#I have a problem of opening up to people but he was the person who managed to get me to open up the most

[fictionismyreality3]

Not Going Anywhere

Warnings: romance and every that comes with it, SMUT SMUTTY SMUT, daddy kink

Notes: you know who you are babes 💕💖

Your initial meeting with John Price had been embarrasing. A broken heel and a sewer grate in front of a military base didn't exactly make the best combination. But he had been a gentleman.

The offending shoe had been rescued and you left with a number and a new contact in your phone, one that he'd insisted on creating himself. One date turned to two, and soon you found yourself moving in with him months later. Domestic bliss was a good way to put it.

Still, even after 8 months, there was a lingering voice in the back of your head. Bitter, cruel, it spoke to you in whispers as you laid in bed, watching John’s sleeping face. It churned in the back of your mind, stirring that old, sour feeling you'd tried to contain in the corner of your brain. No matter how many times John consoled you, murmuring praises in your ear, worshipping your soft heart and soft body, the scab on your old insecurities remained.

And you couldn't help but pick at it.

Call it self-sabotage, but you curled in on yourself anytime you saw what you thought was a better, prettier version of you. Despite the glares John would send to the bubbly young waitresses who batted their eyes at him, you couldn't help but wonder why his arm was around you. Why did he stay with you?

He saw the doubt in your eyes, but he loved you. And he would prove it over and over again.

“Luv, I tell you every time. Get whatever y’want.”

Staring down at the menu, your eyes darted from the salad to the bacon slathered burger you wanted to order. The perky waitress stared down at you, an impatient grin plastered on her face. She twirled her hair, eying John while she kept tap, tap, tapping her stupid pen on her note pad.

"I'd like a-"

"We have really great salads, you know."

Fucking bitch.

"No, I think I'll take the-" The blonde ignored you as you opened your mouth, chattering on. "Just cause, you know.. you look like you could use it." She smiled.

John's gaze flickered up at that, a glower on his face. Suddenly, the menu was no longer very interesting.

"She'll have the fuckin' burger." The waitress paled, his harsh tone standing out in the air of the fancy restaurant.

"You'd know tha' if you actually let her fuckin' speak."

John saw it in the way that you carried yourself. The tight-lipped smile that you so often wore, expecting to fade into the shadows, unseen and unobserved. So he made sure to keep you in his sights at all times.

He was used to having eyes on him, year after year being the one people looked up to, the person people sought out if there was a problem. He was used to being seen. And he was comfortable with it, more comfortable than you could ever be. John saw the way you shrank yourself, wanting to rip his hair out any time somebody made you feel smaller. You were something made to be worshipped. People would be singing praises and scraping their knees in reverence if he had any say.

But you'd kill him if he put you in the spotlight.

The jangling of the doorknob had his head snapping up. Almost dropping the dishtowel he was holding into the frying pan, he scrambled over to the door.

His cock stirred in his pants at the sight of you. Messy hair, messy eyes, messy face. Your water bottle, keys, wallet, and scrunchie all held precariously in one had. God, he could forget the whole dinner and just take you then and there in the hallway of your apartment building. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd tried. Huffing out a breath, the thought was shaken from his head. Later.

Later.

"John?" The cute, bashful grin he was sporting let you know he was up to no good. "What's going on?"

Purse taken and set aside, your coat followed suit as his large hands guided you by the hips into the living room. Flickering candlelight painted the walls, a spread straight out of a Martha Stewart catalogue decorated the table.

"Thought I'd give you a little suprise, luv."

John held his breath. Was it too much? Should he have gotten a strawberry cake instead of chocolate? Did you still like red wine? Maybe it was too much. He could put it all away and just set up a movie. He could-

"You did all this for me?"

"I.. yeah, luvie." Your voice cracking had his heart squeezing in alarm, but the curl of your lip made him feel a little better about putting a foot wrong. "Is.. s'that okay?" Tentative. Unsure of himself for the first time in his life. He would let you take the lead, decide how much of yourself you wanted to bare to him.

"It's perfect, John." Cracked hearts sewn together. "It's perfect."

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

"Tha's it." John crooned. "Cum f'me one more time, birdie."

He'd said just one more two orgasms ago. Tumbling into bed had been a very good, and bad idea. Now he was splitting you open with his fingers, scissoring them inside of you with an expert touch. The sheets had long been soaked with your sweetness, the sight of you breathless and drooling permanently ingrained in John's brain.

Curling his thick fingers to hit that delicious spot that had you squealing, John revelled in the sounds you were making, groaning out his own pleasure as he watched you fall apart all over again.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Vaguely, in some all too cognizant part of your mind, you recall begging John to let you take care of him. The plea had been shot down so fast you wondered if you'd gotten a syllable out before he was nose deep in your pussy, eating you out like his very life depended on it. That seemed like forever ago.

"Where y'goin, hmm, sweet girl?" You blinked up at John, trying to focus through the searing pleasure. "You still with me?"

"Yeah."

Taking that as confirmation enough, Price wrapped his hands around the softness of your thighs, lifting them up and pressing them back so your knees were beside your ears. His eyes softened, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking just under the curls of your eyelashes.

"Gonna make y'feel good now, okay, little one?"

Slowly, torturously, John split you open with his cock. Inch by inch, he bullied his way in, your walls clenching and fluttering around him like you were made to take his girth. Hushing your hissed whimpers, his lips left a lingering kiss to your forehead. And then he was pitching foreward without warning.

"J-John-"

All of him, right to the back of you so you could feel him in your throat. His eyes were glued to where your already cutely plush stomach rounded from the size of him. Pupils blown out, he reached down to touched where your tummy bulged with each thrust. Rushing into his head like a runaway train, the thought of making you plump and round with his baby had his hips stuttering.

'No, not John, sweetie." Heavy balls slapped your skin, John leaning foreward you nip at your neck. "Y'know my name."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Daddy, p-please."

"Gonna make you a mama, huh?" A rough finger circled your clit.

"Gonna fill you up nice an' round with my kids." His head was spinnning.

"Fuckin' breed you-" John's cock twitched inside of you, his jaw hanging open as he panted in your ear.

"Cum in me." You squealed. "Cum in me, daddy! Please-"

Snap.

Growling out a curse, John's cock slammed into you with a pace so brutal, so deep you thought you might just pass out. His hands pushed your thighs down further, streching you, molding you into the perfect position to take his cum.

"Cum on this cock, baby." The blooming heat in your cunt grew to an inferno. "Cum 'round daddy's cock."

His hand tangled in your hair as you pulsed around him, screaming and twitching as he worked you through the most mind-melting orgasm of your life. Toes curling, your eyes rolled back and you squirted all over his abs, wetness coating him like a permanent brand. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix, cum pumping into your pretty pussy.

Breathless as he pulled you to his chest, he knew he would do anything to keep you like this. Safe. Sure. There would never be a day where you were worrying about being secure in your life, in yourself, not if he could make sure of it.

[xxacidnekoxx]

I'm so happy that Pega is known as a boy now.... And that he has a character gimmick.... (The gimmick being that he dies a lot) I created him when I was a girl and didn't know my personality completely yet and I made comics about him that was usually him just struggling with being a girl and it was really funny at the time but looking back on it breaks my heart .. and people loved him back then too but it was ... In a different way... And I didn't know how to properly set up boundaries with my fans so I got trampled by my fans a lot and even did things I didn't want to because when I received threats I got scared,,, like now days if people tried to pull that shit on me I would make a bigger deal out of it but back then I really kept my problems to myself... Someone once told me if I didn't do their horny commission idea for them and post it to main they will spread rumors about me everywhere and I as an autistic person in his early 20s who was couch surfing didn't have a family or a support network I really just did anything to keep myself safe.. but I wish that I was more open about the problems I was having.. because now days I realize the world isn't against me and there are kind people everywhere who are understanding .. now I just really want to go back and hug my past self

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Spinning the Block Part 1

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Officer Jessica "Jess" Sims

Warning(s): 18+, Angst, Mentions of Racial Tension.

Summary: Jess Sims attempts to pay her respects.

Word count: 3.2K

"Turned into an inconvenience

You only want me when convenient

I know that I could probably block you

But for some reason, I wanna see you

And you know I give a damn about you

You got me sittin' here thinkin' about you

And how your name triggers all my emotions

Into my eyes, into an ocean"

Normani – "Insomnia"

Jessica Sims knew in her heart she had no right to be at Michael Simmons' mother's house.

She'd driven an hour from Shelby Springs into Greenwood carrying a homemade lemon pound cake in the passenger side of her slate gray Dodge Durango. Her mother's recipe had her SUV smelling like fresh butter, sugar, and citrus.

The closer she got to the neighboring town, the tighter her fingers gripped the steering wheel, worrying if she'd see Terry Richmond again. He'd been on her mind for weeks…haunting her. She lost sleep and her nerves were so bad she had to get a prescription for sleeping pills just to function daily. Jess tried every home remedy from chamomile tea to a glass of warm milk before bed to fight insomnia.

Nothing worked.

Each night she crawled between cool sheets and stared at her bedroom ceiling, wishing things were different. Wishing she'd done things differently. Terry's smoldering sea-green eyes always came into focus, taunting her, preventing much needed rest.

When he walked into her police station to file a robbery complaint, she'd believed her department ran a tight ship. Her training had taught her to be fair but firm in following the law by the books. Chief Sandy Burnne had been her mentor, the one who recruited her straight from the police academy. She planned her law enforcement career while in college, joining the police academy a year after graduation. Her family wasn't too keen on the idea, preferring she use the hard-earned sociology degree to get a regular job and start a family like her older brothers. Jess had other plans. She wanted to be the first Black female police chief in Shelby Springs.

Wielding a badge and a gun allowed her to protect her own community. She had a certain charmed way of speaking to people that let them know not to test her, but that she'd hear them out with their problems whether they were in the wrong or right. Her excellent reputation around those parts gave her access to places that would unnerve the average person. She grew up a tomboy running around hunting with her father and brothers, physically fighting anyone who crossed her. She abhorred a bully, and that caused her problems with some of her colleagues that used their badge to sling their dicks around. Jess didn't go along to get along, but she picked her battles carefully to achieve her long-term goal: to run the department herself one day.

Men tested her all the time, and she did her job ignoring the micro and macro aggressions. Chief Burnne always had her back despite the cracker ways he tried to keep under wraps. He came from an era of uneducated Cajun rednecks filling up the department. Nowadays, there were more cops coming onto the force with education, melanin, and sometimes a vagina. A lot of old-school men didn't like that. Chief Burnne didn't either, but he accepted her and showed Jess respect when she did her job well. She impressed him, and he took her under his wing. She never revealed her goals to have his job in the future. Staying quiet, observant, and efficient worked to her advantage. Chief Burnne opened up more that way, spilling his tips on how to handle the job and people his way.

