#I guess he was bitter towards stan

[wanderingmind867]

I don't like Jack Kirby's art as much as some people do. Specifically, his faces. His faces are all blocky and everyone looks the same. All of his faces look nearly identical to me. Especially when people are yelling or exclaiming things. I appreciate his landscape shots and his energy effects and stuff, but his faces are atrocious. And when the faces are bad, I find that the stuff is usually pretty bad. It's hard to get around bad face designs.

But even disregarding the art stuff, I don't like Jack Kirby's solo stuff. Once he gets free reign in the 70s and 80s, he produces some stuff I don't really care about. Sure, Etrigan seems okay. But Kamandi, Devil Dinosaur, OMAC, etc? That all sucks. I don't even care for his fourth world saga. I admire making your own cosmology, but his cosmology seems so black and white. Just like heaven and hell, honestly. Apokolips is full of nothing but evil. New Genesis is nothing but good. That sucks. Give me a bit of nuance! There's no such thing as a purely good or purely evil soul! At least Stan Lee and Jack Kirby made their Thor have some nuance! Seems jack kirby didn't do that on his own! Really, his only solo work I might like is Etrigan and maybe The Eternals and Machine Man. But the fourth world and all of his other solo stuff does nothing for me.

[joannasteez]

sing, just for me

pairing | roman reigns x black reader warning | explicit content, including descriptions of sex. minors please do not interact. if you count flirting as fluff then sure i guess, theres some of that. supernatural element, so yes, its an AU!!! word count | 5.8k ... quiet nights of quiet stars, quiet chords from my guitar, floating on the silence that surrounds us... lyrics in red (corcovado by stan getz and astrud gilberto)

the strum of a spanish guitar and a sweeping staccato, these quaint bristling eruptions that pulse the room to life with a softened awakening. long aged spirits and slow to sip lips. abstract mosaic tilings glimmering with the paling yellow of lowlights. and through lush rouge lips comes a haunting melody. a song of lovelessness, to stain his spirit with a sorrowed tenderness. easing his bones till he lulls into a deep surrendering. and his fingers prick with warmth, alive with a daring sort of desire to touch and embrace. to console. the gentle silk dressing your skin parting and draping over in reverence of the high slit at your thigh, seemingly for him. to have, to hold, to care for.

but isn't that what every man thinks? that your crooning is for them alone. that when the passion of the melody becomes too great and your fingers begin to roam, nails sharp but feathery and caressing about the air and your own skin, that it is them you're thinking of. and when you shudder, when you hiss, breathy and overcome, isn't it them you imagine? touching and pleasing till that wordless teeming desire is fulfilled? because the allure beyond the burning in their eyes scorches your skin, forcing a craving in your bones. such lustful men, bound by the sin of their own dreams, and the ego that makes them believe all this grace and flare is made pure for them alone. but how can they not think those things? how can he not think these things? when you go on about so sweetly, eyes flitting to theirs, to his. and here he's caught. rapturous and silently pleading that you never look away. 

roman knows you, but not in the common way that a man knows a woman. not by name or by touch, or the familiarity that comes with soft spoken passions and loud terrible expressions. he knows your voice and your sultry little songs. and in some small, hidden, back alley lounge just on the pensacola panhandle, he comes nightly to hear you sing. just as the burn of the sun falls behind the horizon, till the early morning hours, where the sky pulls out from darkness into a paled blue. 

he sips at his dark liquors, tucked partly in the shadows of ill lit corners, bathing in the light of your songs. 

but even in his silence, he shares the depths of his appreciation. flowers to match the rouge of your lips, the petals tender to the touch and blooming prettily. and every other night, they appear, at the foot of your dressing room door, waiting to be swept up in the caress of your fingers. and just before every show, as the audience waits with bated breath for you to take the stage, he sends a shot of liquor your way. 

"courtesy of your admirer. for your nerves", the young bartender gives after pouring. the short glass filled with whiskey. 

and though your nerves cry from the bitterness of it, you take the taste in stride. feeling the warmth of it in your belly, just as high heels click toward center stage. 

stringy flicks of guitar, short clicks of percussion and the gentleness of your vocals smoothen the air once again. an intimate warmth he won't get used to. days, after weeks of a far away admiration and here he is still, drawn in quickly by the mystic of a woman he'd never known. 

but you thought of him too. of the whiskey he drank as his eyes lingered, and whether not the bitterness was as terrible in the glass as it was on his tongue. or maybe it didn't linger so heavily there, undone by warmth and the teasing slips it took over his teeth as your palms caressed over your hips. lips parted, singing wispy, slicing faint into the heavy silence of the room. and how could you sing about such a lovelessness, when his hands— fingers locked in with one another, long and heavy— trouble your imaginations as you go on raspy and impassioned. thinking of where they could roam and what they could do. 

surely his ego would take to a bursting if he knew. 

but it didn't. 

the bristling staccato of the drumming brush rustles the air but your voice fades with the spanish guitar to make way for the brassy float of a saxophone.

and there he is, sipping his whiskey, lulled into the atmosphere. 

your heels clicking over the floor, a surety laid in your bones. slipping easy onto the leather seating beside him. one leg crossed over the other, the high slit in your dress draping to reveal soft tempting skin. and his eyes take to you there leisurely, not overly greedy, but enough to indulge an obvious show of your own play of desire.

his eyes flit to your lips, the rouge color similar to blood. he wondered often, since his first time here, what they might taste like. the pull of them. 

"enjoy the show?"

your voice, this slow slip of honey. 

"it was nice", roman says simply. as if that pitch and tone hadn't stained his every roaming thought and daydream. 

"for all my hard work i figured i'd get higher marks. with how enthralled you are, nice is just a little to plain for my taste", something like a pout forming your lips, not too deep less you have him believe you actually care.

"you have a beautiful voice".

his own. deep. rich. binding to your bones. 

your fingers play with his pour of whiskey. the liquor swirling as your wrist twist the glass. the strength of it hitting your nose. "as beautiful as your taste in liquor, so i guess you hated it".

he grins, clutching the glass to finish his drink. body closer. the brown of his eyes clearer as he comes just under the dim casting down of the yellow lowlight. an arm stretching behind to lay against the top of the leather seat. becoming comfortable. 'thats good', you think. comfortable is good.

"you should know by how often i'm here that i enjoy you very much".

and there is a quiet here, among the soft sing of music. his eyes looking into yours and yours into his. a moment to allow the settling of words, once before a mere silent admiration, now formed whole with letters and persistence to bring about a more complete desire. it is, maybe an invitation. an open palm, waiting for assent, the soft embrace of the other.

"enjoy me more". you stand. reaching out to pull him with you. "no more flowers and hiding in the shadows. dance with me". 

his touch is colder than your imaginings but kind all the same. scent warm and autumn inspired despite the swelter of the summer season. a sweet spice that lulls you closer. a soft slow swaying together, intimate in it's own silence. and beneath stylish expensive feeling fabrics, you can sense the strength of him. lips lined soft and kissable, tempting. and his eyes from here, where you press into and sway with his embrace, are familiar. intense and consuming. a thorough take to your own eyes, as if to remember the little things. the shape of your lips, and the brown apples of your cheeks. the coy look up from under fanning lashes. an easy trailing over him, to note and remember in your own way. 

"your songs", he starts.

you hum. "what about them?"

"they have a... somberness to them". 

he leads your body gently behind a floor to ceiling oak pillar, done up with abstract relief carvings. a corner all to yourselves. you feel his hand maneuver, trailing to a less innocent placement. fingers long as they spread and sweep along the spine, pulling in till you flush softly to him. 

you make no struggle to stop him, to pull away. you lean in even. 

"i sing what i know". 

the intensity of him breaks with a softening. "have you never been in love? has no one ever made you feel love in that way?" 

"if they have, i don't remember". 

pain corrals in him. spills over into his chest and his words. makes the utterance thereof small and aching. "thats a shame". 

"is it?", thinking over what possible shame could come from something never had. "seems burdening to me. i have bills, i have enough things to cry over". 

"things? you mean love?" 

the way you speak so flimsily about it. is there really nothing of your memory? nothing of before? 

"better to have never loved, than to love and have lost". 

he smiles. "i don't think that's how the poem goes". 

"ooohhhh", you tease. "he's well read". 

he spins you. slips his embrace under your arm so that his hand meets the other at your lower back, at that less than innocent placement. 

you take the time to breathe him in again, to smoothen your touch over the ways of his arms till they join lazy about his shoulders. nails roaming his nape in such a teasing fashion that it shivers his already cold skin. he's closer here, just enough to share his breaths. to see the freckles in his cheeks. 

"he, is roman". 

spine throbbing as his thumbs caress. his name slipping over your skin till its beneath and staining. and the spill of the saxophone is melodic. pleasant and soothing as he watches the rouge of your lips part. you tell him your name.

"we're on a first name basis now". 

"we are". 

the rumblings under the softness of his voice is divine. disrupts your skin till the hairs stand and nerves rush. memory washed with a familiarity you can't place. 

his tongue peaks to slip over his lips. "can i ask you to do something for me?" 

"what?" 

his cheek presses to yours. and you feel the beginnings of a trembling. something ancient and belonging set into your bones. 

"sing quietly. just for me". 

mirth slips into your lips. the skin of your cheek rubbing against the hairs of his. lips breathy and teasing at his ear. "personal performances are expensive". 

