#I think most of tumblr will fall in bottom half

[petrichoravis]

But you peeked right over somehow | s.r

summary: your disbelief in love has always held you back from a relationship with Spencer, but you think it's time to be brave now.

word count: 2k

warnings: reader is avoidant and makes some weird decisions, but, like, be nice to her please, she's scared; mentions of avoidant attachment style, toxic relationships (someone having made r feel stupid and worthless in the past) and of parents fighting, but nothing detailed; reader is also mentioned to be drunk once, but it’s in past tense and it’s really just the word mentioned. English is not my first language.

a/n: the pictures are obviously no indication of how reader looks, they are just there to make this all look pretty and aesthetically pleasing. I've tried my best not to describe any physical appearance of reader. reader means a lot to me, I hope you’ll like her. Also, the gorgeous!! dividers are not mine, all credits to @/enchanthings-a on tumblr. The title is from 'circling' by tiny habits

You didn't believe in love—not the one in the movies, anyway. Your sad attempts at it have always ended with you feeling lonelier than before and your parents… well, let's just say they're not the best example either. So you built the walls higher and higher, placing brick upon brick, so no one would be able to look over them.

Until you met Spencer.

He has nested himself between the bricks like wisteria and has been so impossibly stubborn, but so kind about it, too. Never asking for more than the few fleeting moments you had. To the point were you weren't even sure if you wanted to rid yourself of him anymore.

You had met him at a reading of your favourite book a few years ago. You had forgotten your book on your seat and he had ran out and handed it back to you, a white piece of paper with messy handwriting in black ink slipped in between the pages. I like your taste in books, maybe you could recommend me some:). it had said, with his number on the bottom.

You had been friends for a while after that, because you always blocked his attempts of turning what you had into more.

Until one drunken mistake on your side turned into two and the two of you decided that: friends kiss, right? (Well, you decided it, Spencer was just happy to go along with whatever you were most comfortable with.)

For a while you convinced yourself that whatever you were feeling—the butterflies in your stomach, the way your heart was racing every time he touched you—was just lust. It was easier than admitting that you were falling hopelessly in love with him.

So when you woke up this morning, in your bed with him sleeping next to you, you couldn't help but watch him. The way the soft morning light, shining through the silk curtains, drew shapes onto his skin, the way his brown curls framed his face. You just hardly resisted the urge to reach out and touch him, your hand curling into a fist so hard that your nails dug half-moon shapes into your palm.

You got up after a few moments. Quietly, so you wouldn’t wake him. He landed in Virginia late after a case, but still decided to come over to your apartment, because he had forgotten something there. You ended up, self-sabotagingly, inviting him to stay the night and now you were here; with an angel in your bed and a devil on your shoulder.

You tip-toed into your kitchen, finally being able to breathe a little louder. Leaning onto the counter, hanging your head, you felt pathetic. This wasn't how things go for you, normally. You didn't pine and, even worse, yearn (you gagged at just the thought) for men like you were right now.

Then again, Spencer was far from normal.

And because of that, your heart was racing and you caught yourself, more often than not, at the bookstore in the classic section, asking yourself if Spencer had that copy of war and peace already. He probably did.

You scoff at yourself. Maybe you just needed to go to the club again. Cleanse yourself of this feeling. Forget about him and his stupid brown eyes, the way his hands feel when they— Stop.

"Are you okay?" A sleepy voice asks from the doorway.

You turn slowly. Spencer was still in his oversized gray sleep shirt, the fabric worn-out and thin. His hair a mess of brown, soft curls. God, get it together.

"Yeah," you mumble, "just…headaches."

He steps closer, careful, as if not to startle you. "Do you need anything? Ibuprofen?"

"No, I'm okay. Thank you."

He nods, but his eyes search your face. It’s clear that he knows something is off—he's a profiler, after all. He smoothes his hand over your wooden counter top and you wish so badly that those calloused hands were running over your skin instead.

"Breakfast?" You croak, already turning around and rummaging the cabinets for two mugs.

A hand finds your wrist, turning you around with a gentleness you're not sure you deserve. You pull away quickly, as if his touch burned you.

He frowns a little, but doesn't comment on it. "I'd love breakfast," he pauses, "Can you talk to me? Please?"

His idiotically big puppy-dog eyes and the way his hand feels on your skin makes you want to kiss him stupid.

So you do, impulsively. Kissing him was so much better than answering his questions and he might forget, as a good side affect—

Spencer pushed against your shoulders gently, untangling your lips from another after indulging for a short second—he was just a man, after all.

He knew that you were only kissing him to distract from the topic at hand and he also knew, that he would forget about this conversation too quickly if he let you.

"Not that I don't love kissing you, but something is bothering you and I want to understand what it is. So can you please talk to me?"

"About what?" You try and he looks at you, disbelieving.

"Come on—" he says your name, and it's so soft, "You've always been careful with the idea of an relationship with me, but it's been getting worse. You tense up every time I touch you and tip-toe around me. I just want to know if I did something to upset you. I want to fix it."

Your skin is crawling with his rejection of the kiss and you can't help the words of defensiveness bursting out of you. "You can't always fix everything, Spencer. I'm not just another case to solve."

Spencer doesn’t even flinch. "I know you're not. I'm sorry, my wording was off. I know something happened to you in the past and you need it slow and that's okay. I never pushed and I'm not pushing right now, but I want to understand what it is, what's going on in your head."

He was being so, so kind. You felt like crying. "Nothing! Nothing is going on in my head, just—" You feel like an animal in a cage, ready to chew off your foot to get out of the trap.

Spencer lets his hands drop from your shoulder to his side again, knowing you well enough to know that touch may not be comforting to you right now.

The gesture grounds you, reminds you that you are talking to kind, gentle Spencer, that he is only worried about you. So you try to reel back, trying your best to be just as kind, to be deserving of him. But you're a viper full of venom and you're sure you might never be able to purge it from your body enough to ever deserve him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, looking down at your miss-matched socks.

"It's okay. I understand." He's not sure what to do. An aggressive UnSub was nothing in comparison to you being uncomfortable and him being unable to help. "We don't have to talk about it. We can eat breakfast and I'll tell you about the stars again."

His lips quirk a little as you laugh, even if it was just the smallest sound, it was something.

"No, it's okay. I—" You have been knocking on Spencer's door and running away before he could welcome you in for too long. You have decided that you're ready to pass the doorstep now.

Your therapist has advised you to get out of comfort zone more, anyway, and if Spencer leaves after this conversation, at least you can go back to not believing in love. "I figured I had to tell you at some point. If I really wanted this to be a thing."

You gesture between the two of you at the last part, voice dropping to a quieter tone and you look up at him though your lashes without lifting your head.

He looks surprised. That's okay. You'll just laugh and pretend it was a joke—

"Yeah," he steps closer, brushing hair out of your face, "if that's what you want. I’m not forcing you to."

"I know you're not." You sigh, closing your eyes as his fingertips brush against your jaw. "Truth is, nothing really happened. I guess I've just had rotten luck in love."

The hair tie you're wearing on your wrist is suddenly so interesting and you chew on your lip to have something to do with your mouth, otherwise you'd just blurt out everything he wants to know.

"My parents have been fighting more than they haven't since I've been really young. Nothing too bad, but it was obvious that they weren't in love. I doubt they ever were."

Spencer doesn't say anything, choosing to let you finish without comment. He knows what's coming, he's been through it, too. Parents who fight, relationships that fail, never feeling loved in the way the movies show you. It can make you feel hopeless.

"I was a late bloomer, I guess. I've had my first relationship at twenty-two. Not that I cared, I had convinced myself that I didn't want love at that point, anyway. So when I did find it… I was elated. I thought, yes! finally it's my turn. Well, they hurt me quite badly, made me feel bad for everything that I didn't know, like—like they were better than me. Maybe they were, I don't know, it doesn't matter."

Ouch. Spencer thought. No one deserves that. Much less you. His hands find your wrist again and his thumb slides over your pulse point.

"They're not." He says with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe him. "Someone who makes people feel bad for trying to learn things is not, in any way, better than the person who is trying."

You shake your head. "No, it's okay. I— yeah. It's whatever. It just hurt in that moment."

You do that a lot, Spencer notes, pushing your feelings onto your past-self like they don't affect you now, when he knows they do. Or else you wouldn't be here.

"I did go on a few date after that," you continue after a short pause, "but I kept myself locked away pretty tightly. Never let it go further than the third date. A few years later, when I let someone else in, it got quite toxic, quite quickly. From both sides. We were dependent and avoidant at the same time. They were just…they showed me off a lot and were so gentle and kind, but I realised after a while that it was just their way of making sure I stayed. And I…I started feeling trapped and accused them of some pretty messed up stuff. We didn't make it really far after that."

Tears start building on your lash line and you look at the ceiling, begging them to stay buried. That was your tell, Spencer knew it too well. He brushed his thumb under your eyes.

"You don't have to." He murmurs.

"I'm almost done." You promise and look at him for the first time since you started the story. "I didn't have any serious relationships after that, just…harmless flirting, but I was too scared to let myself fall again. I never felt loved enough, I guess…or I was just selfish and greedy."

Spencer shakes his head. "You deserve the love you want." Ducking his head, he makes sure you're looking at him. "That's not selfish."

"I think I did." You whisper with the shyness of a high-school kid, eyes searching between his. "Find it, I mean."

The corners of Spencer's mouth lift into his wonderful smile and for once in your life you know you've said the right thing.

"Lucky me." He answers, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him gently.

"Yeah. Lucky." You breathe out, wrapping your arms around his waist. It was clear that you don't quite know just how lucky someone must be to have you in their life and Spencer was going to work hard to make sure you will.

You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "Thank you." You whisper.

"Don't thank me yet." He chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling the top of your head. You melt into him at his words, as if his stupid joke had a magical soothing effect. Of course you'd thank him. You won't stop thanking him for being him until you were six feet under.

"I'm sorry for snapping. I just—"

"Don't. It's okay. You don't need to explain yourself to me." He says, earnestly, into your hair.

"I know I don't. It wasn't fair of me, though."

"Maybe. But better unfair and raw, than fair and polished. I want you, un-performing."

You sigh into his shoulder. Being open was hard when you've been burnt for it before and you knew there was much to overcome, but you didn't doubt one bit, that you could overcome every hurdle with the help of Spencer. Step by step growing on your walls together. Wisteria and ivy.

a/n: please don't hesitate to send me your thoughts and show support by re-blogging, commenting and liking if you liked the fic!!