That is…until Terry Richmond showed up.

Jess misread his intentions from the start.

The second he strode into the office, she sensed a cockiness in him that smoldered beneath the surface. Most Black men in Shelby Springs were older and paunchy from a sedentary lifestyle and good Country Cookin', or lean youngsters with hustler's dreams of getting away from small town life. Terry was built strong and muscular, like a brick shithouse. He carried himself different. Spoke with controlled diction. He was a country boy for sure, but one that didn't work around Shelby Springs. She would've noticed his striking looks at the bars or cookouts broadcasting that he was living mighty fine. Employment was good with the new petrochemical plant ten miles away, and the Black community she lived in thrived with folks making good money, something that hadn't happened in over thirty years. Black folks, especially the men, being flush with cash and a pride about themselves irritated the white community. Negroes were acting a little too uppity lately. Buying new cars and scooping up property. Getting their homes built from scratch. Purchasing big fishing boats to use on Lake Tremblay. Sending their kids to college.

Tensions erupted in bars, public gatherings, and even football games at the local high school whenever white and Black people mingled in the same spaces. That's where Jess worked her magic. If she caught word of trouble brewing, she'd make a phone call to family and friends, giving a warning about police sweeps and rednecks making a commotion. The community grapevine activated and her people acted accordingly to stay far from trouble.

When it was her time to do patrols, Jess stayed visible in the white areas a lot. Her paternal great-granddaddy Adelore Seraphin was a fiery white Cajun who never married her great-grandmother, so she never gave their only child, Jess's granddaddy, his surname. The Sims family were proud Black Cajuns who turned their nose up at white trash. Adelore was considered trash because he wouldn't divorce his wife to marry Zema Sims. There was something about her Paw Paw's wife not giving him a divorce on account of them being Catholic. Granny Zema was an African Methodist and didn't give a damn about what Catholics thought about divorce. Paw Paw left that white lady and built Granny Zema a house to show that he was for real about building a life and family with her. So that's what they did. The white wife kept the marriage title, but Granny Zema kept the man.

It was a scandal, and as far as her Paw Paw was concerned, his only issue was that he didn't want that other woman to get part of his pension. She never did because she died before him, a bitter alcoholic, still screaming about the Black bitch that stole her husband. Technically, Granny Zema didn't steal him. She had him first, but back in their time, they couldn't get married because of miscegenation laws. So they broke up and Paw Paw married the white woman…and lived miserably. He started tipping out and one thing led to another. Jess's granddaddy, Hebert Sims, was born.

Jess's connection to Adelore Seraphin meant she had white Cajun relatives all up and down Shelby Springs. The kin on that side, who knew the family tree had an extra dark branch, tolerated Jess when she made patrols or answered calls of domestic disturbances in that section of town. Nothing on her screamed Seraphin except for her eyes. She had Paw Paw's discerning eyes. So did her daddy. She moved in the world like a Sims, but them pale kinfolk recognized her as the great-granddaughter of that trouble-making Seraphin behind her back. That gave Jess intimate knowledge of how outsiders perceived the proud, flourishing Black community. Trouble.

So when Terry Richmond rode his fine ass into Shelby Springs, he was already a problem before Lann clipped him with the police cruiser.

When he sat down in front of her while she typed in his descriptions of who robbed him, his tone was confident. His demeanor crafty. She was shocked that he recorded their conversation, equally shocked by Chief Burnne's sudden aggression toward him. Lann was an asshole to everyone, overcompensating for some deep-rooted male insecurity. Her first thought was that the Chief might've known something about Terry that she didn't, and she expected to be filled in on the matter. Drug couriers were a thing within small towns, and it wasn't above suspicion that drug runners would use a decoy disguise to pretend they were regular citizens going about their day. She went back and forth in her mind about Terry's reason for carrying so much cash in a backpack on a bike. It looked and sounded suspicious, especially with the drug busts they'd done a few months previously on the bridge during a police chase. She had picked up her own distant white kin at his house, the run-down place full of meth and illegal fentanyl. Opioid use was up. Drug dealers were racking up millions transporting that cash economy and product across state lines in Louisiana grew. Chief Burnne's own nephew had died of a drug overdose ten years ago, so anything that had a whiff of drug activity got his hackles up.

That was the hard line story they fed Jess for five years as she accepted civil forfeitures as a necessary part of police work. Portions of white and Black men from Shelby Springs and other bordering towns thrived in the drug trade. Sex trafficking, too. Her department prided itself on breaking the supply chain.

It had all been a lie.

Chief Burnne's lie. His department…his rules.

Jess had been inadvertently complicit.

A rule follower, and a staunch believer in the church of right and wrong, she turned a blind eye to activity that should've raised suspicions. Instead, she quietly looked out for her people on the domestic front, dousing potential flames of racist attacks, especially with all the MAGA crowd flaunting their bigotry and jealousy. Jess was more worried about racist attacks happening. Red necks were openly riding around in trucks carrying lynching ropes with right-wing slogans for bumper stickers. The south was always going to be the south, and America was always going to be America…the United Racists of America.

Jess literally couldn't be bothered if suspicious men passing through town carrying ridiculous amounts of cash got hemmed up. She damn well wouldn't coddle grown ass Black men if they got busted for doing crimes. Her daddy instilled in her a strong bullshit detector for her dealings with that.

"Sweetheart, Black men have to decide for themselves if they want to do right in the world. Black women can't keep the cape on forever, or come running with mops and brooms to clean up their messes. If Black women can get up every day and build up their community in the same terrible conditions as us, then they gotta stop babying these men who tear it down. There's no excuse for a Black man not wanting better for himself or his people. We done come too damn far to be the new terrorists against our own women and children."

Jess listened well. Applied it to Terry.

Something in her gut knew something wasn't right, but she didn't want to put herself out for some stranger who might've been tearing people's lives apart transporting thirty-six thousand dollars in cash. Black people always suffered the most with drug addiction and drug crime because of generational poverty and the predators who took advantage of that. Terry could've been lying to cover his ass for a drug cartel. She didn't know him, didn't know who his people were. He came into her life that day and turned it upside down. The only silver lining she clung to in the end was that she saved his life twice. Once when Officer McGill almost blasted him with a rifle when Terry dragged Marston behind a cruiser to safety. Jess slammed her hand on the weapon. McGill looked shell-shocked by the turn of events. She felt the same. Her boss had shot a fellow officer and made a speech to them all about how he would cover it up. If Chief Burnne harmed a white man that easily, he wouldn't blink twice before taking her out. The second time was when she carried out a PIT maneuver and knocked Burnne away from Terry, providing his last escape. The death of his cousin and the treatment he received in Shelby Springs were irredeemable. All she hoped for was peace in her own mind that she acted on the right side of judgement.

Jess followed her SUV's navigation system and pulled onto a street full of cars parked everywhere. She passed by Rosa Simmons' single family brick house with a large manicured lawn. Mourners milled about the front and the entrance door was wide open. After all the legal and medical inquiries, along with the criminal investigation, it took the Simmons' family three weeks to get Mike's body returned for burial.

She parked two blocks away and smoothed out her most subdued black sheath dress. It was plain and appropriate for the occasion. She carried the pound cake in a round Tupperware container and listened to her kitten heels click-clack on the narrow sidewalk. Her stomach churned, nearing the home.

"Hi..hello…hiya doin'?" she said, passing people she didn't know on the walkway to the house.

Heads nodded at her with sorrowful eyes and stooped body postures. The atmosphere inside the modest home was thick with heartache. Jess contemplated doing a pivot right back outside, but an older woman in her fifties with short-clipped hair sitting on a recliner noticed her.

Mike's mother, Rosa.

"My condolences, Mrs. Simmons," Jess whispered.

She didn't want to bring attention to herself and stepped forward, past a throng of people carrying plates of sliced ham, potato salad, and baked beans.

"Thank you for coming…oh you brought something, how thoughtful."

Rosa stood up.

"I can take that," Rosa said.

"Ma'am, I can put it with the other food."

"Mm-hmm, yes, the dining room table is right back there. Did you go to school with my Michael?"

"No, ma'am. I knew him from somewhere else. I'll put this away."

"Okay, baby. Fix yourself a plate while you're in there."

"Thank you."

Jess's eyes darted away and took in the other mourners. Her heart thumped a triple rhythm. It was best to put the cake on a table and leave. The stress of feeling like a traitor to her own wore on her nerves.

Delicious odors of soul food guided her nose to the dining room. The dining table could've buckled under the weight of so much food. Folks old and young helped themselves to fried chicken, crawfish, turnip greens, gooey macaroni and cheese, and a pot filled with smoked chiltlins.

She pushed a crock pot of brown gravy aside to make room for her cake next to a half-eaten sweet potato pie.

"Who let this woman in here?!"

A light brown woman with soft, shoulder-length curls glared at Jess, her lips curled into an angry snarl. Everyone looked at Jess curiously, wondering what was going on.

"Mama! Who let this dirty cop into our house?"

Rosa rushed into the dining room. Jess held out her hands.

"I just wanted to give my condolences—"

"You're the reason my brother is dead! Who let her in? Who?!" Mike's sister screamed.

The anguish in her voice brought tears to Jess's eyes.

"I'm sorry…everyone, I'm sorry…Mrs. Simmons…"

In her peripheral, Jess noticed Terry coming from a back room wearing a dark suit. She ran away as fast as her kitten heels could carry her. She knocked into people and brushed past other family members on her way out the door.

"Jess!"

Terry's deep baritone called to her, and she pumped her legs faster. Reaching the car, she fumbled for her key fob and unlocked the SUV. She jumped in and Terry banged on her window.

"I'm sorry I came. I didn't mean to upset your family," she said, starting her vehicle.

"Roll down your window."

His commanding eyes stared right through her. She rolled her window down partially. Wiping tears away from her cheeks, she faced her front window, unable to look at him.

"I know it wasn't easy for you to come here."

She shook her head, and a violent sob choked her throat.

"Listen…give me your number. I'd like to speak with you about all of this… at a better time—"

"No…this was a mistake…I'm sorry…I have to go—"

"Fucking bitch!"

Mike's sister threw Jess's cake on the car. The Tupperware container burst open and the pound cake crumbled all over the hood.

