.

Ambessa raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, her presence overwhelming as always. “What’s the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?” she teased, her voice a low, velvety whisper that made your skin prickle. She glanced at the house behind you, then back at your face, reading you like an open book. “Ah… I see.” Her grin widened. “Didn’t realize you’d be home home.”

You shot her a look, trying to keep your cool, but it was impossible with her standing so close, with that look in her eyes.

“I missed you,” you finally blurted out, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Ambessa’s smirk softened, just a hint, and for a fleeting second, something warmer flickered in her gaze. But it was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by that same cocky confidence.

“I know,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I always know.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest, but before you could even process it, she stepped closer, her hand brushing your arm, her touch sending a jolt through your entire body.

“So,” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous, “Are you going to invite me in, or do I have to stand out here all day while your parents wonder who the hell their daughter’s been dreaming about?”

You blinked. Your eyes slowly widened as your stomach flipped. Reality snapped back into focus. This was bad.Very bad. How can you two flirting in this situation.

“Bess, you can’t just… show up like this,” you hissed, lowering your voice. “This isn’t the right time.”

This wasn’t at all how you pictured the family reunion going. They can't meet Ambessa. Not now.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “Why not?”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “Because my parents don’t even know I have a lover. They’ve known me as single for the past five years. Let alone a woman who’s…”

Ambessa’s gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unwaverin like daring you “Continue your words, little one.”

You bit your lip, your cheeks warming as you dropped your eyes to the ground. You didn’t want to offend her.

“W-who’s… well, twice my age.”

Ambessa didn’t flinch. Not even a flicker of surprise crossed her face. Like she knew it was coming along. The gap—had always been the issue people latched onto. You told yourself you didn’t care what they thought. But sometimes… sometimes it stung.

But not Ambessa.

She just tilted her head, eyes sharp and unwavering, that usual confidence. “Then are you embarrassed?”

Your eyes widened, and you snapped your gaze up to meet hers, a frown pulling at your lips. Is that what she think of you? “Of course not! Don’t even think about it that way, Bess. You’re—” Your voice began to cracked, the emotion bubbling up before you could stop it. You were having a hard time sinking all of this. It was too sudden.

“You’re one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to me. I’m proud to be yours. Every time i'm with you i feel so whole and I'm not letting you go cause your mine. I’d stand on the highest rooftop and shout it to the whole damn world if I had to. I’d tell everyone you’re my girlfriend, that you mean everything to me—”

You didn’t even realize the tears had started falling until Ambessa’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping them away with surprising gentleness. That small gesture broke something in you—the floodgates opened, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

You hated when she thought like that. Like she wasn’t important to you. Like you didn’t value your relationship just because of that damn age gap everyone kept pointing out.

You didn’t want her to ever feel that way.

Ambessa didn’t say a word. She just pulled you into her arms, strong and steady, like nothing in the world could touch you when you were with her. Being wrapped in her embrace was your safe haven.

Her hand cradled the back of your head, and you felt her breath warm against your temple “Shh… Forgive me.. Let them talk. Let them think whatever the hell they want. You’re mine. And that’s all that matters.”

“I just…” you gasped between sobs, clinging to her suit. God! You just ruined her expensive suit. “I don’t care what they say, but it—it gets to me sometimes. Like we’re wrong. But we’re not. We’re not, right?”

Ambessa pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes were fierce, unwavering, like they always were, but there was something softer beneath the surface now—a tenderness she rarely showed.

“We are never wrong,” she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. “Let them talk. Let them think whatever the hell they want. They don’t know us. They don’t know you.” She leaned in, her forehead resting gently against yours, her breath warm and steady. “And I don’t give a damn about anything but this—you and me. That’s all that matters.”

Her words wrapped around you, and for the first time, you felt the tension ease from your chest. You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly, you buried your face against her chest, clutching her like she was the only solid thing in the world.

“I don’t care what they say,” you whispered through the tears. “I just… I love you so much, Bess.” voice raw but sure. “I love you so much.”

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Ambessa's lips���one of those smiles she only ever gave you. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I know you do,” she murmured, her thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “And I love you more than all their words combined. They can’t touch what we have. I wouldn't let them. They have to get to me first”

A small smile tugged at your lips. You slowly wiped your tears before gently pulling away from her embrace.

“You know no one can get past you,” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around her waist and looking up into her eyes.

Who would even dare to challenge a figure like her—unless they had a death wish or wanted to live through hell itself.

A cocky smile graced Ambessa’s lips. “Precisely, little one.”

“I’m sorry for being so emotional,” you whispered, your voice still shaky. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed… It’s just—they’re so important to me. My family—they’re not exactly…” you trailed off, searching for the right word. Ready? Accepting? Prepared for the force of nature that is you? None of it felt right.

''i know.. that's why it’s time they found out.”

You stared at her. “Bess…i know but they’ll flip out. They’re not exactly… open-minded about this kind of thing. ”

Her gaze softened just a fraction, but there was still steel underneath. “I’m not here to hide. And neither are you.”

You ran a hand through your hair, heart pounding like it was trying to break free from your chest. “ My parents are a little homophobic. They’ll freak out.”

Ambessa stepped closer, her voice low but firm. “Then let them.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, you knew Ambessa wasn’t going to back down. She never did. And maybe, just maybe, a part of you didn’t want her to.

But that didn’t make this any less terrifying.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, her touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m not leaving,” she whispered. “It’s time.”

You blinked at her, trying to gauge if she was really serious. “Bess… it’s just a family thing. You’d be bored.” one last convencing.

She raised an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “ You look so adorable with your puppy eyes. But it will not work this time. I think it’s time I met your family.''

You let out a shaky breath, your nerves coiling tighter with every second. Is there anything in this world this woman was afraid off? But as you looked into her eyes—steady, unwavering, hers—you knew there was no talking her out of this.

God help. This was happening.

You knew a moment like this would come. You just didn’t expect it to be today.

Ambessa’s sudden appearance—like she’d just pop out of thin air—sent your heart into overdrive. She always had a knack for catching you off guard, but this? This felt different. You weren’t prepared. You hadn’t braced yourself for the surge of tension crackling in the air between you.

And the worst part? The way she looked.

Standing there like she owned the damn place, dressed to perfection, like every single detail had been planned to the last thread. It made you wonder—had she planned this? You knew Ambessa had been eager to meet your parents. You did. But you always found a way to shift the topic..

Is that why she showed up today? But God—the way that outfit hugged her frame, you couldn’t help but ogle. It was distracting she look so smoking hot and gorgeous. And the subtle gleam in her eye? It told you she was fully aware of the effect she had on you.

Your palms felt clammy, your pulse thrumming in your ears. But as your eyes flicked down to your own outfit, a small wave of relief washed over you. Thank God you’d put some effort into how you looked today. If you’d been caught in something sloppy, standing next to her, you would’ve crumbled right there on the spot.

But still… even dressed your best, Ambessa had a way of making everyone else fade into the background. And you couldn’t help but wonder—how the hell were you supposed to keep your cool standing beside her?

“A-alright,” you whispered, your voice barely steady. “Let’s do this.”

[elucubrare]

@idionkisson said, re: my very last tag, if you wanted to share any more mean thoughts about this tendency vs. the way people talk about AI art, yk, just sayin, i'd love to read em 👀

DISCLAIMER: I don't think the current usage of AI art is good. I think it further contributes to the devaluation of the artist's intent. that said, the thesis of this post is that there was a strong anti-intellectual and anti-academy vein of thought that prepared the way for the view that AI art is a full replacement for human-made art.

so, there was an age of the internet where every other tumblr post, it seemed, was about how this artistic-looking thing had happened "accidentally" or was done by an amateur, or described an artist with a decent amount of recognition and respect in the art world as "this guy," as in "this guy spent a year making a map that is the territory" - the one i'm immediately able to find is this crystalized book, by the artist Catherine McEver.

it went viral on tumblr as "a book that fell into the ocean" (and on facebook as "an ancient bible that's still readable", which is v. funny because that book is clearly less than a hundred years old, and i would warrant less than 10). there was also a really cool artwork with less easily googable keywords - someone (eta: thanks to @zukriuchen it's Brian Fanner) made a beehive with internal structuring so that it would look like a heart when opened, which people posted as "a beehive that went back to nature" or something. this supposedly accidental production of works that evoke emotion in the viewer was contrasted to "modern art", which was viewed as sterile, emotionless, overly intellectual, and inaccessible. Only that which Nature creates, or which people create accidentally or without study is "true art".

to some extent, this is a reaction to the way art, especially making money in art, has become genuinely inaccessible - much studio art is taking part in a really long conversation that you could probably trace back to the walls of Lascaux if you wanted, and it is really hard to make your way as a working artist.

(NOTE i am not going to say "due to capitalism" here - the way you could make your way as a working artist without being born rich in the Renaissance was "being adopted as a pet artist by a nobleman" or "getting commissions from the Church" and in the 18th and 19th centuries it was "selling portraits to rich people" or "making a whole bunch of sentimental prints that sold well". we are not well-served by inventing past utopias.)

but that, combined with a shallow reading of the death of the author (not "the author's point of view on their own work is a single reading & not necessarily the most valid one" but "the only thing in a work is what any individual reader sees there"), ends up valorizing things the author "didn't see" in a work ("did they know how funny this is????" about a deliberate contrast in tone in a scene is part of this too), because it allows the reader to feel smarter than the author - they just put down the proceedings of their soul, the reader decodes it and finds the truth!

