#I don't know anyone else enough to get a full idea so if i ACTUALLY commit to that they'd be a little more ooc in my opinion

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

My thoughts about the Trump assassination attempt

After having a few hours to process this whole thing and see reactions from across the political spectrum, I'm having some thoughts and some feelings.

First off, as I said earlier, Trump is a fucking boss. Take anyone who ran for president in the last 20 years, put them in that exact situation, and I don't think a single one responds by raising his fist and snarling in defiance and righteous anger. They run. They cry. They keep their heads down and the first statement you h ear from them is hours later filtered through 20 different speech writers. Today proved to me that, whatever else he may be, Trump is a genuine bad ass. He's exactly the person I want at the end of a sword pointed the United States. Because he's going to have a sword of his own pointed right back, and he's not going to run and hide when it comes time to use it.

Second, the modern left is full of monsters. The amount of people screaming and crying because this assassination attempt failed actually sickens me. It's one thing to have fantasies about easy solutions to the things that scare you. Hell, I'm not innocent. I've thought about how much better things might be if this politician was no longer around or this activist group got axed. But one of the things I did today was think about how I would feel if the assassin succeeded. And then I thought about how I'd feel if someone took a shot at Biden and he didn't survive. Neither thought gave me any good feelings. Obviously I'd be more upset if Trump died, but today showed me that I don't want us to start down the path of shooting political leaders. But too many people on the left, people who should know better, at least enough to hide their true feelings, have no problem publicly wishing Trump was dead right now. That assassinating presidential candidates was a legitimate tactic--but only against the politicians they don't like, of course.

Fuck that.

Fuck them.

America is better than that. Americans are better than that. We're not some third world shithole like Mexico. We're the greatest country in the world. We're the last bastion of representative government. The last place in the world where freedom exists. And it's time we started acting like it.

Third, I ain't got no time for conspiracy theories. Sorry guys, but this wasn't staged and this wasn't a CIA hitman. Unless real, hard evidence comes out otherwise, you won't ever get me to believe any of the nonsense I've seen floated around. Don't be so lost in the true things the media has dismissed as "conspiracy theories" that you immediately jump to the most conspiratorial explanations first for everything that happens. It's lame and cringe and a lot of people I've seen seriously putting these theories forward should know better. I know we're in our emotions right now, but keep your heads.

Fourth, my heart breaks for the families of the people who were hit with the bullets meant for President Trump. But that's the kind of evil we're facing. Whoever did this decided that the idea of a Trump presidency was so awful that they were okay with shooting innocent people just to stop him. And this is after he was already president and none of the things the media is fear mongering about happened during his first term. Those people just wanted to see a man speak. To have some hope for the future. And some piece of shit shot them because he didn't like a presidential candidate. Or worse, because the TV made him scared.

Fifth, fuck the media. You think you hate them enough, but you don't. The media is the driving force behind our enemies, and there's no such thing as a good journopig. They're all lying propagandists. We just like some of them because their propaganda occasionally hits on the truth.

And that's all I got. None of this is organized, none of this is proofread. These are just the thoughts I've been wrestling with for the past few hours. This is the only place I can get them all down without being interrupted or feeling like I need to censor myself. Do with them what you will.

[halemerry]

On Crowley, memory, and identity.

So full disclosure first, I am not someone who is particularly interested in having Crowley's angel name on screen - personally I rather like the idea of never having an answer to this question - but I also do think it's interesting and fun to speculate and we got quite a few hints at this throughout this season soooo

Obviously part of this is that we meet him. The angel that would become Crowley is the first person on screen this season. We confirm a lot about him here. He confirm that he is powerful enough to start the engine of the universe. We confirm that he can control gravity and time and space and light. We confirm that he is the being that says let there be light before the beginning. We also confirm that he consulted with the concept designer of the universe and that he's very comfortable with the idea of questioning authority. We are also given Aziraphale's anxiety as a contrast to this and as proof that that is not a universal trait for early angels.

Now, we have always had evidence that Crowley is powerful. He's done some things that seem impossibly big. He stops time very casually and seemingly without effort - even at the end of season 1 it doesn't even seem to give us the same strain on him that holding the Bentley together does. This is a thing that we only ever see Crowley do and notably a thing that you would think other beings would mess with to their advantage if it was possible. Which means they either literally can't or that it never occurred to them that they could. Or as is becoming increasingly clear: perhaps it's a bit of both.

But that's not the only implication of power we get in season 1 either. We get Crowley seemingly in tune with the universe in a way many angels and demons aren't. Which, makes some sense if he helped make it. This manifests in all sorts of ways. He's constantly aware of Aziraphale's presence. He can smell when the world state changes like when Adam names Dog. He holds the Bentley together through utter destruction. He notices that there are different books in the bookshop - something I always assumed was meant to convey he was familiar with the shop's contents but after learning he didn't even know Jane Austen was a writer I wonder if it's actually more to do with him being in tune with reality. He also can apparently quite literally feel when there are eyes on them.

We're given even more of all these things this season in some really interesting ways. Crowley literally tests the air to check if a miracle has happened - another thing that we don't see anyone else do despite Heaven literally assigning someone to Aziraphale to check for a specific miracle. This particular beat is also something we are shown twice this season. Both here and in 1941, when Furfur uses the miracle blocker on Aziraphale. Here Crowley tests his miracles and despite getting nothing of the sort when Aziraphale tries a miracle literally the beat before this, we are given both a visual and an auditory effect. It ripples out with a watery sound effect from Crowley's finger. It's like he's prodding at reality.

There's also several instances involving the recognition or lack thereof of angels and demons. Crowley feels that the demon army is arriving before it does. Neither side seems to be able to track Gabriel - one of the most powerful beings in existence - at all once he leaves Heaven. We also see countless angels fail to notice Crowley himself both as Bildad the Shuhite performing literal miracles right in front of them. And this happens again as he prances about Heaven after Muriel. Aziraphale can't tell Shax is a demon despite Crowley recognizing she's manifested behind him nearly as soon as he answers the phone. Aziraphale can't even recognize that he himself is still an angel at the end of the Job story.

He also. Quite literally. Brings someone back from the dead???? Like waves a hand casually on the street and reconstitutes Mr. Brown like he'd never been dead at all. Mr. Brown returns with no memory of what happened to him holding a newspaper that seems to have literal bite chunks coming out of it. It's not framed as a huge miracle or anything strenuous either - just a casual snap.

And that's not even getting into the parallels with Gabriel. First of all. We get the color purple. It's purple when Aziraphale and angel that would become Crowley start the engine of the quadrants of the universe and it's purple when they miracle to hide Gabriel. This color is associated with power and, historically in the language of this show, with Gabriel himself. Them using it together twice speaks a lot to the power they have together.

But that's not the only symbolism historically tied to Gabriel that has found its way to Crowley this season either. Most flashy of all is the lightning. This is how we see Gabriel arrive on earth at the end of season one and it is something Crowley apparently just Does when he gets too mad to contain himself.

This alone wouldn't catch my attention except. Except the way Crowley reacts to Gabriel's memory problems is... interesting to say the least. He's angry and understandably so. Part of this is him being mad and protective of Aziraphale - he says as much himself to Jim directly. And yet, weirdly, it's the kind of mad that reminded me of something else.

This is the mad he tends to gets at his plants. Do it properly. Think hard. You can do better than that. Grow better. It's the kind of angry that's steeped in projection. It's he kind of angry that is undercut with the occasional weird undercurrent of understanding. And so much of his dialogue with Jim around this is framed like he does actually understand. Jim says it hurts and he says he knows. Jim starts talking about it feeling like being an empty house that still remembers where the furniture is and Crowley immediately latches onto this and understands ah it's looking at where the furniture isn't.

And there's a few other conversations that center around this issue that I find really interesting from a projection perspective. There's the conversation that happens when Crowley goes to have an alcohol fueled chat with Jim. He says "You're Jim now. Got everything just the way you wanted?" This doesn't make a whole lot of sense for him to be addressing Gabriel with. As far as he knows all Gabriel would want was the end of the world.

And then there's the particular way he asks Jim to eliminate himself in this scene. Climb out the window. In other words, have a fall. Something he pretty immediately retracts and clearly feels guilty about no matter how much he hates Gabriel.

And then there's the first conversation he gets to have after learning about Gabriel. Crowley opens this conversation, thinking out loud. He's staring out, not talking to Az yet and the very first thing out of his mouth is, of all things: "He's going to be okay." A weird start for a statement about Gabriel in itself but then Crowley goes and adds what at it's core is his own trauma narrative to the end with, "We can just take him somewhere and leave him there."

Now the real fun bit: Crowley also has memory issues that are out very prominently on display even as far back as season 1.

He has inconsistent memories of his Fall. The answers he gives us to why he Fell change slightly - even when he's alone with himself. He doesn't seem to understand why exactly he Fell even though he clearly has some vague idea of the pieces in play. I always thought to some degree that this was just a trauma response, but season 2 drew even more attention to this and now that we know that memory alteration is how Heaven handles powerful angels I can't help but to wonder if there's more in play here.

Crowley can't remember Furfur - who he apparently literally fought next to during the war in Heaven. Crowley can't remember building a nebula with Saraqael. Crowley doesn't remember why they decided gravity was a good idea.

But he does remember bits and pieces here and there. He remembers doing some of the starmaking. He remembers how to access clearance locked files. He's missing pieces and also seems to have an understanding that Gabriel's memories ARE in there. Almost like he's done this work on himself before.

This narrative itself is also far more concerned with the angel Crowley was this time around. It teases his rank a few different times. Most notably is him having access the files only available to Dominions and above.

Now angel hierarchy is a bit of a messy area depending on what sources you're using but given Good Omens tendencies in the past we can assume that this leaves us five ranks. Dominion, Throne, Cherub, Seraph, and Archangel.

I might break down why I think Dominion, Throne, and Cherub feel kind of odd to me later if there's interest - now available here - in that but given the current length of this meta I just want to focus on that last one for now.

Crowley was an Archangel is far from a new theory and I've honestly historically had some fairly mixed feelings about it. But the parallels between Jim and Crowley lend some interesting connective tissue to a lot of those theories. And. There's also some interesting camera work and script writing tied to Crowley and that term outside of the scenes about Gabriel's memories specifically.

Firstly, during Crowley's chat with Beelzebub he says it's a big universe with plenty of places for an archangel to hide. Like Alpha Centauri perhaps?

Then we get Aziraphale and Crowley both presenting Hell and Heaven respectively the idea that it could have been them that did the archangel class miracle. Aziraphale gets scoffed at and yet. Shax is the one who says the miracle was archangel level and Crowley's response is "how do you know I didn't do it?"

Then later as she's prowling about the shop we get this interesting shot of Crowley in the doorframe and Jim in the background. Crowley grins and offers to let Shax look in and see if she can see any archangels in there while he's framed dead center and Jim himself is blurry in the back of the frame.

And most fascinating in my opinion is this shot that happens when Crowley and Muriel are accessing the classified files. Nearly every shot in this sequence is group shots or shots of Gabriel. The camera is focused in the plot and the way the archangels function as a group and on Gabriel himself. But we get one single shot in this entire sequence of Crowley by himself and it is immediately following Gabriel saying "I am the only first order archangel in the room - or, well, the universe."

And then in the end. We get the Metatron who goes out of his way to avoid using Crowley's name. He calls him demon (and insists correctly that Crowley would recognize him even when Michael doesn't) or refers to him as Aziraphale's friend. He only ever uses that name when trying to use him as a bribe for Aziraphale. That combined with the dark look he gives Crowley implies a familiarity that only the Metatron has with him.

So who is he then? There's plenty of old meta out there about why certain archangels fit or don't and I won't reiterate them here. They're interesting and definitely worth poking around at and very fun to read! Personally I'm not as interested in naming the someone he used to be as I am in examining the places that ghost of this angel has started to poke through the narrative so I'll end this here. It's spiralled into something far longer than I ever meant it to be anyway.

[onmyyan]

Yandere DC Purge Au

A/N: inspired by a bot on janitor ai here's the link reader is this universes wolverine fem reader, yandere themes

Getting home from the Titans Tower, you shrug off your brown leather biker jacket, letting the heavy garment fall to the floor with an audible thump.

Boot clad feet accidentally kick a small black elegantly wrapped package that been slipped through your mail slot. (E/c) Eyes full of curiosity, you bend down to pick up the box, it was a little bigger than your hand, unable to fight the curiosity, you threw your helmet on the couch and used your sharp pointer finger nail to tear a seam into the paper, your mind moved a mile a minute as five neat letters in black envelopes were revealed.

Your heart falls to your stomach, you knew what these letters meant, what they entailed, you'd been chosen, and not by one yandere, but five. You didn't bother to read the letters, setting them down on your coffee table like the paper was going to bite you, sitting on the couch with a groan, your shoulders coiled like a animal ready to pounce. In all your 24 years you'd never had to deal with a yandere, while you were aware of them of course, your particular lifestyle didn't allow for such things, you were a hero after all, you couldn't help but tense, yes you were a formidable fighter, yes you had confidence in your abilities to defend yourself but five separate psycho's? That was a lot to deal with even for you.

You had a day to prepare, that's all the decency the government allowed people like her. A day to prepare for the insanity that was the Purge. All former plans for a quiet week off patrols were gone, replaced by your fierce determination. You wouldn't be caught, you'd been caged enough for your lifetime.

The next morning you make your way into the Titans Tower business as usual, you had no idea who the senders of the letters were so you kept your guard up.

It was a tradition for the team to hang out one last time before the purge, since all crime, including all yandere crime, was legal, the team technically got a week long vacation. So they liked to hangout the day before those infamous sirens would ring out across the city. The whole team was there, doing their usual things when you were approached by Rachel Roth aka Raven.

"Your mind is.. guarded tonight, are you alright?" Her soft monotone voice calls out dragging you from your mind, "Yeah just ..tense about tomorrow ya know?" Your voice gruff yet feminine, you didn't mind the fact that she was peaking into your head, having long since gotten used to her antics, instead you lean back on the counter surveying the room with a calculated gaze. You kept your thoughts clear knowing she had a penchant for reading your mind without permission, you didn't want to tell the team about the letters for a multitude of reasons, the main one being you didn't know if it was one of them who sent it. Of course you trusted your team but you'd learned long ago to trust yourself before anyone else.

And your enhanced animal like senses told you danger was a foot. "Any big plans for the week?" You ask casually still observing your other teammates.