"Livia! Stop!"

Terry walked toward his cousin, and she ran from him toward the sidewalk. Other family members had followed them to watch the scene. Jess's stomach sank to the floor of her car.

"You did this to Mike! You goddamn greedy cops sent my brother to die and I fucking hate you! Get outta here, you murdering bitch!"

Livia picked up a heavy rock and threw it at the passenger side window, fracturing the tempered glass. Terry lifted his cousin up by the waist and carried her away. Jess drove off quickly. Cake crumbs fell away from her hood and she screeched her tires with a hasty exit.

She didn't hold back on crying, allowing her tears to wash away the shame and embarrassment.

Back in Shelby Springs, she paced the floors inside her house, drinking whiskey, and pondering her fate. Mike's burial was only the start of her troubles. Next came a lawsuit Terry filed against her department. It would probably finally bankrupt them like the last legal settlement they paid almost did. With the dashcam evidence, plus her, Summer, and Marston's testimony, Terry was sure to win a large payout. Her career was in jeopardy, and their department possibly disbanded.

She downed a half glass of Uncle Nearest whiskey and looked at her black dress. The audacity of her showing up in Greenwood thinking she could dip in and out without consequences.

Jess had to face her part in Terry's life being traumatized forever. Losing her job was a small price to pay for his lifetime of pain.

She leaned her head against her living room window in the dark and watched a swarm of fireflies do a light dance outside. Her grandfather used to say seeing fireflies brought good luck. Jess desperately needed that to be true.

Crawling into bed with her dress still on, Jess stared at her ceiling again, semi-drunk and all cried out. She thought about Terry calling out her name and running after her. He didn't sound mean or angry when he spoke to her briefly. Asking for her number surprised Jess, because…why? What could they talk about that would fix the wide valley between them? Maybe he wanted to yell at her too, get his justified anger off his chest. She deserved it.

Jess curled into the fetal position and thought of Terry. Even in mourning, he looked handsome in his suit. For the first time in weeks, she fell into a deep sleep without having to use medication.

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[lefaystrent]

Virgil passes by Roman's open bedroom door.

When nothing happens, he passes by again.

On the third try, he sighs and walks in.

"Okay, what gives?" Virgil demands.

Roman raises his head from where he lays on his massive bed. "Hm? Pardon?"

Frowning, Virgil elaborates, "You didn't holler at me when I walked by your room. You always call out to people when your door is open. You're too needy not to."

"First off, rude."

"I'm not wrong."

"Second off! Leave me alone, I'm busy."

"You're not busy. You're just laying there."

Roman huffs and flaps his hands against the blankets, making light thwacking noises of derision. "If you must know, I am cloud watching, Insufferable Hulk."

"Huh, you just can't be bothered to look out a window, can you?"

Virgil glances up at the ceiling, planning to make an obvious show that ceilings don't have clouds.

Except there are actually clouds there. A butt load of clouds cut out of paper and taped to the ceiling.

Roman points a sword at him. Where he pulls it from, Virgil is unaware, but Roman doesn't bother sitting up so he's pretty sure it's an empty threat. "For your information, there is nary a cloud in the sky outside today, so my perfectly precious Patton took it upon himself and gifted me the ability to gaze upon clouds whenever I wish."

"Patton did all that?"

"I know, isn't he the sweetest?" Roman has returned to looking up at the ceiling wistfully. He hugs the sword to his chest. Virgil fights the urge to mother-hen him about the dangers of sharp objects close to vital regions.

Instead, Virgil contemplates acts of romance and how a simple silly gesture can reduce a man to grinning like a loon. If Virgil waits long enough, he'll probably see little cartoon hearts start floating in the air.

Virgil ducks out of the room to leave Roman to his pining. His mind inevitably goes to the subject of his own affections...

Later, Virgil chills in the livingroom with Roman and Patton. Mostly he's enjoying being a one-man audience to the two of them dancing around each other, obviously flirting but both of them too oblivious to take that final leap. Really makes a dude wanna scream.

Hurried steps come down the stairs. Virgil looks up to see Logan with the most pinched expression.

"Who placed glow-in-the-dark star stickers on my bedroom ceiling?" he asks.

Patton and Roman stop. Virgil's face remains neutral, but he almost breaks when Roman immediately looks to him in an epiphany moment.

"Uh, did you do it?" Patton asks with a cute head tilt.

Logan huffs, "Why would I ask if I knew the answer?"

"I thought it might be a trick question."

"Do I strike you as a tricky person, Patton?"

"...is this a trick question?"

As they squabble and it becomes increasingly clear that Patton is playing dumb on purpose, Virgil slips away. Roman's eyes watch him knowingly, and Virgil has a terrible suspicion that they're going to end up having a sleepover at Roman's insistence so they can gush about their crushes, but that's a problem for future Virgil.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 1 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4])

so babe, hear me out. we could adopt him. just spitballing here (agatha, probably)

bwahhaha fantasy!billy and his death stare, meanwhile real billy is such a polite baby

if you look closely you can tell Joe Locke is fighting for his life holding down laughter in a lot of his scenes with Katrhyn. he has nerves of steel, couldn't be me

(also, billy telling her she has neither the respect of her peers NOR a fulfilling home life? harsh, but fair.) (at least her wife is trying to fix the home life part)

honey, don't go around kicking grumpy little twinks now! perfectly in character. despite her chaotic exterior, rio is a very lawful person. she is literally the laws of nature!

the Ballad plays faintly in the background when Billy mentions the Road

I love when good actors have to pretend to be bad actors. and I also find it interesting that Agatha cast herself as a good guy. does it make her feel bette? is she telling herself that all the atrocities were justified, that it was only survival instinct? (like rio said, she's only lying to herself)

I had to look up the painting, it's Macbeth meeting the three witches (thank you Reddit!) So Macbeth (Agatha) and Banquo (Billy) meeting Lilia, Jen and Alice?

how did I miss Billy sitting on the chair Rio was just on?! amazing lens choices here too

Wanda's death makes her cry again. I honestly, honestly believe she feels awful about what she did to her. but guilt will never be enough to redeem her - especially because she tends to run away from it.

Wanda's magic was so strong that it took at least four things to undo the spell: Wanda dying, Rio's intervention, Billy's counterspell, and Agatha's willpower. It was a group effort, Agatha could have never done it alone. And despite her scorched earth tactics, there are still two people in her life, rio and billy, willing to help out in her hour of need

it's naughty tiiiime

I still really love the curls

can I say iconique?

it's like someone's about to die at the end of this

bwahahahahaah and oh my GAWD all the case files and boxes, where did she GET that stuff, did she rob a precint, did she make them with the power of arts and crafts

you know what I think? being naked here is a power move. she is being very over the top because she's really uncomfortable, she just woke up and she's in those moments when you stop dreaming and have to relearn what's real and what isn't. she is someone used to calculate and scheme and micromanage every aspect of her life and she is not in control right now. what does Agatha do to reclaim control? she puts on a show. to her, being under the spell was way more like being naked, her insecurities and emotions and past were out in the open for everyone to see. being physically naked could never be nearly as distressing, and this is a nakedness she chose, because it tells people nothing about herself, nothing of what she wants to keep secret and protected. she's got the upper hand, not the other way round

you are all cowards and sheep for not saying Wanda's name, says the lady who would rather hide under a dozen magic layers than face her problems

that is so nice that they brought her groceries actually??? and lol those are the flowers in Agatha's crime scene pictures

that little girl is having a great time

FUCK CLOTHES BUT FUCK THESE CLOTHES SPECIFICALLY!!!!

(wait am I allowed to post butt cheeks? what are the rules right now?)

she turns quiet and emo as soon as she's alone

why doesn't she just - kiss the wiwwle bunny. bury her nose in that big fluffly head. even villains need a cuddle sometimes.

sure, bring señor scratchy. so menacing. that'll show them.

poor boy. trapped in a closet with ralph's bluray collection

aaand I really want to get to the next scene so I'll start on it right away, hopefully it'll be ready later tonight

go to part 4

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

omg hi if ur inbox is open can u give us a short blurb/your thoughts on or some kind of headcanon list for yan tim drake (romantic) bc ur interpretation of him is so yum🤤 i like how you rlly focus on more darker aspects of his character which i dont see a lot of ppl doing unfortunately bc the way he’s a complete FREAK LMFAO🫣🫣

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒…

!!! GN reader, mentally ill Tim, psychotic Tim, just Tim, he’s a problem, manic/depressive episodes, violent tendencies, suicidal tendencies, stalking, kidnapping, obsessive behaviors, gross ways to show affection, slight insinuation of pervy Tim, blood, mutilation, harm to reader mentioned, self-harm, severed body parts, drugging, gaslighting.

YAAAAYYYYYYYYY, TIM DRAKE TIME!!!! This is so long overdue. I’ve been meaning to write for him, but… it just hasn’t happened yet. I hope the ideas will start flowing after I get some of this off my chest. I’ve been harboring so many miscellaneous Tim thoughts for a while.

(Y’all. The CW on this just kept getting longer and longer. My bad.)

First thing’s first, Tim is a fucking mess. There’s no way to know for sure which version of him you’re gonna get each day. Maybe he’s going through a manic episode, coming up with batshit crazy schemes and going on about things that don’t make sense. Maybe he’ll then swing into a depressive fit, where he can’t even bring himself to get up from the floor. Maybe he wakes up completely fine after an hour long nap, regretting whatever initial brash decisions he made. Maybe he quickly turns violent at the sound of knocking at his door. Maybe he wants to claw his own arteries out after trying to maintain a normal social interaction.

The possibilities are endless! Which makes him extremely dangerous.

If you’ve caught the eye of Tim Drake… yikes. Good luck. There’s a chance you don’t even know who he is before he inevitably kidnaps you (completely on a whim, no less). Maybe you’re a total stranger he saw on the street once, captivating him and causing him to spiral into a twisted obsession. While I’ll defend Tim against the fandom allegations until my lungs give out, I’ll admit: they’re on to something when it comes to stalker Tim. Bro definitely has pictures of you covering every square inch of his walls. And, yes, it’s to the point where they overlap each other.

Kidnapping can take anywhere between 3 days and 3 years. During that time, he may try to weasel his way into your life in an attempt to win you over... though we all know how well that would go. As I’ve mentioned before, he may be attractive, but he’s such an off-putting person. Just being around him is enough to give you the creeps. And it doesn’t help he’s completely unaware of how weird some behaviors are. Tim... honey… you can’t shamelessly stare at people with a startling grin like that. I know you’re thinking about how much you want to lick your darling-to-be’s neck, but it’s weird.