So, to return to AI. AI art does not have the same intentional choices behind it as human-made art. i won't argue that. but there are AI pieces that get reblogged without people knowing, with tags that indicate that it made the reblogger feel something, and then as soon as they find out that it's AI they decry it as soulless. but didn't it make you feel something, before you knew it was AI? is there a difference, in the initial experience, all arguments about copyright aside, between a computer randomly collecting billions of bits and outputting an image and "this guy put ink on ants' feet, what they created will amaze you"? both of them are art without intent.

again, I am arguing purely on an experiential level. there are ethical concerns about AI art, and functionally, there IS still a human actor who thought of putting ink on those ants; ant-foot art is not going to take over the internet. still, it's extremely jarring, after years of reading people downplay artists' skill, intent, and years of study, often phrased as an attack on the "fake" art world, to read them now talk about how the artist's intent and experience is paramount.

there's this horrible school of attempted literary criticism on here that holds that 1. everything in any given author's work is autobiographical, especially if it seems "real" and 2. those themes seeped into the work subconsciously, revealing something about the author that they're either trying to hide or unaware of themself. it drives me up a wall, since it seems to deny the fundamental skills that make people good writers: the empathy to imagine and portray experiences that one hasn't had oneself and the ability to take one's personal emotional experiences or worldview and fold them, consciously, into the unworked clay of a narrative.

[peachglazewrites]

hear me out. user using safe word while doing it with abby?? like what abby's reaction would be??

one shot maybe?? smth like that

𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby/f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: tlou typical violence, smut (18+ mdni), use of words like cunt/tits, use of safeword, panic attacks 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: established relationship, angst, fluff, use of pet names (honey, baby, pretty girl) 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or reader descriptions, in canon world 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 4,636k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: After a rough patrol, you come home to your girlfriend to try and take your mind off things. Unfortunately things don't go to plan.

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wanted to go about this, and found that this was the most comfortable for me personally to write, as well as fit how I think about Abby!

I hope you enjoy ♡︎

̗̀➛ master list ̗̀➛ request your own here

Screeching. Clicking. Hurried footsteps on asphalt. Gunfire.

Your heart is beating a mile a minute, adrenaline thrumming through your system. Your rifle feels heavy in your hands, the weight of it slowing you down.

Don’t look. Don’t fucking look.

The croaking snarl sounds so impossibly close, practically right in your ear.

Shit. Just keep running. Oh god just keep—

A rock, a piece of rubble, your own foot, you don’t know what it is, but you trip on something. Your legs give out under you, rifle tumbling from your grip and clattering against the asphalt as your hands fly out to catch you. The fabric of your cargos rip as you skid, your cheek grazing and cutting on the jagged rocks beneath you.

That guttural clicking doesn’t stop, even when you do. It gets closer and closer, and you scramble on your hands and knees, reaching for your gun. Your fingers barely graze the butt of it, just one more push and you’ll have it.

But you can’t move, not any further. Not when the clicker chasing you has fallen on top of you, pinning you to the ground.

A cry rips from your throat, ragged and gasping and please somebody help—

Multiple gunshots rip through the air, so close it feels like your eardrums might explode. The weight on your back gets heavier as the clicker slumps forwards, head overgrown and expanded with fungus knocking against the back of your own skull. The final, gasping croaks sound right in your ear, hot rancid breath puffing against your cheek.

Fuck, that was so close. Too close.

You want to go home.

⸙

Medical clears you within the hour, one of the medics cleaning up the dirt and grime from your cuts and grazes. You get given a change of clothes and some pain meds to take home, and you end up throwing out your old clothes that are ripped and caked in blood the second you have the chance.

This day has felt so impossibly long. Your body aches, your cheek stings, and your head is pounding. The walk back to your apartment feels too long, the stairs too tall. You just want to be home, sit down, see--

Abby smiles at you as you walk in, looking up when she hears the latch catch on the door. It’s a small thing, soft and affectionate, the way she always greets you. “Honey, hey.”

You feel the ache leave your bones at the sight of her, hair loosely tied back, faded book in her hands. A smile of your own works its way onto your face, unable to hold it back when you’re around her.

“Hey, baby.”

She rises from the sofa, walking over to meet you at the door where you’re kicking off your muddy boots. She holds her arms out for you, hands instinctively finding your hips to pull you in.

That smile of hers falters when you turn to face her, a calloused hand coming up to gently grasp your chin. She tilts your head to the side, thumb brushing just under the graze on your cheek.

“What happened here?”

Bringing a hand up to cover her own, you pull it from your chin. “Nothing.” You bring her knuckles up to your lips, pressing a light kiss to the skin. “Fell out of the truck when we pulled in.”

Flashes of the chase, your fall, the noise of the clicker dying on top of you make you pause, breathing out a trembling breath against Abby’s knuckles. You shouldn’t lie; you know out of anyone that Abby would understand what it’s like to be out there. But you don’t want her to worry, to stress about you more than she likes to.

You look back up at her, pushing the memories of the patrol back.

The corner of Abby’s lips ticks up, just for a second, but you can see the way she’s biting the inside of her cheek. You roll your eyes. “Go ahead.”

Her lips split in a teasing grin, the hand on your hip sliding to the small of your back to pull you closer to her chest. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I know that look.”

She chuckles, a low sound that sends a wave of goosebumps down your arms. “Can’t I find your lack of coordination even a little bit funny?”

“Nope. That’s… spousal abuse, or something.” Despite your grumbling, you let her guide your arms to wrap around her shoulders, linking behind her neck.

Abby’s eyebrows raise, eyes crinkling as she smirks at you. “Spousal, huh?”

“Shut up,” you huff, pointedly looking away. She laughs, thumbs swiping soothing arches across your back as she holds you close.

“Seriously though, you’re okay?”

You look back to her, watching her eyes track the graze on your cheek, a few scabs but mostly just rough skin. You nod, leaning in to press a reassuring kiss to her pouty lips.

“I’m okay. Just a shit end to an already shitty patrol,” you sigh, bumping your forehead against hers, eyes closing. “I want to just sit down and relax tonight, get my mind off it.”

Abby hums, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before straying to the side, gently kissing over your bruised cheek. She moves lower, warm breath fanning across your neck as she noses at and kisses the sensitive skin of your throat. You tip your head to the side, threading a hand in her hair as you pull her closer. It feels nice. Exactly what you need.

The two of you stand there, bodies gently swaying side to side as Abby kisses across every inch of skin she can see. The pounding in your head fades away, replaces by a pleasant buzz that has you clinging onto her tighter, breathing heavier.

She kisses back up to your lips, capturing yours once more before pulling away, smiling at you. “Do you want a drink?”

“A drink would be so good, right now.”

You pull her in for one last kiss before you untangle from each other, Abby breaking off to rummage in the kitchen for two glasses and a bottle of… something. You pad across the carpet and down the steps, sinking down on the sofa where Abby was sitting. The spot is still warm from where she was all curled up, book laying face down on the armrest, Frankenstein.

“Here,” Abby offers, leaning over the back of the sofa to hand you a glass. You lean up, lips pursed as you take it, smiling when Abby leans down to kiss you sweetly.

“Thanks, Abs.”

You take a sip of the amber liquid in the glass, hissing through your teeth as it burns down your throat. You hold the glass above your head when Abby comes round the side of the sofa, dropping herself onto the cushion next to you, jostling you. The liquor in her own glass threatens to splash up the side from the movement.

“Careful, babe,” you laugh, watching as she brings the vessel to her lips. She takes a much longer sip than you, and you find yourself getting warm as she licks the remnants from her lips.

Abby slings one of her arms along the top of the sofa, and you take it as an invitation to snuggle into her side, nursing your glass in your lap. Her hand comes down to rest lightly on your shoulder, thumb sweeping and massaging the tense muscles under her fingers.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips at the feeling, and you tilt you head to rest against her chest to give her more access. “Feels nice.”

Abby hums, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re real tense. Patrol that bad?”

You nuzzle further into her chest, melting under her hands. “Had to take down some infected out by the highway,” you murmur, blinking away the image of your gun just barely out of your reach. “Nothing crazy, but more eventful than usual.”

“M’sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You press a kiss to her chest. “Just glad to be home.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence; Abby taking occasional sips from her glass as she massages along your shoulders, while yours lay forgotten in your lap. You could fall asleep here, listening to the thumpthump thumpthump of her heart beneath your ear, feeling so warm and comforted and taken care of.

“You know,” Abby starts, voice low. Her heartrate picks up a bit as she swallows, running a finger along the rim of her glass. “I can think of a more effective way of getting rid of all that tension.”

Something hot simmers low in your gut as you blink your eyes open, shifting your head to look up at Abby. She’s looking away, eyes focused on her nearly empty glass.

“You propositioning me, Anderson?”