[daphwritesworld]

#22 O. Batlle & #7 S. Paralluelo x Reader— MEDDLE ABOUT. (PART ONE)

(A/N: shoutout one of my Tumblr bestie's for pushing me to write this— WHEW!! this is very very self indulgent but idc. my page my rules lol)

content: American!reader, stripping in front of a crowd, mentions of past sexual encounters, drunk Barca girlies getting crazy at Alexia's house, sexual tension so thick everyone can notice, nothing too too steamy just yet

warnings: intoxication & alcohol use, beer pong ball to the forehead, mentions of secret hookups, public nudity, teasing banter among teammates, and I think that's it for now tehee

synopsis: What happens when you fall into bed with two of your new teammates, and swear on keeping them hidden from each other? Might be harder than you think…especially when they've been hooking up for years before you came into the picture. A team bonding night at Alexia's may be just what you all need to get on the same page.

word count: 4.2K

!! MINORS DNI!! 18+ CONTENT

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥♠♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sweltering heat of Barcelona beats down on your exposed skin as you step out of the car. You’ve been invited over to your new Captain’s place, a team pool party to break the ice and get to know the girls better. It’s been a flawless transition into the Spanish team aside from the language barrier. You’re learning Spanish and most of the girls know enough English to get through conversations. A light dusting of sweat starts to form on your palms, nerves settling in with each step you take closer to the door. You can already hear the music and mingled laughs pouring out of the backyard. The thoughts swirling in your head do a good job of distracting you, because you don’t even notice the body standing behind the glass door watching you approach. At least not until you reach for the handle and the door glides open before you can blink, a familiar voice filling your ears. 

“¡Hola niña bonita!” The blush can’t help but creep up to your cheeks under her gaze, rosy enough to blame on the heat if you needed to. (Hey pretty girl!)

Ona stands before you, wet hair slung to one side of her neck as a towel loosely hangs from her hips. Your eyes can’t help but follow the water droplets falling down her muscular form, toned stomach so perfect it looks like the Gods chiseled it straight from Tuscan Marble. 

“¿Cómo lo dices? Ehh my eyes are up here,” the smirk on her lips doesn’t go unnoticed. (How do you say?)

“I know,” you finally meet her gaze. “Can’t a girl enjoy the view?” 

She laughs at that, a hand coming up to grab your own as she drags you into the house. “Only if I get to return the favor.” 

The teasing tone behind her words lights a fire underneath you, a need to have her hands back on you growing by the minute. You should probably be using this time to get acquainted with different players— you’re familiar with Ona, comfortable even. Within a week of your arrival you found yourself falling into her bed, but I mean who could blame you? Too much Tequila after your Barca debt was maybe a bad idea in hindsight, but the hangover was so worth the orgasms. Ona had made a perfect pass to you not even 5 minutes out on the pitch, and you took full advantage. Not only did you make the winning goal, but secured the player of the match title as well. It was only fitting that your partner in crime celebrated the night with you. 

You pull out of her grasp and your hands go to the hem of your tank top, a smile gracing your lips as you slowly pull the piece of fabric off. Ona lets her lip fall between her teeth as she watches your little show, your shirt being thrown at her before you move to the shorts covering your bottom half. Goosebumps cover your skin as the air conditioned breeze glosses over your body as you expose it. Heavy eyes following your every move with ease, her hands quick to catch the discarded clothes thrown towards her chest. 

“Eres un problema,” she breathes out with a sigh. (You are trouble.)

“Yeah but you like it,” you start to lean into her body. 

She mirrors your movements, eyes trained on your lips as your face grows closer. You can feel her breath hitting your lips, breathing in the same air as you pause less than an inch away from her. “Come on,” it’s whispered so light Ona barely catches it. “¡Vamos a mojarnos!” And with that you pull away from her intoxicating presence, leaving her to collect her thoughts and sanity alone in Alexia’s living room. The tile beneath her feet is quick to become her new place of solace, a few breaths to steady her heartbeat and then she's out the door after you. Trying to play it cool like she isn’t losing her ever loving horny mind in front of her teammates. (Let’s go get wet!)

“Hola Y/N!” It’s echoed around the pool as you exit the sliding glass doors. You give a smile and a wave, moving around to give hugs and greet the girls as you try and find the cooler. God knows you need a drink after that foreplay inside the house. “Where are the drinks?” You ask your captain. Aside from your pussy making friends with a couple of your teammates, Alexia is one you’ve refrained from fucking so far. She’s been a mentor, a friend, and like a big sister these past few weeks. “Not even a hello? ¿Saludas a todos excepto a tu anfitriona? You Americans are rude!” (Do you greet everyone but the hostess?)

“Ale! Hi hello, now where is the cooler?” You give her your best innocent smile, a pout soon to follow when she still doesn't answer your question. “Over by Ingrid and Frido in the shade,” Alexia can never stay upset or annoyed at you too long. Maybe it’s because you're still new, but the Captain has a soft spot for you that you always play on to get your way. “Thank you! Beautiful home by the way, brick work is amazingly detailed!” you call out as you skip over towards the Europeans. 

You faintly hear the dramatic words spoken by Alexia as you carry about, “¡Ella actúa como si nunca hubiera estado aquí antes!” (She acts like she’s never been here before!)

“Beer me please,” you call out as you approach the girls. Ingrid has her nose in a book, trying to find some peace in the chaotic environment surrounding her. Fridolina is already in the cooler, pulling out a seltzer for herself. “Watch this one Frido, she gets crazy after 6.” Ingrid’s eyes are covered by her sunglasses, but she can’t hide the smile on her face as she says it. She and Mapi had roomed next to Ona that first night you let yourself fall under her spell….safe to say they’ve kept your extracurriculars a secret so far. 

“Don’t worry i’m on a 2 drink limit today, I drove myself here so I can’t get drunk sadly.” 

“Oh what a tragedy,’ Frido laughs as she opens your drink and hands it to you. “I car pooled so I’m limitless tonight. Now go mingle and get to know the younger players. You’re their age and always hang with the old heads– go make friends Y/N!” 

“You say that like you don’t enjoy my presence!” You fake a gasp as a hand goes to your heart, “I’m the life of the party and you know it Rolfö!” 

“Oh I know it, now go show them that!” 

You chug the first half of the beer, nerves settling as the alcohol hits your tongue. You look around the extravagant patio, trying to find where you’ll venture next. You ultimately settle on joining some of the girls in the pool as they start a volleyball game. You walk over before setting your beer down on the side of the pool, “Can I join?” 

“Por supuesto! We need someone to join Salma’s team so it works out perfectly,” Mapi happily agrees. (Of course!) 

Your eyes find said teammate through the net, her hair wrapped up in a bun to keep it out of the water. She’s already looking at you, well your body if we’re being specific. Eyes trained in on every detail of your skin she’s explored with her hands, lips, and tongue. Reminiscing as you make your way over to her side of the water. A hand comes up to help you steady yourself down into the pool, sliding down to linger around your waist as you find your footing. “Gracias,” you swiftly move around her frame to get into position. (Thank you.)

“En cualquier momento, hermoso,” Salma replies. She licks her lips for a second, having to use all her strength just to look away from you and focus on the game at hand. (Anytime, beautiful.)

“I hope you're ready to go down, abuela!” You call out to Mapi as you’re handed the ball to serve from Salma.

“Oh, bring it on chica!” She calls back at you. “La edad trae sabiduría!” (Age brings wisdom!)

“Yeah and brittle bones,” you snap back before raising your hand to serve.

Some of the girls around you laugh at the remark, Vicky too distracted repeating the joke to notice the ball heads straight past her. 

“1-0! ACE serve from Y/L/N!” You cheer out as your teammates exchange highfives.

“Did she mention she played all through school before switching to football?” Alexia says as she slips into the water on Mapi’s side. 

“CHEATER!!” Screams from the other side of the net call out as you stick your tongue out at them, your middle finger sliding up as well. 

“It’s called being multi-talented! You should try it some time,” you give a teasing smile as the words leave your mouth.

“Play nice, Y/N!” Is shouted from Ingrid as she joins the side of the pool, her legs dipping into the water as more players come over to watch the game.

“¡Ella no está acostumbrada a eso!” Mapi responds. (She isn’t used to that!)

“The Ref hates to see her coming,” Ona joins in on the banter.

“Nuestra propia Yellow Card Cutie,” Salma agrees. (Our own)

“Are you gonna keep smack talking or actually hit the ball?” You call out to the otherside of the net. “Losers pay for our next team dinner!”

“Tráelo, Y/L/N!” Patri finally gets in on the action. (Bring it)

Cata goes to serve it  for their side, your eyes anticipating where she’ll try and go. Just as the ball starts to come down in the air you call out to Clàudia, giving her a heads up to block on her side. The water splashes as she jumps up, hands making perfect contact with the ball as it bounces back down towards the other side of the net. Vicky tries to dive to save it, but she slips at the last second. She goes under the water as the ball smacks in the ripples she left behind. 

More cheers sound out as your side celebrates its early 2-0 lead. You turn to congratulate Salma, but she’s already behind you. You bump into her frame and she lets her hands find your waist again to help steady you. “Qué suerte tengo de tenerte en mi equipo, Star Girl,” it's whispered against your ear. Her lips ghosting along your neck as she pulls away. (How lucky I am to have you on my team)

You take a deep breath as you try and steady your heartbeat, body and mind betraying you in ways you wish they wouldn’t right now. You’re supposed to be acting discreet, keeping your flings underwraps– especially from each other. But at this rate you’re gonna be found out before you can even make it to beer number 2. Lord help you. 

“Stop flirting already and get your head in the game!” Pina lands a slap to the back of your head. 

“OW! I-I’m not flirting! It’s called sportsmanship!” You pout at the Spaniard, hand coming up to rub the spot she’d just whacked. 

“¡Pina!¡Sé amable con la novata!” Alexia calls out from across the pool, a motherly finger wagging in her direction. (Be nice to the newbie!)

“Yeah, be nice Clàudia!” You squint your eyes as you say it. 

“And you,” Alexia’s finger now turns towards your direction, “¡Deja de pensar con el coño!” (Stop thinking with your pussy!)

Your mouth falls open at the accusation…really on observation if we’re being honest…which we aren’t. “Ale!” 

“Close your mouth, chica,” Ona’s voice is closer than you remember. “No quiero que atrapes ninguna mosca.” (I don’t want you to catch any flies.)

You feel her touch before you see her, toned abs meeting your back as one of her hands comes up to close your mouth. She lets her fingers linger under your chin, her touch sending jolts of electricity through your nervous system. “Can Kika and I join?” 

“Of course!” You answer a little too fast and a little too eager. “The more the merrier right!” 

You make quick work of separating yourself from the sex on legs behind you, needing the space to get your head back on right. FUCK. Ona and Salma less than 5 feet away from you? This is actually your worst nightmare and ultimate fantasy all wrapped into one. Okay game time. No more accidental strip teases or too friendly of touches for the rest of the night….let's hope. 

— 

The game goes by quickly, your team dominating the match. Not to diminish the other girls' efforts…they got a whole 4 points during the 3 sets. Which is actually pretty good with you on the other side of the net against them. You're now 5 beer pong games deep, taking a win against every team so far. You and Patri teaming up was like the stars aligning just right for an unstoppable duo. Alexia had agreed to let you all stay the night after endless begging to turn the team bonding party into a sleepover, so now you’re well past your original 2 beer limit. With the freedom of your new abode you take the opportunity to have a few cups of the liquor being passed around– and of course it’s Tequila. You know what your national teammates say? Tequila makes Y/N’s clothes fall off. 

“¿Quién es el siguiente?” Patri announces as you two do a celebration dance against Esmee and Jana. (Who is next?)