"i'm worth my weight in whatever way that pays you". 

and even the angels, in all their majesty, can not delight nor arrest him so sweetly. with such a devastating gentleness of spirit. for the heaven in them, could not possibly do well to understand the haunting of this solemn summer song. a wispy falsetto, and the plucking of that spanish guitar once more. a soft sweeping melody into his ear. here, the sing of your voice is the tenderness of roses, having died once and remembering the pain of such a silent wilting, rising in spite from the earth again to bloom beautiful but with a familiar weariness. roman lulls, eerily surrendering, with the ease of a taken sailor by the song of the sea. 

his touch is an endearing press into your body. no more of that idleness as they curl. dull and gripping into silk covered skin. 

his eyes shine. taken. raptured. 

your foreheads touch fondly. your nails still doing well to caress his nape. something like nostalgia corrals in your belly. in the rushing of your blood. his touch new but old. 

his breath on your lips. close and sweeping against your face. his nose plays into the soft of yours. this finding of intimacy easy, as if it has existed before.

he hums. hearing the echoing of your singing still. 

"so much like a siren". 

"they're killers". your nails sharp with a slow sinking into his skin. enough the prick. to have him feel the possibility of pain. "of men specifically". 

his own fingers curl inward again. endeared to your warmth. "i guess i'd be susceptible then". 

you smile. thumbs running from his neck to the work of his jaw, where the hair is thick and bristling, till you find your self soothing over his freckles. his own touch soothing just the same into the line of your spine. his lips planting into your palm. into your wrist, lingering to feel the pulse of your blood against his mouth. 

"you're too warm", kissing your wrist once more. "too welcoming to be so cruel", he says. as if he knows you well enough to know such things. 

"and what if that's the act before the inevitable?" you gaze flickering up through your lashes. touch slipping again, along his neck, thumb over the apple of his throat. palms coming down to hold at his arms. feeling the thickness of them beneath his clothes. you smile. "i sink my teeth into you before ripping you apart". 

the music is light. eases your bodies into a swaying still. alone together in this little corner of the lounge. of the world. 

"you make it sound like a good time". 

"depends on what you're into i guess". 

"you seem to like to play with your food". 

your lips grow closer. the seam of them faint and teasing against his. sharing breaths and the thinning control to not act so suddenly on long built desires. 

"a bit of patience makes for a better savoring". 

he grins. wide and daring. "i just like to go for what's mine". 

"whats yours?", you laugh. so typical. you play an eye roll. "who knew men could be so possessive".

he lips take their own gentle trailing. from near your mouth to the supple skin of your cheeks, steady and light, soft at your jaw till they go about your neck. the tip of his nose pressing into your pulse. fingers deepening into your back, urging an arch into your spine as you cling to him gladly. 

your blood thrums harshly. thrilled. he hums, licking his lips, and the slight of his tongue wets your skin. and there he is warm, that much you can feel. 

"as possessive as the day is long. you're not wrong about that". 

"but it's night time now". 

he kisses your pulse. the touch of his mouth sweet. stirring. the mantle in your belly burns. 

"that's when the pursuit is sweetest". 

he spins you again and you take the time to breathe. to gather the restlessness in your body that longs for him to do something undoubtedly amorous. and that same hope dances in him, plays about his nerves and the set of his eyes. 

"where do i know you from?", too troubled by the possibility to ignore it. 

"nowhere". 

"then why is your face so familiar?" 

he grins. "you wouldn't believe how many women have stopped me to tell me the same thing. maybe i just have that face".

'bullshit', you think. the idea laughable. "you're too handsome to be familiar. maybe it's just them easing their way into trying to fuck you. compliments and a sense of familiarity go a long way".

his forehead rests to yours, his throat humming. mulling over your words. guiding your hips through the melody still. 

and when he speaks, the lewd make of his words stick to your lips. 

"do you want to fuck me, angel?"

your breath hitches. lightly trembling again in his arms. in the tightening bind of his fingers. your blood sweetening in his nose, like the first drips of honey. 

"is it not obvious enough? do you have to ask?"

and no he does not make you suffer. does not force the words off your lips, to soothe the width of his ego. it would only sour the warmth in his hands, for a woman such as yourself should not beg. should not reel with an exposing desperation, even amidst the shadows of such ill lit corners. she should be taken as she so coyly wishes, with firm sweeping tongue and the powered grip of an impassioned lover. and roman had no qualms of doing such, of kissing you greedily and forming your body to his. of curling his hands to bruise the silk of your dress, fabric crushing in his fingers till the high slit ran into his palm, leaving your skin bare. whiskey on his tongue, slipping lewd, with much method, to leave you drunk off the wet roaming of it as he buried into your skin else where. 

your back roughs into the oak pillar, carvings kneading into you. the brush drum steady, louder, accompanied by the bright trill of a piano. 

roman moans into your mouth. light and deep. breathing tensely through his nose. your hands take his, searching over skin to guide him. the heat nestled between your thighs coaxing his tongue to lick into your mouth. 

he smiles. your breaths rushed and ragged. a lone finger taking a simple glide till he slips through your slit. and the silk of your heat is something memorable. a soft warmth he's known once before. groaning, mouth open to breathe into you till he's ruffling into your neck. 

your hands cling to him and your hips chase him. whimpers singing from your throat. 

"you'll have to forgive me, but i need you quiet", he gives. feeding the long tease of his touch pass the tight ring of resistance, till he's seated deeply. steeping his finger till satisfaction bruises his nerves. he wonders, after having you tremble again under him, if he'd ever be satisfied. "charge it to my own possessiveness, but i can't have them hear you. hear how pretty you sound". 

he retracts, to join in another finger. a thicker stretching that leaves you to struggle against the breaking of a moan. your face hot and damp. the air thick and his mouth at your pulse urging your blood to rush, as if it knew it was him nestled against it. 

"okay?"

he strokes wet, firm feeling and slow. a patient working in that reverences the wild throbbing you take to it. an uncontrolled, mindless pulsing about his fingers. 

"need you to answer me when i speak to you". 

and his voice grows dark. controlled but undefiled still in the depth it holds to. it sinks into your flesh, commands your lungs to breathe, for words to form. shy and pliant. "okay". 

he moans again, licks into your skin, savoring the salted taste of sweat. and his touch feeds into you, roams into a roughness, the staccato of the brush drum blending seamless with the arousal coating his fingers. a sticky, pitchy mess singing lewd from your pussy as you struggle not to curse brightly into the thick air. but he makes it nearly impossible to breathe, to collect even the smallest sense of control. and his pleasure works over your body in familiar ways, remembrance sullying your bones till they surrender from some odd far away sense of knowing. as if all the skin and bones and nerves that make you have found something long lost, teeming with joy at such a faithful reunion. 

his lips pull into yours once more. your fingers holding over his face, keeping him there, to suffocate under his tongue. a sweet sweeping in, lapping lazy over yours in his own delirium. you suckle over the whiskey taste, thumbing into his cheeks. 

your core tightens. a salacious warning. burdening and hot as his thumb joins in to push against your clit. 

your forehead knocks gently into his cheek. nails sinking into his thick neck. unable to speak by his request but so desperately needing to express the weight nailing over your nerves. 

the tension, unreleased, builds over. pricks your eyes with a glassiness. you tremble still. "roman please", wispy and small. 

his skin delighting with the brush of your breath. desperations of pleasure bleeding into his skin. the ache and the burden of your arousal seeping hot over his fingers. clutching onto the thick of them. needy and mindless. 

his eyes meet yours. breaths stuttered and words ill formed as the heat of his staring pierces. flecks of red revealing before their disappearance. your mind too muddled by pleasure to care. 

"have at it", he whispers. thumb rolling over your clit as he deepens the ways of his fingers. "it's yours". 

your mouth presses into his shoulder, to muffle the cry that comes with that wild bursting heat. the pulsing in your skin and the heaviness in your chest. fighting for air as his mouth sweeps to kiss over your lips. fingers reveling in the messiness of your release. playing through your slit, soothing over your clit till he pinches the pearled nub, wringing out the remains of arousal. your hips rutting to chase the sensation, insatiable and wanting still. 

you whisper to him, rushing and grinding your hips still. "i'm renting upstairs. s'not too big, but it's not bad, if you-if you wanted to come up-"

"lead the way". 

and not much goes into the song and dance, of feigning interest about egg shell white apartment walls, and the color of your furniture. or how your place is just a greater carrier of the way your skin smells. comfortingly sweet and all consuming. his eyes not minding the antique lamps and neither does he care too much for the stacks of books and large hung up paintings. because he remembers these things quite clearly —your knack for artistry and your mind for words in books— of the woman he knew before you, the one with a different name but, her, your face all the same. the innocence of your forgetfulness twinging where his heart used to be. because how could he be angry, at the things you fail to remember, when now the peace upon you rests so dearly. years of waring with himself about ancient decisions long forgotten, as he spreads his tongue through the swollen slick parting of your folds. enraptured still, after all this time, by how your taste coats his tongue. arresting even the sharpest parts of him. 

the lay of your body picturesque along the kitchen island counter. and the marble top is not nearly as cold as his skin, but it shivers you all the same. late night, early morning, summer breeze willowing over you. 

the drawling alto of your moaning much different from earlier. something rawer and less refined but angelic all the same. a blend of feathering whimpers and ill controlled swearing, ravishing his ears. coaxing them to burn red as they rest between the heat of your thighs. and when he dips over the swollen nub of your clit, lips kissing messily, his eyes take to the curves of your skin. supple plans of warmth that leave him aching. 

your mouth opens lax, devastated by pleasure. fingers twisting against the hard peaks of your nipples. rutting up against his wet mouth for more of his good torture. his tongue invasive and exacting. thick and stroking against the lush opening of your body. and your moving is mindless, driven by blood lacing lust. the ball of your foot hooking into the broad muscles of his naked back as the other aches idle under the weight of his fingers. pushing into him, holding him hostage. 

the soft sweat dampened slope of your back arching. fingers curling into the edges of the kitchen island. "you're so damn greedy for it", toughing out of your mouth. words cutting through short breaths. 

he moans. dipping his fingers where his tongue had been. eyes casting over the swell of your breast, where your breaths shudder outward. delirium overtaking, slowly, steadily, dulling your eyes and the manner of your nerves. his thumb finding your clit with ease. pressing firm. "can't be a bad thing, not when you're shakin and tightenin up for me like this".

your head rolls straight, to find his eyes dilated. near black even. "you like it".