Whether he attempts to interact with you or not, one thing’s for sure: he’s stealing your shit. Clothes, toothbrushes, half-eaten food, straws, whatever he can get his hands on. Don’t ask what he does with it. You don’t wanna know. Tim is a neeeaaaasty freak, to the point where even he thinks to himself, “what the fuck is wrong with me” after he calms down from a fit.

Oh, speaking of guilt, Tim is filled with that shit. He may swing from various stages of instability, but there are moments where he’s perfectly fine. And those are the moments where he has to grapple with the consequences of his own actions. Those can range from slightly scaring someone to causing irreversible damage. There have been many times where he snapped out of some episode with blood dribbling down hands and chunks of skin under his fingernails. Who did he hurt? Could be someone else, could be himself, could be you. Who knows!!

Let’s actually get into his suicidal tendencies a bit. His arms and legs are covered in scratches and cuts. Now, this could be explained by his vigilante life, but it gets harder to justify when you get to the bite marks at angles that only make sense if they were self-inflicted. Oh, and also the carvings of your name. He does that a lot. It’s like you’re with him everywhere he goes!! And kind of on the same note, he wants you to have him with you as well!! This could come in the form of strips of skin, vials of blood, toes, an eye, an ear, a spleen… just whatever he’s willing to cut off or out of himself in the moment.

His suicidal tendencies are also connected to those moments of guilt I mentioned before. After calming down and realizing what he’s done, he may harm himself as some sort of penance; especially if he’s done something to you. Depending on how far he spirals from his guilt, he may actually enact “an eye for an eye” (perhaps in the most literal sense) to help make up for what he’s done. Who knows, maybe he’ll replace missing pieces of you with his own. Will it work? No idea. Maybe a skin graph or two, but let’s hope you don’t have to find things out in the more extreme cases.

I think it’s important to keep in mind that Tim Drake is just generally fucked-up. “Normal” Tim doesn’t mean “completely well-adjusted” Tim, it just means he’s not acting on some manic or brash decision. Normal Tim would be fine with chaining or drugging you if he’s justified it to himself. As long as he’s not causing active physical harm to you, he probably won’t see anything wrong with whatever he’s doing in the long run. It’s for your own good, okay? Don’t worry, he’s gone through the possibilities and failsafes. Nothing bad will happen to you!

Unfortunately, manic Tim does not go through the possibilities and failsafes. Well, he kind of does, but the logic is far from realistic and runs in total circles. Whereas drugging you has a rational (fucked up, but still rational) reason behind it — to keep you immobile — filling your ear canal with cement takes some mental gymnastics. Manic Tim doesn’t want you to listen to anyone else. Solution? You can’t hear through concrete, right? At that point, you’re at the mercy of his mood swing RNG. Let’s hope he calms down enough to take a step back and really think about this. Hmm… filling someone’s ears with cement… probably not healthy. Wow. Silly Tim! He let himself get carried away, didn’t he? Whoops! There are more logical ways to keep you from listening to anyone else.

That’s where manipulation comes in. I mean, come on. Y’all know who his mentor is, right? Stable Tim is wicked good at manipulation. Huh? He’s acting weird? Well, he didn’t want to say anything, but he was actually thinking the same thing about you. Yeah, you’ve been kind of off lately… is there something wrong? You sure? You know he’s there for you, right? Okay, just making sure. A gaslighting king when he’s in the right headspace for it. Too bad his psychotic aura gives him away; he’d probably be really good at keeping up appearances if he just got medicated or something.

So… yeah. Just some Tim thoughts. What a charmer, amiright? I don’t think this one’s salvageable. No amount of therapy could ever fix whatever Tim’s got going on. Just throw the whole damn guy away. Start over. Your only hope of escaping him is the chance of someone on the outside realizing what’s up. Here’s to hoping Tim gets institutionalized before he does something really bad!!

[louthestarspeaker]

it's almost 1am here's my essay about Dal and captainhood <333

I hath promised a Dal essay and I hath delivered… 

I've had this in the drafts for so long, but I just rewatched season two and it really allowed me to solidify a lot of my thoughts.

One of things that really strikes me about Dal's character and his relationship to command is that being in charge is a place of safety for him. He's had to be self-reliant and self-sufficient pretty much his whole life until the Protostar. It's something that was engraved into him since he was small, that the only person Dal could really depend on was himself.

And because he was never around anyone who actually cared about him until the Protostar, that was the right thing to do. This need to be in charge, to be in control really, is a learned survival skill. "I can tell you from experience, people in authority lie."

But in season two, his circumstances have changed (for the better!), and that's not the right thing to do anymore. Ultimately, to me, Dal's season two character arc is about vulnerability and trust. He's been in survival mode for so, so long, and now we watch him learn to heal.

You start with this boy who's spent the grand majority of his life alone or with people who are exploiting him, and the story takes him by the hand and tells him "now that you're safe, now that you have people who care about you, you can't live like that anymore."

All throughout season one he learns trust. Trust in his crew, in Hologram Janeway, in the Federation and in Starfleet as institutions that can and will help him and his newfound family. But as a captain,when he was guiding his crew through active crisis after crisis, trust looked like open doors. It looked like laying out all the variables and problems on a table so they could figure a way out together. 

Trust looks very different on the Voyager-A. It asks him to have faith in what he's not seeing, what he's not being told. He has to believe that they have his best interests at heart, that he's not trusting his family to something that will try to hurt them. 

Captainhood isn't just bossing people around for Dal. It's the responsibility of holding the lives of the people he loves in his hands. He trusts his own hands. He has the best interest of his crew at heart. 

To ask Dal to relinquish control, is to ask him to place the lives of himself and his family into someone else's hands. Which, historically, has not gone great for them. It prods directly at his trauma, asks him to take undo and ignore the survival instincts that kept them alive for so long. Is it any wonder he has trouble with that?

Dal's not going around crawling through Jeffries Tubes because he's a brat or because he thinks he's entitled to know everything. He's a traumatized kid whose self-sufficiency, independence, and ability to make his own decisions were once, for a very long time, the literal line between life and death for him and his crew.

And even if he trusts Starfleet and Janeway in his head on a logical level (which I absolutely believe he does), there's still this instinct that's written into him. It's a process to learn how and when to turn that off, and that's what we see especially throughout the first half of season two. 

This really culminates in the cafeteria scene after they return with the Protostar and Chakotay, when Dal advocates for the Starfleet temporal management guys to figure out a way to get the Protostar back to Tars Lamora. Dal was able to see that his hands weren't the best ones for the job, and trust Gwyn's life to someone else. That's huge for him. He trusts not just a person, but a branch of an institution he's never interacted with before, with one of the people that mean the very most to him. And Dal's able to give up that control, to place himself and his crew in that position of potential vulnerability, because he's finally started to feel it in his bones that he's safe here.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness War of the Roses Smut

Weiss was nervous. I could tell that she was trying not to be. She even put on a pair of lacy pale blue panties and brassiere. I wasn’t sure if she was interested in giving us something to look at or just trying to reassure herself of her own body though. I’m pretty sure it didn’t work so well if it was the later of the two. She still looked on edge in the dark blue slitted dress she was wearing.

It was a first time for her in a lot of ways and to be fair I hadn’t worked out the exact mechanics that would go into play here. For example if I was getting dicked down what would she be doing? And the reverse, if she was getting some what would I get up to? I wasn’t really sure and maybe it made me a little nervous as well. But not enough to overwhelm the excitement I felt at the thought of doing it with my two best friends. 

When Weiss and I arrived at the hotel we would be staying the night in Jaune was already there. He was in the pale yellow room and out on the balcony. He was just waiting out there in the chill night. He… the goofball, he scattered rose petals on the king sized bed and lit a few candles. Weiss exhaled a shaky sigh by the doorway. I stepped inside and pulled her gently by the hand with me so that if she really wanted she could resist. She didn’t. She followed me inside and shut the door behind her. The bed was white with a brown comforter. It looked big enough for four people really. There was a brown sofa couch to one corner and a brown chair along with it. Two small end tables on which three candles total burned. There was a table at the foot of the bed where more candles were lit.

Off to one side there was a full ensuite bathroom with a standing glass shower and brown and grey mottled tiling. 

Jaune turned around our entrance and stared at the two of us. He looked good with his hair ruffling in the breeze and those little diamond studs. He wasn’t full on masculine in appearance. More of a metrosexual look wafted off of him. Which I thought was really good. I liked that he was in touch with his feminine side in a lot of ways. He wasn’t afraid of his own emotions or expressing them. He wasn’t afraid of crying in front of me out of some twisted sense of pride. I liked that openness. I liked that strength. And standing there he seemed content to wait on us to make the first move. 

He stepped in and shut the door behind him and closed the tan curtains. Without the artificial Atlas lights it grew a little dim. Weiss reached a tentative hand over and turned the light bulbs in the ceiling down low such that the bright little six candles were the only lights in the room. She breathed a sigh of relief at that like it removed some little tension from her worries. 

“So,” Jaune began with a whisper. “I’m a little confused about the specifics… I think… two people will have to go first, though. And then the other person will rotate in.”

“But who’s going to want to be the odd one out?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine it going down like that.

“Me, of course,” he returned. “Let you girls get warmed up. It’s a shade more important for you than it is for me, isn’t it? Foreplay? I mean, too much foreplay for you isn’t really a thing in my experience. Too much foreplay for me and my night is over.”

“Is that how guys work?” Weiss asked.

“Pretty much,” he answered. “I could probably go two rounds in fairly short succession. But that would be it. It would pumping in a dry well after that. I mean, I could still go down on one or both of you but the ‘main event’ so to speak would be over.”

“Are you really worried about you finishing too soon?” I asked. “That’s never been a problem for you before.”

“I’m just saying that we have all night for me to probably go two rounds. One for each of you. But after that I’m going to be exhausted. Girls don’t really have a limit that way, in my limited understanding at least. I could be wrong but if I’m like a bottle rocket, ladies are like diesel engines. Once we get you warmed up you can keep going and going and each one is closer and more intense than the last. Is that wrong?”

“Well, not really,” Weiss agreed. “That’s sort of how it works. Girls actually have two different types of orgasms. One for the clitoris and one for the 'g'-spot.”

“That… I didn’t know…” Jaune trailed. 

“The ones for the clitoris are closer and more intense as things go on but the 'g'-spot is a finisher if that makes sense,” Weiss explained.

“Huh,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Really?” Weiss asked. 