“¡Tu reinado de terror está a punto de terminar!” Has the hair on the back of your next standing up. (Your reign of terror is about to end!)

You turn around quicker than you’d like, losing your balance as Patri’s quick to help you stay upright. It’s Salma and Ona, water still dripping from their bodies as the setting sun casts a sparkle from the light catching them just right. “¿A menos que tengas miedo?” Ona’s quick to jump in with Salma’s teasing. (Unless you’re scared?)

You recover quickly, attitude a natural reflex you can’t quite seem to tame. “Of you two?” You can’t hold back the laugh that dances past your lips, “Nunca.” (Never.)

“Ohhh,” Patri’s already resetting the cups on the table. “¡Tiene algo de fuego en ella!” (She’s got some fire in her!) 

The two girls across from you smirk at that, sharing a look before mirroring each other’s words. “No tienes idea,” and then they’re taking their spots. Leaving you to ponder what the hell they’re playing at. (You have no idea.)

“¡Apresúrate!” Patri calls for you. (Hurry up!)

It snaps you out of your daze, walking back over to your side of the table. The red cups in front of you become a million times smaller with two girls you can’t seem to stop spreading your legs for placed behind them. It has you glancing anywhere but in their direction, alcohol already clouding your judgement and reservations. 

“Winners first,” Ona calls out across the table. 

You pick up the small hot pink ball, dipping it into a cup of water before taking your stance. You take a deep breath, settling in on the middle cup and letting it fly as you exhale. It sinks into the desired cup and you jump up as you throw your arms in the air. “All air, no cup!” You cheer around Patri as she takes your previous spot. Your partying is put to an end when she misses her shot, a pout quick to reach your face as Salma chases after the neon green ball of Patri’s. “Drink up ladies, I still sunk mine!” 

“Oh it’s on now!” Ona calls out, a smile so big you’d think she’d just won the lottery. 

“Don’t be so cocky,” you roll your eyes. “It’s not a good look on you.” Yeah you are LYING straight through your teeth. In fact it might be the hottest she’s ever looked– but you’d never admit that out loud. Especially not when the sight of the two girls in front of you taking a swig from their cups has your legs ready to buckle. 

She cocks her head at that, a reply on the tip of her tongue as she contemplates saying it aloud. Ona decides on a quick shake of her head, a small smirk working its way onto her lips as she picks up the ball you’d thrown. Salma approaches the table as Ona throws her ball, sinking the same one you’d done to them. You groan at that, hand already lifting your cup to your lips for an unmeasured shot. It was honestly more like 3, but you’re so far gone at this point you can’t be trusted to know. “Oh, what was it you said? All air, no cup, right?” 

You can’t help the rush between your legs as you take in her confidence, thighs slightly squeezing together as you try and be discreet. You hope she doesn’t notice, but of course she does…along with her partner next to her.They once again exchange a look between each other– speaking without needing words. God you wish you knew what the fuck they were saying. Nerves filter into your system, palms starting to sweat as Salma takes her place for her turn. You take this time to stretch, arms going up above your head as you let the stress of the day leave your shoulders…you may also arch your back a little, a pretty sigh leaving your lips with your tits on display as you bat your eyelashes at the Spaniard across from you. 

It seems to work, too. Because her ball goes bouncing off the seam of two cups, a frustrated look shot your way in the process. You match her frustration with a sly smile, sliding into position as you reach for your lucky ball. “Losers have to jump naked in the pool,” you say before tossing your shot– sinking it in the front cup. Your opponents flash you a look you can’t quite place, but agree nevertheless.  

The energy seems charged since your offer– tension so thick in the air you could choke on it. Within minutes both teams are down to their final cup, your heart about to beat out of your chest. “Come on, Patri!” Pina shouts from the sidelines. The other girls crowd around the chaotic scene unfolding, cheering for different sides as the balls keep flying– one missing after the other. It’s like you’ve all lost your groove at the final moment, furrowed brows and curse words slipping from your lips. 

You take your place once more, taking in a deep breath before attempting to finally end this…and see two majorly hot women skinny dip. That’s a pretty good fucking motivator if you ask me. You use all your strength to focus, eyes lasered in on the single cup across from you. Your arm bends back, and just as you go to throw it? You catch the women across from you subtly flexing, muscles slightly bulging as you get lost in the ripples of their forearms. The ball flies straight into Alexia’s face, nowhere near the table and causing even more chaos to unfold around you. 

Your hands go to cover your dropped open mouth, feet moving as you run over to apologize. “Oh my god! Capi, I'm sorry!” Your face is beet red from embarrassment. “¡Lo siento mucho, Ale!” (I’m so sorry!) 

She’s dramatically holding the spot on her forehead, a permanent scowl stuck on her face as she rubs her head. “¡Te dije que dejaras de pensar con el coño!” You smack her on the arm, a pout appearing on your face as you deny the allegations being hurled your way. “Now look what you’ve done!”  (I told you to stop thinking with your pussy!)

She jabs a finger into your chest, “¡Probablemente tengo una conmoción cerebral! (I probably have a concussion!)

You roll your eyes at that, eyes narrowing in on the tiny red spot present. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” You flick the spot with a finger of your own, “¡No hay ni una sola marca!” (There is hardly a mark!)

She pushes you away from her and back towards the table, “¡Estoy cambiando de equipo!” (I’m changing teams!)

You fake a gasp at her declaration, the back of your hand going to rest on your own forehead as you play up the act. “Oh no! How will I ever survive!” 

The girls around you laugh at that, already used to Alexia’s dramatic antics. You make your way back over to the table, Ona having already retrieved the ball in the midst of all the commotion. Patri misses her shot, a mix of boos and cheers sounding out from the peanut gallery. A frustrated noise finds its way out of your mouth, head thrown back as you send up a prayer. Salma is first to throw this time, mixing up the sequence to see if it’ll shake things up. You bite your bottom lip, anticipation enough to make your head spin. Her arm comes up, hand comes back, and she locks eyes with you. She doesn’t even look at the cup, sinking it while a smirk appears on her lips. They don’t even take the time to celebrate, Ona already lining up to finish the game off. 

Her muscles bulge as she takes her stance, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates on the task at hand. She makes quick work of it, making the same cup as her partner mere seconds before her. The girls around you jump up as they explode from the fiery finish, a drunk Aitana screaming out about taking more shots. 

“Las perdedoras pueden decidir,” Salma says. “Shots before or after?” (The losers can decide.)

You instantly know what she means, heat rushing to your face as the realisation dawns on you…DAMMIT. You just had to up the stakes with skinny dipping, didn’t you?! But momma didn’t raise no bitch, so with a sigh and a shake of your head you reach for the half empty Tequila bottle.  “Bottoms up bitches!” You yell out before turning the glass back, so much alcohol already in your system it doesn’t even burn anymore, it’s more like juice now. The cheers surrounding you only fuel the fire, and when the bottle comes down from your lips you’re instantly yelling for someone to put on some music. If they want a show they’re sure as hell gonna get one.

Irene is the one to move first, drunk hands stumbling with Alexia’s ipad hooked up to the speakers littering the patio. “¡Lo rompes y luego lo compras!” Ale calls out from the couch. (You break it then you buy it!)

The blonde defender doesn’t even have a chance to reply before music is blasting out to cover the small talk going around. The familiar chords of Carlos Sanatna floating through the air has your body reacting on instinct. Your hips start to sway to the beat, arms coming up over your head as you let them slowly fall down to start caressing your body. Your hands stop around your neck for a second, fingers untying the bikini string before they continue their journey down. The screams and claps of your fellow teammates only makes you grow more confident as the fabric falls down your chest to expose your tits to the girls around you. It’s not cold but chilly enough to make your nipples harden when the nighttime breeze brushes against them, the string around your midsection still keeping it from fully leaving your frame. You do a slow spin to face towards Ona and Salma, hips still swaying as your fingers slip into the hem of your bottoms as you tease them down, then up, then back down again. It’s enough to get some of the girls to look away from the sheer promiscuity of it all, mouths dropping open accompanied with widened eyes to match. They’ve seen their fair share of crazy shit in their days, but never from a fellow teammate. In the club? Plenty of times. Hell even fans on the street have flashes them a few times, but for one of their own to be the center of all this attention? It’s never been done before, at least not to this extreme. They dance dirty, they’ve participated in shit they’d die if it ever got leaked– but holy fuck. You’re really giving them a strip tease that would even make the most seasoned freak blush, and it’s exhilarating– not just for them but for you, too. 

You’ve always been more on the wild side, your national teammates already knowing too well of your antics. But never on a club level have you truly felt so free and involved. They truly see you as part of the team– no, a family. They dont judge you or give you any reason to feel insecure. You were a rising star back in the states, but with the added support and love from your new team? You’ve been excelling in ways no one expected. That alone has your confidence high enough to feel this free around them…and the liquor definitely helps.

Your national teammates might be onto something…Tequila really does make your clothes fall off. 

[cushfuddled]

When I first started shoveling Jayvik fanfic into my mouth a month and a half ago, I was shocked and delighted at the avalanche buffet of top Viktor and dom Viktor content. But I've started to feel like the detective who kneels down and touches some footprints in the dirt like, "Something happened here..."

Because I can't remember the last time I saw a fanon concept become...so ubiquitous? Even in fics where Viktor bottoms, he's a power bottom/topping from the bottom. Spotting a fic with an overwhelmed sub bottom Vik in the Ao3 tag feels a bit like the moment a snow leopard graces your Himalayan trail cam.

I DO NOT mean to suggest anyone "should" write more inexperienced/bottom/sub Viktor! It's just...as someone who likely missed whatever ancient discourse might've plagued the Arcane fandom years hence, I've been through this fandom song and dance enough times to recognize the smell of...what say, capital-O Obligation.

I just want people to know they can write whatever kind of fanfic they want. That's the point of this post. I hope someone somewhere reads this and feels emboldened to let loose/goof off/get freaky/whatever.

Because I can see why people would feel Obligated to portray Viktor as a top/dom/the sexually experienced one. He's physically disabled and chronically ill. Ableism so often takes the form of paternalism and infantilization. There's this pervasive notion that disabled people don't have sex. People think we're too "pure" for sex, or assume we're "undesirable" as romantic partners/that our physical or mental disabilities would make sex impossible. With that cultural context, it's a radical act for so many people to come together and choose to portray Viktor—a disabled, terminally ill man who struggles with suicide ideation—as a sexually experienced top.

One of the hardest things about being disabled/ill is the lack of control. You can't plan for the future; you don't know whether your pain levels will be better tomorrow or demand another trip to the ER; your life is totally in the hands of overworked doctors who don't care about you. So it feels kind of like an act of reclamation to put Viktor in a dominant position. In a safe, sane, consensual arrangement, all parties have control over the situation, but with topping and/or domming comes the Role of authority/power. Making Viktor an experienced, sly top/dom gives back Viktor's autonomy and agency.

So yeah. I get why this trend is pervasive within the fandom! It's fantastically subversive. I just hope nobody feels like they HAVE to fall into this dynamic.