"no, angel", that delicate term returning to wreck havoc over your skin. "i love it". his lips pursing as he gathers a sticky line of spit, letting it drip to your clit. a man possessed, watching you pulse about his fingers. "real sensitive to my touch". and the kiss he leaves along the mess of your folds is terribly gentle. something like a gift. lips pursing, sweeping with tongue, as if he were taking in your mouth. and there he stayed for sometime, tonguing over the swollen bundle of nerves, nailing into your thighs, and breathing in the essence of your warmth. "y'sound so sweet when i have my tongue on you", going on like a man long starved of touch, passion unsullied by time. and when he parts, mouth and the bristling hair of his beard soaked over, the groaning that draws up from his chest proves to be uninhibited, a bout of impatience slipping in his blood to poison his resolve. 

his vision fights for sharpness, for control over more primal urges. "wanna hear you when i make you come".

you smile. overdone with pleasure. "so many request". 

"request can be denied". his tongue laps lazily, in a means to savor, and he moans till it shakes into laughter. amusement coursing him as your thighs flex in attempt to close against him. "you have yet to deny me". 

and his truths are proven. the spasm seizing your nerves and the drool pooling from your pussy enough to satisfy the surety of his words. the lithe forming together of a speechless pleasure breaking from your throat like feathered little songs. an ensemble of gasping and whimpering brighter than the day sky. and when you fight for air, to reel in the overtaking frenzy, the coarseness there in your throat rumbles beneath your skin, till its a deep resonance slipping into his ears, daring to drip into his blood. an everlasting poison. 

a siren indeed. 

roman plants kisses into your skin, a slow trailing up towards your navel. face planted into the heat of your belly. the scent of your arousal, a sweetened ambrosia. his chilling hands roaming over the aching in your thighs till their kneading reaches your hips. your numbed fingers run into the roots of his hair, circling over his scalp tenderly. 

"c'mere". 

you sigh. blissed and pliant. legs and arms shakily wrapping over him till they cling for fear of letting go. your nose tucked into the thick of his neck as he carries you to the soft leather couch. 

and he just barely overtakes the quaint little furniture, nestling into its corner to spread his leg out as the other bends to hang over comfortably. 

you waste no time. lips molding over his dewy ones, your taste steeping into your tongue as you suckle over his. nimble fingers undoing his pants till his cock is heavy and hard in your palm. his dull nails threatening to bruise your hips as he flushes your pussy over him. breathes undone and stuttering, mindlessly working your still swollen clit over the thick of him. tip pink and aching for something more than the tease of your folds. and a nostalgia takes to his bones, a similarity of passion paining him, memory this boundless flooding. the sinking in of your nails as you kiss his mouth and the heat of your skin, clinging to him for fear of losing him, all too agonizingly familiar. he can feel it beneath his toes, amongst the sensations of bliss, the sand of summer beaches and with the burning at the tips of his ears a bright bursting laughter. far away memory comes to him here, flowing along a breeze. 

a fist takes to his stiffness, the other hand holding up your hips. your lips trembling, one against the other. sharing thick intimate breaths. and amongst the late night silence, he stretches you delicately. a leisure, deft upstroke that waits with patience to feel your warmth. a steady handling of your hips as you attempt to settle him in. 

your jaw opens lax, gasping as the knocking out of wind leaves your words broken. 

"shhhhh", mouth pursing into yours. kissing into your cheek. once and then twice. his hips winding up into you. and the racing of your heart echoes in his ears, forces his tongue into a craving. your blood sweet in his nose still. "take me slowly", palms working your hips to grind into him again. spine throbbing, dazed even as your throat sings with little pleasures, heavy breathed and delirious. "relax into me", a soft command that overtakes the stiffness in your body, coaxing you to settle, molding into the thick mass of him. nearly impossible to tell the beginnings and endings of your bodies. "breathe". and your lungs open, the headiness of him delighting your nose. 

and the tenderness here is similar to gentle rain. the light kissing of lips and the working in of pliant fingers, caressing soft blissed skin. your heart beating with vigor against his chest, strong enough that it feels as though one exist within himself, pulsing about and filling him with life. 

his sharp teeth pull at your bottom lip, edging there just enough for a shiver and a moan. for the quick thoughtless rutting of your hips, squeezing against his cock, steeping him in a wet heat that left a terrible aching in his balls. he wanted to fuck you madly, suffer you to take him in his fullness till neither word nor thought could ever exist long enough to leave you. he wanted to consume you, enough that you would not forget him again. but this intimate savoring was too rich for him to just abandon on the account of wanting to run your pussy ragged. he could possibly do that another time, if you would have him. if you would cradle his head like you do now, letting his tongue lead over your skin till it prodded and sucked over your nipples. growing greedy, palming your breast to adore the sensitive skin. if you would have him, he would treat you with his urges, charm your body with anything you wanted. 

your clit pulses, urges a grinding to knock softly against his hard body. and the insatiable need teeming in your blood is nearly unbelievable. never having felt so wanton and filled with desire. 

his lips gentle still and unchallenging as they meet yours again. unhurried but sure. like he'd kissed you a thousand times. 

your eyes flutter open. forehead resting against his. and when the earthy brown of his stare burns into you, the familiarity of him burdens your spirit so. a deep, undefiled pressure that flutters your heart. 

the grainy sand of a summer beach and bright bursting laughter. 

your thumb caresses the freckles at his cheeks. "i know your face". thumbing over his mouth. "your tongue. your hands. your eyes". 

he sinks further into the couch, lets his head rest against the arm of it. pulls you into him. "where from?"

his inky hair, long undone in the midst of passion, falling about him. his gentle kissing mouth and his hands. his penchant for whiskey drinking and the unforgettable way he feels, filled to the hilt. 

"from dreams". 

he hums, indulging the thought. collects your hips with a covetous touch. torturing the dulling ache in your clit to flare with a renewed sense of life, fingers curling in to work your pussy over him, stroking up to meet you with a tenderness that reddens his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

his words a gruff escaping. 

"how can you dream about a man you don't know?" 

the drool of your heat coats him with its own spirit of endearment. dribbles out till its slicking over the tuft of hair just where you meet him. your teeth taking to your lips, a feverish excitement lacing your pleasure still, beautifully undone, and becoming undone still at the splitting stretch of his dick. you slur even in your delirium, assailing the leather of your couch's arm as you bounce against him. knees bent and thighs aching, but still, he opens you fully, feeds into you like he belongs there. 

you stitch words together drunkenly. 

"how can you... how can you kiss a woman, fuckk!..kiss her so lovingly, when you've never met her". your teeth clench. touch playing over the dampness of your skin. a taut nipple caught over your thumb, encouraging the pulsing warmth that greedily clings to him. "why would you want to do that?" 

and if he had a heartbeat, it would burst with a raging. leave a vicious pounding into the ways of his pulse at the utterance of such a question. if only you knew. 

"your dreams are just desires. they'll pass". 

"and when they don't?"

you fight. for answers that don't leave a bitterness on your tongue. for his touch to become this great staining. a deep enough stitching beneath flesh and bone. 

"they will". 

you voice small. near fearful. "i don't believe you". 

roman corrals you. faster than the air can refill your lungs from such an abrupt shifting. laying under him, heavy breathed and trembling, your shoulder blades resting over the arm of the couch. his eyes splitting into your skin, roaming, as always, as if to remember for the sake of forgetting, this soft surgical tearing through till you can feel the influence of him. a stuttering in your heart. fear and excitement one and the same. and when his cock ruts, slipping in wet and nearly unforgiving, you gasp into still thick air. his body hard and fluid, hips working deft, tongue running over the ways of his teeth. 

his palms form over your thighs, pressing in to curl at the pliant flesh. 

his heavy breaths take in the scent of you. sticky arousal and the tempting sweetness of your blood. he groans, fucks into your pussy with a toppling desperation. 

his hair falls over him. raven colored and silky. his stitching together of words slurring. pleasure mounting his bones. taken by the dripping clutch you've suffered him to endure. but he's taken freely. gladly even. 