“Jaune and I… when he was Jaune… he sort of did both at the same time? It was pretty good. I won’t lie. I guess he made them sync up? Is that a thing?” I asked Weiss.

“I think so…” Weiss trailed with her eyes flickering between us. “The point is that Jaune is probably right. We could go first and have him join us. Foreplay is probably more important for us than it is for him.”

“With his size… yeah…” I agreed a little. 

“Is… is it a problem?” Weiss wondered, teetering nervously.

“I mean… it can be?” I phrased. “Not with enough foreplay.”

“Right. I suppose that makes sense,” Weiss agreed.

Jaune took a seat on the couch and folded his legs. He put his arms up around the back of the couch and looked relaxed. “You girls do what comes naturally. I’ll look for my opportunity to step in. But… I’m sort of eager to watch? I mean… who wouldn’t be?” 

“Oh is that how guys work?” Weiss rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. Little bit,” he said with a smile. “Lesbian porn is the most popular category of porn on the internet. So… chop-chop.”

“Well,” I turned to Weiss. “We can take our time then.”

“Ruby…” she trailed off. I took her in her slitted dress. I wanted her out of it as soon as I saw her in it. I leaned in and kissed her once on her bottom lip. She oozed into the kiss. I stuttered back a half step and I sat down on the edge of the bed. She pursued me. I ran my hand up her milky thigh up the slit in her dress to where her panties met her hip bone. She bent down and kissed me deeply. This time she hunted for my bottom lip and she gently licked it. I opened my mouth to her. Our tongues gently breezed against one another. She pushed me down into the bed as I lifted her dress. I was in a pair of yoga tights and a ‘v’ neck. Her knee came to the head of my thighs and gently pushed into my mound.

I rolled my hips into her knee encouragingly. I got some nice friction out of it. Not anywhere close to making me finish but it was a pleasant sensation. I heard Jaune let out a low groan at the sight but I didn’t look over at him. I was staring at Weiss above me. She ran a hand under my shirt and up to my breasts. She gave my left one a gentle squeeze and caress before hunting for my nipple under my bra and finding it. 

I squeaked into her mouth and her tongue pulsed forward. It rubbed harder against mine and she went deeper with her tongue into my mouth and explored the back of my front teeth. I kept running my hand up her dress higher and higher. I smoothed over the soft skin of her stomach but I couldn’t reach her modest chest. I whined into her mouth and she grinned down at me and pulled back a little. She helped me out of my shirt. Pulling it over my head. She turned around and I unzipped the back of her dress. It fell off of her and left her exposed in those undergarments I watched her put on. They were lacy, flattering on her, and matched her blue eyes and platinum hair. 

My own bra was black and a little lacy but not as much as Weiss’s. So were my panties but I still had on black tight yoga pants. 

She pushed me down onto the bed and straddled one of my legs at the same time her knee came back to my apex. I groaned and thrust my core over her knee for some friction. She rocked her hips into my thigh as she bent low and kissed me. She cupped my right breast and started working her way around my face and down my neck with soft airy and wet kisses. She sucked on my neck hard and my hands came up to stroke her breasts and find her nipples. She squealed a little. It was a very un-Weiss-like noise but it was good and I wanted to hear more of it. 

She pushed her own mound harder into my thigh and I felt a little wetness through the lacy blue and silver fabric. That was… that was just right. It made me push my thigh and my own groin harder up into her and I let out a low moan when our action graced my clit. The little bundle of nerves pulsed excitedly. She reached behind me and pulled my bra off. Her lips traced down my collar until she took one nipple in her mouth and sucked gently. She pulled it into her teeth just enough to graze it and I whimpered and let out a little gasp. 

“Weiss…”

She rocked her hips harder and down on me at my utterance of her name. I could really feel her heat and her wetness now. I traced a hand up her thigh and to her panty line. I pushed the material aside and pressed a finger between her lips. 

She let out a low moan and thrust her hips into my finger. Huh, so that was what it was like. I mean I sort of got it from the times Jaune had thrust into my hand when I held him but I felt so powerful. She felt so delicate. My other hand came up to her left breast and traced a gentle circle around the nipple there. She sighed. It was a shaky sound like she was struggling to breath. She cupped my face in both her hands and kissed me hard. 

She rocked her hips into my finger and I brushed her clit. I rubbed up and down against it very gently because I knew how sensitive it could be. I flicked gently against her flesh and she leaned away. She twisted and pulled her bra off.

I sat up and kissed between her breasts before moving over to her left one and taking it in my mouth. Her hands returned to my face where she pulled me hard against her. I slipped my finger inside her tunnel and she moaned loudly and threw her head back. 

“Oh, Ruby…” I thrust my pelvis up into her knees a little harder and in a circular fashion more than just a vertical one. 

I pushed my finger in and out of her wetness nice and slowly. I rubbed at the interior of her velvety walls and wondered at the softness of them. Her lips seemed so delicate. She sank her fingers into my hair and I whined a little at how fiercely she touched me. She pushed me back down into the bed again. She mimicked the thrusts of my fingers with soft rolls of her pelvis.

I heard Jaune groan again. He seemed to be enjoying the show and I honestly struggled to blame him. 

Weiss pulled back and away from me. I flicked her clit harshly as she pulled away. She gasped and subconsciously thrust her hips back at me. 

She glanced at me and I looked away innocently. She kissed down my body to my pants line. She sank her fingers in and pulled my tights off me in a roll. She took my panties off at the same time and left me exposed to the chill-cool air. She spread my legs so her face was right at my mound. I felt my lips part moistly as she pushed my legs apart. She had a look of intrigue on her face as she sank a finger into me. I moaned lowly and loudly with the slow gesture. She gave me a gentle thrust all while rubbing against where she knew my 'g'-spot was. The rough patch of wet skin on the upper side flexed under her pressure and I rocked my pelvis down onto her finger harder and harder.

She thrust gently again and sofly parted my folds with a graceful ease. Then her face came forward and she gave my inner lips a low long lick and a gentle kiss. I sighed. I was biting my forefinger hard to keep from moaning loudly. She found my clit and rolled it into her mouth. I moaned and tossed my head back. My hands came down to grip her platinum locks and she groaned right into my core. 

Her finger rocked into me and found that sensitive place and started rubbing a firm circle into it. Her tongue darted out and lapped at my folds and graced a circle around my clit before she sucked on it very gently. Her tongue then rubbed hard against it.

“Ah! Weiss!” I called out. Jaune had never gone down on me before. It was an entirely soft experience that had me pushing my lips hard against Weiss’s face. She fell back and kissed the inside of my thigh and gave her finger a push. Then she kissed my outer lips and gave me a harder thrust. Then she licked from her finger all the way to my clit and gave it a gentle kiss.

Then she really went to work on me. Her tongue pressed hard into me and started tracing against my most delicate skin. Her finger thrust harder and harder into me and she rubbed at my insides with some ferocity. I let out a long and low whine that I couldn’t really stop at all and I finished around her finger and thrusted into her face. I had her by her platinum locks harshly and I panted as I came. 

“Weissss…” I felt so unbelievably wet. Sure some of it was Weiss’s spit but so much of it was also me. I tugged and Weiss’s hair. She rose up over my body. “Take them off…” I whimpered. She did. She shed the last of her clothes and crawled on top of me. I scooted down at the same time.

“Ruby…” she trailed off. I pulled her up so that the apex of her thighs was right over my face. I kissed her mound and it kissed me right back. Her hands fell to my hair and I split her folds with my hands. I kissed her interior. Then I slid my tongue inside of her tunnel. It was wet but oddly sweet. It tasted of her sweat, that’s true. There was also a more musky flavor that came with it. And of course all around me was the rich creamy flavor of her aura. Some sort of smooth custard, whipped cream, and crisp crushed ice. 

My licked her from her entrance all the way to her most northern part of her folds. I found the bud there and licked a circle around it. She moaned loudly and her fingers sank into my hair. She thrust her hips into my face with some force and I tried to meet it with my tongue.

“Ha… Ruby… a little…” I flicked even harder against her clit. “Ah! Just like that,” Weiss ordered. 

I made firm love to her sensitive bud. She rode my face into the soft mattress with hiccupping thrusts into me. 

“Ruby… you’re...I’m about to… Ha, ha…” She fell over me such that she was on all fours with her legs spread wide and vigorously strumming down at me. Her hair fell over her rosy flushed face. Her eyes were fluttered closed and I knew she finished because I watched her entire stomach tighten and the abs there flex inwardly. 

“Ha...ha…” she panted. I flicked my tongue out again against her love bud. “Ruby!” I knew that she would be sensitive. I did it again and she flexed harder down onto my face. 

I flicked my tongue up and down her gash and sucked on her most sensitive region. I let my teeth graze it and her hips stuttered in place. Now I understood why Jaune had tormented me with his fingers whenever possible. I felt so powerful as she drove my face into the mattress. It was as though she couldn’t decide whether to pull her hips away completely or ride me harder. Her pelvis rocked back and forth quickly as I brought her to her second orgasm. Her face dropped totally into the bed above me and she pressed her hips down on my lips. Her hands fell into my crimson and black locks and she was so incredibly wet when she finished. The vague triangle of white hair above her mound itched at my nose when she fell. She just lay breathing hard into the bed.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

My legs were hanging off the bed with my legs far apart and Weiss still breathed hard over me. I heard Jaune stand up. I heard the sound of his belt jingle and his clothes hit the floor. I inhaled hard. I felt him walk over to me. His aura had been lurking in the corner of the room but it was out now and it felt like a current down my spine. The smell of ozone, spice, and torched sugar joined Weiss’s flavors. 

“I think… that’s my cue,” I heard him say.

“I need a minute…” Weiss mumbled into the sheets. She rolled off of me and lay spread eagle on the bed. Her left hand was crossed over her stomach. Her right was stretched out and still in my hair. 

Jaune laughed a little. It was a low chuckle. 

“Then you’re first if you’re ready, sweetheart.” I picked my head up and glanced down. Jaune was naked between my legs where they hung off the edge of the bed. It was tall enough that I couldn’t quite reach the floor even if I extended my toes downward. He put a hand on my right knee and lifted it up. I felt myself spread wide and heard a wet sound from myself as much as I felt it. I was soaked from Weiss’s ministrations. 