I remember a Tumblr post from years ago where someone described the drawbacks of a supposedly "feminist retelling" of Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, wherein the heroin saves herself by her own strength and wits. This, I would argue, is a perfectly fine story to tell...but its lack of intersectionality betrays a shallow definition of feminism. In casting those retold fairy tales in a feminist, "empowering" light, one ignores the realities of the people who found escapism in those helpless damsels.

In a paradoxical way, when my MCAS knocked me flat on my ass for two years, I was always out of control of my life AND forced to take control all the time. All those overworked, traumatized, apathetic doctors meant I had to be my own patient advocate. I had to do my own research; figure out which treatment plans made the most sense; find doctors who took my insurance and could see me within six months; argue with Medicaid when they didn't want to pay for one of the drugs I'd been prescribed; find new and creative ways to feed myself when my body reacted like it was allergic to everything other than water and Cheerios. And god, I had to self-police myself all the time. At the doctor's office, you have to look sick enough that they believe you when you say you're hurting, but you don't want to seem TOO sick because the desperation will make the doctor diagnose you with "hysterical woman" (or they'll just assume you're fishing for drugs). At home, you want to project some amount of strength so you don't worry your loved ones or make yourself too much of a "burden." (You also don't want to have to manage other people's anxiety on top of your own.) My disability (autism) and chronic illness (MCAS) are invisible, but I imagine there's a lot of masking that goes into navigating public spaces with a visible disability/illness, too.

So...when everything's this constant battle for control—when you're forced to project strength every day regardless of your pain level—of course some people are going to find relief in stories where they're allowed to shut down. I think it's important to let disabled characters be vulnerable and overwhelmed and even dependent on someone else, because as often as disabled and chronically ill people are infantalized, so too are we expected to "overcome" our disabilities/illnesses through miracles of resilience and cunning. We're pushed to perform strength, cheer, and "normalcy" for the public, who find our disabilities "sad" and "uncomfortable." Every time someone refuses to put on a mask, or a relative tells us to simply get more exercise, or a politician rails against "wellfare queens," or a bus route gets cut or a bench gets removed or our doctors hand-wave our symptoms, our world reinforces the message that we are Too Much; that our needs are exorbitant, our very existence a drain on society. So many of us throw ourselves into self-sabotaging grasps at independence. We work ourselves far past our limits to prove we aren't a burden on society. We refuse help just to maintain that tiny sense of control over our lives.

I find it deeply comforting to read stories where ill and disabled characters are...allowed to be helpless, I guess. To break the fuck down and let someone else finally take the reigns for a while—to lift some of that burden off their shoulders. I love when ill and disabled characters trust someone enough to take off that heavy armor, revealing the pain and weakness beneath the facade they were forced to take up to survive, and are rewarded with warmth and reassurance and care.

At a certain point...is it not a little ableist in itself, to restrict a disabled, chronically ill character to one specific role? To essentially lock them out of a position where they're allowed to relinquish control and be taken care of?

In essence,

Disabled and chronically/terminally ill people are not a monolith. As I always say, what offends one person will uplift another. It's an uncomfortable reality, but there's really no such thing as perfect representation. I think part of intersectionality is being willing to accept that multiple things can be true at once, because everyone's lived reality is different. It's absolutely fine to prefer one trope over another. But if I find a fanfic offensive or uncomfortable, I can always click the back button with the knowledge that there's almost certainly someone out there who'll find that same so-called problematic content empowering. Whether fic writers prefer top Viktor, power bottom Viktor, bottom Viktor, switch Viktor, sub Viktor, dom Viktor, experienced Viktor, virgin Viktor, omega vs. alpha Viktor, and every niche in between...I just hope they go where their heart tells them and write what they want.

[rainydaylately]

❥ 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

About & Author’s note ❥ coworkers to freak workers, smut. gender neutral reader. lifeweaver is a bottom tongue emoji. I’ve had this fic done for like ever and have a more on the way omg its so fun 2 be back on tumblr :3. Request page soon!

Word Count: 3210+

Lively with soft warm lights, the bar was filled with a gentle chatter as the night had weaned into the early hours of the morning. Though it felt as time had never passed despite the arms of the clock outstretched themselves with each passing hour. With Niran, time seemed to stop with every story that was told.

It had finally been a moment of rest from the longing missions that you had endured. The main issue with this particular mission was the time span. Believing it would take no more than a few days, though complications arose which stretched into a few weeks. Not ideal having to lay low, paranoia and anxiety bubbling in. A feeling that always lingered like fingertips brushing onto your shoulder. It was never in a comforting way, the only comfort was Niran keeping his eye on you. Making sure to pull you away from any slip ups.

You were grateful for that, watching your back as you watched him. An eye for an eye even, perfectly balanced.

Although now was not the time to be caught up with the stress from the mission, it was the time to celebrate. Finally a moment of relaxation with your favorite coworker. Oftentimes you were scheduled for training with Niran. The captain had noticed the way you two perfectly meshed with one another, pairing you up on missions before and the most current mission proved how well you two are with one another. Growing a friendship outside of the work field.

“I’m sure it’s crooked from the fall, but I’m far beyond recovery now,” Niran finishes telling another one of his stories. God knows how long you two have been sitting at the bar, becoming tipsy and giggly whilst sharing any and every story that came to mind.

You try and pick out any detail that would give away any sort of interpretation that Niran had broken his nose, squinting your eyes at the bridge of his nose. Yet, the interpretation was incorrect. Not a single sign of crookedness.

“I can’t seem to find anything,” you reply, “still perfect as ever.” Half mumbling before taking a sip of your drink. Niran watched the way your soft lips press against the glass before speaking up.

“Oh you think I’m perfect,” with a smile he cheekily inquired.

Rolling your eyes you turn your head, “you’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Is that the only thing you want?”

Dumbfounded and puzzled, you raise your brow to Niran, as if to ask if he really just said that. He starts laughing as you shake your head. Assuring you it was just a playful joke and you laugh. Again, he stares at your lips as you take another sip of your drink. Gentle eyes shifting from your lips, the cup, and back at you.

Niran kept his eyes on you, dark and captivating. Luring you into the abyss of lust with the way he pressed his lips against yours. Innocent at first, before feeling his teeth sinking onto your bottom lip. Tiny indents were left on the plush of your bottom lip, carefully tracing it as he pulled away.

Your coworker only stared, eyes half lidded.

“You smell like roses,” stating as your mind began to clog, wanting to be enveloped into his scent once more.

“Thank you, it’s bath and body works,” Niran replies and you giggle. Delicate fingers began to trace the hand that rested on the bar counter. Forgetting that you were in public, you wanted to drag Niran out into the night. You intertwine your hand with his, eyes shifting to the door.

Standing up, you begin to lead Niran out the door.

“Where are we going?” The taller agent asks.

“My apartment.”

“Eager aren’t you,” Niran chuckles as you use the street lights as a guide. It had been hours since you too had been in the bar, chatting and laughing with the growing mix of desire between you too. Your hand began to shake for what was in store for tonight, you prayed to whatever was above the Earth that Niran wouldn’t say anything. Teasing you for it would make the problem worse. You were determined to make it home within the next few minutes.

Down the block and taking a few turns, you had finally reached the entrance of your apartment. Climbing up the stairs, Niran looked around his surroundings as you jingle your keys. Finally opening the door, you sighed in relief as you stepped in.

Immediately upon entering, Niran removes his shoes. Placing them in a shelf dedicated for shoes next to the door. You smiled at his little act.

“It’s a lovely home,” he looks down the hallway of your bedroom, “hopefully we don’t rough it up too much.”

Niran follows you into your room, and immediately after shutting the door his lips are on you once more. Though with more passion, more hunger, more desire. Quickly you pull away for a slight gasp of air before diving back in the waves that submerged once stepping.

His hands tangled within your hair, taking more of you and Niran began to explore your mouth. The aftertaste of the drinks from earlier lingered on his tongue, yet still he tasted of fresh mint. Pulling you closer, your hands searched for something to grab on to stop the shakiness. Fingertips trailed his arms, arms then entangled around his shoulders like tree roots. You were lost with him tasting you, dozing into the euphoria. It was interrupted with the need of a breath of air. Pulling away, the string of saliva connects you too.

Stepping back at the slight mess, Niran leads you to your bed. Pushing you down on your own sheets and his lips are on you once more. The warmth of his tongue trails down your neck with his hands gently stream against your body. He treated you like the most delicate flower, observing to see what touches caused what reaction. Finding the sweet spot against the side of your neck, he began to leave bruised hickey marks. Gently sinking his teeth in the flesh as you gasped, you felt his lips smile against his skin.

Niran loved every second of this light teasing, just beginning to hear your quiet gasps and breaths made him crave you more. Though he was taken by surprise as he went from looking down at you in the cushions to seeing you above him, the warm lamp carving your face. Shadows adding accents to your features.

“This is a surprise,” He exclaims as he was slightly out of breath from attacking your neck.

“I wanted to give you the same treatment,” you admit, hovering over him to not slam yourself on him. You steady yourself.

“I didn’t know you’d have it in you,” you raised an eyebrow, “you know, the boldness-“

Mid sentence, you finally sit down on Niran’s lap. Shifting to sit comfortably as you plant your hands on his chest, carefully urging him to lay back. He doesn’t oblige, in fact a moan stifled out of his soft lips as he felt the pressure build up in his pants with your shifting.

“But, I won’t mind this,” he steadied his breathing as you began to unbutton his shirt. Niran’s body was hot, an opposition to the air around him. Goosebumps formed on his skin, your nail traces shapeless figures.

Warm lips are pressed against Niran’s cheek, another kiss is gently placed against his lips. Then dragging down to his neck as your hands traveled the rest of the half unbuttoned shirt. Still, your hands still quivered and Niran could feel it against his skin.

“Gorgeous,” he pulls you to look at him, chin in fingers, “You’re doing fine, trust me.”

Niran quickly discards his shirt and lays back down, hands on your waist to stabilize you. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, calming yourself as you continued your treatment to the man beneath you.

His chest was firm yet soft, leaning back down you began to press delicate kisses on his chest. Painting him reds and purples that he would admire later, some bite marks accentuated his chest

You could feel his bulge through the fabric of your pants, being sat on his lap did not ease the pressure in Niran’s pants. And every delicate shift made him impatient, hot, and bothered. He sighs in relief as you gently get off of him whilst unbuttoning his pants, Niran helps tug the rest of his clothes off.

“Ah ah,” he says before fully removing his boxers, “I don’t think this is fair.”

He points to your fully clothed self, you scoff. Slipping your shirt off as he traced his hand from your neck to shoulder, gripping the skin as he leaned in for a passionate kiss. Each time he kissed you, you felt the feeling of desire dwell inside you. Planting itself and getting you drunk on the sensation.

Moving yourself back down, finally getting rid of that damned piece of clothing. As Niran’s cock springs out, angry and ready, you softly lick from base to tip. Leisurely, you began toying with Niran with agonizingly slow licks and kisses with enough care that flower petals lean into. Before Niran had the window of chance to even complain on what he would consider torture, you finally take him in your mouth. Easing yourself on his length with hollow cheeks. Using your lips to cover your bottom teeth, the feeling was delectable for Niran.