"what do you want?".

his eyes glazing over. and you reach to nail your fingers over him. over taut tough muscle. a harsh prickling that feels delicious in his skin. 

roman feels alive. like he could do anything. could give you anything.

thrill in your eyes and the heat in your skin, moaning beautiful, and if not for his deadness, it would surely be fatal. your lips now rouge-less, but addictive all the same. he wants to consume you. 

"you". nothing more sure could ever be said. "i want you". 

he grows faint in his control. words near a whisper. 

"you don't know what you're asking for". 

a breeze indulges the room. cuts into the thick air. 

"please". 

your body seizes. bursts hot and wild. and here he growls, dark and unbound from control. 

red flecks spot his eyes, his breath oddly warm as he lowers his lips to kiss yours. tongue sweeping in, rough and rolling over. 

your body preens, hitching and pulsing still. his nose nestling into where he can feel the beating of blood along your neck.

you sigh. content. arching your body into the weight of him. 

a paining tear into your skin. sharp teeth into delicate supple flesh. blood slips over onto already tainted leather and the wide flat licking of his tongue. he moans, drunk, weighted against the abrupt shock of your body. drinking in the fast drip of red as he comes undone.

[bookscandlesnbts]

My complicated thoughts about KTH

I’ve said before that I love all the members of BTS, and I do. I also put in my about me that if I had to rank the members in order of my favorites, I could. And it would be according to who I gravitate to the most both musically and personality wise. Taehyung has always puzzled me. He’s eccentric, a free spirit, and not someone that I would probably get along well with in my personal life. But he’s entertaining and clearly a beloved member of BTS by the members themselves, so I enjoy watching his interactions with them on stage and in content such as Run BTS.

In Chapter 2 though… I don’t know how to feel. I try to see nuance in just about everything especially when it’s something I have extremely limited facts that I can verify. I am hesitant to label him as some sort of villain attention seeker, but his behavior is puzzling to me to say the least. What I don’t believe in my heart of hearts is that Taehyung would ever do something to purposefully hurt one of his members in a majorly public way. I don’t think he is to blame for the derangement actions of Taekookers. But, he also doesn’t help either. His willingness to name drop JK constantly for no reason in interviews or in two minute lives is super strange. Don’t be active at all on Weverse then? I struggle to find a motive behind it. For the most part, I don’t think his actions bother Jikook because if they did, I’m sure he would stop. I do think it bothers Jungkook to some extent in the fact that he always has to do damage control against the embellishments that Taehyung tells. I don’t think Taehyung is bothered by the constant influx of Taekook comments when he’s live, but I think Jungkook is bothered sometimes, hence his willingness to set the record straight and bring up Jimin because that is who is on his mind and who he gravitates towards not Tae.

Taehyung used to be the “get out of your imagination” guy. And no matter how Tkks try to spin that, the man meant what he said back then. I don’t know exactly when the transition started, but it seems to be in this Chapter 2 soft launch of his equally famous girlfriend that didn’t go over super well with either fandom. My guess is that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting and now he’s backtracking to appease his “fanbase.” He’s probably a bit bitter over it too. I wish he cared less about Tkks and his solo stans, and I’m hopeful that he will forget about their nonsense once the 7 members are back together. If I was Jennie, I wouldn’t be thrilled by his actions. I would understand the hesitancy of going full public with the relationship, but only bringing up one member (the one you are shipped with the most) every time you decide to go live to see fans for two seconds or have an interview about your album is weird to me.

But again, I’m trying not to read too much into it or project my own feelings towards it too much. I’m sure if it bothers Jikook, things will be worked out behind the scenes. Time will tell if this behavior continues, and if one day it stops, I would have a good guess as to why.

[lordkingsmith]

Bertie Skullovitch, once upon a time Bertie Russell woke up from a hangover to a very familiar control center. And wasted no time powering through the headache to yell at the blue floating raisin and the yes man robot she used to respect.

“You couldn’t stop at just one of my sons you went for the complete matching set? Bronze, are you kidding me? Stanley might be a bitter little possible bastard but-”

“Bertie-” Alpha tried and Bertie kept going, barrelling over the robot’s protests and continuing to air her frustrations at Zordon.

“Shut up Alpha. And another thing. That one’s descendant, gold. I’m not surprised and I’m less surprised Stan’s got low enough self esteem to let him into his bed. Except how many times are you going to use the same families to solve your grid damned problems you useless floating-” She snapped, took a breath and kept going.

“Orange doesn’t want me if that’s what you’re after. Or she didn’t last time you needed an orange ranger and I don’t think she and I can see eye to eye long enough to fix whatever stupid bullshit you did this time. I don’t have enough mommy instinct for that, anymore.”

“Thanks for the admission, mom.”

Bertie froze. In the shadows to her right were gold, bronze, and silver. Stan physically pushing his companions behind him as he looked at her with a lip curled in contempt.

“I'm gonna ask about the possible bastard bit later.” He said relatively calmly. “But I guess finding out you’re the old Orange explains a lot of shit. Like why you don’t like Tommy or David.”

“It’s a principle thing.” She agreed. “Who needs reminders of this fucking joke of a legacy.”

She realized a moment too late the wording was probably not the smartest when Stan allowed the little silver to come at Bertie while he turned to David, presumably to calm him down.

“Skull got kidnapped!” The little silver roared as she hoisted Bertie up with both hands by the lapels of her jacket she’d been too drunk to remove the night before. “Skull and Jason and Spike! We can’t get to them, and Bulk’s in no shape to help!”

“Put me down little girl.” Bertie said with enough ice to make the enraged teen actually listen to her. “I don’t especially care.” And had to promptly duck when a silvery fist was swung at her head.

“Ranger business is no longer my business.” She said fairly primly as she adjusted her jacket and hair. “My boys want to be caught up as child soldiers, they deal with what that entails. I would like to go back to my bed.” The headache had come back in full fury with the addition of this drama and adrenaline.

“You’ll just sleep alone, sleeping off a pity bender and wrapping yourself up in bitter entitlement.” It was the first time she’d actually ever heard David speak. She stared at him. He still looked ready to defend her son, and by that probably put her in the med bay around the corner. His voice was softer than she expected, but no less angry.

“But this isn’t just about your family. And unfortunately mine has only one other surviving member.” A small pause, a grimace. “alright and the clone that got kidnapped out of the past with your son but to be fair I didn’t know about him till very recently.”

She considered many things to say. She just leveled David with a look. “And you can’t even function without that power coin, can you? All three of you are running on fumes and miracles.” She stalked toward the young man, who looked down as she came to him warily. She had to stand on tip-toe to even grab his shoulder and pull him down to her. “But you were dying before gold, weren’t you? You know how I realized Stan had joined the ranks of child canon fodder?”

“Ma, get off of him!”

“Stanley dear shut up mommy is giving your current sex pest a talk.”

David held her gaze steadily, though his jaw and eyes were tight with barely suppressed anger. He smiled at him with all teeth. “I realized he got a color more exacting than orange over the simple fact that while he could suddenly lift half a car over his head without noticing who was watching-he also couldn’t do it without throwing up in the roses. Then when he got was appeared to be temporary tinnitus…well. Course I knew.”

Her grip tightened on David’s shoulder, and if he hadn’t had his suit on, he would have winced with her fingers in the meat of his joint. “Those colors expect nothing but excellence. And they’re not picky how they get it once they get their ranger; they’ll kill you if that’s what it takes to get it. Or draw out your life as far as possible. While eating all of what drew them to you from the jump. They’re parasites.”

He smiled back as the smell of gold coins and minerals surrounded them. “Fine. I’m dying. I might survive, it’s a fifty fifty chance. Gold’s helping me stay alive long enough to actually live. His eyes bored into hers “And here’s another truth. Eugene gave up his color to raise your grandson. Because Spike is your grandson whether you like it or not. We were hoping if we activated orange again it’d bring him here, safe.” He brushed her hand off and stood at his full height. “It didn’t. It brought you.”

A fic I don’t think I’m ever going to finish. I’m just gonna post it here and let it be, it’s sat in my drafts for two and a half years lol

[peachjagiya]

You know what's funny this whole fandom thinks company content is law and should be abide by and that bongo is Jesus and jkk content is a Bible. That being said, Taehyung is going to get hate. With this fandom this is nothing new but he will be called a liar whether he is a part of that series or not.

Like this anon said

https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/755789549753532416/httpswwwtumblrcompeachjagiya7557813200834560?source=share

Even if Tae was with them for the whole part and appears as a guest, company is going to show him as a third party which always happen in vminkook content. It will be like a guest coming in a married/besties home and is only close to JM. Tkkrs are going to be dragged and Taehyung will be called attention seeker.

If he doesn't appear in the show then the fandom is going to assume he was there for just a few hours and despite Tae being free jkk preferred to travel alone. So next time Tae posts anything related to Jungkook he will be called an attention seeker and baiter. That Jungkook always chooses another member (eye roll). So no matter what happens he will get hate.

I don't know when this fandom has given so much power to these sidies that people cannot speculate about the possibility of third member being there before getting dragged or attacked.

So anytime someone expects I show an ounce of sympathy for the company and how they wanted to protect taekook. I have a question is breeding spwan of satans a good way to do that? They have literally portrayed Taehyung as uncaring person (wings tour) who is not serious and likes praises so needs attention. Someone wanting to protect them would have handled this so differently. It was pure business and nothing else.