A smile curls her lips, and her beautiful blue eyes flick down to yours. It feels like the air has been punched out of your lungs as you look at her, freckled face so lovely and close to your own.

“And if I was?” She tilts her head down, the tip of her strong nose brushing against your own.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips as your gaze drifts down to hers, full and begging to be kissed. “Then I’d be asking why you aren’t kissing me already”

She surges forwards, the hand massaging your shoulders sliding up to cup the side of your face, pulling you to meet her in the middle. You can’t help the small moan that leaves you as she licks into your mouth, already feeling like putty under her hands from the massage and her soft lips.

You shift in your seat, pressing yourself impossibly closer as the kiss deepens, sharp huffs of breath leaving your noses as you get carried away.

You forget about the glass in your hand, still mostly full of liquor as you bring a hand up, intending to wrap it around her neck to tug her down atop of you. Instead, the alcohol sloshes up the side of the glass and spills in your lap, the cold liquid seeping into your pants.

“Shit—” you hiss, pulling away from Abby. You frown at the dark stain in your lap, the stinging smell assaulting your nose as it soaks through the fabric and wets your thigh.

Abby snorts, looking down and laughing at the wet patch. “Damn, didn’t know I affected you like th— ow!”

“Shut up,” you huff, smacking her arm. “This feels so gross.”

You reluctantly pull yourself from Abby’s arms, holding your glass out in front of you as you rise. “Pass.” You nod to her own glass, practically empty, taking it from her as she holds it out to you.

You place the glasses on the coffee table a couple of feet away, wiping your wet hand on your already wet cargos. Yuck. You’ll have to take them off.

A smirk works its way onto your face, a teasing idea wriggling at the back of your brain. You turn back to face Abby but make no move to walk back to over.

She’s made herself comfortable since you moved, arms hooked over the back of the sofa, thighs spread wide, taking up space. The sofa isn’t huge but can comfortably fit the two of you. With her spread out like that, though, there’s really only going to be one spot for you to sit; and the smirk on her face shows that she knows that.

She’s watching you intently from her spot, blue eyes raking over the lines of your body. She shifts subtly in place, hips twitching.

Neither of you say anything, sitting in charged silence as your hands drift to the hem of your shirt, fiddling with the material. Abby notices and locks right in, watches the way you thumb at the fabric, how you bunch it in your fists. Even as you pull up, dragging the fabric over your head where you can’t see her, you can feel her eyes on you. Never straying.

You drop your shirt onto the floor next to you, discarding it to reach for your hips, fiddling with the button of your damp cargos.

Abby is positively transfixed, shifting in her seat as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes are boring holes into your hips, watching with bated breath as you pop the button and slowly slide the zipper down your fly. Her hands grip the back of the couch, the veins in her biceps pulsing, chest heaving with deep breaths as you shimmy the fabric down your thighs, stepping out of them when they drop around your ankles.

“Fuck,” she whispers, hooded eyes dragging up your bare legs and across your torso, pausing for a few moments on your chest. She finally meets your gaze once more, the heat behind her eyes making you throb.

“If you don’t get over here…”

You laugh softly, biting your lip as you pad your way back to her. She unhooks her arms from the back of the couch, reaching out for you the moment you’re close enough to drag you onto her wide lap.

Your arms wrap around her neck as you descend on her, lips locking, her large hands roaming. They can’t stay still, rubbing up your thighs, kneading the fat along your hips, dragging up to palm and tease at your tits. She’s devouring you whole, and you can’t do anything but thank her for it.

She pulls from your lips with a groan, placing hot, wet kisses down your jaw and throat.

“Abby—” you moan, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling, chest heaving with your heavy breaths.

You feel her smirk against your skin, nipping teasingly as her large hands drift down, gripping your hips to roll them down against her own.

“Oh fuck,” she grunts, mouthing hotly at the swell of your chest as you grind against each other.

You need to feel her-- get your hands on her. You ball and scrunch at the back of her shirt until you can reach the hem, pulling desperately to tug it off. Abby pulls away from you for only a moment, just long enough to rip her shirt over her head and throw it behind the sofa. She’s back on you in an instant, the skin of her chest pressing against your own.

You can’t help but sigh at the feeling of her bare back under your fingers, gripping and digging your nails into the skin littered with dozens of tiny scars. Her muscles roll and shift under your hands, and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of the feeling.

“Baby—please,” you begin to whine, the slick slide of your wet underwear against your cunt as you thrust against her making you want more.

“Okay, pretty girl,” Abby shushes, kissing back up your chest and throat. One of the hands on your hips slides down, across the bare skin of your thigh, coming to settle between you to cup your damp cunt. “I’ll take care of you.”

A gasp tears through your throat, ragged breaths panting out from between your swollen lips as she rubs teasingly slow through your underwear. She has you squirming in place, nails biting the skin of her shoulders as you try oh so desperately to grind yourself down on her thick digits.

Abby just chuckles, a low teasing sound that makes you even wetter as she keeps her tortuous pace, capturing your lips to quiet your whining moans.

When it grows too much, when not even her perfect lips can keep your pleas and whines in, Abby slowly begins to sit up, using her large hands to manoeuvre you how she wants.

“Doing so good, honey,” she murmurs, rearranging you on her lap and guiding you to lay face down on the sofa, shifting so that she’s kneeling behind you.

A flutter of nerves unsettles your stomach as you rest your cheek to the cushions, the blossoming bruise on your cheek scratching along the worn fabric. You swallow them back and blink your eyes shut, a moan tumbling from your lips as Abby palms at your ass, hooking her fingers in the waistband of your underwear.

“This okay?”

You nod, responding with another soft moan as she slowly peels the fabric from your cunt, the air cooling along the wetness sticking to your thighs as the fabric falls to your knees. You feel so exposed, hips angled up like this for Abby to see-- but you can’t ignore the way you clench around nothing at the thought.

Her fingers are warm, thick as they slide through the folds of your cunt, dragging slick wetness up to your swollen clit. You jolt as she brushes over it, gasping a choked breath when she begins to rub slow, teasing circles around it.

You begin to feel breathless, like you can’t pull enough air into your lungs, but you can’t find it within you to care when her fingers feel so fucking good, and you need her to fuck you right now—

It’s like she can read your mind. You feel her shift behind you as her circles tighten, holding your hip in place as you squirm and thrust against nothing. Teasing laughs reach your ears before she finally, finally slides her fingers down where you want them.

Abby is never aggressive with you. Her movements, even when rougher than some, never mean to hurt or harm. Not once have you ever been worried or scared or fearful of your safety in the arms of this woman.

But when she presses a hand to your shoulder, drapes her body over your back to pin you to the couch as she works you open, it raises alarm bells. Loud ones.

You start to panic.

Your breathing that was already sharp and quick picks up even more, tears welling up in your eyes and blurring your vision.

“A-Abby—” You try and call out, but it comes out too close to a breathless whine for her to notice anything’s wrong.

“Abby, s-stop— Abby, red! Red!”

Abby pulls away immediately, fingers leaving you as she curses, stumbling a bit for balance as she backs right off. You can’t hold yourself up anymore, collapsing fully on the sofa, legs trembling as you begin to cry.

“Honey, can you lift your hips up f’me? Real quick, I promise,” she murmurs, voice shaky as she waits for you to reply.

You barely muster up a nod, eyes staring out ahead of you and into the room, tears falling freely and dripping off your nose as you whimper. Your legs are still shaky as you raise your hips, just enough for Abby to delicately slide your underwear back up, covering you.

She slips off the sofa behind you, leaving to grab the blanket off the bed. It’s not the softest thing in the world but is big enough to wrap the both of you up in it, so she drags it over to the sofa where you’re still laying, shuddering and trying to breathe.

“Can I touch you, baby? Just to wrap this around you. You think you can sit up for me?” She’s oh so gentle, so patient as she waits for you to give the okay.

You can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips as she touches you, hands pressed against your bare skin as she slowly sits you up. The touch is replaced by the blanket soon after, wrapped around your entire body and tucked up under your chin. Only your face peeks through, and you’re sure you look ridiculous, but you can’t find it in you to care.

It feels warm. Safe. Like you can breathe.

Abby crouches in front of you, shirt still discarded somewhere behind the sofa, careful not to crowd you. “Do you need space, or touch?”

“Space,” you stutter out, tears clinging to your lashes as you try to shake the feeling of the clicker’s disgusting breath against your cheek.

Abby’s eyes widen, only slightly, but enough to betray the fear she’s feeling as she looks at you; watches the rattling breaths leave your swollen lips as you cry in front of her. Nothing like this has happened in all the time you’ve been together. The two of you are usually so in sync, know exactly what the other needs. The only time anything other than ‘green’ has been uttered by either of you was ages ago, when Abby had to call ‘yellow’ because she got incredibly overstimulated; but that was it. ‘Red’ is new, and way more terrifying than either of you thought it would be.

“Would you like me to get you anything?” Abby asks softly, voice thick but pushing through.

You go to shake your head, to decline, but your mouth feels so dry…

“Water, please.”

“Of course, honey.”

She’s up in a flash, rummaging around in the kitchen for a clean glass, grabbing the jug from the mini-fridge you keep tucked under the counter to pour you a nice, cold cup.