To experiment, you took the entirety of his cock, and Niran let out what you would consider to be the most angelic noise you have ever heard. But the heaven’s would turn away, not intruding on a moment like this.

A hand takes a fistful of your hair, gripping tightly and pushing you down. Teary eyed, you looked up at Niran with wet eyelashes as you bobbed your head. He watched the repeated motion. Up and down, up and down. Spit begins to dribble from your chin and onto him. His moans began to fill up the room and you mentally thank yourself for deciding to keep the windows closed.

Niran begins to twitch your mouth, you quickly take a break to catch a smidge of air. Just for a second as Niran whines, wide eyed you looked at him,

“Something wrong?” You asked. Niran looks at you, a frustrated expression as he furrows his eyebrows. Giggling, you return the warmth back to him, this time a hand begins to pump the base of his cock. The arch of Niran’s back causes him to roll himself up into you. Gagging, Niran tries to cover his moans with the back of his hand. Holding back to fuck himself into your mouth, yet he wanted you to take care of him. He loved it, he loved the velvet around his cock. Soft and warm as he continues to climb further into the edge. Moaning out your name as a warning, begging you to not stop. Just the way you’re doing it is more than perfect. With a few more sucks, he’s gone. Head falling back into your pillows. The smell of you on the pillows only turning him on more as he spills himself into your mouth. Eyes rolling back as the hand in your hair shakes. Breathing quickly with your name escaping his plush lips as he begins to settle down.

Pulling back, you wipe the corner of your mouth as you watch Niran catch his breath. Scooting up closer to him, watching how pretty he looked with his hair sprawled. Gently, his chest rose and fell.

“Are you okay?” Voice just above a whisper, you lightly touch his face. Carefully pulling him to look at you.

His response was leaning up and kissing you so tenderly, yet so desperately.

“So gorgeous,” again, slipping your voice out for only niran and the moon to hear. You watch as he comes down from high and pulls you in for a sensual kiss. Tongue slipping past wet lips and his fingertips entangle themselves into your hair. Tugging, he still wanted to feel you. To touch you and have you.

Pulling away, Niran looks at you with eyes that practically begged you to stay. Getting high off the after shock and neediness, he tried pulling you back down. Gently, you place his arm away from yours as you head to your nightstand.

“Be patient Niran, it’ll only take a second,” you assure the pretty man in your bed.

Laying on his side, those soft eyes look up to you. “A second too long when I could have you here now.”

“Oh hush,” you say as you stand, brushing some hair strands out of his face. Framing him delicately, Niran notices the strap you have ready. Sitting up with a smirk on his face, excited for what’s in store.

As you have the strap secured, Niran pulls you in for another kiss. Pulling you on top of him as your hand trails down between his legs. Although his skin was burning like hellfire, goosebumps of excitement lingered. Leaving a small kisses and bites across his neck, your finger begins to stretch him out. Easing gently, you treated him like the most delicate flower. It’s blooming a rarity and a beauty, and to have Niran laid in your bed, flushed and panting with just your fingers scissoring themselves inside of him would be just that.

Niran swallows his moans, not wanting to get too loud. You wanted him to let go, to beg for more.

“Please, [Name],” words delicately slip past his plush lips.

You gave him an innocent face. Tilting your head to play the dumbfounded role, you waited for his reaction.

“Don’t give me that face, you know what I want,” Niran is firm, growing impatient and it made you giggle.

“I’m not sure I do Niran, why don’t you tell me?” Lightly teasing, you try to edge an answer from him.

He grumbles something under his breath and you raise a brow. Feeling defeating, Niran finally gives you a proper response.

“I want you to fuck me,” finally stating with half lidded eyes. So eager and ready for you.

Steadying yourself, you place a hand next to him as you line yourself up with him. Pushing the head of the strap in before diving a few inches more. Stretching Niran out in a gentle way sends him arching with a whine escaping his lips as you begin to retract yourself. The second thrust added a bit more length, continuing this pattern as you almost bottomed out inside Niran.

“Don’t hold back,” Niran whispers, pulling you down so your forehead is pressed against him, “it already feels so good.”

Soft lips pressed against his cheek, his eyes rolled back as your length finally settled himself inside of him. Testing out a few thrusts to find the spot that would make him arch closer. He felt so warm against, trying to hold onto something. Niran reaches out for your arm, his own arm pulls you closer by your neck. Locking in deeply into his eyes as you began brushing his g spot. The whine he let out was as sweet as saccharin, you nuzzled into his neck whilst adding more bruises to his already painted throat. Pulling his leg around your waist, you could feel the heels of his feet press against your lower back. Enveloping himself around you. All niran could feel was you, all he could hear was you. He wanted to breathe you, touch you, taste you on his tongue until he could bear no more.

Niran was close by the way his cock was twitching, the heat allowed for a glazed layer of sweat. Adding a glowing look with the warm lights in your room.

“F-fuck [name],” barely, Niran could get the words out. Soon enough he spilled himself, legs shaking around you as his eyes rolled back, arching against you as you trail your hand on the small of his back to press him closer. Kissing his chest while Niran heaves. It was beautiful watching him so shaky, so sensitive on the skin that the slightest touches had him craving for more. As if you’d leave him to fend for himself.

Pulling back, you sat on your knees assuming that this would be the end of the night. Thinking of a nice warm shower against your skin, then cuddling up with Niran sounded wonderful. Niran noticed the small moment where you spaced out and took advantage.

Surprised, you were suddenly on your back and facing the ceiling. A shocked expression when you realized Niran had straddled himself on top of you, palms pressing your shoulders down. Practically stuck beneath him, but you didn’t mind. Strands of hair clung to his face, sweaty yet flushed he was still eager for you.

Leaning down, Niran plants down your neck. Hitting a certain spot that made your breath hitch. His large hands trail against your. Caressing and trailing against your chest and explore it your torso. He liked the way your body reacted to his touches. All the while as he sank himself on your length. Bottoming out once more with a light moan. Still sensitive from his two previous orgasms, Niran shakily rolls his hips. Noticing the stuttering, you place both hands on his hips to guide him. Forward and back as tears begin to brew in the corners of his eyes. Overstimulation tasted so good for niran, despite his muscles aching he wanted more.

“You’re taking me so well Niran, your such a good boy,” you praised his efforts and he moaned.

Niran was lost in pleasure, head rolled back as he fucked himself on you to his hearts delight. The noises he made left you in awe, he sounded so angelic with the way your hips met with him. Hitting Niran in all the rights spots was driving him mad. Drool began to dribble from his mouth as he was getting drunk off of the pleasure. At this point he couldn’t even remember his name, all he wanted was to reach the high from you and you only. And for the third time, Niran had cummed with your name gracefully leaving his lips.

Practically collapsing, you held Niran as he shakily breathed in your arms. Stroking his hair and kissing his temples, you admired the way he nuzzled himself closer into you.

Quickly taking the harness and strap off, you lay back as Niran layed half-lidded in your chest. His breath finally stabilized, sleep was just a hand welcoming him and he gladly took it. The embers of the lights carved the shadows of his face so perfectly. Angelic, you couldn’t help but stare.

“I can feel you staring again,” Niran barely mutters out.

“I mean, the view is a beautiful one,” you reply whilst tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

Niran hums, “and you’ve gotten plenty, but please rest with me now.

Agreeing, you relax to his hands trailing your sides. You figured he fell asleep after the movement faltered, and slowly the burning sensation of tired eyes had finally hit. Looking out the window, moonlight added a new perspective to the beauty with you

[xelasrecords]

Once again I forgot that September 29 is this blog's anniversary, so I'm celebrating now woo! Thank you guys for sticking with me and being my friends. This year has been tough and I probably would've hit an even rockier bottom without tumblr and the people I've talked to here. No matter how short the interaction was, it helped. (MAJOR shoutout to @brighteststar707 @juminies and Lola)

When I hit a milestone, I like to look back on what has happened, so I decided to write unserious summaries and commentaries on my fics based on my recollection of them.

MYSTIC MESSENGER

As One So Half - Oh my God my loved ones are dead it's time to kill V and make Jumin mourn so I have an outlet to grieve.

Violent Need - Insane MC to match a controlling Jumin. The most passionate smut I've ever written. The passion is violence not lust.

Locus of Pain - She's so bitter and they're borderline toxic but at least Jihyun has his GE persona!! My possessive awakening, as in it turns out I don't hate possessiveness if it works for both sides.

Secrets and Sacrifices - I couldn't breathe so I suffocated everyone.

The Oasis Is Beautiful From Up Close - I easily forget about the fics I've written, so what I remember in this one is Jumin/MC/Jihyun, jokes, sexy scene almost sex but not, thoughtful conversation, then jokes again. Also my first romantic smut.

The Final Night - My life finally got a bit better so I allowed Jumin and MC to have a fleeting happiness before plunging them into a final battle.

All That Is Lost - Alas, Jumin is the target of my grief again. He's the one I'm killing now.

As Daylight Comes - Jumin and MC wish they could fuck in front of Jihyun but they respect their friendship too much to ruin their breakfast time.

The Love We Live For - Jumin, MC, Jihyun are falling for each other. I looked back on this with nostalgia because I don't think I can perceive love with as much altruism anymore.

Tea! Would You Like Some? - Jumin excessively promotes his tea because he forgets he likes wine after reader enters his house.

Haven Burning - Finally got the guts to write about Jihyun and it was about being codependent to hell. The start of my angsty smut as personal comfort.

Thank You for the Food - My most romcom fic ever. Wrote it as a pick-me-up to my younger self when I had to juggle a lot of things when I was sick and fantasising about Jumin taking care of me. Looooved writing the banter. My fics haven't been this happy since.

Wedge the Knife Under My Skin - Pent-up anger needed to go somewhere and the best course was through cheating on an abusive boyfriend with Jumin. This nourished my suppressed need for revenge. I was also interested in exploring the grey areas of cheating.

Greatest Kindness - I had an obsession with breakup stories that time so I had to give Jumin one.

Wedding Scene - My friend got married so my brain dramatised the whole thing. I was also grappling with guilt about something else so I smashed them together and it turned out to be a post-breakup fic set after Greatest Kindness.

In the Dead of Night, You Bring Me Back Alive - Tipsy thoughtful conversations inspired by my two brain cells debating each other. Might as well get them out. Oh, and the reader dazzles because we shouldn't be damsel-in-distress all the time in Jumin's fics!!

Cold Wrath - Jumin and the reader try to fight healthily. I got triggered writing the fight and reached a revelation™.

The Worth of Gifts - I haven't deleted this purely to show myself how much I've improved. A part of me wants to slam on this, but it was also my entry into fic writing so I'm just gonna be grateful that my past self got covid and was so bored that she entertained the idea of writing fanfics.

THE SSUM

The Great Anguish of Our Separation Means Nothing to Me - I was soooo excited when I saw Harry's potential for HUGE angst! Break them up, as I like to say.