"I rented a cabin in the snow, very tranquil, very secluded.." she paused a moment her dark eyes scanning your features, "You could come with me- if you don't want to spend the purge alone?" The question hung heavy in the air, the intensity in her gaze made you smirk, no way in hell were you taking a trip right now.

"I actually have some plans already." You smiled at the dark haired sorceress, trying to soothe the wound of denial. "Well if you at any point change your mind simply call for me and I'll be there." She says flatly, but her steel gaze was as intense as ever.

"Definitely." You respond before pushing off the counter, "I'm gonna hit the gym, see you later Rav."

'Well that was something' you thought to yourself, she'd always been attached to you, finding comfort in your troubled past, but she'd never looked so..like that before.

Shaking off the encounter you find yourself in the gym toned (s/c) arms stretching across your chest in preparation, a training dummy standing across from you. Just before you throw the first punch Conner aka Superboy walks in the room his arms crossed. "You wanna keep playing with that thing or you want a real fight?" The tall wall of a man asks walking closer to you, this wasn't out of the ordinary as you were one of the only people on the team who could keep up with Conner physically.

"let's go." You say getting into a fighting stance, your feet wide, fists in front of your face.

The spar was intense as usual with him, he didn't hold back, because of your healing factor he didn't need to, and you preferred it that way. You two danced around the mat swiping at each other, trading blows that would send a normal human to the grave. Your adamantium covered skeleton allowed you to land hits on him that actually sent him reeling. Your breath came out in heavy pants as Conner made an expert dodge, he sweeps his leg under you catching you off guard enough to stumble backwards, he grips your tank top stopping you from hitting the mat staring at you for a second too long before bringing you into a head lock, panting in your ear, "You give?" You could hear the smirk on his face, you growl under your breath, "Fuck off.", elbowing him hard enough to make him release you, instead of getting angry he just grins at you looking like an animal about to pounce.

The spar ends in a draw both of you covered in sweat, "you wanna hang out tomorrow?" He asks wiping his forehead, you pause thinking over the fact that tomorrow was the first night of the Purge, sure is didn't start until 7pm but it was risky as hell to go about business as usual on the day of.

"Sorry big guy I'm fully booked." The lie flows off your tongue easily enough, you couldn't risk getting Conner involved in whatever the yanderes had planned for you tomorrow, you also couldn't rule him out as a suspect yet.

The rest of your day is full of similar interactions with your team, Garfield aka Beast Boy had invited you over to his place for a gaming fueled sleepover, pouting when you decline, Kori aka Starfire had offered to straight up stay with you for the duration of the purge, looking absolutely confused as to why you'd said no.

The day ends with you gathering your things as you wouldn't be in the tower for a week. Damian, the current Robin and leader of your team walks over before you can leave. "I assume you've made preparations?" The enigmatic man spoke in that usual Damian tone that you could never quite get a read on. "I'll be fine." Was your simple answer. His green eyes studied you, taking in your response. He simply smirks at you before bidding you goodnight.

You got zero sleep that night the rainy Gotham skies a background to your inner turmoil. Your instincts said to run so you were. A few minutes before the sirens go off, you're in your garage, a duffle bag thrown over your shoulders, when you notice your bike's tires have been slashed, both of them deflated.

Cursing under your breath you steady your nerves before heading back up to your apartment. Navigating the streets of Gotham on the first night of the purge was a bad idea even for a self healing mutant with adamantium claws like yourself. Instead you choose to take the situation as it came, barricading the front door with a bookshelf, you pour yourself a double shot of whiskey and light the cigar you'd been saving for a special occasion.

The shrill terror inducing sound of the annual purge sirens go off on schedule, you remain unflinching as you prepare yourself for the inevitable encounter.

About five minutes after the bell stops ringing there's a loud knock on your door, the handle jingling seconds after, "(Y/n), open the door." The command was given pleadingly. You recognized that voice, the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. You were prepared for some nobody to try and claim you. Not him.

"We're getting in there no matter what so you may as well just," a loud bang shook the wood, "Open up." A second voice spoke out, this one just as familiar as the first, your heart fell to your stomach at the realization, the other three didn't need to speak for you to guess they were out there.

Your eyes quickly scan the window of your apartment, you were on the third floor but it was an easy drop for someone with your healing ability.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be." The third gruff voice speaks before a gunshot is heard, the bastard had shot out your front door lock, a blue eye peaked in the hole locking onto you instantly a predatory look in the gaze. "There you are kitty." He says before glaring at the bookshelf in his way, it doesn't take much for him to start throwing his shoulder into the wood of the door.

"Don't scare her." The fourth voice chimed in but did nothing to stop the man barreling into your apartment. By the time the five entered you had already booked it out the window, your broken ankles healing as you sprint down the dimly lit Gotham streets.

"She's on the move." Bruce finally speaks, his authoritative voice left no room for argument. Damian was the first to act scaling down the apartment so fast he skipped some steps, he was a man on a mission.

Dick was quick to follow flipping out the window and landing gracefully before giving chase. Tim quickly pulled out a tablet tracking your every move.

Jason snarls at the chase, running after you like a beast on the hunt. Bruce follows behind in the batmobile with Tim guiding him to your location in the passenger seat, each man's heart burning for you.

The night had just begun and you were now playing a game you wanted no part in.

[seafoamsol]

The best years of my life...

... what I wouldn't give to have them back.

I had the great pleasure of working with @spiderscribe on a DeadCeptor work for the @tf-bigbang, which you can (and should!) read [ HERE ]!

Details and artist commentary under the cut!

Okay, first off, I just wanna say, thank you so much to @spiderscribe for picking up my very loose scribble and taking the jump. She's an absolute champ, and I IMPLORE you to read her writing. She did a knockout job on the fic, and guaranteed, these two pieces wouldn't have been so elaborate without her. If you're a fan of deadceptor, parallels, lovers to enemies to apocalyptic teammates to ???s, I'm sure you'll find that and more in there.

[ HERE ] is the link to that, if you missed it the first time around.

The background for the supermarket was a MASSIVE undertaking. I ended up blurring it in the final to keep the dream-like quality, but there is a lot happening there! Most of the time I spent on the background was (jokingly) complaining though.

Anyone who works retail will know the agony of customer-misplaced stock. The little canisters of energon additives seem like prime candidates to be placed willy-nilly.

The little warning sign... My favorite soda, apple sidra, has a carcinogen warning, so I'm familiar with it. It was slightly surprising to me that those warnings are not countrywide, despite the fact that they very clearly say "California Proposition 65", and well. Not something else, like "Federal" or whatever.

The bags of nuts and bolts below, I asked several people what flavor they would be, and I suppose I failed in my job, because I wanted the purple to be the "regular" flavor, and the green to be the "sour". But grape and lemon-lime work as well!

The tub is full of rust-sticks. I have no idea if that came across. My friends kept calling the individually wrapped ones slim jims, which I mean, I guess!

The car batteries... My idea was that they were similar to shots, in a way? So that's how I ended up with a battery with enough terminals to rival an international airport. It's also sunset-coloured, because, I don't know, that's what Party Flavor is to me.

Okay. The second illustration. This one was a headache, mostly due to my own lack of planning, and the fact that I lost the file for... basically everything I did, including the above illustration. So it was a bit of a rush job.

The background bots started off as these very vague silhouettes, which I'm a little proud of. Look at how nice and somewhat readable they are! Okay, now what if I ruined it? What? You don't like that? That's rather unfortunate, because that's what I proceeded to do. In fact, if I take off all.. 10 or something adjustment layers, they look like this:

My process went: Shadow block> Fill rest of form> Color randomiser> Copy and skew (to populate background)> Hue adjustment> Gradient map> Fill Light> Chromatic aberration> Vignette> Levels> Curves.

The.... Magenta cube is there because due to the nature of the color randomiser, the foot had a high value, and stuck out like nobody's business in the end.

Here's what it would look like without the cube. Begone, distracting white blob! (I didn't have to worry about the lava arm because Percy happened to cover it up. What a save! But if he didn't then... there would have been a second cube.)

Basically, it was a mess. But... at least it came out fine in the end! I hope!

I'd love to have speedpaints on hand, but I was switching between CSP and PS for a good majority of the work.

I'd say that's it for these two pieces! I actually have more, but those demand more time. I'm much slower at doing inks than I am at painting, but I hope you'll get to see them soon.

[sanarsi]

Everything we did that summer

step-uncle!no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You resisted getting close to Joel, afraid of what might happen then. Well, his affection for you destroyed everything you had worked for. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is in college, Joel is 56), STEP-UNCLE!Joel, unprotected PIV, fingering, pussy eating Wordcount: 3,6k An: Uncle Joel is my wet dream that I don't want to admit to. But I'm letting you feel the shame with me. Enjoy xx Music I worked with: Cry Baby - The Neighbourhood

Masterlist

"Stop being offended. We're only going for a few days. You can stand sitting on your ass by the ocean," your mother muttered. You rolled your eyes and focused on the view outside the window again. Sand and water. Nothing else. Why did he have to live in such a remote place?

"Honey, take it easy," Tommy said, placing his hand on his wife's thigh. The woman sighed loudly and fell back into her seat. "She will surely cheer up when she sees how nice it is there," he assured her. "Right, kid?" he asked, glancing at you in the mirror. As usual, smiling and full of positive energy. You had no idea where he got the strength from. Living with your mother was tiring.

"Yeah," you mumbled under your breath. That was enough to make your mother furious again.

"Why you don't like him actually?" she asked, gesturing too vigorously with her hands. Tommy fell silent, curious about the answer to that question himself. No one understood why you couldn't get along with your uncle from the very beginning. Step-uncle.

Well, the answer was simple.

Joel Miller was like forbidden fruit. Damn handsome and mysterious. Your wet dream.

That's why the first time you looked into his dark, piercing eyes and shook his big, rough hand, you decided you would never do it again. For your own safety.

"He's weird," you said, disgusted.

"Weird?" the woman repeated in an almost squeaky voice. You winced at the sound and clenched your jaw tighter, knowing you were treading on thin ice. "What do you mean he's weird?" You shrugged and glanced in the mirror, meeting Tommy's gaze. He smiled at you comfortingly, so whether you wanted to or not, you smiled back.

Tommy was okay. He was the only one who could keep your mother's temper in check. No small feat, so you were impressed.

"I don't know. He's just weird." You didn't want to go into details. You didn't want to talk about it. You felt ashamed of the way you thought about him. Ashamed that it was his name you whispered every time you touched yourself.

"Joel's a little isolated but he's a good man," Tommy said, glancing at your mother. "I'm sure you'll get along. A few days as a family never hurt anyone," he added, tightening his grip on his woman's thigh and glancing at you with a wink.

Oh if he knew how wrong he was.

From a distance you could see a small house right by the beach. It was nice. You yourself would like to live in a place like that. You didn't wonder why Joel decided to move here. Another thing that put you off him even more.

The car slowly stopped and your gaze immediately fell on the man who was standing in front of the house, frowning in the sunlight. Your heart sped up for a moment.

"You have to say hello. No discussion," your mother ordered, narrowing her eyes at you in warning. You didn't react, staring blindly at her. You probably didn't even understand what she was saying to you, but it was too late because she and Tommy left the car. You got out right after them and watched as Joel hugged your mother in greeting. Their words drowned out the waves crashing against the shore.

You put your hands in your jeans pockets and looked at your sneakers before taking one last deep breath and heading towards them. Your stomach tightened in a knot as you watched both brothers hug each other tightly with longing. Their laughter grew louder as you stopped a few meters away from them.

“Getting old?” Tommy asked teasingly. Joel rolled his eyes with an amused grimace.

“Gained weight?” he retorted. Your mother laughed as her husband pouted.

“I feed him well. He has a weakness for lasagna,” she said with a warm smile before placing a kiss on his cheek and he wrapped his arm around her waist. You felt nauseous at the sight of their happiness. But that was because Joel’s gaze fell on you as your parents whispered sweet nothings to each other.

“Hi kiddo,” he spoke first, coming closer. You swallowed the lump in your throat slowly and nodded.

“Hi,” you replied softly. You couldn’t help but turn into a good girl in his company. The dominance radiating from him made you simply submissive. You didn’t sit through it.

“They drag you out of the house?” he asked, glancing at your parents who were heading to the car to get your luggage.

“As you can see.” You tried to smile but it came out as a grimace.

“A few days without the internet will do you good.”

Oh god, why did parental comments sound like an invitation to go to bed with him. Fuck.

“But don’t worry, I won’t let you get bored,” he added with a wink and tapped you under the chin teasingly before he went to help with the luggage. You blinked a few times, blindly staring at the sand.

Oh shit.

The sun had almost set below the horizon as loud laughter echoed around. Everyone was sitting by the bonfire on the beach, drinking beer and eating far too greasy food. You didn't even listen to their tipsy conversations and just stared at the sea waves. The cool breeze and hot fire caressed your face, let your thoughts stop running for a moment.

Suddenly you heard a heavy groan so your gaze fell on Joel, who was just sitting down next to you.

"Fuck, I'm really getting old," he snorted under his breath shaking his head in disbelief. You noticed that your parents were on their way home.

"Where are they going?" you asked following them with your gaze until they disappeared behind the door.

"Your mom needs company to use the bathroom," he said and took a sip of beer. You watched as his Adam's apple moved with each swallow and a lonely drop ran from the corner of his mouth. Your mouth began to dry up admiring the view knowing that it would haunt you the next time you sank your fingers inside you.

“Want some?” he asked, holding the bottle out to you. You glanced at his hand that was wrapped around the glass. It could wrap around your neck as well. Fuck.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, taking the beer so as not to touch his fingers. You took a drink even though you hated beer. You grimaced at the bitter taste, to which Joel laughed under his breath.

"Still not drinking?" he asked, watching you with amusement as you handed him the beer.

"I had one for my twenty-first birthday. It’s enough for the rest of my life," you replied, glancing at him before you fixed your gaze on the fire. The burning fire was much better than the fire you felt inside you because of his gaze.

"That's good. Alcohol is shit," he nodded, then took another sip of beer. You rolled your eyes, smiling under your breath. "So what? College? Work?" he asked, trying to somehow break the silence between you.

You might not have liked him, but he never noticed that. You were always just... quiet. Shy around him. He assumed it was normal because you hadn't been a family forever.

"Both," you nodded, shrugging.

"Well, look at you. You've grown into a resourceful young woman," he elbowed you teasingly in the side. You couldn't stop your growing smile as you glanced at him again.

"I don't want to be a burden to them. They're sick of me already." You smiled, but not with your eyes. Joel grimaced at that.