She’s back before you can spiral too far down into your thoughts, offering the frosted glass for you to take. Snaking your hands out from under the blankets, your fingers lightly brush hers as you take the water, pressing it to your lips. The glass is damp and sparkling with condensation, the water nice and cold on your tongue as you swallow down the entire thing.

Abby’s ready to take the empty glass from you when you’re done, placing it down gently on the coffee table with the others.

She doesn’t try and broach what just happened, but she does make a point of sticking nearby. She settles down on the floor next to you, back pressed to the couch by your feet, careful not to touch you. It’s a kind gesture, one that you appreciate in this moment as you try and calm yourself down, focused on getting that disgusting, grimey feeling to leave your skin.

You can’t tell how much time passes, it may have been a few minutes, or maybe an hour, but it’s long enough for you to wet your lips, to call out for her.

“Abby…”

She looks up, twisting her body to check you over. Her eyes are so wide, filled to the brim with love and concern. It’s rare they’re this unguarded, even around you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you— I want you up here. Please.”

She climbs onto the sofa without another word, chest still bare as she sits by your side. She hesitates for a second, unsure of what exactly you need, but you crawl into her arms and she doesn’t need to ask anymore-- bundling you up and securing you in her lap.

The blanket is still wrapped around you, and you tug on it enough so that you can press your cheek sticky with tears to her bare skin, desperate to hear her hear that sill beats beneath her skin.

Thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump.

“Are you okay?” She asks it so quietly that you barely catch it, muffled under the sound of her heartbeat.

“Kind of,” you offer weakly, too tired to lie.

“Did I— I didn’t mean to—”

You press a ghost of a kiss to the swell of her chest, over her heart. “It wasn’t you. Not really.”

She swallows, throat clicking as her hands run soothingly up and down your back through the blanket. “Then what…?”

“Patrol,” you start, blinking as you stare off to the side of the room, the place where Abby’s makeshift bookshelf sits, overflowing. “We ran into infected. There were… so many. All trapped in a parking garage, came rushing out when we rolled the door up.  I was—” Your breath hitches, that familiar burning behind your eyes as tears blur your vision.

Abby pulls you in closer, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

“I-I was being chased by a clicker and I tripped, then it fell on top of me, and I was so scared, Abby. I thought I was going to die.”

Abby swears as her hands move along your body, calloused hand cupping your cheek with so much gentleness that it makes you want to cry for a different reason. She slowly picks your head up off her chest, thumb brushing softly under the scabs on your cheek. She’s frowning, lips downturned, and you decide then and there that you never want to see her look at you like this ever again.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have tried to—”

“Hey, don’t do that,” you interrupt, shaking your head slightly. You sniffle, a couple of stray tears dripping from your lashes. “I didn’t tell you. I thought—I thought I could just forget it happened. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong, Abby.”

She’s still frowning, brows drawn together as she wipes away the tears that mar your skin, hot trails that quickly cool in the air. “I’m still sorry.” She leans in, pressing delicate kisses along your cheek, up to your forehead. “The idea of scaring you, it’s— I hate it. I’m so sorry, honey.”

A hand finds its way out of the blankets, coming up to cup her cheek, the two of you mirroring each other. Abby touches your foreheads together and you close your eyes, sitting and breathing the same air.

“I love you,” Abby whispers.

Leaning up, you press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you too.”

“Did you want to move? Go to bed?” Abby asks, nosing gently at your cheek.

You shake your head, settling back so that you’re resting against her chest once more. “Want to stay here. Do you think… Can you read to me?”

“Yeah, of course. You want to choose something?” Her hands come back to splay against your back, smoothing out the wrinkles of the blanket.

“Could you read from your spot in Frankenstein? I just want to hear your voice, I don’t mind.”

Abby presses her lips to the top of your head. “Course, baby. Let’s shuffle a bit.”

She’s gentle with you as she moves you, shifting the two of you to lay back together on the sofa. You stay cuddled up to her chest, your legs settling between her own as she rests against the armrest, one arm slung across your waist and the other held above the two of you, Frankenstein in hand.

Abby clears her throat, wetting her lips before beginning to read aloud.

“From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation. I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination, which modern inquirers…”

Your eyes flutter closed as you lay against her chest, feeling the subtle vibrations of her low voice as she reads. It’s soothing, calming-- a reminder that Abby is here and with you.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up a few hours later you’re still on the sofa, Abby’s chest rising and falling with her sleeping breaths. A strong arm is slung over her eyes, the other still wrapped securely around you.

The blanket has shuffled off of you during your sleep, and you try as quietly and slowly as possible to haul it back up, draping it across the both of you. Abby stirs lightly, the arm covering her eyes coming down to wrap around you, almost as if she sensed you moving about and is trying to keep you from straying too far.

You snuggle back down atop of her, kissing her chest lightly before resting your cheek back against it—skin on skin.

Thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ request your own here! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[yarnabee]

What kinks do you think the doctor would be into?

(I boldly ask as I sit in my bed kicking my feet like a schoolgirl whenever I see something about that guy)

OH ANON. i have a LOT to say about this. (me too anon i always twirl my hair and giggle like a schoolgirl whenever i think of him 😵‍💫) also: check end for a little note!

THE DOCTOR HEADCANNONS — THE THINGS THAT BRINGS HIM PLEASURE? (NSFW 18+)

tags/warnings; NSFW! MINORS DNI, gender neutral (pound town but with no mention of spesific genitalia! hell yeah!), dom! harley sawyer x sub! reader, impact play, degradation, predator/prey dynamics, dacryphilia, size difference (you know how tall his physical body is compared to the player? yeah.. 🙂‍↕️) rough and raw all day and all night long,

we all know how our dear doctor sees himself as some sort of god among men. he created something almost as perfect as life itself—someone with such intelligence and capabilities surely makes a difference than others of his own kind, no?

of course—such a narcissistic, apathetic, struck-up sociopath would need his ego to be constantly fed well. and sawyer has just the perfect prey to feed himself off.

what other source could he get it from if it weren't from you? you were his perfect little lab rat, his dearest prized trophy—someone he could easily break for his own satisfaction.

sawyer loves it when he gets to hunt for his prey. there's no victory sweeter than having you—a clueless, pathetic little rat—trapped in his so-called 'experiments', forcing you into oblivion as he watches your defenses slowly crumble before his eyes. oh, how he lives for the thrill of hunting—your figure cowering under his tall one, his grip on your neck tight enough to snap it in half. "shush now, little rat. you don't want to know what happens to noisy little rats, do you?"

it's also quite obvious how sawyer possesses some sort of sadistic trait: he finds it amusing to toy with those under his mercy. he loves hearing you plead, your cries growing desperate from his rough touches—hell, you don't even know what you were begging for in the first place. was it to make the pain stop? or is it because of the overwhelming pleasure? either way, sawyer feasts on the meek chants of his name as you beg him to be more gentle—your entire body twitching in bliss as he lends no mercy. he'd purposefully go faster, rougher than before—his hoarse chuckle echoing through the room with a following taunt, "lab rats don't get to decide what happens to them, do they? now keep me amused, little rat, i expect you to take it well."

his ego thrives the most when he finds you drooling over his mean, mocking words—oh, what a lovely sight it is to have your body tremble to such lowly words—he finds it amusing how you react so eagerly everytime he calls you worthless. the way his gentle voice coax his cruel words never fails to drive you insane, just enough to push you over to the edge. "look at you, pathetic little wretch. just a moment ago you were so confident, yet now.. nothing more than a worthless whore begging to repent, hm? " god, his voice will be the death of you.

sawyer loves pushing you to the brink of tears—there's something about seeing you in tears that.. satisfies him. he would purposefully rip his hand away from your aching core just as you were getting close to your high—earning him your needy gasp as your body trembles from the sudden loss of contact. oh, what a pretty sight it was to see you wail and sob underneath him, tears pooling on your lashline, soon making its way down to your cheeks. it almost had him.. pitying you. almost. sawyer would simply let out a chuckle, wrapping his fingers around your jaw tightly as he eyed the beautiful sight beneath him in awe. "now would you look at yourself, little rat.. you look like a pathetic, lost little puppy. it suits you very well."

oh, how your stomach dropped when you found out that your sobs and whimpers only pushes the doctor further to his edge—his actions completely unhinged as he uses you for his own pleasure. he'd slap your cheek across until it's burning red; leaving trail of bruises all over your body from his tight, clawing grasp; or gently grabbing a lock of your hair only to yank it roughly, holding your head in place as he carelessly uses you like a ragdoll. you'd scream, beg, wail, and sob—but those were the exact response he craves from you.

the size difference between you and sawyer pushes him further to the brink—realizing how he could easily snap you in half like a dried twig if he wanted to. i mean, his figure alone is almost as twice bigger than you are. god, how he loved seeing those delicate, trembling hands of yours reaching out to his arm for support as he presses your thighs against your chest into a mating press, pounding into you with no care as he constantly hits the deepest part of you, eyeing the bulge imprinted on your stomach—it makes you look like a little rat who dares to take more than what they can.

sawyer will make sure that everyone knows you belong to him. he wants everyone to see you as his little lab rat, his only to toy with and to use to his liking. he'll make it clear as daylight with the bruises all over your delicate skin, an impact from his rough claws—enough to even draw blood from it. he'll make sure to let everyone else know that it wouldn't end well if anything other than him dares to leave even the tiniest scratch on his dearest lab rat.

despite the roughness of his act, sawyer would never cross the line of breaking you apart. don't get him wrong though, the genuine act isn't simply out of the kindness of his heart—oh, that's even if he has any. he'll make sure to tend your wounds well, feed you with proper food, and make sure you get enough rest—all this just without the sympathy. all he knew is that broken toys are never fun to play with.

note; HEY GANG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONGER THAN IT SHOULD !! honestly this isn't my proudest work, i feel like i can do better but dang the writer's block and uni assignments fucked me up real bad ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 so i wanna say sorry in advance for this work :( but i do hope this can still bring a lil treat to the table 🍴

[cherrriesinthespring]

OMG SPENCER WITH 73 😍😍😍

i tried my best but.. idk 😭😭

the prompt is in pink!! cockwarming kinda, riding, teasing, the only description of the reader being a female is the prompt "what happened to my good girl?"