I can give you an example, after knowing Tae didn't really know Seoul exhibition dates from the get go from his own post so many army accounts (neutral) kekeing over this fully believing he is just joking because apparently anything he says now is a lie.

Yeah we don't stan company here.

Unfortunately we just don't have the ability to police how an illogical bitter anti views Tae. Is there even a way to stop them doing it? Reporting, I guess. But you sure as heck aren't going to stop an unfulfilled pitiful person being unfulfilled.

All we can really do is maintain our levels of dignity and respect towards Tae and the members. Turn the attention they desperately want into positivity for Tae instead.

Perhaps I'm naive and too simplistic though. I dunno.

💜

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

As much fun as I'm having doing my alternative run of DA2, one thing I really miss about my mage Hawke is his friendship with Merrill.

Those two are best friends and he's 100% supportive in her goals toward the eluvian. Ed has the humorous/charming personality, too, which bounces off super well with Merrill. He doesn't think any less of her for her usage of blood magic; if anything he's impressed by her level of strength and willpower. He's so ready to defend her from the other companions and the clan, and he's absolutely out here attempting to matchmake her and Carver....at least he is in my heart because the game won't let me, it's fine, I'm not bitter about it or anything-

But then my warrior Hawke? She has the diplomatic personality with quite a bit of direct/aggressive thrown in there and she ends up having the same attitude as that one party banter Aveline and Merrill have: "Merrill, you're clearly talented and meant for great things, but you're stupid," and that's so difficult for me to lean into. I'm trying to play Aris differently so she ends up being so condescending to Merrill, like she's trying to gently tell her to give up on the eluvian but it doesn't come off well.

Also if Carver was around, Aris would be the opposite of Ed, she'd look at the suggestion of her brother and Merrill getting together and be like, "No :) I don't think so :) I like Merrill, she's my friend :) but she's not right for Carver."

But I guess it makes sense; if you told him that Bethany would giggle and kick her feet and twirl her hair around Sebastian, Ed would've thrown him in the ocean as a warning. Meanwhile, Aris is like, "A handsome prince that could take my sister away from all of this? Wonderful, we just need to work on his incorrect views on mages, but that shouldn't be a problem :)"

Anyway I miss playing Hawke as the #1 Merrill stan.

[laf-outloud]

Okay but I can't at AAs thinking it's a serve when Jensen gets petty like that towards Jared. Jared stans don't like Jensen and believe him to be a petty jealous narcissist. All you're doing is confirming their beliefs on the man and giving them fuel to prove that. Jared stans actually agree with you. It's super funny they don't get it.

Honestly, if AAs hadn't brought it up, it wouldn't be an issue because the Jared fans I saw talking about the Jared reference in the panel saw it as a couple of guys joking. But, I guess AAs must like drama more than they like Jensen because not only are they trying to paint him in the worst light, they're trying to rile up Jared fans by doing so. Sorry... not taking that bait, but you're right, if they want to solidify my belief that he's bitter and petty over SPN, keep talking, AAs.

Of course, they also might be trying to deflect from the fact that their fav (and others on the panel) were talking about SPN openly and brazenly, forgetting that their whole union has been on strike for the last 100 days.

[stopthebig3]

Hi, is it true that Sasuke haters’ animosity towards Sasuke is rooted in their expectations they placed on him?

Their animosity towards Sasuke is rooted in more than one thing 1. He is popular in middle school and almost all the girls like him. This makes some dudes bitter. 2. He is Naruto's rival who gets a lot of screentime dedicated to him, and he has his own character arc. These dudes relate to Naruto, so they hate Sasuke is taking away some of what they see as Naruto's only. 3. He didn't "accept" Naruto immediately like Neji or Gaara, so it pisses people off. I guess that could count as expectation not fulfilled. 4. He rejected Sakura. I mean people can claim all they want it's because Sasuke tried to kill her, but she tried to kill him first. We all know Sakura stans are just mad that Sasuke didn't want to fuck her yet Sakura kept crying and screaming for him. It's embarrassing, but they don't have the honesty and humility to blame Sakura for her embarrassing behavior and her inability to take Sasuke's rejection for an answer, so they blame Sasuke. 5. Some people seem to hate he makes Naruto gay. I have seen whole ass rants about this lol 6. I have seen people say he's not relatable and that makes him boring. If we go by what relatable used to mean, Sasuke is relatable, he feels joy, grief and anger like a normal person. But what these people mean is he doesn't act exactly like them so they can't empathise or like him.

[deathbirby]

(lambert anon) It was racist because I guess liking a white character over a poc was inherently racist. Nevermind that I liked Lambert more mainly because he was a dad or self destructive in the extremely Faerghan way. According to the person I should have thrown away my preferences and made the 50000th post/work of Claude being the super best because its not like we don't have enough content for him. It didn't help that Hopes Claude was insufferable to me so they were one of those that acted like disliking the version who purposely tried to start a war to his benefit was somehow the same as hating him on the whole.

I still find the whole thing stupid because just boiling a character down to their race is always a disservice and it just made me bitter towards Claude and the people who just let that behavior breed in their circles.

That's definitely one of the worst things to come out of the discourse. You end up feeling bitter or hating characters because of the negative experiences you had with their stans.

[dream-critical]

I've seen people say that Sapnap hates his audience and views them as a mistake, and overall a lot of general comments that he hates his fans and wishes they were teen boys instead. I've also seen where people say he seems to hate streaming as well. Do you agree with these opinions? cause I've been trying to figure out where this view stems from.

I think it's partly true yeah.

I've seen that same argument on Twitter a lot and honestly I do agree with it to a certain degree.

Like first you have the fact that when he first started he got shamed for his body and became didn't want to do facecam streams. That in itself probably would make a streamer bitter towards his viewers.

It did get better once he lost weight but it's still a shitty thing to do.

And then there's the fact that he *is* a toxic gamer and probably didn't grow up in an accepting environment. Like. He grew up in Texas and spent his childhood gaming with people he met online. That alone should say a lot.

And like. Idk. Streaming is. A lot. Especially when your best friend constantly is getting called out for his horrible and gross behaviour. He is associated with dream. Lives with dream. makes content with dream. Even if he genuinely does not give a shit about dreams actions and wholeheartedly supports him, he probably thinks all that's happening is annoying. And the fact that he can't just say whatever he want without people calling him out or questioning him.

Like they all get away with it in the end bc all the stans act like they forget about it after like 12 hours but I'm sure it's some sort of inconvenience for them all.

Then there's the fact that the majority of his viewers have very little in common with him. Most of them are queer and/or people of colour etc. And like. Idk. I guess it'd be hard to find a way to relate to them.

But there's also the fact that in general streaming itself is a very hard job and from what I've seen and heard other streamers talk about, honestly? Wouldn't really say it's worth it.

I wouldn't like. Say that he "hates" his viewers. Bc they're the reason he got this far and he knows that most of them would let him get away with most of the shit he does. But I do think that he probably won't keep doing this for long. Honestly from what I've heard from people on my tl none of the dream team members have made any content anyway. Except for the dream ice spice tiktok. people will not stop putting that on my tl istg

Anyway hope that answered your question anon!!!!!!

[naitosutan]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SWEET RESPONSE!! 🍭🍭

(I didn't know how to respond to your tags on your reblog so I thought I would just send you an ask-)

I'm glad you thought I had some good concepts, I'm terrible at explaining things so it's nice to know that some people understood what I was getting at. And your tsum tsum steek drawing lives rent free in my head, it is so fricking cute. I love tsum tsums!! And I was glad I could influence your love of Steek, kvasgi's art of Steek was one of the first pieces of art for that ship that I saw which was part of the reason why I got into the ship too! And your sister's art is super cute as well, I love it all so much, especially her AU!

Since I'm here, I'd like to ask you, who are your favorite characters and what are your favorite ships?

Thanks again for the sweet response, have a great day!! ❤️❤️

@/steeklover AHH I’M SO SORRY I FOOLISHLY SAVED YOUR ASK AS A DRAFT ON MOBILE AND TUMBLR ATE IT 😭 Luckily, I had part of my response written already and I’ll try to reply as best I can to what I remember of your ask!

Did you know I’m a fool and inept at anything technology ._. I found the ask; somehow I saved the ask in my drafts completely separate from my response ahskkgj

Pls forgive me for the repost, I wanted to keep the original ask attached 🙇🏻‍♀️

(ALSO HELLO I DID NOT FORGET OR IGNORE THIS I WAS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO ANSWER CONCISELY AND GOT BUSY AHAKDLGK)

ACTUALLY *YOU* ARE THE SWEETEST AGALLFJA

I think you explained yourself pretty well! Legit, I always love reading your thoughts on Steek and seeing the ideas you have for them, whether it be your mood boards or playlists, I enjoy your ideas! You are THE Steek shipper to me so I really value your perspective on them and keep some of your posts in mind whenever I try to portray them!