I felt him at my entrance. I could feel his heartbeat through the head of his erection. I rolled my pelvis upward to give him a good angle. His head entered me and started to stretch me. He reached out and grabbed my other leg behind the knee. Then he lifted up both my legs by the hamstring and my thighs. Just as every other time before, when he entered me, I felt like I was going to split in two and I couldn’t breath. I felt myself stretching to accommodate him and I gasped loudly into the room. He just kept going and going…

It felt like he was never going to run out of centimeters as he slowly glid into my core. I felt him hit something hard inside me before I felt him bottom out and his hips meet mine. He pushed against it firmly. I groaned and twisted my head.

It hurt so good. 

Fuck me but it hurt so good.

“J-Jaune…” I stuttered out. I almost mixed his name up. He stretched my walls to their absolute limit and I felt like they were going to tear but they never did. 

His dick was built like him. Tall but also with some girth to it that made it impossible for him to miss any part of my deepest insides. I could feel him in my belly. He slowly pulled out and I whimpered all the while. His length dragged out of me until only the tip remained inside me and gently and wetly kissing my entrance was the rest of him. He slowly slid forward. I moaned. It was a noise that grew louder and louder as he crept into me again. I thought he would stop and run out of length but he just kept going.

I felt my face flush harshly and fully. Forward faster he went for the furthest reaches of my flower. He rocked his hips into mine and once again our hips didn’t quite meet but I could feel his blond pubic hair against me.

My eyes fluttered a little as he kissed my ‘g’-spot and cervix at the same time with as much of his length inside me as he could get without shoving too hard. 

He yanked a gasp from my lips when he abruptly pulled halfway out and pushed it back in. He rubbed all of my interior walls and bumped into my furthest depths. “Jaune…” I whined. I looked up at him to see him grinning down at me. He gave me another quick halfway thrust. I choked a little. It still hurt a little but in a way that was stretching and good and so full . Gods above, I was so full of him. There was no room left for anything else. My breath kept being stolen from me and I felt like I couldn't get a good mouthful of air into my lungs because there was no room inside of me. He was so big . I couldn’t breath he was so enormous. 

He gave me a long pull out that made me whimper again. Then he provided a smooth slowly and gentle thrust that robbed me of the air in my lungs. 

I flexed my legs to try and wrap around him but he held me fast with my body spread apart and feeling like I might be divided in two. I almost sobbed. I twisted and turned my head on my neck. 

He moved my leg so my calf rested against his shoulder. I was still spread so wide for him. He then took his thumb and gently stroked my love bud. My hips jumped back onto him and made me hit my cervix onto his head. It hurt a little. But it was a feel good kind of hurt like using my muscles to exercise. And I really had no one to blame but myself. 

He pulled his length out and I held my breath and waited. He rubbed a circle into my clit as he pushed his way in and divided me once more. 

I felt my walls tighten and clench around him a little miniature orgasm. I cried out a little. It almost sounded like a sob. I had missed his body so much. He groaned and his hips stuttered a little at the sensation of my body closing around his dick. Yeah, that’s right Jaune. I had some power over you too.

He started smoothly thrusting into me for real and through multiple thrusts I let out a long quiet groan. It was dragged from my lips by his gentle thrusting and his rubbing of my little petals. I still felt like I was going to be torn apart but it was weird because he really was being gentle with me still and there wasn’t much more he could do. He was too big and I was too small. I thrust my pelvis to meet his thrusts as best as I was able with him holding me apart and in the air. 

“Ha...fwuh...fuck...Jaune...I’m going to… I’m about… Please…” I couldn’t get the words out. I bit my thumb hard. “Oh, Jaune!” I called out. 

I finished thrusting my hips back onto his length and against my cervix. He’d been roughing up me 'g'-spot at the same time he strummed my rose. He moaned my name, a low “Ruby…” as I collapsed around him and I writhed on the bed. I was still impaled by him and mostly held in place but I squirmed as best as I was able as the orgasm took me. My eyes fluttered about and I couldn’t see for a second. 

When my tears left my eyes it was still to find him between my legs. And he let them down to grab my hips but he kept thrusting.

“Oh my gods…” I managed. “Please… it’s too much…”

“Shhh,” he hushed. He bent low and kissed me and I kissed him back hard. “Just take it a little more… that’s it… that’s a good girl…”

Our aura’s flared and kissed. Petals shed like rain above us and blue wisps of flame trailed in the air. I could taste him.

I whined in time with four thrusts and I felt my eyes roll a little in my head. I felt like I was about to pass out. Jaune reached down between us where our cores met and started playing with my clit again. I almost screamed as I thrust my hips into his fingers and back away. There was no escape and my body betrayed me as it craved more than the rest of me could handle. I couldn’t get away and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. It felt so… It felt so… 

“I’m coming again,” I whispered and I almost cried. “Oh please, Jaune, I’m coming again…”

I was coming apart and all I could do was lie there and take it. He held my hips so tightly with his one hand as he stroked through my petals with the other. 

I came so hard that lights flashed and it was almost painful. Have you ever been hit by something like that? Something that felt so good it was almost a painful sensation but it never quite crossed over. I did scream and my fingernails dug into his back. I clawed at him desperately and my legs writhed. 

“Sweetheart…” he released at the same time. I felt him pulse inside me. He released one, two, three, four, five jets of hotness right into my belly. The warmth coated my insides as I felt myself unravel and become unmade and remade. 

“Ah...hah...hah... Ah... haha.” I breathed hard. I felt him soften inside me and slid out and right away I felt myself missing the sensation of him filling me so completely. But then I could breathe again and I felt myself gulp down air. I felt like I could really breathe for the first time since he entered me. My face was flushed so scarlet and all I could do was lay there as I felt him crawl off of me. 

I turned my head. Weiss was now lounging on the bed, her head was propped up by one hand and her elbow. And she was eyeing me with a bit of fascination and curiosity. 

Jaune bent down and straightened from where he was at the foot of the bed. I curled onto my side and let out a long groan. 

“Too much? Rubes?” Jaune asked.

I felt myself shake my head. 

“Just right… I think… I’m done…” I panted. 

Jaune looked down at himself. He was still partially hard but the tip was pointing down. He was… maybe five inches at the moment? I wasn’t sure. It was hard to judge how big he was at full mast based off of what I saw. I watched him reach down and give it a few pumps to try and reclaim some rigidity.

“Alright Weiss…” he breathed hard. 

“You can give yourself a minute…” Weiss murmured. “I’m still turned on at the moment. I came twice and that was quite the spectacle. I think I get what you meant about watching.”

“If I give myself a moment I might lose it,” Jaune confessed. 

“Do you-um- need a hand? Instead?” Weiss asked.

Jaune looked at her and nodded. Weiss crawled over the bed to near where Jaune was and Jaune walked over to her. She took him in one hand. Her hands looked tiny compared to even where Jaune was now. Jaune groaned. “Little hands…”

“Is that a problem?” Weiss asked.

“No, it’s sexy,” Jaune disagreed informatively. 

Weiss gave his dick an experimental pump with her right hand. Jaune moaned and thrust his hips into her palm. Weiss looked up at him and repositioned herself.

She took him into her mouth and she moaned at the taste. Tasting me, I realized. And Jaune. She took his head in and pumped the rest of his shaft with her hand. I watched Jaune’s knees jerk at the sensation. I watched his length grow harder as Weiss worked on him. 

She bobbed her head with her ponytail drifting behind her. Jaune reached out and took her platinum locks with both hands. Weiss groaned again when he tugged slightly on her hair. 

“That’s… that’s really good…” Jaune moaned and tilted his head back. His pelvis thrust a little forward as Weiss toyed with him. I realized he was holding himself back. Weiss’s free hand came forward to cup his testicles, something I had never thought of, and Jaune moaned again. “That should do it…” Jaune breathed.

Weiss removed him from her mouth. “What if I don’t want to stop?”

Jaune reached down and picked her up and repositioned her on the bed so she was laying on her back perpendicular to me and parallel to the headboard. I watched as Jaune gently manhandled her. “I’d rather not bore us and skip to the chorus.”

“You think my mouth is boring?” Weiss fired back.

“No, I enjoyed watching you use it. If you don’t want me to, you know, get to the main event, then you had better let me know real quick.”

“Or else what?”

“I’ll do the sorts of things I’ve always wanted to do to you.” Jaune positioned himself at her entrance and Weiss let out a whimper. Jaune didn’t know if that meant stop or go like he did with my noises and he hesitated.

Weiss reached her legs out and wrapped them around Jaune’s pelvis. She pulled him inwards towards her. “Won’t you, please?” She begged.

Jaune gave her this incredibly hungry look at that. It was as though he’d been starved all his life and was just now seeing food for the first time. 

He started to enter her and Weiss let out a moan. It was a womanly sound that increased in pitch as he slipped inside until it became a quiet and pathetic whimper. I knew where she was coming from with that. It was… a lot to take in.

“You alright?” Jaune asked.

“Give me… a second… it’s a bit to adjust to… you’re bigger than Ruby’s finger… by a bit,” Weiss panted out. 

“I felt you break… you’re bleeding!” Jaune said urgently. I had broken in training before Jaune entered me for the first time. Weiss must still have been preserved inside there. 

“That can happen.”

Jaune started to pull out but Weiss held him with her legs. She was breathing hard. I knew that feeling too. 

“You’re getting softer…” Weiss mumbled. 

“Well, you’re bleeding. It’s not exactly a turn on.”

‘I can’t help it.”

“I’m just… I’m concerned.”

“Don’t be. It’s fairly normal for a first time. It can happen. You can start to move now.”

Jaune tentatively rocked his hips all the way out of her. Weiss let out a longing sound at the loss. Then Jaune slowly pushed his way inside and Weiss gasped. “Oh… oh fuck…” she managed. I could stand to hear her swear like that more. “Oh, okay,” Weiss panted. “Wow.”

Jaune smoothly slipped out of her and as he did he dragged another soft noise from her lips. Weiss kept her legs wrapped around his waist but she slumped her right forearm over her eyes. She was a wonderful rosy color in the face. It was so different from her pale complexion. 

I watched her start to glow a little white. I could smell it. Cream, and, custard and crushed ice.

Jaune reached a hand down between Weiss’s legs. I knew what was coming. Weiss jumped where she was impaled on him.

“Good?” He asked. “Or bad?”

“Good,” Weiss sort of purred from the back of her throat. She was still struggling to breathe. 