18+!!

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

i see this with S6 or S11 Reid but.... it's up to you

hips touching, skin on skin, the one time in a while he's let you get on top. his voice was stern when he'd told you to keep going until you both came twice, but just as the pleasure would build, he'd grab your waist to stop you from moving. you were getting frustrated with him.

spencer's instructions were clear, yet he made them impossible to follow. slick gathered between you, heat gathering in your stomach, a low coil. the way his fingers dug into your skin, the feeling almost bruising. a whine leaves you, which brings a low hush from his lips.

"honey, try again, you can do it.." he guides you and you huff.

"how am i-" before you can finish complaining he thrusts up into you, his flushed tip kisses your cervix. your whimper sets his stomach alight, he expresses this with a groan. spencer wants more, so do you, the difference is: you're vocal about it, he's holding back. you can feel the way he's pulsing, throbbing, each vein in his body (and his cock) practically has it's own heartbeat. of course, you're the same, clenching around him almost as if it's a competition to see who can take more.

he does it again, then another. then you're left blank. it almost physically hurts to be denied like this, you'd been so, so good. yet you got nothing back in return.

"please- please I want it.." you plead with him, you feel as though you've repeated this at least 100 times now.

"well you don't need it? if you don't need it, you can w-" he's cut off by a desperate wail.

"no! no, I mean- i need it.." he can't help but feel bad at the way your voice trails off, almost as if you're embarrassed. that doesn't stop him from teasing you.

"we beg for what we want, and we beg nicely, with manners. that's what I've taught you.. what happened to my good girl?” his tone is condescending, it doesn't help that this turns you on even more.

so you whine, and plead, until finally he lets you ride him with no interruptions. it took a lot, your body could barely handle the feeling, trying to hold back on the orgasm. it didn't surprise you that he lightened on the teasing and sly comments the further you both got to cumming. it wasn't just to be easier on you, but also because he was struggling to speak.

the space between you squelched with each buck of spencers hips, the grinding of your own. lifting yourself on your knees to a slightly better angle, it takes one move for him perfectly hit the spot you need. his head tips back, he's murmuring praises and you swear he whines at least twice.

his curls are stuck to his head, both of you covered in sweat, and it's impossible to even think of cumming twice. the motions are restless, chasing the high you both desperately need.

you both cum with a loud cry, the mess of slick between you now increases with the mixed substances dripping out of you. chests lightly collide, and you take your spot against him, head burrowing in his neck for comfort. all while he's still inside of you.

[imedited]

Everyone in the campus knew that you two hated each other, always competing over everything, so everyone already knew very well that you two would never get along with each other, like ever, the chance of that happening is rarer than winning the lottery.

They were right about that, of course, you two did hate each other, but one thing that they don’t know is about the sinful secret that you two keep for yourselves.

In the privacy of the student council office, that only you two can freely access, a heavy atmosphere in the room seems almost suffocating. You were working on some papers when he suddenly said something. “Don’t you think that these papers that you just approved are not really up to standards?”

You shot up a glare at him, annoyed by his complaint…again, “I know what I’m doing, and the papers are good enough, considering they’re just a new organization.”

“Oh really? Because to me, it looks like you’re just going easy on them ‘cause of that one guy in that little, pesky organization.” He said, his tone playful and teasing, but there was something different about it.

You raised an eyebrow at him as you decided to rile him up a bit. “So what? Jealous?” You said as you gave him a smug grin to get more reaction out of him, “He’s an…interesting guy, and he’s really cute, so you know, maybe I’ll ask him to be my friend.”

You could see how his jaw tightened and his fists clenching as the papers that he was holding were getting crumpled a bit. You were about to say something more, just to get a bit more reaction, when he finally stood up from his chair and walked over to you, his tall frame looming over you as he held on both armrests on either of your sides, locking you in place.

“You want to say that again?” He said in a low whisper as he stared down at you intensely, one of his hand coming up to rest shamelessly on your thigh, squeezing it possessively as he smirk at you, his tone a mock hurt as he spoke, “And here I thought we have something special, we do though, don't we?”

“Perhaps, I’ve been the soft getting soft, letting you run your mouth easily and talk to other men outside of your duties when I’ve clearly made it clear that you’re mine.” he whispered as his fingers climbed up higher, his hand teasing your inner thigh as he spread them apart a bit, revealing a healed scar on her inner thigh. On her skin, his initials were carved, his smirk grew wider as he saw it clearly etched on your skin, a clear reminder of his possession over you.

“What a naughty girl you’ve become,hm? Or maybe you’re just trying to get my attention, that’s why you’ve been whoring yourself around, right? You want me to remind you again who you belong to, right?” He took a step back, unbuckling his belt while keeping his gaze on you, his eyes filled with lust and desire, holding all the dirty things that he’d do to you. He took his belt off and secured your wrists with it, tightening it around both of your wrists as he walked off to take something from his bag. And when he came back, he presented an array of sex toys on the table in front of her.

“Take your pick, sweetheart.” He said playfully with a dark smirk as he leaned in close to her ear to whisper. “Whatever you pick first though, I’m going to take my time with you, we’re going to use every single one of them, and when you’re all spent and dripping wet from your own cum, I’ll be using my cock to wake you up again, and trust me, I won’t be letting you go until I’m fully satisfied, and you know how my appetite is, especially for you.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: Ngl, this one sounds really cringe for me :')) but I'm pushing through, cause I'm ovulating rn and that's the best way for me to get this horny side out of me XD enjoy tho

[revvethasmythh]

You know, Veth often advocates for acts of retributive justice and she's a strong believer in vengeance as a concept. This comes up a few times during the campaign, and I think it's one of the most interesting things about her and she has a line in Episode 20 on this topic that is genuinely perhaps the most fascinating thing she says in the whole campaign (which I don't say lightly). It's a conversation between her and Caleb about his past, which she only just learned about two episodes ago. She assumes outright that what Caleb must want is to go get revenge on Trent for what was done to him, and says that of course they can go do that before dealing with any of her issues, then hits him with this: "The thing is, your story that you poured out to me and Beau, the other day-- it was very sad, and I'm so sorry that you had to go through it, but I have to say, in a way, I'm a little bit jealous. [...] All I'm saying is, I feel like you can get revenge. You can maybe even get redemption for what you've done, and you can become a better person. You can do good to counteract the bad that you've done in your past, and maybe someday there will be an end to your suffering." (Emphasis by me). That connection here between "I'm a little bit jealous," "I feel like you can get revenge," and "maybe someday there will be an end to your suffering" is not lost on me. At this time in the campaign, the idea of getting turned back into a halfling is something relegated so far into the future she can barely see it (and we know Sam was more than willing for it to never happen at all). Just one episode earlier, she was asked to give some backstory about herself and lied out her ass so she didn't have to cop to what had happened to her. She wasn't ready to trust anyone with it or ask explicitly for the help to get turned back. As far as she is concerned in the moment, there may never be an end to her suffering in this form. So she's jealous of Caleb, because he can get revenge and someday maybe his suffering will end.

On the topic of vengeance itself, I think it makes a lot of sense that Veth would be vengeful because she is impotent to achieve it in her own life. What is she going to do, go home to Felderwin and get vengeance on her brothers for what they all did to her? The town for how it treated her? No, she can't do that. She never gets to come face-to-face with the goblins that kidnapped her family, had her killed, then enslaved her during the campaign or after. As utterly fantastic as the blueberry cupcake moment is, she didn't even get to kill Isharnai, the hag who actually, physically held her under until she drowned. Veth has never gotten to achieve personal vengeance, or even really had the opportunity to face the concept of it as it pertains to the injustices perpetrated against her in her life. Like, she is, for sure, a highly reactive individual who jumps to wanton killing often just based on her extreme personality, but there is some real meat to the fact that she can get so fixated on revenge. I think she really wants it for herself, and she can't imagine that other people wouldn't also want it for themselves. She has never gotten it, so she always suggests it. She's jealous of Caleb because he can get revenge on one, simple target that will represent his trauma (even if it's not actually that simple for him), and that's something she can't do. And she never gets to even try. I'd be all hornt up over the concept of violent revenge if I was her, too.