"Oh, come on. They definitely can't get enough of you." He tried to comfort you because he didn't want to see you sad during the few days you were at his place.

"They almost had a fight because of me before we came here. Believe me, they're sick of me," you laughed under your breath. Joel watched in silence as you stared into the fire, your forced smile slowly disappearing.

“But it’s all good now. They laugh like children and I have a feeling I’ll have to wear earplugs at night,” he said with a smirk. You looked at him, grimacing in disgust.

“Ew,” you groaned and laughed. It immediately felt better.

Joel had a fatherly instinct that was still there, even though Sarah was already an adult and had her own family. Seeing you smile filled him with a fulfillment he couldn’t explain or fight.

“Grown-ups have to fight sometimes. Otherwise, they’d kill each other in their sleep.”

You snorted at his humorless words. You were the only reason they wanted to kill each other so his words didn't work as a comfort. But at least he tried. And that was enough to make you feel even worse about the place he occupied in your thoughts. You hated him and yourself even more.

"And you?"

"What about me?" you asked indifferently.

"You have someone to fight with too?" he asked gently. You blinked a few times before looking at him like he was an idiot. Joel snorted quietly seeing the answer on your face. "Okay, I understand," he nodded amused raising his hands in surrender.

There was silence for a moment.

"So is it a girl or a boy?"

"Oh my god," you groaned miserably and hid your face in your hands feeling your face starting to burn with embarrassment.

"What? I'll support you in every decision," he started explaining with a wide smile.

"No and no," you replied looking at him. “People my type don’t pay attention to me,” you blurted out thoughtlessly. You wanted to punch yourself in the face when you saw the interest in his eyes. Idiot.

“Don’t exaggerate. You’re pretty, funny, and intelligent. Most people would look at you on the street.”

“But not older men.”

“Especially older men,” he corrected you seriously. Silence fell as you stared at each other. Joel had already had a few beers, so his eyes sparkled more than usual and you were still overwhelmed by everything girl. He didn’t move, staring into your eyes as if he was frozen. Every muscle in your body tensed painfully. He didn’t say anything, so you didn’t either. So why-

And then his gaze fell on your lips.

For a split second, before you heard your mother’s laughter and his gaze immediately pierced the fire. Your heart pounded in your chest like a bell until the very end.

And even lying on the couch in his living room, you couldn't get it out of your head when his gaze went down.

The next day you decided to cut yourself off. You had been lying on the beach since morning, sunbathing and listening to music. No one dared to disturb you.

No one except Joel.

His shadow blocked the sun from your view, making you wince. You took off your sunglasses and took your headphones out of your ears when he started talking to you. You mumbled questioningly, to which he rolled his eyes.

"Tommy and your mother went to the store," he announced. You frowned.

"And?" you mumbled further, not knowing why he had come to you.

"Want to see something?" he asked with a smile. You looked at him uncertainly and was about to refuse when he interrupted you. "You'll like it."

And that was enough.

A few minutes of walking on the beach in his company was quite a challenge for you. The only thing you could do with your hands were the ribbons on your swimsuit panties. Even his questions couldn't distract you from how good he looked in a loose shirt and shorts.

It was a crime to look so good at his age.

"Here." His voice tore you out of your thoughts. You looked around seeing only a mountain of sand in front of you. You looked at him and he was already nodding in the direction you were supposed to go. So you did. And he was walking right behind you.

And no one knew that his gaze was scanning your half naked body for a moment.

You slowly entered a large sea cave. You looked around in shock. The water reflected the sun's rays on the stone ceiling, making everything look more magical. You smiled widely and glanced at Joel who was watching you with satisfaction.

"I told you you'll like it," he said proudly.

"This is amazing." You started walking around and looking at everything. The most important thing immediately popped into your head. "Do you have a phone?" you asked, glancing at it.

"Yeah, why?" he asked, leaning against the stone wall.

"You'll do a photoshoot for me. I need something for Instagram." Joel blinked a few times, not even knowing what to answer.

"For what?" he frowned, confused, but obediently took his phone out of his pocket. You sighed and waved your hand dismissively.

"Some kind of app," you said indifferently because he wouldn't understand anyway. He raised a suspicious eyebrow, glancing from you to the camera on his phone.

"But not for money?" he asked uncertainly.

"Joel! No!" you said, outraged that something like that could have even crossed his mind. A sigh of relief left his lungs before he nodded.

For the next half hour, you posed like models from magazine covers. The sand stuck to your skin and the water had long since soaked your hair. But Joel took it to heart to be your photographer.

"Chin a little higher," he said, looking at the phone screen. You smiled wider and did as he told you. "Beautiful," he muttered under his breath, taking a few photos.

"I don't know how models can do that all day," you groaned in pain and shifted on the rock you were currently lying on.

"We can finish now. I think I took so many photos that you won't be able to look through them by the evening," he said, amused.

"A few more and we can go," you nodded.

"Then you'll have to try a little longer." You laughed and changed positions. You sighed, taking the final pose and looked in his direction.

A few more photos went into the gallery.

"Yeah, let me just..." he mumbled and approached you. His fingers carefully gathered your hair that had stuck to your face. His heated fingers ran over your cold skin, causing a shock effect. "That's better," he smiled warmly, so despite the urge to throw up your breakfast, you smiled back.

He stepped back again, taking a few photos. He looked at the phone screen and was silent for a moment.

"Okay, I have an idea," he said and approached you again. "Lean back, resting on your hands," he explained, so under his watchful eye, you endured what he ordered. He placed his hands on your shoulders, gently squeezing his fingers to adjust their position. You watched him with a lump in your throat.

He was too close.

"Hip a little forward."

Without waiting for your reaction, he grabbed your hips and gently moved them towards him. You barely held back a moan when he touched you like that. Your heart was pounding in your chest like crazy.

"And your legs."

He ran his hands over your thighs, but your quiet moan made him freeze. You felt fear wash over your body as he fell silent, staring at the spot where his hands touched your skin. You breathed heavily, trying to control your body's reaction to his proximity. But you couldn't.

His gaze slowly traveled over your body to your eyes, which were filled with fear mixed with something else.

And Joel knew very well what it was.

Even though no one had looked at him like that for a long time, he hadn’t forgotten what desire was.

And he should… He should have been the first to think of the fact that he was your uncle and was touching you inappropriately. But he couldn't.

He couldn't stop the blood from flowing to his cock and his hands from going up on their own. You parted your lips, panting heavily when his hands were on your hips again, squeezing them almost painfully.

"Don't look at me like that," he almost growled through his tightly clenched jaw. Shivers ran through you.

"I can't, I'm sorry," you said tearfully. You felt terrible about how helpless you were in his presence. And he felt even worse when he realized how much he wanted to take advantage of it.

“You don’t want this, baby girl.” He tried to hold on to the last bit of his brain that was thinking correctly.

You could barely catch your breath as you straightened up, nodding like you were drunk. “But I do,” you said, grimacing in helplessness.

Joel growled under his breath before you both met your lips in a split second. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, moaning into his mouth as his tongue immediately found yours. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you closer to him until he was perfectly positioned between your thighs.

Soft moans escaped your lips at the desire you had never felt before. Each of his rough kisses ignited a bigger fire inside you. You moaned as if he was at least bringing you to orgasm with just his kisses.

“Jesus, fuck,” he growled feeling his cock harden painfully from the sounds that left your lips. He wasted no time and his fingers quickly pushed the material of your panties to the side, running two fingers over your wet slit. A growl of pleasure mixed with your squeal as he lowered his fingers inside you.

“Oh god,” you gasped unable to catch your breath as his fingers began to fuck you, hitting your weak spot every time. Your loud moans echoed off the walls of the cave as you fell back against the stone.

Joel looked down at your pussy from which juices were dripping down his hand. He didn’t hesitate for a moment to taste you.

He bent down and greeted your clit with a deep kiss. You tensed up, arching as you came as if by magic.

Joel purred contentedly as your orgasm began to trickle down his hand. But he didn't pull away from you for even a moment, because he had just started playing with you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling hard as you began to thrust your hips in rhythm with his movements. His fingers sped up a bit as he began to circle your clit with his tongue, leading you straight to another orgasm. And all he had to do was curl his fingers inside you and you began to tremble under his mouth as you came again.

"What a good girl," he mumbled into your pussy before pulling away.

The oxygen finally reached your lungs but Joel quickly deprived you of it. You lifted your head to watch as he ran his cock along the length of your wet slit.

He watched everything hypnotized as he slowly dipped the tip into you. That was enough for your eyes to roll back and your head to fall back against the rock. He pulled his hips back and entered you a little deeper again. And so several times until you were perfectly prepared for his thickness.

You could barely moan when you felt how perfectly he filled you. Just like you always thought. Just like he always did in your wet dreams.

He began to move his hips sensually, watching in delight as your pussy tightly embraced him.

"This sweet little pussy is leaking like she’s never had a cock inside of her," he groaned as you clenched around him. You cried out feeling like you were on the edge of a cliff with his slow and deep strokes. Perfect to bring you to the edge of another orgasm.

“Your cock,” you gasped in response. That was when his gaze dared to move to your face for the first time, lost in pleasure. You looked like his most beautiful sin. And he couldn’t help but speed up his thrusting into you just to see you trying to catch your breath.

The sight made his cock quiver deep inside you. Now he couldn't tear his eyes away from your face. He thrust harder and faster feeling himself hardening with every movement in your tight pussy. And when you came with a scream, he didn't stop.

He panted heavily pushing his cock into you until all you saw were stars. He growled digging his fingers into your skin to hold you in place when you tried to pull away the moment his orgasm knocked on the door.

He groaned as if he was experiencing fucking ecstasy and cummed deep inside you. He bent down resting his cheek on your breast and panted heavily listening to the rapid beating of your heart.

"Fuck," he gasped heavily and slowly pulled out of you causing you to moan. He allowed himself a moment of rest because at his age such an effort was quite a challenge.

He groaned straightening up finally and looked down at the work he had done. He reached for his phone and aimed the camera at you. The sound of a picture being taken echoed through the cave.

“Yes, it was my idea,” he smiled proudly and you just snorted helplessly.

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

This is probably small in the grand scheme of things, but how did Emilie being noble play any impact in the story at all?

I mean, I'd get it if it was just a small detail to help deepen Emilie's character, but why nobility of all things? I don't know, from what I'm seeing so far, the whole "Emilie renounced her noble title" shtick just feels worthless if it's not going to impact the story or add depth to Emilie's character (like maybe upbringing or personal values?).

I don't know. Like everything else, the noble part just feels shallow and means nothing to the story, especially for a character like Emilie, who is the plot device for the whole show. Any detail about her, like her personality and life story, is supposed to influence the story and characters one way or another, namely Hawkmoth since she's his driving force.

So what was the point?

For context, this ask is about Félix's play which says that Emilie gave up her title to be with Gabriel. I'm gonna give a slightly larger section of the transcript of the play for full context, but the relevant but is at the end of the last paragraph:

Félix: The king and queen's twins grew up, each day as different in heart as they were similar in body. The firstborn, curious and brazen, despised life at court and escaped at every opportunity. The younger daughter, well-behaved and respectful, did everything she could to please her parents, and stayed quietly in the castle. Félix: (as Mr. Graham de Vanily) Oh, my queen. Did we entrust our legacy to the right princess? Kagami: (as Mrs. Graham de Vanily) She will fall in line, eventually. Félix: Confident that she would settle down as she matured, the king and queen allowed the curious princess to leave to study beyond the sea in another kingdom. There, she immediately found true love in a humble tailor. Félix: The tailor was making clothes so magnificent that they revealed the beauty of the soul of anyone who wore them. Although it made her parents furious, the curious princess gave up her rank, her wealth and her kingdom to live a bohemian life with the tailor.

Story wise, I have no idea why any of this was added since it adds nothing to canon. It's not like this finally explains why Gabriel and Emilie are poor while Amelie is wealthy. Along similar lines, it's not like Amelie's title has ever mattered. Prior to this play, I don't think that we even knew that she had a title or that she was the younger sister. The play is all about explaining things that we never had reasons to question in the first place.

My best guess as to why the writers wrote this pointless backstory is that they wanted to make Emilie seem even more pure and perfect so they went with the tired old trope of a rich girl giving up material things for the sake of love and art because good pure women don't care about material things! Only nasty, shallow women care about money. (Way to play into sexist tropes, guys.)

There may also be cultural elements at play here given that France doesn't have the greatest history with nobility, so giving up a noble title may be seen as good and pure to a French writer, but I don't know enough about French culture to say that with any certainty. If anyone who reads this blog is French and would like to chime in, then feel free!

While we're on the topic of the play, I wanted to point out that the above quoted passage is why I say that the Graham de Vanily parents can be as kind or as abusive as you'd like to make them. It's incredibly vague and you can read into it whatever you want to read into it. Were they good loving parents who were just upset about their daughter living in poverty or were they miserable controlling classist who Emilie fled England to get away from? It's up to you because you can get both reads from this. The play commits to almost nothing of value. Politicians could take lessons from this impressive level of noncommittal writing.

A better version of the play would have focused on things that actually matter to canon like the details of finding the miraculous and/or Emilie learning she's sick, but you could only have those details if they were coming from Nathalie or Gabriel. Félix is a terrible choice for a character to tell us the show's backstory because he knows so little of it, thus the play focusing on his largely pointless backstory.

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

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Part 2

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Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

[djevelbl]

Chaaaat, if I make a chatfic that's like. an EGREGIOUS 82% ooc due to being kinda new to the fandom, would y'all still read it???

I need to make a Lifesteal chatfic. the problem is i don't really know SHIT about the dynamics between ppl so it'd be SO ooc it would be a disservice to everyone involved--

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Prewar!Cooper Howard has a breeding kink because he loves being a dad. He and Barb married and started trying for kids later in life than most folks around them, so much of the sex they had, especially early on, was focused on getting Barb pregnant. If he'd had his way, they would have had a whole litter of children, but hey, sometimes life doesn't work out the way you want. Still, there's the fun of trying, and there was a lot of trying. After the divorce, he's shocked when he meets someone else, and even more shocked when he feels those same urges with you. He's been trained to try and knock one in basically every time, he jokes.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

He's also incredibly possessive, and it drives him wild to think about getting to see you all swollen and filled out with his child. Particularly with you being younger that him; the ugly part of his brain is barking at him to stake a more permanent claim on you every time a guy your age so much as looks your way. Personally, he thinks he's too old to have more kids, but between his secret urges, your forgetfulness when it comes to your pill, and your twin high sex drives, well...sometimes accidents happen.