He rocked his hips in and out of her and listened to her mewl beneath him. She moved her arm from over her eyes and sat herself up on her elbows. “Kiss me…” she pleaded. Jaune bent low over her. He draped one arm over her head so he wasn’t crushing her. He kissed her gently as he shifted his pelvis in another long and slow thrust which I knew from experience could be mind blowing. He played with her folds a little. She moved her hips in time with his fingers. She gasped when he entered her completely. He must have been at least kissing her cervix. “Okay. Okay,” Weiss whispered against his lips. Weiss tried to regain some composure or control but Jaune was totally in charge above her. He pulled slowly out of her body and she tilted her form in anticipation. Then I saw all the muscles on her stomach tighten as he slid inside. I watched them clench again when he flicked her bean gently. 

I saw golden lights shine around Jaune’s body. It mixed with blue wisps of flame to produce little green sparks. I’d never noticed them before if it happened with us. His body flickered like a candle light. It was caramelized sugar and pure ozone wafting off of him. 

He kissed her again and I saw his tongue slip into her mouth and pushed all the way inside her. He stretched her out and touched her in her deepest parts. I watched the muscles on his chest and stomach and legs tighten with restrained power. He wanted to rock her world. I could see that. He wanted to mindlessly thrust his way into her body. He held himself back and checked himself and slowly thrust his way into her tiny, by comparison, form. He had at least a head of height on her and was three times as broad at the shoulder. She looked petite and oh so small as she managed to consume his length. Weiss’s head fell back and she groaned. Her lips slightly parted and her eyes fluttering closed. Yeah… that was the stuff. 

She tilted her butt in time with his thrusts a little faster and yanked on him with her legs a little harder and in synchronization with the new rate she wanted him to go at. He read her and, drinking in her creamy cold aura, matched her rhythm. 

She let out a whine as he touched her insides a little faster. Her hands came up to her breasts and gripped them and rubbed circles into her nipples hard. Jaune thumbed her bud between her legs and she gasped. It was a loud breathy noise. 

“Okay… alright…” she managed. “Just… just like that…” she panted out. 

Jaune continued his more rapid assault on her opening. Quick thrust popped from their groins. Weiss moaned much louder this time. 

“Oh… that feels… that feels… ah…” she couldn’t totally get the words out. Jaune hit with three smooth, long, slow, hard thrusts and she called out. “C-c-Jaune. Oh, I’m…” she covered her flushing face with her forearm again as she took it all in. 

“Look at me,” Jaune gently commanded. “Look at me when you do or I’ll stop,”

“Oh please don’t stop,” Weiss whined.

"Look at me,” Jaune pressed.

Weiss took her arm from over her eyes. She looked him dead in the eye. “I’m about to… oh gods…” Her whole body tensed up. Every single muscle in her body clenched and she pulled him tight into her with her legs. Her fingernails came up and over him and dug into his back hard enough to leave welts behind. Her left leg was shaking at the mid thigh. She fell back and looked away from him.

Jaune rubbed at her clit at an incredible rhythm and didn’t stop his gentle thrusting. If anything he sped up a little. 

“Oh… Ah… Oh… Okay… that’s… that’s… oh no… I’m going to do it again.”

“Do it,” Jaune grunted. He thrust four smooth slow gentle thrusts all while rubbing her bud at a furious pace. He kissed her deeply and she shivered. It sounded like she screamed but it was muted by the kiss and both of their lips. Her muscles in her stomach all tightened up and clenched rapidly as she came while he impaled her.

I saw when Jaune finished inside her because he thrust in and tilted his head back in a moan they both shared. 

Weiss panted and gasped on the bed and Jaune almost collapsed on top of her but he caught himself. 

“So…” Jaune breathed. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Weiss nodded rapidly and bit her lip beneath him. She was so red from the exertion I couldn’t believe it. She covered her face with her forearms and he rolled off her and left her legs spread wide open and her body devoured. 

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[mae-i-scribble]

So I'm not really that into Arcane fandom or anything like that but is anyone else a little worried for how season 2 is progressing thus far? I'm not talking about the apparent Caitlyn vitriol that some people are falling into- god forbid you have complex characters am I right. But watching the first act of season 2 it's all so terribly rushed and not in the same way season 1 had fast pacing but with tight writing to make up for it.

Spoilers for the first 3 episodes ahead but the fact that we barely even get to know the new enforcer characters that come to Zaun annoys me. The most we have is the girl introducing herself to Vi. The other two aren't even named in the show let alone have any sort of personality. For the big shield guy why is he even allowed to be an enforcer???? Sir you were seemingly living on the streets drinking away your problems last I checked with no indication you were or wanted to be an enforcer. The kid that follows Jinx around doesn't even have any sort of lines until episode 3- which would be fine if it was clearly a deliberate choice for her character but considering that the show is trying to juggle so much it just feels like she fell to the wayside.

I'm also very much not a fan of how the 2nd season is structuring its storylines thus far- certain scenes loose their tension because they're so intercut with other scenes happening simultaneously- take the vi and jinx fight for example. Like I get it you wanted to show how them interacting with the run was actively interfering with the fight but the constant cuts back and forth leave a bad taste in my mouth. The structure they use for the various sections with music overplaying them are hit or miss to me- some I love, some I think should have been actual scenes with dialogue.

I'm also really sad to see them seemingly rush over bits of character development we really need to see. Like take Vi- her not wanting to be an enforcer is 200% justifiable and believable, we haven't been shown anything about how the enforcers work that would give Vi a reason to want to join. And then after the attack in episode 1 she silently comes to a decision to join which fine, I can buy her wanting to help now that Zaun is conducting terrorist attacks. But she just agreed to the plan to use the gray against the people of Zaun???? Really???? Vi did??? Shouldn't Vi, someone who is only joining the enforcers out of desperate necessity, be way more critical of any use of force in the undercity? There's even little things like when Caitlyn arrests the henchman I was expecting Vi to stand up for him because almost *everyone* in the undercity is some sort of criminal so that they can survive. But no it just turns into Vi asking them to ditch the side characters we know absolutely nothing about.

Speaking of Vi- for the record the cait/vi kiss in my opinion was stupidly forced in. I would have liked to see their relationship develop this season because in season 1 I could see the beginning of something there. I really loved the moment in the first episode where it's only when seeing Vi that Caitlyn breaks down a little because Vi is someone she can trust to be open with. Great stuff to further develop- oh no they're kissing after no development just to make the immediately following break up more dramatic? Great yay yippee representation -_- Don't get me wrong I would have loved to see it develop into a romance but not in episode 3 with no buildup (1st season does not count as buildup to me for an actual romantic relationship).

This is also somewhat petty but I do hate the fact that Ambessa is revealed to be behind the memorial attack in episode 3- I much would have preferred for that information to be revealed to the audience alongside whatever character discovers it. Revealing it like that is dramatic, sure, but I feel like it ruins the mystery of Ambessa's morality in a way that is not satisfying.

All in all I'm not the happiest with these first 3 episodes but we'll have to see how the other 2 arcs go before making any judgement calls overall.

[aplaceinme]

What is your theory for 8x8? I don´t think there are any more big plas for Buck so I will cling to the fact that 8x8 was supposed to be called "sob stories". since the show decided that people can talk about Tommy again since he is no longer present (*rolls eyes so hard atm*) I choose to believe that Buck will either get a snippet of Tommy backstory, maybe about who broke his heart before, or we get Buck having a meltdown- he should really get angry and sobbing. It would heal me

I´m sure the show will proof me wrong but this is still 5 to 7 days of uniterrupted delulu for me.

Hi, nonnie! 

Well, first, I will start with saying that I’m on the “I would rather have no hope and then be pleasantly surprised if things turn out ok” boat. This is 911, this is Tim, we know he changes things at the last minute, we know he can be extremely petty, we know he does what he wants even if it doesn’t make sense storyline wise. So, yes, I’m going to keep expecting nothing, just in case. 

If I go into my more pessimistic side, I will say that given the interviews (and we already know that the interviews are basically bs but still) we are supposed to see Buck “exploring” his bisexuality and trying to move on. We haven’t seen that yet in the show, so we might see that in episode 8. Perhaps he will be ready to put the phone away, and start fooling around. Perhaps we will have a small mention of Tommy when Buck talks about getting tired of waiting and deciding to follow madney’s advice of getting back into the pond, which we will then see in S8B. Therefore, the door to the relationship will be closed (still leaving the possibility of Tommy returning next season though -after all, we know Tim loves to bait the fans).

If I go into my more positive side, I have to admit that they did kind of handled the post break-up better than I was expecting. And by that, I mean, that we did get to see Buck longing and pining for Tommy. We got to see him not wanting to move on yet and him hoping for Tommy to return. Besides from Abby, we hadn't seen that before. Ali, Taylor, and Natalia’s break-ups were a done deal and that was it (we didn’t even see Natalia and Buck breaking up), Buck just carried on with his life with no problem. We are once again seeing a huge difference between Tommy and all of Buck’s other love interests.

Besides that, I also have to admit that the choice of showing Tommy also wanting to reach out to Buck but then not doing it, it’s interesting as well. Why do that? They could have just showed Buck struggling with the break-up but nothing from Tommy. So, is that just the way of them leaving the door open for something to happen because they still don’t know what to do? Is that just baiting? Did they want to see how people will react so they wrote little hints of Tommy possibly returning just in case? Is this just that part of the romcom when the couple break-up? Maybe!

And finally, if I allow myself to put on a tin foil hat… there could be many possibilities: 

Buck saying “what if he’s in trouble and he needs my help?” could be foreshadowing of something to come. According to Tim (and again, lets take everything he says with a grain of salt), “Nobody’s hanging off a cliff at the end of the episode except for possibly one character.” Could that be Tommy? Maybe Tommy will be rescuing someone, and while on the harness and hanging from the helicopter, something happens and he needs rescuing. The 118 gets called, Buck realizes its Tommy, he gets desperate, he saves Tommy, they talk in the hospital, they get back together. 

I think both Oliver and Tim have also said that maybe Buck will see Tommy on a call. So, what if next episode that happens? They both have to rescue someone and while doing that they talk/discussed the break-up, they clear the air after everything is said and done, and again they get back together (or is implied that they will be in the future).

The call and the person hanging from a cliffhanger has nothing to do with Tommy BUT it reminds Buck of the lighting strike. He realizes that life is short, that he got another chance in life and he doesn’t want to go on living without Tommy by his side. So, after the rescue, we finally have Buck going to Tommy and talk and try to get back together. “You don’t find it, son. You make it.” Or we just have a cliffhanger of Buck going to a house, knocking, and Tommy opening the door, scene ends. We will have to wait and see what happens.

Buck decides to move on. At the end of the episode, he goes to a bar intending to find someone, but once he gets there, he sees Tommy. They make eye contact and they both timidly smile. They show Buck walking up to him and sitting down to talk, but we can hear what they say. Or, it just ends like that, with both of them smiling. Find out in March what happens. 