Tsums are definitely a long standing obsession of mine lol Evie says thanks for the praise as well! Her AU means a lot for the three of us ✨

(Long post so favs and ships under the cut haha)

To answer your questions, I’d say Tweek is my favorite from the show, but Stan had definitely settled into also being a major fav of mine! When I was first watching it, I went into season six a bit bitter about Tweek taking Kenny’s spot but… he’s just a little dude :3 Simpsons Already Did It is one of my top favorite episodes lol Stan was a surprising favorite but I guess following him and his friends around the most, I really liked the way he was characterized and the struggles he deals with? I also love Kenny content 🥺🧡 Anything and everything for Kenny lol

Anyways, here are some of my top favorite ships!! As you can probably tell, my sisters and I have a lot of overlap in the ships we like, and tend to influence each other a lot lol I’m a multi-shipper who generally likes a ton of ships and also really enjoy crackships and rare pairs cuz of the untapped potential of interactions that could happen! I also enjoy polys but for simplicity I’ll put just pairings here! I had tried organizing them in a tier list but… it ended up as a ranking list anyways so…

Stenny - I actually surprised Kim a lot when I first brought up that I liked her old flame lol My first and my fav ship, there’s something about them that makes me extremely happy and I can’t quite explain it. It probably has to do with their personalities and interactions, but I can’t really articulate it into words haha I also love all the fan created content of them! They’re lovely and adorable 💖

K2 - The OTP of my sisters means a lot of amazing fics recommended to me that makes it hard to not love lol I’m not picky about how the dynamic is portrayed, I’m always down for these two together! They baby 🥹

Steek - <333 SO much love for these two! Like I had said you were definitely a big reason for it. Plus why NOT ship your favorite characters together? They both have a tendency towards destructive patterns that I think the other could relate to, especially with seeking validation on their feelings? I think potential interactions between these two are severely under explored so I’m always searching for more Steek content!

Revin - OKAY. This one was definitely a ship I shipped from the show before looking at the fan content lol Constantly seeing them together in the background just reminded me of playground crushes, and their moments were small but cute. AND THEN WHEN THEY BROKE UP I WAS DEVASTATED. CONFIRMATION THEY WERE DATING AT THE COST OF THEIR BREAK UP AND NEVER SEEING THEM TOGETHER AGAIN 😭 We’ve also headcanoned their personalities quite a bit and so I like to think of them both being a bit airheaded? Kevin constantly thinking about his sci-fi and Red seemingly not pay attention to things around her? Kevin calling their fruits sandwiches and Red just going along with it was also funny even if it’s just an animation error lol ALSO KEVIN BEING SO SAD AT THE BAY OF MEMORIAL PIGS DANCE AS RED DANCED WITH TOLKIEN I CAN’T 😭 I love little background details the most when it comes to characters, I think.

Crenny - Again, Kim was a big influence in me liking Kenny ships, also Crenny has some of the most beautiful and heartfelt works I’ve ever seen and read? I think things would be pretty easy with these two and they’ve had some good moments together!

Cryle - I know people say they don’t interact much but when has that ever stopped me lol They’re both stubborn in different ways, Craig more passive and Kyle more confrontational, I think? Like, I really liked the scene in Fishsticks where they’re both advising Jimmy. They were basically indirectly arguing against each other and I think that’s such an interesting and fun dynamic lololol There’s enough there for me to enjoy them together!

-

Creek - Just LOOK at them lol. I do admit I like them a lot in the show but don’t seek them out in fanworks but they’re great <3

Stendy - I HAVE A LOT TO TALK ABOUT THEM TOO. Like Stendy is complicated but they’re also elementary school kids, of course they’re not gonna know how to relationship properly. But they’re still so messy?? And it’s just on their personalities mannn. I think Stan very much takes his friends for granted sometimes and especially his girlfriend. And Wendy isn’t a part of his friend group enough to really be comfortable discussing their faults? Like obviously he’s done some things and she has as well but things are always resolved offscreen or brushed aside so we never really see how they get over it. Basically they’re cute when he’s pining or when they’re domestically together and supportive but when they’re just not paying attention to each other they’re difficult lol

Stolkien - Another ship from the show, I think their interactions are always so fun, especially in the later seasons 🥺💕

Staig - I love rivals lol I think fandom plays up their hatred for each other a lot but Scauses really convinced me that they do notice each other lol That and Craig likes stirring the pot a lot XD

.

.

.

It feels like I’m missing so many characters and ships but I had to limit myself! Ten is enough haha (shout out to all the ships I do ship but didn’t make it to this list 😔) I tried to keep this short lol

I hope your days have been great as well!! Thank you so much for the ask!! 💖

[iinviictvs]

꒰⠀⠀⠀⠀𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑒𝑜𝑙. 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦-𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒. ℎ𝑒/ℎ𝑖𝑚.⠀⠀⠀⠀꒱        hold your f*** horses !   aiden park   has just been spotted walking into revolution headquarters. they are best known for being the   bassist, songwriter & vocalist   in   the seasons   and have been signed with the label for   six months.   they share a lot of interesting things about life in the music industry on their social media, so make sure you don’t forget to follow them at   @adsforseasons.  fans know them for being   workaholic   but i swear they’ve got a   intense   side as well. maybe that explains why they’re always associated with   a tempestuous night and a rageful ocean while lounging at the beach, a moonless night, sweet toffees with a bitter aftertaste.   stan twitter even voted them most likely to   most likely to stub his toe 6 times in one day.   we’ll see how they live up to that reputation.

tldr : just city body, born and raised in south detroit ! he took took a train going anywhere ( probably without a dime in his wallet either , because he was 𝑏𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 , or maybe he's just 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑛 )

𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦-𝑓𝑖𝑓𝑡ℎ , which makes him , you guessed it : a christmas baby. it also made him a lunatic , but those are stories for other times. he was indeed born in the united states to immigrant parents , which fought nails and teeth to give aiden everything he could have ever wanted. in this case , the boy always chose music over everything else , which was not the best career option in his parents' eyes. so like many kids , he was pushed towards other areas , more make big money areas. now , aiden wasn't dumb : he brought home good grades in all his subjects , and always did his best to overcome the difficulties he might have had in any subjects. however , his hand always reached for the guitar , or the piano , or whatever sound provoking object he could find in his reach. the flame could be almost extinct by his parents , but it always lighted back up at the littlest proof that destiny threw at him.

even as a child , aiden was incredibly intense and unpredictable. some would nowadays try to pass it as anything but it is , which is just the taste of being unpredictable. expect the unexpected , perse , aiden was always the firecracker of the class , despite being a scholar. which meant he truly was surrounded with peers at all times , and would be viewed as somewhat of a leader ; not that it was a good idea to trust a kid who would just disappear into the streets without notice , but a leader nevertheless. untamed fire grew , and the first garage band was born , in middle school. were they good? of course not. but it gave aiden an escape to be able to pursue his dreams of music , without letting his parents know he wouldn't pursue medicine. which obviously returned to bite him in the ass , as time to apply to college came. it was obvious the delusion he created , wanting to pursue wherever he desired , yet his parents insisted and would only pay for medicine. even the worst of kids would follow his parent's wishes.

but did indeed attend college? not the first year. not that his parents know , or would ever find out. new york was away , and he managed to hold onto one of his best friend's for help. no , this first year , aiden travelled. the money? his parents. even nowadays , he's not sure how he pulled it off. imagine those travel blogs that seem to be living from scraps and stranger's rides : that was aiden's trip around the U.S. , just catching a ride and doing small jobs when the money wasn't enough. after that first year , he did return , and he pursued his degree , which ended up being medicine with focus in neurosurgery. the fire in his heart still burned , and his first bass came with him to the dorms populated with miserable , overworked students. it was pure coincidence a boy passing by and hearing him play in his bed , and little by little , a small group formed to jam together. from jam sessions to proper garage band was a push , and thus , the seasons was born. they played together , they played in underground bars , they sang at karaoke bars and were always praised. at first just covers from famous bands , it changed to aiden' songs little by little , and that passion grew hotter.

all good things come to an end. degrees would end and they'd have to face the real world. aiden had to face reality ; he was stuck in a job he loathed , in a city that brought him such good memories with his band. for years he pestered the other boys for one last show , as one of the clubs they performed at wanted them back , and for years it seemed like there was always an excuse. when they finally gathered , at the end of their twenties , was when things finally sparked to blow. at their last show , there was a scout that brought them to revolution records. everyone was skeptic , everyone except aiden. this was the moment he had waited for his whole like and in the next few hours , he quit his job and called his parents. immediately removed from the family. between fighting his own demons , losing his family , and having his big break , aiden become more unpredictable than anything. one day he showed up drunk , in another showed up at all , the other rumors of him in scandals started to pop up. nothing is ever normal with aiden in the room.

꒰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑛' 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑠

oh , he's insane , he's 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 ! cross your fingers and hope he has some sort of plan . . . but oh , his words are so sweet , his melodies are so mellow , his voice so smooth. maybe there's salvation there , from that 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 demeanor of his , those demons that dance inside his mind. he's so 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 , his actions and words are honey , his hands so delicate , whether holding someone's hands or strumming the chords of his bass. how can someone be so 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑛' 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 ? his soul and heart are 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑜𝑠 , such a wild child that never found the need to grow up . . . or maybe it did , and that's why he tries to fight so hard against the norms . . . walking to the beat of his own drums , and uncontrollable force ! oh yeah . . . aiden park is 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒.

name : aiden park

nicknames : teddybear

age : twenty - nine

date of birth : december 25th 1993

place of birth : houston , texas , united states

place of residence : new york , united states

zodiac sign : capricorn

alignment : chaotic neutral

faceclaim : park chanyeol

꒰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒

so , what i'm thinking is he could've met some of your muses randomly in the middle of the street , whether hitch hiking , or just randomly stopping someone in the middle of the street for a compliment or something. if that's not your beach , that's completely good , i'm thinking maybe since he's relatively new and you know . . . a complete mess , he's in dire need of people who help him navigate fame and that are wishing him well or THE OPPOSITE , think he's not star material and he ain't that worthy of the hype and wants to lead him through dark paths. oh , he'll go. i don't know ! let's brainstorm.