Go, Go, Stay - A moment of relief when I finally understood Harry's inner working.

Lovely Walk - Persistent reader with a douchebag guy whom I would never recommend to pursue IRL, but this is all fun and games so it's aight. Beat this man into a pulp—metaphorically.

[xuexing-lumi]

Taehyung’s Conversation Energy with his FS + Her Reaction ? (Some Channeled Dialogues + Few extra Tarot cards too!)

“lowkey soulmates?? or just vibin?? 👀💔"

✦ by Lumi, your fave tarot it-girl 💅✨

Tarot Deck Used: A traditional Rider-Waite-Smith

✦ TAROT SPREAD

🌟 Six of Wands – Taehyung comes across as confident, charismatic, and subtly proud, but not in an arrogant way. He likely feels victorious or validated simply by having her attention, like, “Finally, someone who feels like they just… get it.” He might even be teasing, flirty, or slightly showy, but not to impress her right away, but because he wants her to see the best version of him. This card shows he wants to be seen and acknowledged, maybe even subconsciously wants to win her admiration.

🌟 Queen of Pentacles – She responds with calm grace and warmth. She’s not flustered or overly giggly, her vibe is more of a mature goddess energy, someone who is confident in her worth and instantly makes others feel safe and valued. She’s internally impressed, but she’s not the type to gush. She listens deeply, smiles gently, and maybe even compliments him in a grounded, genuine way. Her reaction is “I see you… and I like what I see, but I’m not easily swayed.”

🌟Eight of Cups – Here’s where it gets interesting. This card hints at something deeper going on beneath the surface of their first conversation or possibly for both of them. It could be:

He’s coming out of a previous emotional disappointment, and meeting her makes him feel like he can finally move forward.

Or, it could be her learning to become emotionally detached from most people, but something about this exchange feels different, and she’s curious, unsettled in a good way. (I keep hearing "I take my power back!" in my head)

(LOL, I SEE THIS MEME IN MY HEAD t-t, lemme know if you want some Regina George readings.)

Taetae's FS calling her power back be like:

EXTRA CARDS: Ace of Cups, 10 of Wands, Two of Wands, Death, Page of Cups (bottom of the deck).

Imagine This Scene: They’re at a quiet dinner after some casual group event. He leans in a bit too playfully, teasing her about something mundane. She laughs, not because it was hilarious, but because he’s charming without trying too hard. He’s half-expecting her to giggle and swoon, but instead, she calmly says, “You’re very used to being admired, aren’t you?” with a knowing look.He pauses.Something shifts. He realizes she’s not like others. She sees beyond the surface and she has caught him lol.

She watches him fall quiet for the first time that evening. He leans back slightly, eyes narrowing with a little smirk.

“So you psychoanalyze people for fun?” he asks, trying to sound teasing, but his voice dips like low-key serious. Curious.

She shrugs, sipping her drink like it's no big deal.

“No. Just not impressed by shiny things unless they have depth.”

This conversation marks the death of the version of them that didn’t believe in this kind of connection. They both leave that dinner table slightly changed. He’s not thinking about the cameras, the fans, the rehearsals. She’s not thinking about heartbreak, or how many people ghosted her last year.

He doesn't like drama, and she doesn't give him drama.

✦ do you want a personal reading like this?

🌸 I offer:

Celebrity Tarot Reads (K-Pop, BTS, Actors) SP Manifestation Guidance Future Love + Shadow Work Spreads Moon-Coded Letter from Your Twin Flame Channeled Audio Readings + PDF Summaries ✧ First reading? Ask for a free pull!

—

📩 DMs Open: @xuexing-lumi Tumblr inbox

🖤 closing words from Lumi:

We ride or die, even through the mess. 💅 — Lumi, the Moon’s Bride 🌕💋

—

(ignore):

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Hey! I was wondering if you could find any fics with Epic? Safe for work (can be teen just not mature), please :) Can be ship or x reader just anything with a focus on the guy lol.

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back by ChocoholicLogophile (Teen And Up, Complete)

Annoyance and guilt is a tumultuous concoction that roils in his nonexistent gut and combusts outward into a vexed growl before he could stop it. He tried to hide his limp wings further but they laid, broken and useless just like him, tucked into his sides from where his draconic bottom half sat. “I already told you and Chara both, they’ll heal on their own.” “I know,” Epic soothed. “I won’t try an’ heal them. I just wanted to clean ‘em a bit, that’s all.” Epic’s smile falls at the corners as he gazes purposefully over his body. The inspection has Cross defensively straightening his back and feathers bristling before he can think of why he’d do that. “Figured you probably weren’t feeling too great after not showering for a hot minute.” With dawning horror and shame, Cross realizes he hadn’t exactly been able to bathe after…everything. Shit, he hopes he doesn’t smell that bad after a month. When Epic’s turned back around to fiddle with his machinery, Cross takes a quick sniff under his left humerus and winces. Nope, he smelled that bad.

Letters by ChocoholicLogophile (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

What if Cross’s ‘secret admirer’ when he was in the Royal Guard was none other than Epic, a scientist attempting to establish communication with alternate universes?

Visitation of the Ghost by Glitchy_phantom (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Epic has died, that’s nothing new but this time it’s permanent. He would’ve accepted this had his Gaster not been released in his au. Now he has to find his way back to his au without his magic eye. To make things easier he collects some new friends who help him on his journey. Honestly this could’ve been easier without The Grim Reaper chasing him. Or, Epic travels the multiverse as a dead dude and along his travels drags some random new friends with him. Fun times.

I'll Fall Asleep (And Choke Myself with the Pillowcase) by SomethingSomethingwhoooo (Teen And Up, Complete)

This eye would be the death of him, so why couldn't he find it in himself to care? Or I'm back on my Epic agenda shit, and for future reference this work is very different than my other story and fair warning very dark.

Between Heroes and You (Which do I Choose?) by SirSquidsalot (General Audiences, Complete)

Epic isn’t quite “the world’s greatest hero” and Cross isn't quite “the most dangerous villain”. He is a very dangerous and well-known (in the Underground) mercenary for hire, though. And he did just realize that the guy he’s married to has tried to arrest him at least six times. Inspired by a Tumblr prompt "You are the most dangerous supervillain and have been happily married to the world's greatest hero for years. You've found out your spouse's secret identity and are desperate to hide the truth from them for life be ause you fear they may end the world if they found out." (writing-prompt-s)

[barkers-art]

(It just occurred to me that haven't posted all of my current DislikedVerse kids on Tumblr yet, so expect to see a ton of these.)

Welcome to the DislikedVerse, aka the Disliked Ships AU. This is in no way meant to be a platform for hate, it's just an excuse for me to make some cute or interesting fankids for MLP ships I don't particularly care about.

These three are Fairy Floss, Cocoa Puff and Cotton Cloud, the 10 year old triplet daughters of Pinkie Pie and Discord and the younger half-sisters of Laffy Taffy and Sweet Treat. Pinkie ended up dating Discord around the time her two twins were five, the two of them ended up falling in love, they later got married and then these three popped into existence. And by that I mean nopony is entirely sure how these were born since Pinkie didn't show any signs of being pregnant. Since their parents are a hyperactive fourth wall-breaking party pony and a being of chaos, these three are understandably pretty odd.

Despite being made up of parts of different creatures, Fairy Floss is probably the most normal out of the three. While having the exact same abilities as her two parents (her dad's chaos magic and her mom's fourth wall breaking), Floss in more grounded in reality and doesn't use them that often. She's perfect content with behaving like a normal pony, or as normal as a pony/draconequus hybrid can be anyway.

Cocoa Puff ended up inheriting her mom's hyperactivity and has a tendancy to bounce off the walls. Literally. To Cocoa, gravity isn't a law but more like a polite suggestion. One of her favorite things to do is surprise passing ponies by standing on the bottom of tree branches. Some classmates of hers have claimed to see her walk through walls, but this has yet to be proven. Cocoa neither confirms nor denies it.

Cotton Cloud is probably the strangest out the three sisters. She was born with an extra set of limbs as well as a third eye with which she is able to see...things. She won't tell anypony what she's able to see as she thinks it's more fun not to, but some ponies suspect that she's able to see into the future as she'll sometimes ask random things like "Do you think it'll rain tomorrow?" She's an odd one, that's for sure.

Fairy Floss was adopted from Klawiee

Cocoa Puff was adopted from Dawn-n-Night

Cotton Cloud was adopted from Stellar-Adoptables

[jan-ala]

On GW2's narratives

I maintain that the reason GW2's stories always fall flat (though some more than others cough SotO cough) is that we have almost no villains.

What parts of the story do people remember most fondly? LW1, PoF, and LW4 almost universally. Y'know, the parts that came to life because of Scarlet Briar, Balthazar, and Palawa Joko. I´d also add the tearjerker at the end of EoD and saying goodbye to Aurene, but that's not relevant to the point I'm going to make.

Remember in like 8th grade English class, when your teacher talked about conflicts in storytelling? It was probably something like this.

GW2 has opted almost universally for the bottom-right quadrant : Person vs. Nature. There's nothing wrong with that type of conflict. The dragons are a force of nature more than independent living things, and the Kryptis and Titans are about the same after all was said and done with them.

But those kinds of stories are almost antithetical to the power fantasy that most MMORPGs, including GW2, rely on. The only time in the history of this game where anything felt actively hostile was in HoT's open world. So we're just left there reacting to a quasi-mindless threat with no motivations, goals, or real personality, who we know for sure we're going to defeat because it's a video game designed to be beaten with minimal effort. If we wanted to call the antagonistic forces a "natural disaster", they would be the equivalent of a pretty mild rainshower. Not exactly a compelling story.

Before I move into villains, I want to address why Society and Self would also make uninteresting conflicts in this case. In both cases, it requires ANET to define our character's personality, goals, and convictions more than they already have. This leaves players feeling disconnected from any sort of potential narrative roleplay. Additionally, in the former's case, it would require ANET to make a profound political message, which I don´t think they are capable of.

That leaves us with Person vs. Person. Here's where villains come in.

Villain-centric stories are almost a cheat code for MMORPGs. Look at Lilith from FFXI, Shiro Tagachi and Khilbron from GW1, the Lich King from WoW, Emet Selch (everyone's favourite sexy grampa) and Zenos from FFXIV.

They allow you to tell a full and complete character-driven story without writing our characters for us or having to write them as cartoons so that they stand out (literally every one of our main party members in GW2). You're forced to define your character in comparison or contrast to the villain's aims, means, and/or convictions.

We found out later that Scarlet Briar was an agent of Modremoth, but at the time, we thought she was some batshit genius! We saw and reacted to the shit she was doing through the lens of trying to understand her. It made the world feel big and fragile and mysterious.

We met Balthazar as he deceived us, and we had to reckon with a god's view of life vs. our own.

Palawa Joko, I mean, nuff said, he's the best character writing we've ever had in this game and he was taken out of GW1. And he was played half for laughs!

When we don´t have strong antagonist writing, we're left with just a beige sea of allies who have no real philosophical underpinnings. Of course they're against the threat, it's killing them, what else? I don´t even know any of the SotO characters names because I can´t care about them. They're faceless randoms who simply act as agents of Isgarren. Okay. Who cares?