[erinwantstowrite]

A while ago you liked a comment of mine on TikTok where I said that there should be no second Batman bc having Bruce retire/die means his fight should be over and he should be able to rest properly, (idk if that’s exactly what I said but I think it’s in the ball park) so can I ask what you think about a legacy Batman? And who would you have be the second Batman? Also your art is amazing and I love leap of faith, hope you have a great day

i remember that comment!!!!

i honestly believe that having a "legacy" for every single hero is just,,, boring. the reason this happens is because they are never going to NOT have Batman. how else would they make money??? so they just keep giving us reasons why his mantle has to be there. just like the Joker HAS to always come back, why new characters are always tied in to existing characters somehow, etc.

in a perfect world, we'd get new characters sometimes and overarching storylines that aren't regressed the second we make any headway on character development. we'd have new villains by now that make a name for themselves outside of the original villains, we'd see an impact on our settings and characters, all that jazz. and in this perfect world, we wouldn't have so many legacy mantles

and i mean, like, one of the supers taking up the Superman name? that's cool. they're a family, thematically it works. even with the Flash family, I accept how they do it (though I hardly keep up with their comics)

but Batman?????

STOPPPPP

Every other Batfam member has an arc where they branch away from Bruce and the name, save for Tim and Cass, I think. Tim is... a gray area. I only put him here because he's back to being Robin (because DC can't let go of that money maker!). It's an insult to their characters to put them into the Batman mantle, but in universe, this keeps happening because "Gotham needs Batman."

No! No they do not! They do not need Batman specifically. They need his ideals! His kids do not need to be Batman to have Batman still be around after he's put up the cape or died, because they are that future without the cape! There is no magic tied in to that stupid cowl, they just see it that way because Batman is this larger than life figure. Of course they think their dad is impervious to the world, that the cape that protected them is special, that they need Batman. But that is NOT the case.

Just like with any family, life will move on. The legacy continues through the lessons that the kids learned. In many ways, they are better than Batman because they learned from his mistakes, too. Just like every kid does with their parent.

But they don't want to be Batman. And it's kind of insane to keep putting them in someone else's suit, basically someone else's identity. Dick is a great Batman, but his biggest fear is losing himself in Bruce's shadow. What happened to Jason was because of Batman's failure, and it isn't healthy to put him in the Batman suit. Tim should be allowed to move on from Robin and finally get his own mantle because he has always used someone else's. (Yes I am purposefully forgetting that Drake existed do not remind me.) That and the existence of Gun Batman. Do NOT put him in that suit!!!!!!! Damian is branching out of vigilante life altogether, which is so so so good for him. Him becoming Batman after struggling so much with his identity, purpose, and blood ties, is a spit in the face to character development. I think Duke should get to choose his own name for a hero mantle (because Bruce thought of Signal), and thematically I don't think he fits into the Batman role. He is a shining light the way Robin was, but this time more literal because of his powers. Batman is very human, that's what makes his character. Duke deserves more than being Batman.

The best person for that job is Cass.

Not only does she understand the No Kill Rule in the way that Bruce understands it, she is also his equal or superior in every way. Whether it's her physical abilities, or her intelligence, or her morals, Cass fits the bill. She's one of the strongest members of the Batfam and I think she would be able to take on the burden without crumbling under the pressure or feeling scared of that responsibility. She's fit in to the Batman role before, has mirrored him in many ways, and is also her own character (and man I just really love Cass). She strikes the same amount of fear into people that Batman does, a master of the shadows, the dark, and she has a hope that I think Gotham could need.

But she doesn't need to be Batman to do it. She just has to fill in that role. Sure, she could pick up the name Batman, it won't kill me. But so long as she fills in the space that Bruce left behind, becoming the next leader and mentor, she could be anyone.

I think it's more powerful that way to show that the time has passed. That Bruce's time as a vigilante made an impact. Gotham has changed. His kids have grown up. And the Dark Knight is still there, at home.

[holy-ghost-fire]

"They’re both problems and it’s funny you think the government funding media is less of a problem."

Please explain to me how a media outlet that is owned by a major corporation is somehow better than a media outlet funded by the government. I'm not saying that we should have privately owned media outlets but pretending like the conflict of interest is more egregious for NPR over NBC, CNN, or Fox is just ridiculous. Its even more laughable when you find out 90% of media outlets are owned by six corporations. Corporations are beholden to no one except their shareholders, don't ever forget that.

"You only say this because Fox is the only mainstream media that isn’t hard left so you’ve been programmed by left wing propaganda to call it fascist even though you don’t know what fascism is."

Look dude, I used to think just like you so the irony of you assuming I'm just a liberal is funny on a lot of levels. I don't throw out the term "fascist" to anyone I disagree with but Fox News has openly promoted extremist talking points for years. Tucker Carlson's show, which many viewers loved and wish it was still on the air, was full of dogwhistles for white supremacists. You don't know what to look for so you don't pick up on the kinds of references and phrases that give it away. I don't watch Fox on a daily basis (obviously) but from what I do see, its still a blatantly partisan outlet that only serves to spread extremist rhetoric to the general public.

"I mean the whole reason you guys freaked out when he bought Twitter was because he wasn’t going to be silencing people anymore so first, don’t pretend you suddenly care about censorship and two, censorship isn’t even what is happening here."

You guys really do just accept what Elon says without questioning it. I know he claimed to be a free speech advocate but Musk has been more than willing to censor people he doesn't agree with on X. As for the Reuters/Musk situation, its much deeper than just the tweet. Reuters has actually won a Pulitzer Price for its in-depth coverage of Tesla and SpaceX. I know you'll just say they're plotting against Elon but the fact that neither you nor Musk can come up with a reasonable response to their series of articles says a lot. When your only response is to slander their credibility, you don't look like the credible one here.

"DOGE is cutting wasteful spending and the cuts are happening in places we’re we’ve known for a long time there has been wasteful spending."

If corruption and graft are that common that DOGE actually found it, prove it. Again, you people take Musk at his word every single time he says his team uncovered wasteful spending and there's nothing he's provided that actually corroborates it. There's no transparency with Musk or DOGE, they just play on your assumption that all government spending is bad and that government orgs created by Democrats are automatically corrupt.

"You are making that up because you don’t understand what’s really happening and you trust the government way too much."

I'm going to say this again but I want to make you understand where I'm coming from. I actually used to be a Republican for a long time. I voted for Trump and supported him for most of his first term in office. To this day, I haven't voted for the Democratic presidential nominee. Hell, I used to argue just like you back in the day on this very blog. I've gotten into way too many of these debates and I know exactly how they go so instead of being snarky, I'm going to offer some advice.

I know you think you have me and my political views figured out after one post but I want you to understand that it doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to assume my beliefs or stereotype anyone who criticizes Trump. The most important thing I can tell you is to keep an open mind. You don't have to follow the party line or believe everything that Trump says. You don't even need to believe everything I say, just read and think critically about everything you hear and believe.

[wandaslullaby]

Power Run || Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: the turn of events ignites something inside you.

part 2 of test track

warnings: lactation kink

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

There was no doubt that you were a vivid dreamer but, the events that happened last night surely wasn't real. It couldn't be, there was no way you would infantilize yourself for Wanda. You weren't exactly attracted to women, but something came undone when Wanda outed you for essentially being a creep. It wasn't intentional, you were a sucker for tits and prying on Wanda isn't something that's illegal, it just felt like the universe wanted you there to see them.

For a long time you weren't a heavy sleep but how fortunate is it that after Wanda used her nurturing skills, something you always wanted from your own mother, you were breathing heavily and woke up freely without no disturbances.

"Y/N? You still asleep?" Tommy crept in, cup of hot chocolate with fresh cream and marshmallows in his hands.

You turned towards the voice, shaking your head as you watched Tommy come towards you. "Hot coco? I haven't had this since I was a kid."

Tommy frowned, he knew about your shitty homelife but never wanted to bring it up without you talking about it first.

"Mum usually makes this for us when we finally understand what we did was wrong. Bit strange since you haven't done anything." Tommy took a breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, right Y/N?"

The instant regret found you. You quickly shaked your head, taking the hot chocolate from him. "I haven't, has Wanda said anything?"

"Nope. She's been extra weird today though. Something must of lifted her spirts because before you came over, she was ranting to her best friend, Agatha about my dad."

You took a sip, moaning at the taste of the drink. "This is so good, how have I never had one?"

"Like I said, it only comes when you learn a lesson."

You stayed silent, taking small sips as Tommy started to tell you all the details of the party. As Tommy kept going on about Flash and how they made out in the garden, you couldn't stop thinking about last night. It felt like every time you fidgeted, you felt your panties getting wetter at the sight of how Wanda was with you. You weren't quite sure why you kept replaying the moments when you knew that it wasn't right.

"So now, I'm getting ready for a date with Flash. He is going to pick me up soon and going to head to the arcade."

"Is this my queue to leave then?"

"Definitely not." Tommy said. "Actually, I was thinking if you could help my mum out today? She really needs some help with house stuff and I kinda told her that you were good at that stuff..."