[romeoandcinderellas]

CHAPTER FIVE: SPEAK NOW

[CHAPTER ONE] ★ [CHAPTER SIX]

��──── ･ ｡ﾟ★:•˚☆

    “Hey mamas! How are you this fine morning?” Stan smirked as he leaned on the counter. I rolled my eyes as I looked through the magazine I bought at the gas station. “What do you want now Stan?” “Your number” “so are you here for anything in the record store or not” Stan just frowned a little while raising an eyebrow. “Why so cold to me mama?”

 ”why do you keep calling me mamas or mama or ma?” Y/N said annoyed before looking at Stan. He just hummed as he thought about it. He then smiled at me before answering. “Well, I always say it to pretty girls like you, I haven’t used the name in awhile, and it’s not because I haven’t seen any pretty girl’s but I just stopped since football has been taking over and home life I guess” 

before I could say anything the door opens which causes both me and Stan to look over. It was my childhood friend, Levi, “oh shit, hey Levi! I didn’t think you had time to stop by” I smiled standing straight up and walk to the center of the counter to get a little closer to him. Levi smiled at the girl in front of him, as he walked to the counter but soon seeing Stan who was leaning against the counter. Stan just had a bland look as he stared at Levi.

  Levi looked back with a confused look. The two guys just looked at each other with a bitter look. Y/N just stood there looking between the boys with a confused look before breaking the silence. 

“Do you guys know each other?”

”yeah, we have the same classes” 

Levi muttered which caused Stan to nod his head. Stan soon grabs his bag so he can head to the school. 

“I’ll see you later, ma”

  ”Don’t call her that, Stan, have fun at sweaty football practice! Tell me when you finally win a game for once!”

Levi smirks as Stan looked back with a shocked look before quickly leaving the shop. 

“What’s up his ass today?” 

Levi soon said after he left. I stared at the door soon back at Levi before shrugging not caring. “Well I was cold to him.” “He deserves it, he’s an asshole” “why what does he do? Did he do something to you?”

”no he’s just an asshole towards others, we just ignore each other but just have a bitter bond I guess” 

Y/N nodded before thinking about Stan and how he wasn’t too overwhelming but just annoying in ways. But I guess Y/N can’t stop it, that’s how the football team always is I guess’

[urmomsspeciallady]

Chapter Eight- nobody knows what i see

harvey - her's

POV: Kyle Broflovski

I maneuver my way through the middle of the bus, swing my backpack off my shoulders before sliding into my seat. The weight of my backpack is placed on my lap, as I sink into the “cushioned” bus seat. As I lay my head against the back of my seat, I look to the side to glance out the window.

I could hear a handful of people file into the bus, most of them coming in groups but a few came in alone, like Stan. Lifting my head up, my gaze met with Stan's. I could feel a weight lift off my shoulders.

I scoot over closer to the window to give him some room. Stan greets me with that goofy smile of his. "Sup dude. No basketball practice today?" He slid into our seat next to me.

"No football practice today?"

He clicked his tongue, jotting his head to the side. "I guess we lucked out."

"I'd agree with you if it weren't for the group project Garrison assigned." I could feel the bus jerk to a start and begin its route. "I've got to go to Butters' place to work on it."

"Awe dude, that sucks. What book did you guys choose?"

"Kenny said 'Of Mice and Men' and we went with it. It is a good book though."

"Wendy wanted to do the play we read, actually. 'Romeo and Juliet.' Kind of not my favorite and really hard to read. I'd join your group if I could."

The bus came to a halt and a few kids got off, then it began again. I looked at Stan at the sound of his voice, but he was facing the seat next to us, talking to Cartman. I gave a grimace, but couldn't seem to look away.

The bus came to a halt again and another group got off. My eyes follow them for a second, gravitating back towards Stan.

The bus came to a stop then carried on with its route. Stan still sat turned towards the other seats. He'd talk with Cartman, then Wendy, then shout something across the bus at Kenny, and just keep talking. Normally, I'd join him but today I'm just.. Tired and ready to go home.

Stan pushes his dark hair back out of his face. That face… He has slender pink lips, a thin nose round at the end, a dimple on one of his cheeks, deep eyes, and perfect teeth. Eyes.. Teeth.. He's facing me.

I blink rapidly and snap out of it. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Nah, thought I lost you there." He laughed. "Our stop is next."

"Oh? Oh shit, yeah it is!" I stand up bringing my bag up as well to swing across my shoulder. Holding onto the top of the seat, I maintain my balance as the bus jerks to a stop.

Butters and Kenny file out, then Cartman, then Tweek, then Stan and me. The gust of cool air hits me as the bus chugs off to its next stop. We all turn our separate ways: Cartman and Kenny heading one way, Tweek and Butters heading another, leaving Stan and me standing at the bus stop.

I began walking towards my street, soon hearing his footsteps beside mine. The crunches of the thin layer of ice under our shoes sounded almost cinematic. I turned to look at Stan who was shivering. In the bitter winds of February South Park weather, Stan had left his jacket unbuttoned.

"You look a little cold." I send a friendly smirk Stan's way.

Stan just laughs, "I'm freezing my ass off."

"Then button up your coat!"

He just gives me a cheeky grin and shoves his hands farther into his pockets, and continues walking.

I hasten my pace to catch up to him, reaching out to grab ahold of his jacket. Stan picks up his pace as well, his chuckle ringing through the air. We ran like this for a while, laughing as we did so. Eventually I caught up to Stan, grabbing ahold of his shoulders, turning him around to face me.

"Common dude, you're practically frozen." I reached over and began to button his brown coat. The smooth buttons and thick fabric passed through my fingers, cold to the touch. After finishing the process, I pat Stan on the shoulder. "There you go. You're welcome."

"Thank you.” He mutters, quiet enough I jist barely caught it. “Geez, it's like you're my mom or something." Stan rolls his eyes at me.

"Ew, no, don't say that!"

"You know what, I think you look a little cold too." Stan reaches over and yanks my hood over my head; it just barely reaches my eyes.

I frantically fix my hood back up. "Dude!" I muster out through my laughter.

We continue our walking, now reaching closer and closer to my house. No snow had fallen the entire walk over, it was just cool dry winter air. Soft whooshes of wind filled the atmosphere between us.

"Did you see Craig got a stick and poke? Man's got some willpower." Stan's voice spoke out into the peaceful ambience.

"Oh! Really? What is it?"

"Yeah, it's a planet; pretty much two little circles."

"So... It's Saturn?"

"Or some other ringed planet."

"You can just say I'm right."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

I feigned as though I was in thought before responding "Yeah. Yeah, I would."

Stan and I share a laugh.

We reach my front door and after unlocking it, I enter and Stan follows. The door shuts behind us with a 'click' and we venture to the living room after we throw our shoes down at the entrance. Coming from the kitchen, I hear some footsteps, and then my mom's voice.

"Boys, is that you?" Her voice clears the whole house at this point.

"Yeah, Mom, it's us."

My mom strolls into the living room with a wide smile across her face. 'Hello, dears. How were your days?"

"My day was okay, Mrs. Broflovski!"

"Pretty fine. We got assigned a project today, my group is going to meet at Butters' at 4. Is that alright with you?" I sling my backpack off my shoulders and onto the couch.

"Of course, bubby! But on Tuesdays we normally take Stanley home after supper. Are you fine with going home early today?"

I inwardly grimace. "Oh crap, I completely forgot about that. Sorry man."

"I don't really want to go home early. Is there a way I can come to Butters's with you?"

"Sure, I'll ask him right now." I pull out my phone, shooting Butters a text. In a few short seconds, I receive a response. "He said he'll ask his parents but it should be fine."

"Alright, boys," my mom checks her watch, "I'll take you to the Stotch's in about 45 minutes. Why do you two go grab a snack from the kitchen? I'll be finishing off some work on my computer if you need me."

It wasn't long until time had passed. We'd eaten a snack and just talked about anything we could think of.

We pile into my mom's van and buckle up. She sat in the front. I'd moved to the back to sit with Stan. Our bags were placed on the floor of the car in the middle of our seats.

The engine starts with the twist of it's keys. "You can go ahead and text Leopold that we're on the way. He does know Stanley is coming, right?"

I reach in my pocket for my phone. "Yes mom, he does."

"Alright, lovey, just checking."

I text Butters letting him know we're on the way and he responds with a simple thumbs up. After setting my phone down, I look over at Stan. He sat silently, just staring out the window as the pine tree lined sidewalks passed. I bit the inside of my cheek and I turned my head back.

With each bump and curve in the road, the van made a sort of squealing sound. I could never really tell if it was something to do with the tires or engine. All the same, the noises cut through the silence of the ride.

I open my mouth with a smack, only to ponder on my words for a moment. I turn to meet Stan's eyes and ask "Did you want to help with our project or..?" I drift off, hoping he picks up my sentence.

"Nah, I'll probably just work on my own homework. I'll try not to annoy you guys." A soft laugh escapes from his lips, I return it with a smile.