I am 1000000% certain that the writing team at ANET follows my inane tumblr blog closely, so please, take my advice and give us a mirror.

[definitelynotaminion]

Rated "R" for Robin, Chapter 2 pt 6

This is a continuation of sneak peaks for Chapter 2 of this Jaytim fic (7k chapter 1). (Also on ao3) The full wip of chapter 2 is up on my patreon, if you’re interested (the full fic is up to 14,080 words so far). Here’s where to read the rest of the released sneak peaks in chronological order on tumblr.

-

Seeing you, just-- seeing you. Lay it open for me, baby bird.

“That would have been... affecting.” Considering rather than stilted, humming rather than forced through a tight throat.

“The suit? All black?”

“Your regard.” Tim sounded strangled. “You’re right. Nobody ever looked at me, much less-- I would have been arrested by the...”

Bruce. Just, Bruce.

Poetry in the most innocuous of places, prose for the sweat on his cheek.

“I wouldn’t have looked away.” Jason dared, and Tim made a hurt sound, a torn sound, so Jason pressed on. “Would you have come, if I gestured-- to a side room, an alcove, somewhere?”

“You could have-- signed. I would have. Recognized.”

“The code? Fuck, you would have, you freaky little stalker. But I don’t know you know, remember?” Jason huffs. “Maybe my hand twitches into it unconsciously, and you look. Meet-north or something.”

He twirls his hand in lazy mockery of the bat-sign for rendezvous, hoping Tim can see it. He realizes, all at once, that part of him is already inviting him over, dragging him into the room and--

Some variety of ‘and’.

“And you... find out I know.” Hoarse, like the words cost him. A flicker of tongue over lips, the slightest hitch in the mic’s feed.

“I suspect.” Jason corrects. “Maybe not that. Maybe it’s coincidence. But you look so familiar.”

“You meet me anyway.” Tim says, “It’s the Starr mansion, so off that little--”

“Yeah, to the back of that north hallway.” Jason knows the one. “I get you there and I wouldn’t put my hands on you.”

Tim’s-- mouth falls open. Just. Right there on the comms. The sounds of Tim’s breath just that much louder for him.

“You have to. Find out what I know.” A shudder through his voice, a hint of pant.

“Mmhm.” Jason lets his eyes slip half-lidded, giving a little teeth to his bottom lip. “And Robin had a certain way of that, yeah? You ever see me use those moves?”

“Yes.” Tim says, instantly. “It’s only...”

“Yeah?” Jason’s Robin had been a little heavy handed with the flirting, a little mean-- backed up with the fucking confidence that came from knowing he was the hottest and meanest piece of ass in the room.

“Jay.” Tim’s breathy little protest of a laugh. “I suspect... Large amounts of my gray matter would probably melt, Jason.”

“That good, huh?” He rolls his tongue around his inner lip, pokes his cheek to hide the grin.

“My brain would leak out of my ears.” He stresses.

Jason swallows. And-- yeah, why not? They’re already fucking here, already wide the fuck open, pried apart where his fucking chest scars--

“I’m Jay.” He pitches his voice just that much different, just that little bit--

“Jay!” Tim screams, affronted and scandalized and a lot of other things wrapped up in one little neurotic package that wants this. Wants this enough to be afraid of it.

“I’ve seen you around before,” Jason says with an easy, cajoling confidence-- and fucking intense eyes, burning-- fuck, burning right through people, demanding everything.

Tim breathes on the comms, breathes for a hot second that could teeter either way, and then he sinks right down.

Good-- Jason shakes his head.

“Timothy Drake.” Tim demurs, in a bland voice, an uninteresting voice, and like hell Jason would have let that slide-- not when Tim followed him over here, not when Tim has so much in his eyes. The glimpse of fear, of shyness-- interest--

You wouldn't give me that, he thinks, eyes narrowed and tongue pressing hard to his fucking teeth-- no. Jason wouldn't haven taken it.

And touching the kid-- this kid-- would be way too much, too soon, but Jason can still lean a little, get up close and personal-like.

"Do your friends call you Tim?" A blend, perhaps, the older yearning streaking through, something a little more direct than Jason would have-- probably-- gone for, but only if little Tim didn't look at him like a fucing shark.

"My-- I don't. Didn't have friends at this time."

And it's not like Jason couldn't relate-- the streets were lonely and cold-- but--

"Really? None?"

"I. I'd shiver." Tim says, truthfully. Like a bared fucking throat, Jason's scar, Jason's scar-- "You'd get me to tell you about Ives. My only civilian friend."

"I'd ask if you wanted to be friends with me--" That's a moan, fuck. "Yeah?" Jason wets his lips again, copes with the tentative fucking tremor in his wet-- really wet-- lip.

"Jason. Jay." The two syllables so goddamn serious and intense and then his name, his fucking name like a balm before it could even sting.

-

Note: I'm thinking of finding a slice spot to throw up chapter 2 onto ao3. Until then, I'm dropping pieces onto tumblr tonight <3

[wrestler-smash-or-pass]

Weekly Wrapup 12/17/23

Top five smashable wrestlers this week:

Hangman Adam Page - 86.4% smash

Hikuleo - 86.0% smash

Hiromu Takahashi - 77.0% smash

Sonny Kiss - 75.3% smash

Zack Sabre, Jr. - 72.7% smash

More stats under the cut, along with my observations, commentary, and some of my favorite tags...

Bottom five smashable wrestlers this week:

Undertaker (American Badass Variant) - 34.8% smash

Raven - 38.9% smash

Andrew Everett - 41.6% smash

Scott Hall (Diamond Studd Variant) - 43.7% smash

Drew McIntyre (Young Variant) - 57.0% smash

Most total votes this week (most enthusiasm)

CM Punk - 527 votes

Hook - 449 votes

Hangman Adam Page - 447 votes

Zack Sabre, Jr. - 363 votes

Sonny Kiss - 324 votes

And least total votes this week (least enthusiasm)

Andrew Everett - 173 votes

Scott Hall (Diamond Studd Variant) - 197 votes

Raven - 211 votes

Hiromu Takahashi - 230 votes

Hikuleo - 236 votes

The closest match was Scott Hall (Diamond Studd Variant), who lost 86-111.

Top Five Overall

Kris Statlander - 91% smash

Hangman Adam Page - 86.4% smash

Hikuleo - 86.0% smash

Rhea Ripley - 84.2% smash

Eddie Kingston - 82.8% smash

Bottom Five Overall

Vince McMahon - 3.9% smash

Kane (Corporate variant) - 10.1% smash

Triple H (Terra Ryzing variant) - 18.6% smash

The Boogeyman - 22.6% smash

Brock Lesnar - 23.2% smash

Top Women Overall

Kris Statlander - 91% smash

Rhea Ripley - 84.2% smash

Julia Hart (Spooky Variant) - 81.9% smash

Chyna - 78.2% smash

Penelope Ford - 72.9% smash

Top Men Overall

Hangman Adam Page - 86.4% smash

Hikuleo - 86.0% smash

Eddie Kingston - 82.8% smash

Kenny Omega - 82.1% smash

El Desperado - 80.3% smash

Top Tag Teams

The Golden Lovers - 80.4% smash

Best Friends - 66.7% smash

Motor City Machine Guns - 65.5% smash

Young Bucks - 43.8% smash

Average Smash Rating

Week 1: 52.7% Week 2: 57.7% Week 3: 54.4% Week 4: 62.9%

Thanks for being cool about the CM Punk poll. He's a very polarizing figure, so I really appreciate the fact that everyone was able to keep their tags civil. CM Punk received the third most smash votes to date (358 smash votes, compared to Adam Page's 386 and Eddie Kingston's 365). Punk Also received the 8th most pass votes. He just received a ton more votes than anyone else.

Onto other news, you guys massively prefer older Drew McIntyre (79.3% smash) to young Drew (57.0% smash). Tumblr maintains its reputation for being the "sexualize that old man" website!

I really struggled to find a good picture of Hook for his poll. He looks like my little brother, so it kinda felt like I was perusing my baby brother's thirst traps to show off to all the other horny weirdos on the horny weirdo website. It was easier than looking at all the Boogeyman worm photos, at least.

I'm thinking of running a few demographics polls in addition to the regularly scheduled smash or pass polls. Data on favorite wrestling promotion, sexual orientation, and age might make the poll results more interesting. Feel free to send in suggestions for other questions to ask. I can't promise I'll use all questions submitted by the community, but you guys will no doubt think of something I forget.

Some favorite tags this week

@discow1tch on Zach Sabre, Jr.: #you gotta see him twist a couple guys into pretzels before you fall for him

@samixayn on Hook: #if you love me you will bend this twink in half

@samixayn on Motor City Machine Guns: #is there not an eiffiel tower emoji or can i just not spell eiffeil.

@arthausen on Hook: #smash but he has to call me daddy and danhausen has to be there

@mancewarner on Hook: #passing bc he needs to be humbled

@pavlovean on Undertaker (American Badass Variant): #maybe if i knew where he was on january 6th and it wasn’t the capitol

@debbiechanclub on Hikuleo: #oh that's drilla in the first photo#and then he's holding a drill in the second#intentional op or not? lol (Answer: no it was not intentional. I am not that clever)

@daddywrasslin on Hangman Adam Page: #SMASH SO HARD MY NEIGHBORS NEED A CIGARETTE

@regalityandcoffee on Andrew Everett: #he looks like hed ramble to me about Pearl Jam for two hours (He looks more like a Tool fan to me, but yeah exactly)

[s1urpjuic3]

MY FAVORITE VILLAINS/ANTAGONISTS!!

I know what you're thinking: No hot takes? No lol. I thought of this because I was thinking like damn, why do I like so many villains? Then I thought,

It's not my fault; IT'S THE CREATORS' FAULTS!

Because, If bad, then Y hot?

So without further ado, My favorites from across the board in no particular order, (That would be WAYYY to hard)

Damon Salvatore & Klaus Mikaelson

Like hello? I made & based this page of Vampire Diaries, I love my goth boys so muchhh 🥰! They just like me fr fr.

Like first of all: EVERYBODY likes Klaus. Like... look at him. Honestly, I also just like the fact that they're so devoted when their in love like that's so romantic.

I think that's the reason why I like most of these characters cause Likeeee? You wanna blow up the city because someone stood too close to me in the Walmart line? Okay daddy 🙂‍↔️

The Joker (Specifically Jared Leto's version)

Ngl, I might just have a thing for manipulative men 😭? It's just something about his crazy that SPEAKS to me.

He matches my freak if I'm being honest like, he just embodies freedom and that's so attractive to me. And he just fine asf likeeee he could get it, for sure.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tooru Oikawa, Bakuto, and Kuroo

OMG before I say anything else, Y'all know what I just realized

OIKAWA, MONTAGUE (from Fortnite) AND GOJO IS THE SAME PEOPLE OMS THEY ARE LIKE

HONESTLYYYYYYY YOU COULD THROW ANAKIN IN THERE TOO

Likeeeee? They all look good asf in blue, they all bratty, they act tough but they bottom bitch fr fr likeeee?