You signed, "I have to get back home, Tommo. Mum's probably going to go ma-"

"I just got off the phone with her, sweets. She is more than happy for you to be here helping a fellow neighbour out. Apparently, I've heard that you haven't done any chores for your neighbours in a while which is very disappointing." Wanda said, walking into the spare bedroom.

Tommy looked over at you, "Maybe that's why you got hot chocolate today?"

Wanda gazed at you, grinning at the sight of how dumbfounded you became. "I think Y/N knows exactly what she has done, baby. Isn't that right?"

You coughed, nodding trying to not look at Tommy's confused face. "I would be happy to help you. May i have a shower first?"

And that was Tommy queue to get ready. You both watched Tommy walk away, vanishing into the hallway. Now it was just you and Wanda, and for some reason you weren't exactly sure how to behave around her.

"I think you ought to have a bath, baby. We don't want to have another sticky situation, do we?"

"No, we don't" You breathed, and watched as Wanda held her hand out for you to hold.

"Hold my hand tight. Those little bambi legs can go so far." Wanda giggled, as you obediently held her hand and followed her. You thought Wanda would leave you for some peace but here she was, lifting you up to sit on the sink as she started to peel your clothes off.

Something about this felt invasive, but somehow you felt your head slump into her chest. Wanda didn't even bat an eyelid and carefully aided you until you were naked. She slowly unzips her t-shirt, something that nursing mother's would wear and pushed it to the side. "How rude of me, you haven't had any breakfast have you? You were waiting for Mommy weren't you?"

You didn't even respond and didn't fight when Wanda slowly lifted your head towards the direction of her tit. Wanda was about to explain her action but she hissed as you latched tightly onto her nipple, sucking aggressively. She tried to get you off but you only whined and carried on sucking.

"Slowly, baby. You are going to get a tummy ache." Wanda cooed as she watched from the mirror how well you were arched. She knew that you weren't stopping anytime soon, so she carefully took her phone out, and started to record you. The soft moans and whimpers coming from you was a sign that you were almost finished. She stopped the recording, placing her phone back into her pocket and stroked your crimson cheeks.

"You are going to drink me dry, baby." Wanda whispered into your ear but you didn't care, you were so drunk on her milk that you didn't want to stop. Wanda laughed not expecting you to be so open to this but as much as she wanted to watch the sight of you latching onto her tits, you needed a bath.

Your movements came to an end and Wanda slowly lifted your head, admiring the drunken state of you. She grinned, wiping the excess of her milk with her finger before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"Did you like that?" Wanda whispered, stroking your hair.

"Mhm" you responded and detached yourself from her. Wanda waited until you were ready to get into the bath for the confusing to enter.

"W-What just happened?" You said, "Why does my tummy hurt and feel so full?"

Wanda breathed, she was totally excepting you to lash out. "You had too much milk, baby. You almost drank me dry."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Drank you? How could I-" That's when you realised what you had done. You were levelled to her tits, looking directly at the swollen nipple on her right tit. Tears swam in your eyes as you huddled yourself, "I did that? I'm so sorry Wanda, I don't know why I did that?" You cried, "What's happening to me?"

Wanda heart sank, she knew that you were troubled but watching you fuss burned something inside her. "Nothing is happening to you, sweetheart, you just got a little carried away."

"Carried away? I sucked your tit, Wanda. That's what babies do!" You said, "I don't know why I'm turning into a needy little girl. I've always been independent and now i feel like I need your touch, 24/7."

Wanda wrapped you into her frame, gently calming you down. "It's okay to have these feelings, sweetie. I think you just feel a little neglected from home and watching how i take care of my boys, i can't imagine how jealous you would be."

"They don't behave like that, like me. I've never seen them be nurturing towards you. Why am I?"

"You're a girl. A sweet, naivee and stupid girl that just needed some female attention." Wanda laughed, almost turning it around to make you feel more embarrassed than you were.

You signed, not really understanding. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Wanda only agreed, but she knew that her remedies were taking effect quicker than she excepted. She knew once she poured a special something in your hot chocolate that something inside you that you tried to hide would come to the surface, and now that it has, Wanda needed a chat with Agatha, the town's secret witch.

[centrally-unplanned]

Alright, last Current Events Drama post, is not a super valuable activity after all. I have seen a lot of Discourse that goes like "I may oppose these efforts but man the PR strategy of this Musk thing is pretty genius, they have a whole generation of people thinking USAID was funding the Liberal Media now". And they certainly aren't without agency, I agree there is an intentional PR strategy going on. In particular it is not just the creation of narrative, but the creation of momentum - every day is a new discovery, a new victory, a sense of progress.

But this isn't really that hard when your supporters are just really stupid? Like you can make shit up for these people! They don't care, they don't have that instinct that goes "okay hold up I'm going to need to see some sources here". The current Admin didn't make that happen, that is a deep, structural change around the internet flattening hierarchies and all that shit. When you know your audience wants results and also you can just invent results out of thin air then, idk, is this that hard? How could you not deliver that?

It is funny because the actual playbook here isn't even their invention, it is the same as the 2010's "Woke Boom". That entire model was that deep, slow, technical solutions to structural inequalities achieved via grinding electoral politics is boring. That shit is for fucking losers. I am not gonna have a role in that all! So instead we will achieve social change via randomly harassing my progressive coworkers for their black comedy tweets about AIDS until they get fired and have a nervous breakdown. Obviously - just like with the current right, don't be tricked! - there was another side of this movement that was much more serious, a huge side actually (we are just focusing right now). But for so many that serious side was window dressing, the real mush was that you got to feel like you were a part of something, doing something, and at a certain point they started running the show. This playbook being reversed really isn't that impressive (and also, in a sense, inevitable)

I will give the Social Justice aggros though that they had some standards - passing around photoshopped tweets was uncommon. Most of them did actually believe in this model for change (and so invented insane ideologies to justify it, but w/e). That isn't really as true on the right - I should partially walk back my statement above, a lot of these people aren't that gullible? They are just apathetic. So many people retweeting stuff about how The Deep State funnels millions to Politico don't really even care, for them it is a game. It is funny to own the libs. They laugh off your attempts at calling them out for accuracy - you care about that? What a cuck you are.

Which makes it particularly sad when you see the earnest ones, the ones writing essays about the implications of what USAID propping up the New York Times means for our political future. Nothing worse than being a true believer in a church where not only the leaders but also your fellow congregants know it is bullshit.

It reminds me of the Gamestop Meme Stock Crash and its slow, agonizing burn (a not unrelated event!). A bunch of people on the rise of the stock created the idea that buying Gamestop could Stick It To The Man, you could short squeeze the hedge funds, diamond-hands-hold that yield, bring Wall St to its knees - to the moon, baby. And some people bought it! And then the wheel turned, the crash happened, and most of the people posting those memes sold their stock and dipped so fast they had disappeared from the subreddits before they could even begin to say "bro, you thought I was serious?". Leaving a stalwart few holding the bag, spinning epicycles of conspiracy theories to justify why they had it to begin with. Which happens on autopilot a this point. You don't really need any PR strategy to make this happen.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello there

First of all, a huge thank you for all the effort you put in for us to find stories we love.

I was just wondering if you have any stories along these lines

An "Accidentally Married AU" but not one where they get drunk and get married. More like one of them comes from a different culture/is some sort of creature and the other completes a mating ritual without realising. The closest I've found for this is here:

Don't Wake a Sleeping Bear(Dragon) - ZehWulf - Good Omens (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

But I was wondering if you knew of any others?

Your help is very much appreciated here!

Have a lovely day.

Hi! Here are some fics where they are accidentally married/bonded for reasons other than being drunk. Mind the tags on a couple of these!...

Intertwined by greygerbil (G)

After switching bodies, Aziraphale and Crowley have a matching small but persistent problem.

Vows by Bookwormgal (T)

Crowley certainly didn't do it on purpose. It wasn't something that he exactly planned. But a moment of desperation and stubbornness gave birth to the creation of something new. A bond forged of power, hope, devotion, love, and promises that he would never break. It isn't often that a demon metaphysically half-marries an angel.

Help, I Accidentally Married a Fae by fruchox (T)

Crowley hadn't meant to fall through a Faerie and into an accidental marriage with the Fae Ruler, Aziraphale. It's just that, as time passes, and as they overcome the problems that stand in front of getting Crowley home, he's not sure he wants to go back to his world after all.

The mortifying ordeal of being un-known by Gay_internet_mafia (T)

Tasked with securing a surrogate for the second coming he does not want to come, Aziraphale seeks out his demon. Only for Crowley to have no memory of him at all. Can they solve the mystery and see Crowley's memories returned? And what will he think of Aziraphale once they do?