"Right right, you'd have to try pretty hard though. Are you sure you got it in you?" Raising an eyebrow, I sent him a smirk.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, "You're right, is it too late to go back and stay at your place?"

My mother, clearly amused, speaks up. "Oh you two. We are on Leopold's street, but if you insist." She then pretends to turn the wheel back.

Once we make eye contact, Stan and I look at each other and start laughing.

The wheels crunch into the iced curb of Butters’ driveway.

"Alright boys. Here's your stop. Should I swing by to pick you up at 7?"

"Nah, I think Clyde can drive us home."

"Thank you though!"

We step out of the car, our shoes crunch onto the ice and snow covering Butters' driveway.

"Alright. Bye Stanley! Bye, Kyle. Love you, bubby."

"Love you too, mom."

"Bye, Mrs. Broflovski."

My mothers car pulls out of the driveway, I turn to look at Stan. "Why do you always try to impress my mom?"

"I do not! It's called being polite."

I let out a snort and Stan gives me a look, rolling his eyes. We walk up to the door and I press the doorbell. I can hear it ring from the other end and a pair of footsteps almost rushing to the door. Locks click and the door slides open, to reveal the one person I never expected to see.

"Goddamn it, Cartman. What are you doing here?"

Clearly displeased with my reaction, Cartman leans into the doorframe, eyes narrowing. "I could ask you the same, Jewboy."

"That stopped being funny the very first time you said it."

Stan cut in, clearly not in the mood. "Let us in, it's freezing out here."

"And if I don't?"

Over his shoulder, I can see Butters walking towards the doorway. Saved by the bell.

"Hey fellas! Come on in." His smile is wide as he ushers us in.

With this invitation, we push past Cartman and take our shoes off at the door. I place my brown boots next to the snow covered shoes that are Stan's sneakers. Cartman had already wandered off to Butters' kitchen, so I closed the front door he'd left wide open.

"Clyde and Ken are already upstairs. And I think Cartman went to the pantry to get more snacks."

Stan and I glance at each other. "Ken?"

Butters face flushes. "Oh yeah. Kenny."

"It's all good, I just forgot you called him that."

“It's not a first.. Is it?”

Stan shrugs, “No, I don't think so. I just don't think we've… Talked in a while.”

“Ah, alright.” Butters sways on his feet back and forth as a moment of silence passes. Suddenly perking up, he claps his hands together. I, admittedly, jump a little. “So, we can work on the project in the loft. Like I said: feel free to grab a snack if you'd like.”

“That's alright, we ate beforehand.” I say. “Thank you though.”

Butters looks over to Stan. “Uhm, you can do your homework wherever you'd want; the living room, the basement, the kitchen table.”

“Can I work in your room?” Stan asks, Butters thinks on that for a second. “You do have a desk, don't you?”

“Yeah I do! If you'd prefer that, you can! Just, let me tidy up really quickly.” Butters rushes upstairs, leaving me and Stan alone. We look around us, I take note of the changes.

Walking over to a photo frame and examining it, I take note of the dust on the edges. "It's been so long since we've visited Butters' house."

Stan wanders around aimlessly, backpack still slung on his shoulder. "I mean he was kind of.. Weird. And still is. I don't think he has many friends."

"Yeah… It makes me sad. I think Kenny's his only real friend, and even then I dont get why Kenny hangs out with him. They've got nothing in common." I walk around the back of the couch, sitting down on one of the soft cushions.

"I haven't talked to Kenny as much as I used to but I honestly can't tell if he genuinely likes him or just sticks around him because he feels bad." Stan reaches his arms up, stretching. He lets out a yawn as he does so, his shirt pulling up at his stomach. Our eyes meet. "It's just for this project. We won't have to be here for long anyways."

I press my lips together in a tight line. I hear a stumble of footsteps and see Butters' head peeking over the railing of the stairway. "I'm so sorry about that, guys. You can come on up now!"

Stan and I look at eachother once more, shrugging, and begin our way to the upstairs of the Stotch residence.

----- end of chapter

< previous ~ next >

[fuckedupwizard]

putting my response under a cut bc it got long sorry

hi sorry for a somewhat late response and for jumping on this post in the first place! however i'll admit that i'm not very familiar with sv tumblr and i've never been to "danmei-confessions" so i have no idea what the sj fans on here are like, but i had a kneejerk reaction to this bc as someone in the 'twitter sj stan' circle i really dislike blanket statements about what sj stans are like and the assumption that we all excuse his bad behaviours or whatever? my personal experience has been the opposite - myself and every other sj stan i know (imo, the vast majority) are well aware that he Did Child Abuse but we're kind of tired of feeling like we have to preempt posts about him with some kind of "disclaimer i know about the child abuse and that it was bad" in order to justify liking this fictional man?

like my experience with other sj stans is generally that we're all chill people who want to vibe and don't bother the other corners of the fandom even if we're not big into the main ship - like i have a lot of bingqiu fan mutuals even though the book is just like. The Qijiu Novel to me at this point. however me and my mutuals have been subjected to

a) his tag being filled up with garbage/general character hate/discourse along the lines of "he's irredeemably evil (but binghe isn't)". which... i know nobody "owns" the shen jiu tag but it's still kind of unpleasant to see and happens WAY more with him than any other sv character,

b) our posts being replied to or qrt'd with something along the lines of "why do people like him, he's a child abuser" and "[x character] would NEVER like shen jiu, no one gaf about him" on ship posts, and this weird constant comparison between him and shen yuan? i remember one person literally saying they were bitter that some people like shen jiu more bc shen yuan has "all his interesting qualities" without the child abuse as if they're not drastically different people, and made it hard for me to like shen yuan until i literally took a break from twitter and went back and reread the novel to familiarise myself with him and not just associate him with being harassed online by fans (i guess kind of ironic). there was also a sj server that i wasn't in but someone joined just to send lots of gore pics?

c) just general assumptions made about us and what we believe and how we view child abuse and shen jiu. like, because i consider myself to have a nuanced view on shen jiu and believe that while he was a bad person it was not an "inherent quality" in him (i don't believe in inherent badness anyway lol) and that he deserved better (i don't mean from mxtx, i mean when we talk about these characters as if they're real people) while still not being justified in his abuse of binghe, i can't vibe with much of wider fandom bc it's like. unless i write him off as "guy who sucked and was 100% happy about sucking" when his character is way more nuanced than that, i'm woobifying him or something.

d) the assumption that we're child abuse apologists while many of these same people engage in abuse apologism themselves? i've seen it argued that bc sj was "rotten/manipulative" as a child beggar and later grows up to be an abuser he deserves no sympathy even as an abused child, that his own abuse wasn't that bad, and there's a lot of weird denial of qiu jianluo's predatory nature towards him (for the record i don't think sj was raped but i think he was sexually abused in that qjl was getting off on his treatment and sj knew it) which i don't think would be handwaved away if it was binghe or shen yuan receiving said treatment. i've also seen it said that sj fans want to believe he was sexually abused bc that makes him more of a victim than binghe, something i have never heard a single sj fan say in my whole life and definitely don't believe myself (i don't think child abuse cases should be compared like that).

anyway sorry for writing you an essay i just felt so tired as a SJ stan who just wants to vibe seeing another post about how we all excuse his crimes and think he was an innocent baby since i've seen this stuff lead to real harassment of SJ fans who at the end of the day are real people.

It's so funny how SJ stans are like "nonono you don't get it actually LBH was in love with SJ no wait LBH also deserved the lifelong childhood trauma. SJ sensed the evil SJ didn't KNOW the manual was fake—".

And SY stans are like "I need this man PREGNANT by YESTERDAY outta my way Luo Bingay I'm about to fuck your wife through the fourth wall go sit inside the cuckcage."

Diametrically opposite priorities

[granolybary]

i can safely state that i can't see how allison hargreeves can be redeemed at least for me. pushing aside her easy dismissal of viktor's bond with harlen (despite the fact that her entire breakdown surrounded having to leave her family from the 60's but i guess that doesn't matter for SHIT when it's other people), and the fact that she acts like harlan's actions led to claire not existing (despite the abysmal chance of her being born even with allison's mom not dying), and that she has this mentality that she suffered worse than her siblings (don't even get me started 🙄), but honestly it was her sexual assault on luther and how the fandom has just easily dismissed it. what's even worse is that she sexually assaulted him by making him believe he wanted it, so there was literally no way it could actually fight back in anyway, physically or mentally. there's something inherently more disgusting about that. in the other seasons, the show balanced having the hargreaves act morally wrong and at times unlikable but still not entirely irredeemable (such as my annoyance towards s1 luther and viktor) and they did get more likable. but i can barely stand the scenes she's in because that gross ass scene keeps flashing in my mind, and her behavior is just so obnoxious ESPECIALLY TOWARDS HARLAN. HARLAN IS LITERALLY THE ONLY AUTISTIC REPRESENTATION I'VE SEEN IN TV AND SHE ACTS SO GROSS AND BITTER TOWARDS HIM FOR HIS "UNPLEASANT" PERSONALITY.

yeah, people are comparing this allison to wanda (i don't even like wanda) but at least wanda didn't sexually assault someone. allisons stans (by this i mean people who justify her actions NOT anyone who finds her arc interesting) dni. being in any proximity to ur dumbasses is bad for my heath (my doctor told me) 😀😀😀😀😀😀