But anyways, I spoiled half the list 💀

Before y'all keyboard warriors and comment #405 start attacking me, ALL THE NIGGA'S I LIKE OFF THE SHOW IS 18. I. AM. NINE. TEEN.

(I'm ngl I didn't even realize they was all 18 until I looked it up, but I think that just goes to show I like older men lol)

They personalities are just so yessssss omg especially Bokuto he a lil bit childish sometimes, but y'know he would take a relationship serious.

Anakin Skywalker

Idk about y'all, but this my goat omss. It's funny because i've never watched a Star Wars movie in my life (Wasn't allowed to) so when I came on Tumblr and was introduced to him, it really made me realize that I too, can be a switch 😂🥰

Speaking of being introduced to parasites & never having watched the show, last but not least

Ryomen Sukuna & Toji Fushiguro

Okay so I'm pretty sure I have an unhealthy obsession with Sukuna, but he reminds me so much of my self (Based off of my extensive Smau research)

I love Toji too, but 1. He's broke; ew

2. I have a thing for light color haired boys ((That sounds colorist y'all please 😭(Specifically blondes))

This one quote from Sukuna made me fall in love with him even more

It's so self-centered, but he's fucking earned it. He's the strongest curse ever. Like; big bro was so strong, he defeated all his opps, got bored, sealed himself into 10 fingers and said:

"I'll wait"

Like he's an underpaid teacher, just so he could fight stronger people. Like I loveeeeeeee a mean ass boy cause they just don't be caring, but when they meet the right one; it's up.

Anyways, I'm defff gonna make a part 2 because theirs still more I haven't mentioned! Love y'all

[r6shippingdelivery]

Kiki we are choosing violence today

1, 2, 3, 5, 11, 13, 16 :)

Heyyy look, I'm gonna get cancelled again, but this time on tumblr 😎😂

The character everyone gets wrong

Jäger, hands down. It's so rare to find someone who doesn't hit him with the "poor liddle innocent baby" beam and it drives me up the wall. He's about 40 and in the special forces ffs! Glaz often gets hit with the "uwu beam" too, but nowhere near as much as Jäger.

2. A compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

Honestly, the realest and most compelling argument is: "cause I don't like it when x character tops/bottoms and I'm the one in control of the thing when I write or look for nsfw content of them".

If you want a more honest answer, I find that Kapkan topping is the most boring possible choice and it doesn't even feel like it fits him tbh, he has that "repressed and begging to be railed" vibe to him, imo (and if it's pairing him with Glaz, it's falling into the boring, heteronormative stereotype of "artist guy has to be more in touch with his feelings and therefore more in tune with his feminine side, ergo he bottoms", which is everywhere -not only in this fandom- and is as compelling as a glass of spoilt milk to me)

3. Screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Oh boy 😂 I'm not gonna search for those cause they're old, but in no particular order, the worst takes (imo) I've seen where:

Glaz writes romantic/emo poetry (the guy has a line saying "bullets are better than words" like wtf)

Some NH fans half-joking/half-seriously saying that since Ash dislikes NH, and Osa is trans and in NH, that must mean Ash is a terf...

People thinking Kapkan calling Fenrir "puppy" is flirting and/or has sexual intent 💀 (that was really fucking weird, people)

5. Worst discord server and why

Whenever the owner thinks they can decide who the people in there can follow on social media or not, or what interests are acceptable to like. Sadly, in my experience if some community or server describes itself as a safe place, it has about a 75% chance of being as described :(

11. Number of fandom-related words you've filtered

Too fucking many 😂 Non-comprehensive list: ships I dislike (like Frost/Kapkan or Cav/Glaz, for example, and more), bottom Glaz, bottom Tachanka, top Kapkan, Nighthaven, Kali, Ace, a few people in the fandom (aside from blocking them), anything related to C-OD, and sometimes I temporarily might filter stuff related to a very popular piece of media I have no interest in so it doesn't clutter my feed.

13. Worst blorboficiation

I'm not sure what this term means here. Is it the same as in the first question?

16. You can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

I don't understand why so many people blindly follow HCs and fanon from popular artists and treat it like canon almost. Or draw characters without a face reveal in the same way over and over and over just because x popular artist did it like that. I find much more rewarding and interesting to make up my own (by myself or with friends!) and develop my own takes on characters and stuff 🤷

[rjalker]

My Flatland characters size comparisons and the main scene in the short story.

Anyways. Flatland is public domain, so you can download it or read it online for free here from Project Gutenberg.

And you can listen to an audiobook version here on the Web Archive.

And here's another audiobook version here on Youtube.

There's a lot more audiobook versions you can find, those are just the first two links that showed up.

Do not give your money to Amazon or anything buying ebook versions of this book. They're literally free. You should only be paying money if you're buying a physical copy.

Anyways I had just typed out a whole nice summary of Flatland's social structure for those who haven't read it yet but tumblr just ate it. And I have to redo the image descriptions too. Sigh.

Anyways. Long story short: The wider your angles, the higher your social status Under the Current Regime, which is super fascist and that's the point. It's a dystopia.

The lowest class is literally called the Criminal class. It is made up of Irregular shapes, aka, disabled people, and polygons with angles of less than 10 degrees. They have no rights at all. Lets just stop there.

The second lowest class is made up of Lines, who are classified as Women. They likewise have no rights, and have a ton of restrictions placed on them to control their movements.

Just above Lines are Isosceles triangles, who are forced to be Soldiers, aka canon fodder.

The lowest three classes are routinely murdered en-masse to stop them from revolting, with many schemes in place to keep them in-fighting instead of fighting together against their oppressors.

The middle class is made up of equal-sided triangles.

The upper-middle class is made up of squares.

The more sides you have, the higher your rank, the more money and privilege you have, until you get up to the circles, who have declared themselves the rulers.

That's the basics. Anyways.

It's very funny to me that the Kel-lite official website uses a free font I use to make neopronoun pins.

[ID: An MS Paint drawing showing three characters represented by solid black geometric shapes on a white background. Each is pointed upward, with thin colored lines crossing above them to mark their relative heights. From left to right, they are: Flyssa, a line with sharp points on either end, with an angle of zero degrees, who is the shortest. Dearg, an isosceles triangle with an angle of three degrees, who is slightly taller than Flyssa. Last in Leitenant Kellite, an equal-sided triangle with an angle of sixty degrees, who is the tallest. Flyssa and Dearg's names are written in the font "Midnight", which is all caps, at a slight angle. Lieutenant Kellite's name is written in the font "Just Another Hand", which is thin and curved like casual handwriting. End ID.]

[ID: The same characters as above, now in a scene with a dark grey background. Rather than being solid black, their insides are now primarily red-purple, with dark blue and red lines and shapes for their stomachs and nerve endings. The rest of the drawing is in various shades of grey or black. Around the edges of their bodies are thin cilia like cells have. Lieutenant Kellite is sitting across a short table from Dearg in the center of the image, with Flyssa at the top, looking at Lieutenant Kellite. On the table is an almost-empty, knocked over bottle, and a half-empty bowl of fruit gelletin. Lieutenant Kellite is using his cilia to pick up peices of fruit and throw them over his "shoulder" so they fall to the floor at the bottom of the image. He is thinking to himself, "Who puts pineapple in pudding???". The bowl in front of him is half empty, with most of its contents in his stomach, where he ate two pieces of fruit before deciding he didn't like it. The wine from the empty bottle, and some other peices of food are also visible in his stomach above the dessert. Dearg and Flyssa share the same thought bubble, thinking, "There goes all our rations for the month…" Dearg's stomach has some food visible in it. Flyssa's is too small to see. There is a black border for a wall around the drawing, with a wide doorway leading off-screen on the left side, a very thin one on the right, and another thin one on the bottom right. End ID.]

Yes this is a very long post for two small drawings. I'm incapable of not explaining things.

[stevensavage]

The Capstone of Star Trek

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve's Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

I haven’t been interested in anything Star Trek in years. I mean, we’re kinda Voyager here. Yes I’ve heard great things about Discovery, I can appreciate the ideas behind Strange New Worlds retro-forward work. It’s just that I’m tired of Star Trek despite the fact that like many a geek, it was formative in my life.

But now Trek seems over-saturated and overdone. I mean it’s not Star Wars level and definitely not Marvel, but you know, haven’t we kind have done all of this? Do we have to keep rehashing things? What the hell is up with the various Spock plots and time travel? Can’t we, I dunno, move on for awhile?

So you’d think I’d be incredibility indifferent to the animated Trek dramedy, Lower Decks. I mean I even tried to get into it twice, and though I appreciated it, the show just didn’t do it for me. Well, didn’t do anything until a friend got into it, and I gave it one more spin.

Then I was hooked. On a Star Trek show.

If you’re not familiar with Lower Decks – and maybe you are, it’s fine – it’s an animated half hour show set in “recent” Star Trek continuity, the 24th century of the imagined future. The show doesn’t involve glamorous front-line flagships, but the Cerritos, a class of starship used for support, transport, “second contact” and less spectacular activities. The story also focuses on four friends who are “Lower Deckers,” relatively new spacefarers of low rank stuck with uninteresting and menial tasks, even if those drag them into adventures.

It’s Star Trek from the bottom up, but it doesn’t stop there.

The show is steeped in Trek lore, sometimes carrying concepts and even entire past episodes to their logical-if-ridiculous conclusions. People are used to strange energies evolving others into insane gods or temporarily switching bodies. First contact with aliens has to be followed up by someone doing the real work of shuffling around annoying diplomats and hooking planets up to communications network. For that matter, what do you do with all those monomaniacal computers endlessly plaguing alien civilizations – oh and has anyone checked up on those societies lately?

It’s every Trek trope and plenty of obscure lore falling on capable-if-neurotic shoulders of the Lower Deckers and the Cerritos crew. In many ways it’s akin to the Venture Brothers, which seemed to be a parody of cartoons, but was more of a heartfelt homage. Lower Decks just operates with a more defined property, the entire Star Trek janky extended universe.

It’s probably the most Star Trek of any Star Trek if you get my drift. I enjoy it because it’s not just another Star Trek show but an extrapolation by some talented writers.. The decades of continuity sort of roll downhill to the back-of-the-line Cerritos and the Lower Deckers.

It’s a kind of capstone for Star Trek, summing so much if it up in a way both funny and sometimes touching.

However, when it is done, I also can’t see Star Trek interesting me again. Lower Decks really does feel like a capstone, that there’s nothing more to do beyond this. Maybe that’s why the fact there’s even a Lower Decks RPG resonated with me – it feels like Trek has been done so often it’s best in everyone’s hands.

Thus I approach Lower Decks with a kind of bitersweet sadness. I’ve got the same Trek rush I got with TOS and Net Gen – but also it’s the end of that as well. I also know people will try to keep Trek going as its an institution – I just won’t be interested.

But I’m glad to have Lower Decks as a way to rediscover and close out a love of Star Trek.

Steven Savage

www.StevenSavage.com

www.InformoTron.com