I’m Your Landsailor by IneffableDoll (T)

In a small seaside town called Tadfield, one of the last places on Earth where humans and magic coexist, an exiled selkie and a human who ran away from her life accidentally get themselves married in the oldest, most binding sense. The two are forced to stay together until they can find a way to undo it and free the other from their accidental marriage. It sure would be complicated if they started to fall for each other in the process…

Offerings by fenrislorsrai (M)

“Come home with me then. Stay and talk.” “Are you… inviting me in?” They are nowhere near a building to go into. They are just reaching the first crossroad on a very long walk home. He is clearly asking something Anthony doesn’t quite grasp the meaning of, but can tell it is something huge and life changing. “I don’t know what that means. What does it matter if you’re everywhere and nowhere if I ask you to be somewhere?” Ế̵͇̠V̷̯̇Ĕ̷̞̬͠R̸̖̭͋Y̵̬̟̅T̶̜̺͠H̴̖͉̾I̸̦̠̽̽N̶̯̈́G̴̫͎͋ As a young man, Anthony saw Death and invited it in. Gave it a home. Gave it a life. Bought that time with the blood of others. Now he’s growing older. His last victim nearly took him. Death comes for everyone. Anthony accepts this. Knows he’ll die too. Have to leave Death alone. And Death can’t accept that. detailed notes about potentially triggering content at the start of each chapter. Rated M for graphic violence On healing from trauma and the importance of stories & rituals for dealing with that which would otherwise destroy us. On finding the words to describe what happened without those very words causing you greater pain. Also pining while married

And the one you mentioned...

Don't Wake a Sleeping Bear(Dragon) by ZehWulf (T)

Crowley's a mage on the run from goons from Lucifer's court, but a twisted ankle means he has to find a hiding spot for the night and fast. Luckily, there's a nearby, hopefully empty cave he can hide in! :D

- Mod D

[mysteryshoptls]

R Azul Ashengrotto - School Uniform Vignette

"By a mere die"

[Classroom]

Azul: Good afternoon, all. Oh, Idia-san, I see you've arrived already.

Idia: Azul-shi… You finally showed up to the club room. Look at this.

Idia: I finally got my hands on the latest edition of the "Magical Game of Life."

Azul: The "Magical Game of Life"…? If I recall, that's a board game, yes?

Idia: Right! You roll a die to move your little car along the board, get married, have children, buy a house, sometimes go bankrupt…

Idia: It's a decision-game revolving around whatever life may throw at you!

Idia: Here, we're in the Board Game Club, we should toss a few dice around and play a proper board game.

Azul: Ah, no… I think I'll pass. I am not very fond of games that rely on luck.

Idia: Here we go again, you always say that. All you play are strategy games like land cultivation, or shop management.

Idia: Don't you ever get bored of always picking games you constantly have to use your brain for? It's not bad to pick something that's got an element of randomness to it, you know.

Azul: Those luck-based games just are at the whim of chance.

Azul: I prefer games that allow me to polish my strategizing skills.

Azul: A game like the "Magical Game of Life" in which all we do is throw some dice around is just utterly imbecilic…

Idia: Uh-huuuh. So basically…

Idia: You have no confidence that you can win in any game that doesn't require strategy. …Right?

Azul: Excuse me?

Idia: Even the great and powerful Azul-sama cannot hope to win against pure luck. You don't have the intellect to coerce the outcome of the thrown dice, hm.

Idia: I seeee, I seeee! Fweheheh, I get it, I get it. Okay then, it's fine, you don't have to play.

Azul: …Who do you think you're speaking to?

Azul: Do you think I would lose to you in a game where all we do is roll dice?

Idia: Heehee… I never said I thought you'd lose. I'm just saying you don't have to go through the trouble.

Azul: You certainly know how to provoke people. …Fine.

Azul: I shall go along with your little game today.

Idia: Here we go, let's get the game on a roll! First, pick out the color that'll be your car…

Idia: Geheh. Looks like you lose another three turns according to the all-powerful dice.

Azul: How…

Azul: How could my life be affected by a mere die…!?

Idia: And while you're doing that, I've struck oil.

Azul: What is with that sudden development!? Why did an oil field suddenly appear in the middle of a shopping center!?

Idia: Hey, chill, it's just a game. It's your turn now. Roll the dice already.

Azul: …It's a 2.

Idia: …Oh-hooo?

Idia: "You purchased a home, but it is in disrepair. Lose 5,000,000 Madol. Oof! That sucks!

Azul: There is no way that I, of all people, would fall for a scam like this…! This game is absurd!

[Interior Hallway]

Idia: Whew, Azul-shi was a sight to see last week. I still remember how infuriated he got… Bwahaha.

[Classroom]

Idia: Oh hey, Azul-shi. You're early today.

Azul: 5… 5… 3.

Idia: Azul-shi?

Azul: One more time, 5… 2… No good, next… 3.

Idia: Heeey.

Azul: Perhaps I need to use more speed. 5, 5… 5! Yes! ….Oh, Idia-san. You're here.

Idia: Yup. You looked like you were in your own little world, what's going on?

Azul: Ah, yes. As you can see, I've been practicing dice rolling.

Azul: As the result of all my practice, I now have a 1 in 3 chance of rolling the number I want.

Idia: The number you want!? How is that possible…?

Azul: I hold the die with the 2 facing up, then toss with a flick of the wrist. I'll get about 4 and a half rotations with the strength I put in.

Azul: Watch the die roll… See, a 5!

Idia: Azul-shi, don't tell me… Have you been practicing throwing dice ever since you lost in the Magical Game of Life last week!?

Azul: I merely lost last week due to my negligence.

Azul: It became a simple game of chance simply because I was unprepared.

Idia: But that's the point of board games like these…

Azul: Not at all, it only happened due to a lack of preparation.

Azul: If I focus on the game and compensate for the luck element…

Azul: I can even conquer this sort of board game!

Idia: You're… Trying to remove the element of chance from a game of luck!?

Azul: However, I'm still not at my peak. I can still improve even further. I'll try throwing the dice a little stronger this time…

Idia: Azul-shi? Heeeey, Azul-shi, you hearing me?

Azul: A 4… Off by one pip…

Idia: He's completely immersed. I don't think he hears me at all.

Azul: 4… 4… And a 3 this time. I'll need to steady my wrist more… Another 4…

Idia: Y'know, I always thought that despite how he looks, Azul-shi is pretty straightforward and tenacious…

Idia: And goes all out for everything.

Azul: Alright! That is five 4's in a row! There's no way I will lose now!

Requested by @pianostarinwonderland.

[monyapolize]

shidou's hand pain? (+ brief discussion of leak)

so i was puzzling about this for a while and the conclusion i reached is that the simplest answer is probably the easiest one. but i had a lotttt of ideas i had to throw away first lol. at first i wondered if maybe it was an acquired injury due to overwork at his job. it's not uncommon; artists get hand-related issues, surgeons get hand-related issues, it happens. however, shidou has never reported any problems performing procedures on patients. he explicitly tells us his crime is going against the wishes of dead patients regarding organ donation. their deaths are not a result of any of his procedures, and quite frankly with something as precise as surgery, a hand injury would absolutely cripple your performance. which leads me to believe this is a very recent problem. speaking of, check out the Second Audio Drama, Aesculapius -> Shidou: Yes, that’s right. You know, I… continuously tried to persuade the relatives of a braindead patient who were against organ transplants. Giving them reasons like the ones you just mentioned, Es-kun. “In order to save the life of someone you don’t know, please let me kill your family,” I told them. It doesn’t even take much thinking to realize how cruel that is, but… I didn’t realize it until the very end. Shidou's guilt over what he's done is extremely recent because, up until the very end, he believed himself to be doing the right thing. When Es first interacts with him in the Molech Audio Drama, he is actively processing how he feels about what he has done. And what conclusion does he reach? Shidou: The death penalty is what I’m hoping for. Thank you in advance.  It's hard to portray feelings of guilt much more obviously than this, and yet, Es notes -> Es: Out of all the prisoners thus far, you’re the one I can’t stand the most. Going all pessimistic like that, running your mouth as if you knew everything, acting as if you’re oh-so mature, and never budging from that composed expression of yours—the nerve of you!

Es is correctly identifying how Shidou deals with his emotions, albeit they don't realize at this point how correct they actually are. Shidou always looks outwardly composed, it's a core feature of his character. He has to be a friendly face to the families of the deceased, and to do so often does away with his own emotions completely. We see him deflect and intellectualize his feelings with Es multiple times ->

Shidou: Family is… special.

Es: Huh?

Shidou: Let’s digress for a moment. Have you studied criminal law?

This exchange is followed by Shidou, in an emotionally detached manner, explaining the intricacies of articles 103, 104, and 105 of criminal law. All to avoid experiencing the topic of 'family' in an emotional way. Shidou also engages in activities he knows to be bad for him to escape stressful emotions.

We see him do so in an interaction with Mikoto. But interestingly, another thing occurs alongside Shidou smoking.

We've established Shidou smokes to escape stress. Shidou smoking in this interaction is very deliberately mentioned alongside his hand injury! This is because Shidou's hand injury is most likely a recent acquisition ALSO caused by stress. Specifically the stress caused by his feelings about his crime.

He even states that it's "probably all in [his] head." (On another note, have you ever seen the common plot point in movies where gun wielders get shaky hands and suddenly lose the ability to shoot accurately after a traumatic kill?) I bring all of this up because of a leak that I saw. Please turn back now if you do not want to see. I'm just sharing because it made me feel a bit better about the whole prisoners dying situation lol....

Check out the bare hands and wedding ring. He has forgiven himself.