He'd be over the moon, once he knew you were happy as well (he would also worry about the news potentially being hurtful to Barb, but that'd be an issue for tomorrow). Showing you off in public, knowing that other people see how gorgeous you are and know you fully belong to him, it really gets him going, and you certainly take notice of how amorous he is when you're out together (combined with how vigorously he fucks you when you get home). Thinks you're insanely sexy pregnant and likes to watch you ride him with a big belly. You'd both better be a lot more careful about your contraception after the first baby if you don't want another, because getting to see you that way only makes his kink worse.

The Ghoul has a breeding kink because he's incredibly possessive. It's been literal centuries since he's come across anything in this world that he cares for enough to want to claim it, and you're officially claimed. He wants everyone, including you, to know that you belong to him and only him. Other ghouls can smell him on you much more strongly if he cums inside you, and he enjoys the way filling you full scratches his most primal itch. It's just an added benefit that he's almost positive he can't actually get you pregnant, but...there are records of ghouls reproducing with other ghouls. Haven't stranger things happened?

The little thrill he gets at the idea is just nature trying to take over.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

You'd be hard-up to get him to admit it, but he wants you to need him. He wants an excuse to baby you and pamper you and force you to let him do things for you without the vulnerability of admitting that he wants to do those things for you anyway because he's deeply in love with you.

You complain that your feet hurt during your journey for the day? He'll carry you everywhere you want to go from now until the end of time, if that's what you want. Stomach and appetite troubles? Name whatever you want, he'll find it for you, no matter how many caps he has to pay. Tired? "Of course you're tired, sweetheart. Let's stop for today. Here, sit down. Do you need some water? Eat this, you need some calories. Let me rub your legs and feet for you." It is endless and sort of surreal for you to adjust to.

Speaking of journeys, I think he also secretly wants to settle down a bit. He does already after he meets and falls for you, seeing how much the constant trekking back and forth across the irradiated desert takes out of you, and he definitely would want to do so expeditiously if you were pregnant. It's not like secure places don't exist in this world. He can keep you, and anyone else who may come along, safe just fine.

He'd be afraid to fuck you if you were pregnant, worried that he'll hurt you or make you sick or make something bad happen with the pregnancy. But if you reassure him, maybe beg a little, he'll do his best to make sure your urges are satisfied. Sit on his face and let him slide his tongue through your insanely sensitive folds, lie back and let him fuck you with those agile fingers while he jerks himself off. You'll miss being properly penetrated, badly, but you won't go without.

He wants an excuse to be even more protective of you than usual. Give him a reason to literally pluck men's eyes out for daring to so much as look at you, a reason to never let you out of his sight ever again. If you thought he was ready to commit violence to keep you safe before, you haven't seen anything yet.

I can't imagine it would be easy to have a big family in the Wasteland, but reminding him how much he loves being a dad would certainly have the thought on his mind.

[totheblood]

can you do angsty ellie headcanons? maybe how she reacts in a fight/what makes her angry? or ellie being mean to reader and having to apologize??

a/n: of course!!! this is NOT proofread... and there is some ai audios at the bottom... enjoy!

angry gf ellie

ellie does her absolute best to not get upset with you

like she really does because her mouth is a bitch when she's mad

but sometimes you take things a little too far and ellie has to fight with herself to not lash out at you

"ellie, i wasn't actually flirting with her. i was just trying to tease you." you would say in a worried voice as you watched her pace the room and avoid eye contact with you

"in what fucking world would you think i would like that?" she would spit out, flinching at her own tone

"i jus-" you try and justify it but you know you have pushed her a little too far

she would probably cut you off with the sound of your name, her voice much gentler this time

"can you just go? i need to be alone right now."

ellie is also very good at the silent treatment which drives you crazy

she would avoid you for days after the incident, not wanting to get in a full-fledged fight with you

she keeps imagining you playfully laughing and touching someone else's forearm and it drives her crazy

she doesn't even know why you would do something like that, was she not giving you enough attention?

so she would end up at your door late at night with her foot in your mouth

upon seeing your tired face, probably from the stress she caused you, she would immediately fold (ellie is such a simp it's embarrassing)

she just forgets what she's mad about when looking into your sad eyes, your face already in the palm of her hand

"baby," she would coo

"'m sorry els, it was so stupid. i don't even know why i thought that was a good idea because if you did that to me i would probably lose my mind, so please don't break up with me. i promise it will never-" she would watch as you rambled on but get absolutely thrown by the 'don't break up with me' comment

"hey hey hey, who said anything about breaking up? i was just upset, is all. don't like seeing my girl touching anyone else, yeah? we're okay, i promise." she does her best to reassure you, but when the worried look on your face doesn't go away she decides to press a kiss on your forehead

"you promise?"

"i promise. -- now are you going to invite me in? it's fucking freezing out here!"

ellie only gets angry at the sight of two things: you with another person and you injured

it's why she tries her best to be the only one who goes on patrol with you, but since shifts rotate sometimes you have to go with someone else

and that someone was jesse, who you loved but who ellie hated for you to be on patrol with

she knows what you and jesse are like around eachother (distracted) and you always come back with a few extra scratches when you're out with him

this time you came back on the back of jesse's horse with blood dripping down your forehead

upon seeing you ellie is immediately fuming and running out from the shelter of the stable to help you off the horse

she tries to be gentle in helping you down but she's shaking and your blood has started to drip onto her hand

"what the fuck happened, jesse?" she says in a huff as the men in the stable rush over to help her get you down.

"raiders, they just came out of nowhere." he sighs, hand on his head because he knows he's about to get it from ellie

"they came out of nowhere? or were you just not paying any fucking attention?!" she glared at jesse as you toppled over into her

"c'mon baby, you're okay." she'd press a kiss to your forehead ignoring jesse as she got you to the infirmary

but once you were all stitched up and alert? she was on you in an instant

"you always do this and i tell you every time that one day it's going to cost you your fucking life! and that day was almost today! -- do you know how lucky you are?"

you were just blinking up at her with your eyes wide, it shocked you that when you finally came to you were recieving a lecture from your girlfriend

"ellie, i'm too tired for this."

"oh, you're too tired? imagine how tired i am! how tiring it must be to wait for days not knowing if your girlfriend is dead. but noooo, jesse is just that fucking interesting that you have to risk your life to laugh at his lame jokes."

"what do you want me to do?" at this point you're just trying to get the pounding in your head to stop

"i want you to focus when you are on patrol! act like your life means something!" she's practically begging at this point

"okay."

"okay?"

"anything to stop you yelling at me, i really don't feel good." you say, leaning over to throw up into the closest garbage can

and just like that ellie is your ellie again, she's rushing over to hold your hair and rub your back

when you finish she gets up to throw the trash outside so the room doesn't stink

she hates being mad at you, but she hates upsetting you

"look, about what i said earlier; i'm sorry. i don't know what would happen, what i would do, if i lost you. i didn't mean to take it out on you."

you grab her hand and squeeze it lightly, "i know and i love you."

"i love you more."

but then you're leaning in to give her a kiss and she remembers five minutes ago when you were throwing up everything inside you

"i'll give you a kiss later…after we get those teeth cleaned."

ai audios:

i had more... but there's an upload limit

[mossyivy]

Yearn | '24 Alphabet Challenge

Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: You break off your FWB relationship with Leon after being feed up with his lack of commitment. But even after years of being apart and marrying another man you realize moving on was a lot harder than expected. An the feeling might just be mutual.

Words: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+ content, pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby), cheating, possessive behavior, desperate Leon, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please!), cream pie, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degredation(if you squint), spit and marking.

Authors Note: Listen... This is my first time ever putting something like this online so please be nice to me. I tried and think I did decent enough.

"You want a drink?" Leon asks, pouring whiskey over some ice in a lowball glass. Looking up at you in your seat in one of his armchairs

"No, I need to go soon. Wouldn't be a good idea."

This has become the norm for you two. You come over to his apartment on the weekends. Both of you have packed schedules due to working for the D.S.O. and being on the same team. But coming over usually meant it lead to much-needed stress relief in the form of sex.

Something mutually beneficial for both of you. Leon wouldn't have to worry about you getting attached, since you knew the dangers of your job. And you... Well, you didn't really get much out of this arrangement except to stay connected to him in some form. Even if it wasn't what you wanted.

Leon wanted no string attach, no commitment. No feelings involved in the deal.

But you failed miserably in that department. Already having some kind of undefined feelings for him before starting these weekly meetings. Repeatedly getting hurt by your own actions, knowing full well how he was with this arrangement and what you agreed to.

"You got plans?" His eyebrow rises as he sips his whiskey, rounding the corner of his kitchen island and sitting on the arm of the couch next to you. Sipping his drink leisurely.

"Actually yes." You smile to yourself, gaze meeting Leon's as you look up at him. Finally, feeling happy at the thought of moving on, possibly.

"I have a date with a guy from the office. Shepard from accounting."

Leon nearly choked, covering his mouth with his arm as he coughed. Clearing his throat, his expression shifted to one of annoyance. His eyes fix on you, glaring sharply and unable to hide his obvious jealousy. Something he hasn't felt in ages now.

"And... you just decided to tell me now? What about our agreement?"

You raise a brow, confused by his reaction.

"We agreed what happens in our private lives is our business unless it directly affects one of us."

"But if you date someone, that's my business. You don't think that doesn't affect me too?" His nose wrinkles as he stands up from the arm of the couch, setting his glass on the coffee table.

He can't believe he has to even have this conversation with you. He thought it was obvious enough to not have to say anything.

"I haven't kissed him, slept with him or even held his hand. No germs or possible diseases have been swapped. How is this your problem exactly? We aren't together, we're just in a..."

You stop to ponder for a moment, really thinking about how to phrase this without coming off as a total bitch.

"We're friends with benefits. No exclusivity."

"And if you're seeing another guy, that would stop. I really don't feel like looking for someone else when what we have is good right now."

The thought of replacing you was disheartening and uncomfortable. It took him long enough to open up to you to begin with. Starting at square one again just wasn't an option he wanted to take. Your arrangement was just what he wanted, what he needed to keep his shit together.

"And what exactly did you expect of me, to just sit around and cater to just your needs?"

Your face turns to a scowl, eyes burning with a certain kind of fire that hardly anyone gets to see. You glare at him, hard. He can feel the tension rise between you two.

"I can't just wait around for someone who 'doesn't do relationships,' Leon. I have the right to be happy with someone."

"I didn't say-" He cuts himself off, swallowing the lump in his throat as he feels his face heat up. The irritation in him bubbled up in his very soul as your eyes met. He stares you down trying to get you to crack and look away first, but you don't back down.

"I didn't say you had to wait around for me. I just..." His glare faltered for a second, irritation turning to discomfort at the accusation. "I thought I'd have more time. Not just have you spring this on me so suddenly."

"Why do you think I told you? He just asked me out today, and it was out of the blue. He's a decent enough guy, so I thought I'd give him a chance."

You stand up from your chair, grab your bag from the floor and slide it over your shoulder.

"It's not like you caught me sneaking around, I told you before anything could happen. You're just pissed because you don't want to lose the only connection you have with someone outside of work that gives you the tiniest shred of normalcy."

As much as he hates to admit it, you're completely right. He knows you're right. But he's definitely too stubborn, closed off and selfish to admit it. Stepping in front of the entrance to his apartment, he crosses his arms, determined not to let you leave until everything is settled and hopefully in his favor.

"Listen, I know I'm not a relationship guy. But I'm human. I have feelings and... And needs still."

"So am I." You turn, crossing your arms as you stare back at him.

"The only reason I agreed to this situation to begin with is because... I just wanted to be closer to you and I knew you didn't do relationships." Your own words sting, admitting what you felt. And even with the new revaluation, you looked hurt over the situation.

"And I can't just sit around hanging on to the tiniest shred of hope that you'll change. That's not healthy... So I think it's time for, whatever we have, to just stop and for me to move on. And finally get fulfillment out of a relationship someone can commit to me in."

But your words cut deep. You were completely justified, Leon knew that. Despite knowing you were in the right, Leon couldn't help but feel like he was being slapped in the face. Like all the time you spent together was just nothing.

"You're just going to throw us away then? For some guy at work... What was his name? Shepard? What the hell kind of name is that!?"

"I'm not throwing it away for some guy, I'm walking away for my own sake." Your brows furrow as you glare at him again, not wanting to be hostile, but at this point it only feels like you can get the point across this way.

"I thought you of all people would understand what it's like wanting to move on from something that hurts you constantly. But I guess I was wrong."

You feel the burning behind your eyes, trying to ignore it. You sniff, blinking repeatedly to keep the tears at bay.

"All I want is not be in a situation where I know someone can't or refuses to love me like I want to be. Not anymore. I don't think that's too much to ask for."

Leon feels like he's shrinking seeing your eyes glaze with tears. He didn't even realize he was causing this much pain. Even if he hadn't intended to, he strung you along with the hopes of something he wasn't even considering. Not until now at least.

"Listen..." Taking in a deep breath, he frowns, looking into your teary eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't know I was hurting you. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Trying and doing are two different things. That's why I want to call it quits now... Before I end up resenting you or... Or we feel bitter towards each other. We still have to work together, and I'd rather not think about how much I hate you every time I have to look at you."

You sniffle again, a few tears escaping before you can wipe them away and step towards him.

"It's just best if we just go back to being only colleagues."

"So that's it? We're just..." He stops himself again. It's not worth arguing, you've clearly made up your mind, and he should just be the bigger man and respect that. His head hits the door as he looks up at the ceiling, feeling a pain wash over his chest. He's not ready to let you go, and it's clear to him that even he got attached.

"Fuck... Okay." Rubbing his eyes, he steps away from the door, not blocking you from leaving anymore. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Reaching the door knob, you clutch it tightly as he jerks towards you. Not stepping in front of you but making sure he's visible.

"Wait. Can... Can we have one last kiss? For old times sake."

Every part of you is screaming no, but you tighten your shoulders with a nod.

"Yeah... I can do that." Moving in, you slot your hands onto his biceps, leaning in. Your lips land on his, applying a light pressure. Nothing remotely close to some of the more passionate kisses you've shared over your time together.

For Leon, it takes everything in him to not give in and kiss you exactly like he wants to. To wrap his arms around you and suffocate you completely with him. Make his last mark on you before you go your separate way. Show you how much he loves... the company you give him.

But this is for the best, to just go back to normal like nothing ever happened. His hands meet the small of your back as he takes in one last long look at you. Not wanting to let go until you step back.