Ignoring everyone’s advice, Buck arrives at his loft after the shift and immediately calls Tommy who picks up. We hear Buck saying nervously: “Can we meet up?” Then he smiles, and says, “Great, I will see you there.” He hangs up still with a smile on his face but also still nervous, and the episode ends. 

I could still go on, honestly… But that’s probably enough. 

I don’t know what will happen, nonnie! As I said, I will rather have no hope. 

They have probably not written S8B yet, but they probably do have possible storylines of what will happen with every character. They have more than enough time to change them, though.

Maybe we will see Tommy in S8B, maybe we will see him in S9. Or maybe, this has truly been the end. We will just have to wait and see! 

I do hope that they get better at writing and that they stop with the biphobic rhetoric because, my god, that’s just too bad and fuck them for that! They need to do better!

Whatever happens, the important thing is to try to find joy. If putting on your clown make up, bring you joy, then do that! If moving on from the show until you know what happens, brings you joy, then do that! 

Sorry, this got way too long! Hope I made sense nonnie! 

[kittenfangirl20]

Adam: Is everything alright?

*Lucifer couldn’t let Adam know that he was planning for him, maybe Niffty knew where it was, she had a bad habit of opening packages that don’t belong to her, it wasn’t malicious, she was just strange*

Lucifer: Everything is alright, I am going to ask Niffty something.

Adam: Ok, I am going to start wrapping my presents and then I am going to the Heaven Embassy.

Lucifer: That sounds perfect.

*Lucifer ran to Niffty who was playing with her roach puppets in front of everyone, oddly in spite of the fact that she had killed Adam, Adam liked her for her unique abs eccentric personality*

Lucifer: Niffty dear, did you see a package in front of the door to mine and Adam’s room?

Niffty: Not today King Bad Boy, how is my other favorite Bad Boy?

Lucifer: Adam is doing quite well.

*Lucifer left and walked around to see if he could find the book lying around*

Alastor: Are you looking for a spell book?

*Lucifer’s eyes widened and he turned to face Alastor who had a genuine smile on his face*

Lucifer: What the fuck did you do?

Alastor: Don’t worry, the books in safe for now. But if you do me some favors, I may consider not burning it since that is the only copy that exists.

Lucifer: I would do anything for Adam.

Alastor: Good, I will tell you when I need a favor between now and Sinsmas.

*meanwhile at the Embassy of Heaven Adam had arrived with his list of names for the people he was hoping to have them come to the hotel on Sinsmas day and whenever they wanted to visit, three names on there, Sir Pentious for the guests at the hotel especially Cherri Bomb who was in love with the snake demon, Molly for his other very good friend Angel Dust because he cared a lot about his twin sister, and Madeline for Alastor when even though he didn’t like him, he wanted to do something nice for him because he knew how much both the mother and son cared for each other, he gave the list and didn’t seem to have a problem with letting them visit which made Adam happy, he then left and went back to the hotel, he saw Charlie overseeing a Sinsmas tree being set up*

Charlie: Adam, would you like to help decorate the tree?

Adam: I would love to. Where is Luci?

*Alastor popped up behind Adam*

Alastor: Oh, he is doing some shopping for me.

*Adam was confused, why was Lucifer doing something for Alastor*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam's first Sinsmas in Hell.

Adam was looking out the window and was a little confused when he saw there was snow falling from the sky. Hell was way too hot for there to be snow so why was it snowing?

Adam: Luci?

Lucifer: Yes Dove?

Adam: Is it snowing or am I seeing things?

Lucifer chuckled as he walked over to the window: Nope, it's snowing. Contrary to what people think, once a year for about a month and a half Hell freezes over.

Adam: Really?

And here he thought it was just an expression.

Lucifer: Yeah, but it's still Hell so it's not exactly safe to be out in it. The first week or two the snow is fluffy and nice. But after that it gets harsh.

Makes sense.

Lucifer: Which makes it nice for Sinsmas.

Adam raised a brow: Don't you mean Christmas?

Lucifer: No no, duckie. We don't celebrate that Jesus guy down here. In Hell we celebrate the Sins. And this will be our first one together! Oh you'll have so much fun.

Adam: Does that mean we have to invite Mammon as well?

Lucifer: Sadly yes since he is one of the Deadly Sins, but you do get along with the others. Also like Christmas we have a big feast and gift exchange.

Adam: That sounds really nice.

*it was interesting to learn about the different traditions of Hell from Lucifer, Adam grabbed Lucifer’s hand*

Adam: We should go play in the snow when it is still nice like this.

*Lucifer nodded and they went outside after Lucifer used his magic to make their clothes winter clothes, Sinners and demons alike were setting everything up for Sinmas, both men blushed when they found themselves under mistletoe*

Adam: So is the tradition for mistletoe the same down here?

Lucifer: You mean kissing under the mistletoe? Yes.

*they shared a kiss feeling very happy, Lucifer got Adam hot chocolate with marshmallows while he got himself hot apple cider*

Lucifer: What would you like to do for your first Sinsmas?

Adam: I would like to have my family come here and be with us.

*Lucifer knew that would be tough, but he was willing to do anything that make Adam happy*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Broke (2016): BBC Sherlock is a phenomenal piece of media and anything that seems like a flaw just hasn't been fully explored yet

Woke (2020): BBC Sherlock is an incredibly flawed series run by an egotistical writer, it never deserved the hype and is actively bad on so many fronts (especially representation)

Bespoke (2024): BBC Sherlock is flawed and bogged down by increasingly poor writing, which many fans refused to see while it was airing, leading to hugely misplaced expectations (particularly for the final series), AND it has the seeds of some compelling characterizations and portrayals, some genuinely solid performances, and touches--albeit imperfectly--on complexities that are still being discussed today (particularly as it relates to the relationship between Sherlock and John). The huge cultural impact of the show has created a massive pendulum effect in its public perception, leading to most people today remembering a caricature of the show (whether positive or negative) rather than appreciating its nuanced merits and failings...that being said Season 4 sucked

[billdenbrough]

fundamentally disinterested in the recurring discourse about kevin's drinking that aims to a) make it his Specific Problem To Focus On And Overcome when it is a crutch and coping mechanism to get him through a Much Bigger Problem (emotional fallout he can't square with by himself, culture shock, trauma, loss of his extremely wildly co-dependent relationship w riko, losing the structure of the nest, mourning a future he was meant to have, processing a grave injustice, anger and fear and desperate grief, all of which is his Actual Specific Fox Problem) while he builds himself back up, and b) thinks that even if it is a problem (more on that later), it's the foxes' problem to deal with.

like. it's just not.

yeah, he doesn't drink until he meets them. they gave him that habit, and in traditional terms, they're (the monsters specifically) a 'bad influence'. but these are the foxes. this is kevin day, son of exy, whose meteor is crashing spectacularly through no fault of his own. there are no traditional terms to be found here. the framework for it literally doesn't exist. neil comes into the foxes with more conventional expectations—appalled at the athletes' substance use, his horror at matt's trip to columbia, his steadfast and early repeated stance that none of the foxes should let andrew treat them the way he does, and certainly not nicky—and tends to engage with them less as the series goes on and he folds himself into the foxes. the thing about the foxes is that they've all been in pits deeper than they are tall. and some of them got a helping hand on the way—erik, andrew's extreme intervention methods, stephanie walker—and wymack was always waiting for them on the other side, ready to throw down a rope, but all the foxes dragged themselves out of their own holes. often not alone, often not without assistance, but at the end of the day, they have to do it.

there's that line neil has about aaron in that scene that got deleted when the timeline shifted around, when he thinks about how aaron got this far in life on his own, surviving on willpower and sheer desperation. that applies to aaron in a way that's a little more acute than some of the rest of them—boy who doesn't let the foxes in bc of andrew, boy who doesn't let nicky in bc he doesn't know how, boy made of flinching and seeking an escape and grieving the one who hurt him—but is broadly true for the foxes en masse.

this isn't to say the foxes can't help each other, but it's not their job. it just isn't. they'll keep kevin alive, keep him safe, keep him flanked and contained within their ranks. they'll fight tooth and nail in this battle with him, fight to get him to that championship game, fight to get that trophy in his hands. but that's all they've agreed to. that's all they're responsible for, in this covenant they've made with him. he says they can make this happen, and they're going to get him to that final game, but it's up to him what state he's in when he gets there.

like. they're foxes. they've been triaging their whole lives. they hate each other and they hate everyone else more. they're the kids with their backs up against the wall. half of them are addicts. i don't think kevin is comparable, personally; he's getting through a horrific situation with a coping mechanism. that's not the same thing as battling yourself to stop using. but that's not really the point of this. what i'm getting at here is that to the foxes, it's easy math: kevin who can lean on vodka and andrew and wymack and the foxes to stay upright when he's not ready to stand on his own two feet is still a kevin who is standing. a kevin with one less piece of scaffolding to lean on is a kevin who falls over, a kevin at risk of complete collapse, a kevin one phone call away from running back to the master, a kevin one crucial loss away from not ever making it back to himself at all. they're triaging. this is low on the totem pole of things they have the room to care about. they very much have bigger problems, both individually and even just kevin-related. if alcohol makes seeing the boy he knew best in the world and moved in tandem with his whole life and who destroyed their entire legacy and his entire life in one move — if alcohol makes facing that boy easier to stomach, then, fuck, why would they take that away? they're foxes. they've all got their demons. this is what kevin needs this year and a half to let him face his, that's all. they can understand that. it doesn't have to be pretty, as long as it keeps him in the fight. that's the priority.

i think there's absolutely space to explore this in fic and art and fandom in a way that maybe does explore it as a Problem, both that it's an active problem for kevin & that it's something to explore other foxes helping him with (there's a t&n fic that i've been gnawing at the bit to read for months that seems poised to explore this premise, and that's super up my alley)! i just think we're in different territory when we're talking about the series—and its characters and dynamics—in a conversational rather than transformational way, and end up talking about this like the foxes are responsible for kevin's choices. i love kevin day. i read these back at the start of 2015 & he's so dear to me that loving him was the blueprint for how i feel abt kageyama. but it's been pretty weird to see how the conversation has been translating Loving Kevin Day into... thinking the foxes are doing wrong by him with respect to this in actual canon. like that's just not how it operates there

[tsukasalover]

This is the exact reason why I hate when people ask to go through my phone. Its always Tsukasa’s fault just remember that.

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[fiona-fififi]

...