As you pull back, you look up at him as his eyes meet yours. Almost like they're silently pleading for you to stay. Giving a quick rub to his biceps, you step past him, a small smile meeting your lips.

Saying goodbye just feels wrong to you, so you settle for a see you later.

"I'll see you at work on Monday..." Opening the front door, you give him a quick nod, closing the door behind you as you leave his apartment one last time.

He stares at the front door, hoping you'll come back any second now and just tell him it was some kind of fucked up joke you're pulling. You never do.

Walking back over, he slumps over on the couch, holding his head in his hands. Trying to think of where exactly he went wrong with this entire thing. Glancing up at the coffee table, he spotted his whiskey, swiftly picking it up and downing the almost full glass with a dissatisfied grunt. All before he gets up and makes his way towards his liquor cabinet once again.

You're not paying attention when one of your coworkers is droning on about whatever to Shepard next to you.

Connie? Chloe? Cassie? Whatever her name was, it wasn't important right now. What was important was the glances being thrown at the end of the sturdy brewery table.

"Are you okay, hun?" Your trance was snapped, eyes shooting back to your husband as his smile filled with concern.

"Yeah." Your voice is half-hearted and still slightly dazed. "Just thinking too much."

Thinking too much about the blue eyes burning into you from a few seats down.

You didn't blame him, it's been 4 years since you two had any real conversation outside of work. Being married for 2 years, you've tried to respect your husband and steer clear of Leon at any point. Shepard didn't know your past, and you wanted to keep it that way.

But now that you're all in the same place due to a work retreat. You don't know how long that's going to stay hidden. Who knows what could happen?

You quickly smile, as you've trained yourself to do, as you look at Shepard. He smiles back before sipping his rum and coke. Looking back at the brunette across the table talking.

"What were you saying, Cassidy?" Shepard asks. The woman nodded, sipped her wine and set it back on the table.

"I asked, are you happy she's changing departments? I bet it's unnerving having your wife risk her life every time she leaves and not knowing if you'll see her again."

"He is, he always hated how much I was away or just scared something would happen, y'know?"

"I'm always worried about my special girl. I love her." Shepard squeezes your thigh with a smile. Rubbing his thumb across your bare skin.

You feel nothing when he touches you. You never have and probably never will. He always talks about this spark between the two of you, but you feel no spark at all. Not even a little buzz.

You just smile back at him and continue to sip your wine, glancing down the table at Leon, talking with one of your other colleagues. You feel uneasy but still somehow calm. Even after being apart for so long, he always seems to draw your attention.

Leon's having a conversation with another coworker. Or at the very least tries to have a conversation...

He's watching you out of the corner of his eye, observing with a Stoic expression as it usually is these days. But to the trained eye, he's completely obvious. He honestly can't help himself from looking at you.

Just as beautiful as the day you left...

His mind wanders as his side glance lingers too long, he's still so in love even after all this time. He thought it faded from your separation, but if anything, it's gotten worse with such little contact outside important assignments or the occasional workplace banter.

It's slowly driving him nuts that sometimes he wonders if this isn't just an obsession but physically seeing you brings him right back to earth. The thumping in his chest became harder to ignore.

God, he wishes he was Shepard. To spare him the looks you gave your husband. The thought of being able to touch your thigh again without care nearly gives him a hard on.

But he catches himself. Teetering on the edge of his mind, wandering too far. He swallows it, forcing it down. Knotting the pit of his stomach to not let it show. He takes a long sip of the whiskey sour in his hand and tries turning back to the conversation.

You try your hardest to put on a fake smile as you listen to Cassidy and Shepard rattle on. Sipping your wine, you feel that familiar rubbing.

Glancing down, you see Shepard's hand gripping your thigh with a firmness you've felt before. His large hand dawned with the wedding ring matching yours staring back at you as his thumb glided across your bare skin.

For any other woman, this would be an instant turn on. But for you, that's all it is, just a hand. Nothing special or thrilling. But you look at your husband as he gives you that sultry look he thinks is flirtatious, but it just makes your skin crawl.

And not in a fun way. This is getting to be too much.

"I think I'm going to go for a smoke." You cut off the chatty Cassidy. Shepard's head turned to you with a smirk.

"You want me to come with you?" Shepard sits forward, ready to stand when you put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"No, no. I need to make a phone call anyway. Could you watch my drink though?"

He nods as you take your phone off the table and step back from your seat. Shepard clears his throat as you lean over giving him a kiss, almost as if you've been trained to do so.

Finally, you walk out of the brewery, past tables filled with chatting people and around the side of the building to the secluded smoking balcony. Surprisingly empty as you show up. Grabbing one of the two chairs, you have a seat in front of the railing.

You lean back against the seat, looking up at the dark night sky full of stars, mind wandering to the man inside.

Not your husband...

"Fuck..." You mumble, pulling the pack of Marlboro's out of your jacket and slipping one of the sticks between your lips.

You retrieve your lighter, flicking the button repeatedly. Only a tiny spark igniting with a soft click. You groan in irritation, trying again.

"This seat taken?" You nearly lurch out of your seat, quickly turning to see Leon standing next to the empty chair, drink in hand.

"Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me..." Putting your hand on your heart you feel it pound from fear, glancing up at Leon you almost swear you could feel it skip for a split second.

"Is that a yes?" He asks, his lips curling into a smirk as he looks down at you.

"Yeah, sit. I don't care." You flick your lighter repeatedly, finally getting it to light as he sits. You make brief eye contact, slipping your lighter back in your pocket.

"Following me isn't really a great look for you, Kennedy." Leon scoffs, brows knitting as he takes in your figure far longer than appropriate.

“Can’t a guy just enjoy sitting next to a beautiful woman for a while?” It's your turn to grin, taking in his old cheesy way of talking. Your eyes start to linger now, taking in his appearance.

You can see the once lively eyes he had now grown into tired and strained. Hair darkens with age to match the beginnings of crows' feet. But he still looked handsome as ever. He always will.

"It's a free country, I can't tell you no." You continue with the banter, turning your attention back to the cigarette as you take in a drag. Glancing at him, you exhale, thinking of a way to break the building tension.

"So..." You knock some ash off your cigarette into the tray between the chairs and look at him again. "How've you been? I heard you're taking my spot as team lead. Congrats."

"Thanks, I'm doing okay." His hands move as he tries looking anywhere but you. Licking his lips, he finally looks at you again.

“What about you? You're happy about the change? Being off the field completely and all.”

"If you like sitting behind a desk all day slowly rotting from the inside out, sure... You know I'm a woman of action." You wince at your own bitterness and sigh.

"I took the new job for Shepard. He's been on my ass about taking care of myself since we..." You stop yourself, looking down at the wedding band, just another reminder of what once was between you and Leon.

"I just wanted to make him happy." You slip the cigarette between your lips again, looking down at the phone as it goes off in your lap.

Leon bites his tongue before saying the first thing to come to mind and nods instead.

Yeah, if she took that job for Shepard, she probably wouldn’t be pleased with it.

He can probably guess how much you do for him by that reaction alone.

“So... you do love him, then?”

You're mid-drag when the coughing starts, caught off guard by the sudden question. Your head snaps to Leon, coughing into your closed fist.

"Excuse me?" Leon shrugs, looking unbothered by your reaction.

"You took the job for his sake. So you must love him... Or at least want to keep the peace between the two of you. But you've always been a pretty good actor."

"He's my husband, isn't he?"

You almost sound defensive, not really giving him a yes or no response. You know the answer. Leon took note of the lack of one.

"Why are you asking?"

"Just curious." He takes a sip of his whiskey sour, shaking the glass, loose ice clanking against the misty sides as he stares down at it.

“I just thought, maybe... you were looking at me earlier. During dinner, during cocktails. I know I was staring at you. And the way you looked at Shepard. It seemed like you were almost... bored with him?”

You both loved and hated how perceptive Leon can be sometimes.

"Wow, I had no idea you were suddenly an expert at what I wanted. Little late for that, don't you think?" Your tone was sarcastic, but you knew what he was saying was true to an extent.

Even if you don't want to admit it.

He takes in your response, sipping his drink again as he nods. He has your down pat and the smirk forming on his face says he's completely aware of it.

“So am I right?” He asks, not really expecting much of an answer.

"Leon, you can't..." You look away, scrunching your nose, frowning at his question.

“Accuse you of settling? You just sort of settled on Shepard? Because he’s safe? Because he’s a good guy?” Leon continues, setting his drink down next to the ashtray. He leans forward, trying to get a glimpse of your face.

"It's not fair of you to ask that. Not from you of all people." But it's true, you settled for Shepard. Knowing he loved you and was looking out for your best interest.

"He loves me and I..." You stare at the street below, unable to finish what you started saying. The ring on your finger starts to feel heavier as it weighs on your hand and conscience.

The obvious truth was that you didn't love him, you tried. Really, really tried to but never got the same kind of attachment to him like you did with him.

With Leon...

"Sweetheart."

God no, his voice is so charming still...

"You don't love him, do you? You've... Never loved him." Finally, you look at him again, wanting to curse him out desperately.

But he's so smug, the look on his face says he already knows how to make you admit it. And you both know he'll drag the truth out of you one way or another.

"I hate that you can read me so well still." You finally answer, unable to keep up the lie. Taking in a deep breath, you extinguish the cigarette, leaving it in the ashtray. You look back at the street below, feeling Leon's eyes on you still.

"We both know how well I know you sweetheart." His voice is barely above a whisper. He leans in watching your eyes flicker at him. That natural shine he's used to seeing back again, to greet him like an old friend from years past.

It's enough of a greeting that you both know how this could end, easily.

You know that look all too well, feeling your heart thumping in your chest, harder than it has in years now. You know exactly what he's thinking about.

"N-No Leon." Your voice can't even carry a stern tone as he makes you weak in the knees with a single look. Your stomach does a flip as he just stares, look unwavering.

"I'm married!"

"You think I'm not aware of that?" He leans even closer, his hand sliding onto your thigh.

You say nothing, watching him put his hand on you, squeeze you like Shepard does.

Like when you feel nothing...

You know it's wrong, you should stop him from touching you. But the familiarity is so comforting as his thumb glides over your silky skin.

God, it feels so different with Leon... So good... So wrong, but so right at the same time.

The feeling of fireworks fills your chest and butterflies materialize in your stomach. That same feeling from years ago is rearing its ugly little head to claw its way back around your heart again. You just stare at each other, not saying a word.

“You’re married,” he speaks again, just repeating what you said. “But you’re still in love with me, aren't you?"

You swallow again, the gulp making an audible noise. Almost like you just sucked down a golf ball.

"I want to hear you say it." His voice sounds like he's on the verge of begging for it. You grab his shoulder and push him back to arms length.

"Leon, no... It's wrong. Happy or not."

"But, I want you." The words slipped out of him so easily, making you ache.

Ache in a lot of ways, in a lot of places you definitely shouldn't for someone who isn't your husband.

"Please... Just one kiss to see if the sparks are still there." He's quite literally begging now, grabbing your hand.

"Honey?" You shoot up from your chair the second you hear his voice, yanking your hand away. You quickly step past Leon as Shepard appears around the corner.

"Honey, hi!" You sound unnaturally excited to see him.

"Hey Shepard." Leon stood from his chair and sounded cold. Honestly, not caring to cover his bitterness about the situation.

"Oh, hey Leon." Shepard greets him, noticeably a bit intoxicated by how he's standing. "I didn't know you smoked."

"He doesn't!" You blurt out, gaining your husband's attention again. "He was just asking me for advice about being the new team lead. Just helping a co-worker out."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you, baby." Shepard smiles sheepishly at his wife, not even realizing you're lying through your teeth. "Speaking of baby... Could you help me get Cassidy to stop talking about her kids? Pretty please?"

You sigh with a fake chuckle. "Yeah just... Give me a minute."

Shepard nods, giving you a kiss on the cheek and walks back into the brewery.

"So, you're okay with that?" Leon crosses his arms, gesturing between you and the door.

You glare at him, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

"You're insufferable..." You rub your eyes thinking before you speak.

"Look, I don't... Love him... But I don't want to hurt him either. He's still a good guy..."

“A good guy, huh?” He whispers, stepping forward, taking your hands in his.

“But not enough to make you feel anything when he’s around. That's strictly reserved for me, yeah?” You feel your skin warm up as you pull your hands away.

"Jesus Christ..." His cocky attitude makes you groan in irritation.

"I could honestly choke you right now... I swear."

"You know, I know what buttons to push to get you all riled up. Just to come right back into my arms."

You roll your eyes looking back into the brewery, seeing Shepard start to wobble in his chair slightly. You know that he's at his drink limit now.

"Leon... Just... We'll talk later." You start walking away towards the door to inside the brewery when he grabs your wrist. Not painfully tight, just enough to get you to stop walking.

"Or we can talk now." You sigh, thinking of a solution, as Leon let go of your wrist.

"What hotel room number did they stick you in for the work retreat?"

"Why?" He grins, leaning in again. "You're going to drop by for a special visit later?"

"To talk." You emphasize, getting more irritated as you lean in closer "And only talk..."

"Fuck, you're so hot when you're mad." You groan watching him bite his lip as he looks you up and down.

"Room number Leon. Now."

"Can't ever let me have my fun, can you? Room 407." Your eyebrows furrow, of course he'd only be two doors down from you.

"I'll be over at midnight."

"I'll be waiting with bated breath." You shoot him a glare, making him chuckle as you walk back into the brewery.

Collecting your husband, with a lot of effort and his cooperation, you make it back to the hotel in a good amount of time. Unlocking the door, you help him over to the bed, laying him on his side.

Getting him plenty of water and making him take Tylenol before he inevitably passes out to avoid the hangover you know he'd definitely be having if it weren't for you.

Soon it's midnight, and you make your way two doors down. Knocking on room 407.

You hear heavy quick footsteps coming towards the door. Leon opens the door, his hair messy and his shirt's top three notches unbuttoned. This was starting to feel really reminiscent of your old hook-up days.

“Come on in, sweetheart. I was starting to think midnight would never come.”

You push your way into his room, shutting the door behind yourself, so none of your coworkers see them together. You glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You got a lot of nerve pulling the shit you did earlier."

"Oh I'm aware," Leon locks the door, stepping up to you slowly. His eyes trailing your figure again, "you'd be lying though if you said you didn't like it."

"So you think betraying his trust is better than cheating on him?"

"Y'know, I hate how you keep avoiding what I've been asking you today." His hand comes up, caressing your cheek, you grab his wrist to move his hand, but your eyes meet with his. His thumb runs along your jawline, leaning in closer, his voice becomes warm against your ears, a sultry tone tickling you in all the right ways.

"He doesn't get you like I do. Make your knees weak with a simple touch or feel how easily your pussy throbs if you're called the right name in bed... He doesn't know that side of you."

He smirks, feeling your skin become warm underneath his fingertips.

"I fucking hate you." Leon snickers, bringing himself closer to you.

"No you don't. You love me." His eyes flick from yours to your lips. Lingering for a split second before you speak.

"Do you have it in you to love me like I want?"

"Of course I do." He's known since you left how he felt.

"Prove it. Tell me how you feel then."

“I love you." He speaks without hesitation, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"I’ve always felt this way. I get that feeling in my stomach when I look at you, that feeling whenever I touch your skin, I’ve needed you for years now. I’ve known it almost as long as you’ve known you don’t love Shepard... I miss you." Your breath hitches, hearing what you've wanted to for so long. Leon drew closer, lips centimeters from each other.

"Do you miss me?" With that question your little shred of resolve disappears.

"I miss everything... How you make me feel. Your touch... How you always know exactly what I'm thinking even when I can't put the words together..." You frown, looking at him before leaning on him. Wrapping yourself around his entire being.

Your noses touch, lips slightly parted as you look deeply into each others eyes. The beautiful blue in his eyes surrounding your reflection, encasing you completely.

"Tell me how much you want me." Your body quivers, hearing his borderline demanding tone.

"He loves me, but he's never made me feel like a woman. Not like you did before... And I want you so badly, I can feel it in my bones."

Your lips glide over each other's. Not able to hold back much longer.

"How badly do you want me?" You ask, watching him pull back from your lips. Smug smirk staring at you, almost like he's watching his next meal.

He reaches out, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin radiate into his. His hand moves down to your chin, tilting your head up towards him.

"I could show you instead, if you'll allow me." He stares into your eyes, waiting for a response, any sign that you'll let him in again.

You give in with a short, simple nod.

His lips are on you, fiercely pressing his tongue against your lips, possessively pushing his way in. His hand goes to the back of your neck, hitting the hotel room door with a loud rattle.

Your hands fly to paw at his open chest, his hands prodding at your thighs under your dress, pulling your legs around his waist. Hands gliding up to your ass, squeezing it while you're carried to the bed.

He breaks the kiss, pushing your body to the bed. Leon pulls off his dress shirt, popping buttons as he rushes, tossing it to the side as he climbs on top of you. Soon, his hands are back on you, gliding up your thighs, pushing your dress up past your hips to pool at your waist.

"Well, I'll be damned. My favorite pair." Leon breathes out, sounding like a laugh as she looks at his favorite pair of blue lace panties covering your lower half. His lip curls up as he kisses above the edge of the fabric. Making your hips jolt for a second, acutely aware of how wet you actually are.

His hands travel up, pushing your dress up and over your head. Sitting up on his knees, he takes you in. Biting his bottom lip as his eyes wandered, wondering where to start first.

"I missed this body so badly." Leon traces his lips across your skin, starting to kiss under your ear and down your neck. His hands gliding under you to unclasp your bra, freeing your chest.

"Do you know what I want to do to you right now?" He growls into your ear, making you whimper in response.

You try to think straight at the moment, but all you can focus on is his strong hands roaming down your side, slowly towards the wetness pooling between your legs.

"To fuck me like you'll never see me again." He smirks against your ear, feeling your warm breath against his cheek. He chuckles darkly, knowing exactly what he wants, what you both want as his hands pull your panties off, dropping them on the floor with your dress.

"Good girl. You've always been so smart, angel." You watched him sit up and undo his belt, pulling it through the loops of his pants. Quickly making work of his pants and boxers, he stands over you naked. His thick cock standing at attention against his lower stomach.

Your legs come together as he pulls you towards the edge of the bed, grip tight around your thighs as he sinks to his knees. He spreads your legs, eyes landing on your wet slit, he playfully leans over, kissing your knee as he puts your legs over her shoulders.

His lips roam, kissing down your inner thigh. Reaching up, his finger spread your folds open. Watching the wetness from your arousal glisten against your skin, Leon let out a throaty groan in satisfaction.

"Fuck, you're so perfect like this. Ready as ever for me aren't you, sweetheart?" His lips turn to a smirk as he leans down, licking a slow gentle strip up your folds. Forgetting how much he enjoyed the sweet taste of you.

A soft moan erupts from your lips, arching off the bed to grind into his mouth, Leon placing a calloused hand on your abdomen to keep you in place. His other hand digging his short nails into your plush thigh.

With a final lick to your fold, Lean spits your juices back in you entrance, burying himself in your pussy, nose on her clit and deep in your tight hole with his tongue working your g-spot expertly.

As if he never forgot where it was in the first place.

The ridiculous amount of squelching alone would be embarrassing, but it felt too good to care. You hadn't felt like this in years.

Leon feels your walls convulse around his tongue as his eyes flick up to watch you quake in pleasure. A moan leaving your lips as your fingers bury themselves into the silky hotel bedsheets. Shaky breathing breaking as you feel his mouth pull off you. Your eyes shoot down watching him lick his lips clean of your juices.

"Fuck I missed making you feel this good." Leon lines up 2 of his fingers with your core, gliding them inside you. Feeling your walls clench around his thick digits. Eliciting a moan from him as he curled into the spongy spot.

"Could have you gushing on my fingers like this forever." Leaning down nibbling at the sensitive flesh of your thighs. Leaving behind subtle teeth marks. Not caring in the slightest if your husband saw it or not.

You're finally his again, and he'd be damned if he wasn't marking his territory this time. Staring at them for a moment makes his cock twitch.

Leaving one final bite, he focuses back on your pussy, his tongue slips from between his lips, gliding across your clit. Lips move to latch on and suck gently. Your legs quiver, shaky breathing signaling you're getting close to release. His fingers move in perfect tandem with your body.

"C'mon beautiful, cum for me." Your eyes roll back, glazing over as you bite down on your lower lip muffling a cry of pleasure. Climaxing on Leon's fingers and hand as he works you through your orgasm. Feeling your body relax, tension leaving as relief washes over you after what feels like forever.

Panting softly, you lift yourself onto your elbows to watch Leon lick his slick fingers clean, savoring the taste before diving back into your dripping entrance to clean things up properly as you watch him with a close eye.

"I've been thinking about this moment for years. Been dreaming about being buried deep inside this tight little pussy again." Pulling away and licking his lips, he kisses your thigh once more.

"Has he ever made you cum like that? Or has he been depriving my angel?" Your head spins at the question, swallowing hard as you try thinking of an answer as he caresses your face.

"No, never as good as you..." He moves, pulling you up onto the bed, putting you up against the pillows, crawling on top of you. Moving to kiss your collarbone up to your ear. His full weight pressed down on you, cock pressed against your inner thigh.

"Can I fuck you? Need to be buried inside you, feel you around me again." His voice sounds borderline desperate as he asks, your eyes turning away.

"You should let me show you how good it could be to be claimed as mine again," his hot breath trickles against your ear. He moves his hand down to grip onto your chin firmly, making you meet his hot gaze again.

Desperation not only poured from his words, but his expression too.

"Tell me you'll let me have you again, so I can make you mine... Fully. Just like we both know we want." You know you want to, you feel nothing for Shepard.

Nothing comparable to what you feel with Leon.

Your lips part as you give him an answer.

"I'm yours, only yours, Leon. Every part of me." His eyes lit up, leaning in and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Happy to finally have you again in every way.

"Do you remember how good I used to make you feel?" He moves forward, positioning himself at your entrance, ready to claim you completely.

"You're mine and mine alone." Sliding into you, you feel that familiar fullness of his cock inside you. Digging your nails into his shoulders as he huffs into your neck, your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct.

"Fuck, I forgot how good you feel." He mumbles against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your throat to the top of your breasts. A deep groan leaves his chest as he rolls his hips into your tightness.

You feel your walls contract around him, almost like your molding to perfectly fit him and only him.

"Oh fuck, Leon." You breathed out, hand running up to the base of his neck, pulling at his hair.

"Feels too much like home," Leon's voice is thick with pleasure as he continues to drive into your wet pussy, feeling every bit of your heat surround him, "he definitely hasn't been fucking you right... Of course not. He's not me. Doesn't know shit about your body like I do, does he?"

He grunts into your neck, body trembling at the effort it takes not to cum immediately from how good you feel against him.

Reaching down, he grabs your ass, pulling you tighter to him, starting to pound into you. Moving his hand, he lifts your leg, hitting that angle that turns you into a hopeless puddle beneath him.

You let out a string of broken moans, louder than intended, but you're at the point of no return. Feeling the intense knot in your stomach building quickly. You can see his face getting red as he pulls back from your neck to look in your eyes.

"Close, so close." He watches your face contort in ecstasy, smirking.

"Mine to take care of, mine to pleasure, mine to claim... " He reaches in-between your bodies and starts to circle your clit, his voice becoming more unsteady as he gets closer to his climax.

He feels that quiver around his cock, your nails digging into his back and pulling at his roots as you finish around him.

"Fuck, fuck. I'm-" His voice breaks, burying himself deep inside you, he fills you, a pathetic moan slipping from his lips as he collapses on top of you.

You're both panting heavily, his head on your chest listening to your heart thump against your ribcage. He smiles, still trying to catch his breath, kissing over your chest. Your hand weeds through his hair, pushing his bangs back from his face.

"I didn't even know you could make a sound like that." He grumbles against your skin, biting your chest lightly. You giggle as he rolls over off you, bringing you to his chest.

"Shut up." But he smiles down at you, watching how easily you curl into his side. Bringing your hand up, you caress his cheek, brushing over the bone with your thumb. He takes it, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. Taking note of your wedding ring.

"Are you okay?" He questions, voice sounding a bit worried. "I wasn't too much?"

"No. You were perfect. Are you okay?" He just nods in response, rubbing his hand across your lower back slowly.

"Why don't you take a nap before heading back? You look tuckered out." His smirk returns, you simply nod, cuddling up to him. Nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and putting your arm around him as he holds you close.

He knows he's going to struggle to let you go again.

"I don't see it out here either." You say, look around the hallway. Shepard raises his head from dragging your luggage out of the door. He slides the card into the door, locking it before turning back to you.

"Baby, it's fine. We'll get you a new one." His irritation is obvious as he walks past you towards the elevator when one of the doors in the hallway opens. Out stepped Leon from his room, bag over his shoulder as you lock eyes. He smiles before noticing Shepard, his face dropping to its usual Stoic expression.

"New what?" Leon questions, watching your husband turn his head.

"She lost her wedding ring." Shepard pushes the button, calling the elevator as you and Leon walk up behind him.

"You seemed pretty drunk last night. Maybe she lost it helping you back to your room?" Shepard looks at Leon, his face dropping and irritation evaporating in an instance.

"Was I that bad? Jesus, honey, I'm sorry." Shepard puts an arm around your waist. You look at Leon from the corner of your eyes.

Leon's shooting daggers at Shepard, who's none the wiser.

"Just check the lost and found before you leave." He suggests, looking back at the elevator doors as they open. You all step in, stuck in-between Leon and Shepard.

Leon fidgets next to you, he stares straight ahead. Trying to ignore your skirt tapping his leg, or your perfume taking over his senses from how close you are.

But in the end, he can't help himself.

His pinkie finger pops out, brushing against your fingers, fully expecting rejection in the form of your hand pulling away.

Thankfully, he's greeted with your pinkie, interlocking with his until the door rings again. You walk out ahead, Shepard, carrying your bags. You spare him one last glance and a smile before leaving around the corner to the hotel lobby. Leon smiled to himself, stepping out of the elevator.

Shoving his hand in his pocket as he walks, feeling the cool metal of your wedding ring brushing against his fingertips.

All the while knowing, he isn't losing you this time.

[qqueenofhades]

What do you think of the movement to vote "uncommitted" in the primary? Personally I think it's a good idea as a protest vote, while not "allowing Trump to win" since it's, ya know, the primary. You're voting for "the Democrat you want to be the candidate for president" not who you actually want to be president. Most of the arguments I've seen against it seem to forget primaries exist...

Well, since you came to me and presumably do want my honest opinion on this topic, I'll share it with you. However, this will also be very blunt and candid, including some things which I haven't yet said in the 4+ months since the whole Israel/Hamas situation kicked off, and therefore also frustrated. This frustration should not be read as/taken as being directed at you personally, but since you're the conduit for this question, that's just something I want to highlight.

So. Why should you vote for Biden in the primary, and not "uncommitted" or whatever else?

First of all, what I desperately want to ask all these self-righteous VOTE UNCOMMITTED IN THE PRIMARY TO SEND BIDEN A MESSAGE types is: what exactly the fuck do you want this message to be, and what action do you expect Biden will take as a result? Is this actually based on an expectation of what he can/and or will actually do, or is it just a froth of misguided Online Leftist "rah rah this Bad Thing Happening Is All Biden's Fault," as we also notably went through when Roe was overturned by the Trump-stacked SCOTUS selected precisely for the purpose of overturning Roe? My god, the amount of bad "THIS IS BIDEN/THE DEMOCRATS' FAULT" posts that appeared, and are still circulating on the particularly idiotic corners of this site. Nothing could ever be Trump/the Republicans' fault in that case; it was the same old same old "DEMOCRATS DON'T CARE ENOUGH TO STOP THIS!!!" puerile fantasy. That's what we are getting now with Israel/Hamas. This isn't Hamas's fault for attacking Israel on October 7 (god forbid; the online left loves Hamas) and it isn't even the state of Israel and Netanyahu's fault for responding with full-scale genocide on Gaza. Or it is, somehow, but not so much that Biden personally couldn't magically reach in and stop it "if he really wanted to." I'm sick and fucking tired of this bullshit sixth-grade bad-faith disingenuous approach to playing Super Moral Social Justice Yahtzee and refusing to acknowledge the thousands of complex factors at play, especially when it involves blaming literally anyone other than Biden, personally (just like the Trump cultists, for whom "IT'S BIDEN'Z FAULT" is the beginning and end of their political theory, just like the Online Leftists). I'm sure this will get me called a genocide apologist by the Very Smart Moral Twitter Thinker types, but I don't think "Biden has failed to magically single-handedly solve this crisis, which stems from one of the most major and long-running issues in post-WWII and indeed pre-WWII world history, in four months" is actually a good reason to vote against him.

Likewise: withholding your vote might make more sense as a strategy if Biden was still only blindly supporting Israel and refusing to do anything to pressure them, which is demonstrably untrue. I know it's hard for some of these people to actually read the news and/or anything outside their ultra-curated Twitter feed, but it's been well-reported and well-documented that he is. If the US was directly involved in the bombing campaign on Gaza, sure, tell Biden that you will vote uncommitted to increase pressure on him to pull out. None of that is actually true, and the "information" about Biden's action in re: Gaza on both Twitter and Tumblr is basically just entirely malicious lies. So again: what message are you sending when you decide to be all precious and announce you're not voting for him? You don't want him to pressure Israel? You're willing to blow this up entirely and increase the media nonsense about BIDEN WEAK DEMOCRATS DIVIDED and give Trump an opening to exploit? You really want to announce to the Trump/Putin/Netanyahu axis of evil that their anti-Biden propaganda is working (since all three of them are working as hard as they fucking can to get Biden out of office, and as someone who opposes all three of them, I think this is a good idea to vote for Biden!) and they need to hammer harder on this wedge issue? Because that's all your oh-so-moral Uncommitted vote is doing. It's not a protest. It's not leverage. It is the withdrawing of leverage. If you want Biden in office so he can be pressured to listen to you and take action that you agree with, you will vote for him. Yes, in the primary. Yes, when it's not directly against Trump.

You want a ceasefire, you say? GREAT! WE ALL WANT A CEASEFIRE AND/OR ACTUAL PEACE AND RECOGNITION OF A PALESTINIAN STATE! That's in fact why you should be busting your fucking ass to make sure Biden gets re-elected, and to give him a strong show of support in the primary. Biden is the only candidate with a credible long-term (and like, baseline functional sane adult) plan for Gaza. Biden is the one who has been pressuring Netanyahu in every single contact to tone it down and stop acting like an insane murderous maniac and therefore torching any remains of sympathy for the attack Israel suffered in October. Biden is the one who has his entire diplomatic team working on high-level contacts with the Israeli government and the Hamas representatives via Qatar, while sufficiently threatening Iran to back down from frothing at the mouth to destroy Israel (once again, just like the rest of the antisemitic western left). Biden is the one who is pushing for this not to be World War III, and yet we get Baby's First Social Justice Activist screaming at him for being GENOCIDE JOE and blaming him personally for not, as I keep putting it, shapeshifting into Netanyahu's body and making this stop. "He should publicly call for a ceasefire!" Or, and this is just a suggestion, he should DO HIS FUCKING JOB and continue to work on serious problems that don't have instant socially media marketable catchphrases and won't come with instant gratification. Also, please tell me how you plan to get both Hamas and Israel to accept the same terms for a ceasefire, abide by it, and do exactly what Big Daddy Biden told them, because you, the dedicated anti-western anti-imperialist, think that's the best course of action?

Like. I mean. As vice president and now as president, Biden is actually one of the least foreign-intervention-happy leaders the US has ever had. He was originally against the Abbottabad raid to take out Osama bin Laden in 2011; he wound down the overseas drone assassination program (at which the Online Leftists screamed bloody murder at Obama, ignored in Trump, and then refused to give Biden any credit for ending) to almost nothing, he pulled the US out of Afghanistan, and even though he's been supporting Ukraine in its fight against Russia, he's also been extremely slow and cautious (in my opinion, too slow and cautious) at giving them all the military hardware they need, even before this latest blockade of aid in the House by Putin's favorite little bitch Mike Johnson. He has already presided over a historic shift in US policy toward Israel, in terms of conditioning the use of lethal aid, imposing reporting requirements, starting to criticize them publicly, and calling for the recognition of a Palestinian state and more humanitarian aid to get into Gaza. Yet in the Online Leftists' mind, because he is not personally out there Captain America-ing away the Israeli bombs and/or calling for Israel to be totally destroyed "from the river to the sea" as the Tumblr activists are fond of using no matter how often Jews ask them to stop, there is nothing he's actually doing! GENOCIDE JOE!!!!! Like, I thought the anti-western anti-American crowd thought all overseas American influence was evil (but all overseas Russian and/or Chinese influence is fine). When Biden actually doesn't recklessly intervene in foreign conflicts like Kennedy/Johnson/Nixon/Reagan/Bush 1/Bush 2/pretty much every American president in the latter half of the twentieth century, you'd think that would get him plaudits? NAH.

"Biden should stop selling Israel weapons without Congressional approval!" Okay, sure, he should. Which he did one time, and he also repeatedly promised to veto and/or not pass any only-Israel aid package that didn't also help Ukraine and Taiwan. He's also not beholden to the frothing antisemitic Online Leftists position that Israel should just lie down and let all of its citizens be killed and its state wiped from existence. Like. We also remember that Jewish voters exist in America, right? And that Jewish lives are something which are repeatedly and demonstrably under threat in the rest of the world, including from Hamas and the Houthis (who are genuinely terrible people and the western left's warm embrace of them as principled anti-Israel actors is all we need to know about their inherent brainrot and moral vacancy). We know that maybe going full masks-off antisemite (which Biden isn't going to do anyway, for any number of reasons) isn't the greatest plan and nothing to which you should be conditioning your vote? Likewise, please tell me how you plan to make Congress (especially the GOP-led clown car House) "do what Biden wants," since you're still beholden to that being the be-all-and-end-all of moral action? Or how you account for Congress at all, and not just think The President is An Almighty King?

Aside from all this, I am sick to my fucking back teeth of the Precious Moral Princesses (gender neutral) who have spent four years lying about everything Biden has done. We had the personally blaming him for Roe ending (he could unilaterally overturn SCOTUS if he really wanted!) We had the endless bashing about student debt, only to ignore him actually making the most major effort to forgive student debt in all the post-Reagan years. We have had a complete ignoring and/or distortion of his domestic policy accomplishments, which are some of the most momentous since FDR and LBJ. We have had an utter ignoring, revision, and downplaying of the damage Trump did in one term and how very much worse his second would be. We have had to endure "WELL YOU CAN'T ASK ME TO VOTE FOR BIDEN" at every single second for every single thing, because this is such a terrible onerous thing to ask them to lift one single fucking finger to give us some more time to come up with a better solution. And yet, as astutely pointed out by one of my anons yesterday, they utterly don't care whether the obvious outcome of this action is to help Trump get back into power. Apparently that's not a moral reach too far, but straining their delicate tender moral sensibilities to fucking do the goddamn bare minimum to help us out -- both in America and around the world -- no, no. We can't have that.

Like. These people allegedly want a ceasefire, and they want it to come about by asking literally nothing more of them then posting snide anti-Biden diatribes on social media. That's the extent of the effort they're willing to put in. They can't even trouble themselves to take the first step of voting for people who want to address this crisis in a constructive way. So yeah, I have a hard time believing this is anything deeply felt in regard to opposing genocide, and just wants what makes them look morally superior. Also: I don't care if your feelings are genuinely pure and strong and you obviously oppose what's happening in Gaza (we all do!) and want it to end. In that case, why the fuck aren't you throwing your support (yes! Even in the primary!) behind the one guy who's actually working to fix it and not just posting empty platitudes on Twitter? It likewise does not excuse you from the harmful consequences of your rhetoric and actions, if you decide that the best way to act on your deep-seated and genuine desire to stop the genocide is just to blindly bash Biden all day every day. Not voting for Biden in the primary does not excuse the fact that this election is against Trump and everything horrible that he represents, and that we are in this situation largely because the online left has learned literally fucking nothing from 2016 and is eager to do it all over again. Not voting for Biden in the primary does not give you a special Gold Star Moral Activist sticker announcing that you were too virtuous to engage in the process now, but if you're sufficiently placated, you maybe will do it in November. Miss me with that bullshit. I've spent eight years pleading with people to help us fix this mess, by -- yes! engaging with the flawed process that makes partial changes!!! -- and all I hear is that same fucking nonsense. That is a large part of why this response is so steamed.

Anyway. In short, I don't think voting "uncommitted" is a good idea, I think it only helps Trump in the short and long term, I think it protests nothing, I think it represents the same old tired anti-voting schlock that I have had more than fucking enough of, and I don't endorse it by any means. However, you will see that while I can strongly and unequivocally give you my opinion that it is a bad idea, I cannot actually reach through the screen, take control of your body, and force you to obey me one way or the other. So maybe, just maybe, Biden can't do the same with Netanyahu. Weird.

[goldsbitch]

Not on the menu

Making out in public is not something to be shameful, right?

light smut, minors DNI, angst

note: this is my first Franco fic. this man came, served and what are we suppose to do?!

When it feels this good, it's worth breaking few rules.

You and Franco. Very well protected love affair. A fling. Just two young people who somehow end up in each other's beds whenever the opportunity arises.

Working in F2 as one of the production assistants was more exciting than one might think. Everyone would always praise F1, the size of the teams, the budgets, the glam surrounding it. F2 was different, more loose and less on the spotlight. Full of professionals, who just like drivers, worked their asses off just for a chance to progress into F1. But you were just so young, just starting and unlike with the drivers, you had no rush, plenty of time for that in the next years. It was all about learning, getting to know people and also, occasionally, having some good fun. It's hard to keep young people on a leash. Lot of travel involved, hotel rooms and many people mingling around, leads to just one thing. It wasn't special or albeit scandalous to fool around with a fellow crew member, in fact many marriages started like that, no matter the rank or department. Life on the road has its habits.

So when you first ended up on a dance floor with the ever-so-charming Franco at one of the opening events for F2, it was not such a surprise that you ended at his hotel room. Way less wondering eyes and almost no glam was at these evenings, the exact opposite of F1.

By some miracle, you managed to keep it a secret, apart from few closest friends, who served as an excuse for you two to actually hang out together. These few trusted souls witnessed their fair share of tipsy make outs and laughed collectively at your hickeys, which turned out to be his speciality. You never texted, never addressed your fling when sober. Deep down you knew you were curious to see how he was as a serious partner. But he never gave off that kind of a vibe. So you protected yourself, remained cool and decided that this was the peak your relation would ever be, and that was ok enough.

"So what about you and Franco?" a friend of you both asked you, once again. You hated when she did that. In her mind, it would be a great idea to have two of her friends together. But the truth was, she was way closer with him than you were. Nothing wrong with that, but it only reminded you of how shallow your interaction were. In order to keep you dignity while fooling around with a player, you pretended to be one as well. "You know how these things are, it's just physical. I don't think he's the kind of person I'd like to date." False. You knew that, but..! You stayed on the ground, he was just a bit out of your league. Simple as that. Soon enough he was gonna catch the eye of some model and you'll be old news. The whole thing would be way worse if anyone knew that you would actually be open to at least try and date him. It was hard to stop the daydreaming sometimes. "Yeah, that makes sense," was the only thing your friend, disappointed by your response, answered. You only wondered if she had conversations like this with him as well about you.

Life was good that one evening in August. At the time, you had no idea it will the last evening of that era. It was one of the typical dinners the wealthier members of the teams organized, a nice chill place to wind down after stressful days. You were sat few places from Franco, who was charming as ever. Raining smiles on everyone and stealing glances with you.

A text notification - Bathroom?

You gulped, locked eyes with him and gave a small nod. His smile was probably crafted specifically for you, somewhere in the depths of hell. Impossible to resist.

He got up and you followed a minute later, giving a knowing look to your mutual friend. She understood and happily covered for you in case someone else caught on.

It wasn't exactly the right thing to do, lock yourself in a room dedicated for nursing mothers. But better than blocking a bathroom.

"Aren't you a little old to be in this room?" you asked when you joined him and secured the door behind you. He was leaning over a counter, fingers tapping on the top. "I can't help it, I am hungry," Franco responded and gestured you to come closer to him. With a challenging look, you took few steps towards him. "This is a restaurant, you're at the right place."

"The things I want are not on the menu." He was done playing sneaking around and crashed his lips onto yours, as if to prove his hunger. He was just too good with his tongue. Taking you, like his little victim, making you forget the outside world still existed. His hand went to grab your neck, behind your ear, because by then he had figured out that keeping you in check was the thing that made your knees weak. His lips were locked with yours, in heated frenzy, not allowing any breath to be wasted. You knew how to play the game as well, and with a soft bite into his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, you pulled away slightly, not allowing him to take full control. "Oh," he said, trying to steal another kiss from you while you pulled away more with satisfied smile. "Is this how it is now?" he continued, tone laced with intrigue and challenge. Your tongue reached to lick his lips once again. His hand suddenly lessened the pull towards him. "Oh, hermosa," he whispered, "two can play this game." Butterflies occupied your stomach. He stepped back and to your questioning look responded with another bloody wink. And then, then he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up in the air and sat on the counter. You gasped, only amusing him more. Lost for words, you only raised your eyebrows. "Better," he said and with audacity only young boys have lifted your shift up. Without much of a thought you put your arms up and helped him get you slightly more naked. His eyes were shamelessly focus on your chest. "Almost there," he said and gestured towards your bra. "Go on. Take this horrible thing off." You chuckled, because as charming and suave he was, taking a bra off was a moment where he failed each time. Desire fueled you into making this quick. Now that you were sat, his eyes were at a similar lever to your boobs and there was something hot about his hungry look, watching you undress even more. Once you were finally fully bare, he observed you and the locked eyes with you once again.

"Pretty," was the only thing that he said before putting his lips on your left nipple for a gentle peck and then on the right one, which received a light bite. He decided to stay focused on that one, few kisses here and there and began to suck on it while his hand pinched the left one. Arrows of pleasure flew into your lower belly. He knew your weakness, he must have because this was sending you into other dimensions. Anything that feels this ecstatic would make anyone crumble. Whatever he did seemed to always work on you. He wasted no time with gentle touches. Not enough time for that. After nearly sending you over the edge with his lips dancing around and sucking on your nipple, moved a bit upwards and went for his signature move - marking your breasts with hickeys so purple it would take a week to heal. You bend your head backwards, trying to contain any loud noises your body wanted you to make in reaction to his actions. Another twirl around your sensitive nipple, bite into your skin and a hard squeeze. You did not want him to stop, too deep in it to think straight. But that must have been his plan from the beginning, because he put you on edge and then back away. You almost let a soft "No..." escape your mouth. With a puzzled look you slowly came down and remembered you were still in public. Heavy breaths and you gulped your way back to normal. He stepped back a bit and observed his mark on you. With an approving nod, he had the audacity to fix his boner up so that it was not so obvious. "Looking forward to seeing you later?" he asked with a tone that indicated the answer was obvious. You just nodded and reached for your bra, hoping his hickey was low enough it would not be visible. But, he had never made that kind of a mistake. You hopped down and gave him one more kiss, a slow and gentle this time, before he parted back to the dinner table. You joined in a minute, after fixing yourself up and trying to make your cheeks less red. Thankfully, there was only one another amused person when you came back to the table. Your friend raised her brows at you and drank her wine as if nothing ever happened.

Everything shower, hair on point, favorite perfume - you were all set and ready for how the evening would inevitably progress. This time you even made sure to clean your room. You got too comfortable with your expectations. Watching his every move, you noticed immediately when his expression changed from a casual smile to focused frown when reading a text on his phone. Was it something serious? Would he confide in later, sometimes it happened by accident. Secrets shared among tangled sheets. He got up and sent you a cheeky wink. You had to bite your cheek in order to stop the smile your body wanted to respond with, a small bruise burning inside your bra.

It took you fifteen minutes to realize he was not coming back from his phone call. You had his number, you could easily text him. But you didn't. And just like that, he was off to F1.

[webslingingslasher]

if trouble needed peter during the breakup do you think she’d still be able to call?

yes. and i will now expand, thank u.

peter stares down at his phone, it's not that he's against answering, it's that he doesn't think you meant to call him. or maybe you're drunk and want to berate him.

either way he'd hear your voice and that would be really nice.

'hello?'

'hey.'

okay, you meant to call him. you don't sound drunk, you sound sad.

'everything okay?'

a slight muffle, you switch ears. 'no, not really. i'm lost.'

'on what?' you breathe out a laugh, peter smiles.

'no, actually lost. i was... i'm sorry, i don't mean to hit you where it hurts but i was out with this guy and he ditched me and i have no fucking idea where i am and my phone's about to die.'

peter's quiet, he's all you have right now.

'you're my only hope, obi-wan.' a cheap shot at help, peter appreciates the effort.

'it's- help me, obi-wan kenobi, you're my only hope.'

your turn to smile. 'close enough.'

peter slowly moves around, patting down his pockets to make sure he has everything. 'it's late, trouble. why were you ditched?'

you laugh, but it's not funny. 'you know, it sucks to say that you're the only guy that never threw a temper tantrum when i didn't wanna fuck.'

ouch, a slight sting. it feels better to know it didn't happen, painful to think it could. 'at least i was good at something.'

'well... you weren't terrible at the sex either. you were good enough you scared me from getting it anywhere else, don't know if you can say the same.'

peter closes his eyes when he breathes in, you haven't hooked up with anyone else either. 'if you're asking, no, i haven't hooked up with anyone.'

'i didn't ask.' ah, that's what peter was waiting for. the bait of a question, to turn around and pretend you didn't care what the answer was. peter knows you're just as relieved that he hasn't either.

'where am i going, trouble?' you give him street names, his heart stutters. it's far, it's late, and it's definitely not safe.

'you're outside? nowhere for you to go?'

'when i say ditched, i mean it. if it wasn't so weird i'd ask you to kick his ass.' peter kind of wants you to ask, he'd do it gladly. and half of it wouldn't even be because he left you hanging.

'how much battery do you have left?' a brief pause, you're checking.

'three percent.'

peter hates what he's about to say, but hates the idea of you with a dead phone even more. 'okay, hang up and i'll come find you.' for a second he thinks you did, until you push out the real reason you called him.

'i'm scared.' so you called him, your protector, your safety blanket.

'i'm coming, i promise.' he's already out of the house, walking one half of the way and he'll cut his time in half by swinging the rest. 'ten minutes, maybe less. i might even break out a light jog for you.'

you look around, there's no one. it feels even more eerie, you're still on three percent. 'do i really have to hang up?' leaving out the 'i need to hear your voice to make everything okay.'

'i want you to save what you have, just in case.'

'okay.' it's not, you can feel your chest tighten and the urge to cry. everything sucks and you just really want peter which somehow makes things simultaneously worse and better.

'hey, peter?' you think you'll regret it.

'yeah?'

'can i spend the night?' you count the seconds. two.

'yeah, of course. always. anytime, you know that.'

you smile, he's still your peter. 'thank you. and thanks for coming to save me.'

'it's kind of my job, some even call me a hero.'

'okay, obi-wan.'

'more like spider-man.'

'oh, you're so full of yourself. you wish you were spider-man.'

peter kisses his teeth, 'no, i really am.'

'then spider-man better come save me in five minutes, otherwise what's the point?'

'oh? is that the way i win you back?'

it's not so jokey anymore, in fact peter thinks your phone died. but no, still connected. before he can say that he wasn't thinking and that he's sorry and he was joking you answer him.

'i don't think it would hurt.' 

[tubbytarchia]

Traffic/Life series roster as dinosaurs

A lot of these don't make for very good hybrids unless you wanna get into freaky territory or full on centaur but... Hope it's a fun scroll nonetheless!

Grian - Novialoidea

A small birdie... The name also means "New wings" which I find fun. New lives and death games to be part of, new wings to accompany him... (Honorable mention to "Shuvuuia" the "desert bird" who unfortunately is not a pterosaur (doesn't fly)) (Yes we're including pterosaurs! Just using "dinosaur" as a conveient blanket term)

Tango - Aratasaurus / Pyroraptor

Fire raptor! Either works just fine and Tango as a skittery little raptor is perfect for a creature like him

Scar - Apatosaurus

"Deceptive Lizard" harkening back to Scar's scamming tendencies. Though I've always liked the idea of him being some larger gentler animal in any hybrid scenario and a long-neck fits the bill well. He can poke his nose into people's conversations easily to start marketing something useless to them and swishes his tail to ward off anyone who's about to stop him

Impulse - Nasutoceratops

Ren - Regaliceratops

Horns. COOL horns. I don't know what else you want from me ceratopses are just way too awesome. Nasutoceratops is a wicked cool dinosaur for having its horns point so forward much like a bull and I for one can jive with some Impulse bull symbolism. Bulls are often viewed as strong, sturdy and loyal, traits also assigned to Impulse a LOT of the time. But though he IS intensely loyal in many cases (+ Ceratopses are also known for how they defend their own!), and he's not very outward about the following traits, he can get quite petty and bitchy and hold grudges. Still, you don't think of that when you look at him and he seems to agree! Eg him feeling like he should be accepted into Cleo's alliance in 3rd life without actually proving himself when Cleo was rightfully hesitant, at which Impulse more or less rolled his eyes. And him proclaiming "betrayal!" when killed by Bdubs when their alliance was as firm as a rat's tail

(And I feel the need to point this out too just in case: "bulls are also known for their temper" yeah but they're not like that! Bulls like many animals become defensive when exposed to aggravating behavior or movement! Which you could work into Impulse's grudge holding and intense loyalty...? I don't know enough about him sorry but do with that what you will)

Regaliceratops! Regal!! Crown shaped frill!!! Need I say more?

Gem - Therizinosaurus

Theris are so bad bitch coated to me and I would love to have one as my wife I mean um I couldn't decide on a less generic specimen so Gem can just be a Theri! A herbivore - often associated with the belief that herbivores are gentle passive creatures, but far from it, especially with Gem! She bares her claws like it's no one's business

Martyn - Stygmoloch

A Pachy with a tough head and a tendency to bonk people - I think it fits Martyn's tendency to perpetuate drama haha. The Stygmoloch's name though more or less translates to "demon of the styx river", the river of the underworld representing loathing of death. To me this makes sense with all the watcher lore (that I have a hard time understanding but whatever!!) especially with how Martyn became in LL. The watchers themselves don't loathe death (??) of course. They're death games. But someone within the game trying to stay alive and win? Probably loathes the idea of themselves dying. I have no clue what Im saying

Pearl - Carnotaurus

Ok maybe a hot take not to make her into a pteradon or even a raptor with wing-like features but those just didn't fit that well in my opinion. Rather I wanted her to have some kind of horn motif in place of her wings as visual symbolism for her character. I'd like to imagine her having fine horns, to then have them damaged (one broken off) and simultaneously the other more grown out. Think of how domesticated goats for example have their horns trimmed. I think human hybrids with horns would do the same to keep them from becoming a bother but Pearl would neglect to after her heartbreak in DL. I was heavily considering the Diabloceratops for this, especially because of the name (Devil horned face - good ostracizing material) but Pearl strikes me a lot more as a carnivore and there are only two horned carnivores out there so... Carnotaurus it is haha. And even now I'm making her horns unrealistically big but.... We can suspend some belief

BigB - Oryctodromeus

"Digging Runner"! I've already talked plenty of why BigB is very rabbit behavior to me and my reasons for assigning this burrowing dinosaur to him are similar. Tldr he is fidgety and cautious yet clever and constantly buries himself underground

Lizzie - Anurognathidae

I don't even fucking know man it made me think of Lizzie and then I wasn't able to assign anything else to her. Lizzie often claims to be confused and if any dinosaur looks to be in a perpetual state of confusion then its this one. I know a lot of people like to portray Lizzie as a butterfly also so there you go, wings!!! And it's quite cat-like too for those who like to draw her as a cat

Mumbo - Leinkupal

I really struggled with Mumbo... So many different dinos fit him imo but I figured it should be at least something moderately large (so "Technosaurus" was out of the question lol). Then I rediscovered this dinosaur whose name translates to "vanishing family" and then I thought about LL and SL and how Mumbo went out quickly after the initial death/s and left a very felt absence in someone's alliance and then I became really emotional and forgot what I was doing

Joel - Nodocephalosaurus

Bdubs - Psittacosaurus

"Knob Headed Lizard"

Joel as an Ankylosaur has been stuck in my head from day one of assigning dinosaurs to the Lifers and I'm frustrated that I can't truly explain why. You'd view an Ankylosaur as a slow and docile creature, even compared to other herbivores, but...

1. Maybe not so much nowadays, I don't know what non-dino nerds think, but I feel like ankylosaurs were largely believed to be HUGE back in the day, much like velociraptors, when in reality they're not that big. The Nodocephalosaurus is especially small even among other ankylosaurs. But, well, we all know what Joel loves to say about himself

2. Joel is or likes to make himself look well in control, just as ankylosaurs have little to worry about as far as predators go. Especially in earlier series where he was content basing mostly by himself. It's always when things get dire and he enters his red life that he becomes very impulsive and erratic like an ankylosaur flipped on its back

3. I know there's a distinction between Traffic Joel and Empires Joel and whatever other Joel but... Even in death games his more charitable traits shine through here and there. He really becomes a dangerous rascal for a large majority of the time and he's very good at it, he's not putting on a mask or anything, but I like to remember that underneath that tough spiky armor is gentleness and caring. His care towards Lizzie and Pearl and Etho etc etc

4. The image of Joel as a hell of a spiky creature is just really fun to me. Yet heavy and blunt ones! And someone once proposed the idea of him having a club tail but having chiselled it to be sharp to mirror him being a menace. (Added benefit also that it's lighter that way haha) To me he's always been an obvious heavy hitter rather than stealthy or particularly creative etc. Him as a carnivore just doesn't work as well for me

The name bares no fitting meaning but when I look at Bdubs I think of Psittaco. All other species close to it in looks are already ceratopsians and we have like... 3 of those already lol. Im sorry Bdubs you look so stupid

Cleo - Lythronax

There's so few predators in this roster lol oops, but Cleo deserves to be an apex one! The name translates to "Gore King" because you know, zombies... and you know, Cleo is very king so true. If any of the Lifers should be able to boast rows of razor sharp teeth to gore others it should be ZombieCleo

Scott - Theiophytalia

I've been really struggling with Scott but how about the dinosaur whose name translates to "Belonging to the garden of Gods". There's only one known specimen of this species and it's an Iguanadon looking dinosaur which I think a lot of people would regard as the most basic, possibly boring type of dinosaur (if it weren't for the Allosaurus which already takes the title of "basic straight white guy") but that further fits Scott imo. It's always been a strong point of appeal to me how MUCH there is to his character that so often goes under the radar or unexplored, and how he's very often portrayed as just some handsome looking guy as opposed to a hybrid etc. He's not at all extravagant yet has mastered his craft of bending fate in his favor, he so often has things perfectly under his control just as he wants them, etc... reflective of the name "Theiophytalia" even if you wouldn't think such a dinosaur to sport one of the most prolific names a dinosaur can have. Also garden something something flower husbans. Basically whatever Bree's take on Scott is lol. I don't wanna blab for 5 paragraphs about that blue mf here but. I hope this makes sense

Jimmy - Yinlong

I struggled with this mf the most because he's another very hashtag deep character. I felt really bad to remove his bird motifs completely because the canary is so essential to him, but a raptor nor a pteradon fit my image of him at all. I spent so much time looking into various species but it just aint it, but Yinlong was possibly quilled and we can still cover him in feathers, even if he has nothing close to wings haha... BUT ANYWAY. Yinlong is a small kind of pathetic looking dinosaur, and Jimmy definitely isn't small but he'd sure be made to feel that way. Yinlong translates to "Hidden Dragon" however, a rather thought-provoking name for such a dinosaur. Given his character, it sure does feel like there's a soul of a dragon laying dormant somewhere in him, buried by all the self deprecation and curse labels. Honorable mention to Tianyulong, a very similar dinosaur who was named after a museum, but "Tianyu" also translates to peace and content. Something that Jimmy can't yet but deserves to be

Etho - undefined raptor

Already made a loong post about raptor Etho haha which I assume yall have seen since the support towards that post is the only reason I'm even making this post

Skizz - Olorotitan

"Titanic Swan" close enough to an angel right. I feel the whole angel thing is a bit overdone when Skizz can become a malicious little creature every now and then, but swans much like angels do get viewed as beautiful and taken as symbolism of love. Much like Skizz is largely viewed as an angel and often as someone who can do no wrong. But mostly I wanted Skizz to be a hadrosaur/duck-billed dinosaur, because those are dinosaurs known for their speculated vocalizations. And what is Skizz good at? Talking and voicing his love and appreciation? Yeah? Yeah... I'm so sorry Skizz btw this hybrid idea does not work out

Again, a lot of these don't work so well as hybrids... Some like the long-neck ones I cant imagine to have more than a spiky spine back and a tail, but! These picks aren't based on hybrid potential but rather what I think genuinely fits. I did really work on this all day looking through a bunch of dinosaurs and research haha, but I do love dinosaurs a lot... If you disagree with any hey thats cool! Feel free to give me your opinions if you've any and I hope this was fun to scroll through regardless