#I've already been exploding privately

[the5n00k]

This Thursday I'm watching the MASH finale I'll let y'all know how that goes (she's terrified)

[meayefet]

Here's another thing I feel like we need to talk about regarding the current war between Israel and Hamas. Minor as it may be, I've been losing my mind over this.

As a person who grew up in the early 2010s, I grew up mostly on the internet and fandom culture, and have written quite a lot of fanficition in my early teens.

Something I've realized this past week is that people are seeing Palestine as a fandom. And not only does it belittle the actual problem, it dehumanizes Palestinians and Israelis alike and allows the rewriting of facts and truths as if it were an AU fanfic.

After realizing that I jokingly told a friend that I wouldn't be surprised to see RPF about the events of October 7th. I had in mind something like slash fiction of Hamas members, but today I found out people are writing fanfiction about A HOSTAGE AND HER CAPTOR.

I also found out it didn't happen in a vaccum - apparently tiktok is exploding with this stuff, saying Maya Regev - the hostage in question - had "left her heart in Gaza", because she smiled and said "shukran, bye" to her captors.

In case you have forgotten - Maya Regev was SHOT IN THE LEG AND TAKEN HOSTAGE INTO GAZA along with her brother, who was released FOUR DAYS AFTER HER. She was released with a shattered leg and without her brother - but if she smiled, her captors must have treated her so well, amirite? (Even though there are already plenty of horror stories from Hamas captivity, and children came back pale and whispering with their heads full of lice.)

Even in the early 2010s there was a debate whether RPF is legit or not (and at 26 I can safely say it's a no from me), but in this case it's even worse. These are not public figures we are talking about. This isn't One Direction or The Beatles. The Hamas terrorists are, well, terrorists, and Maya Regev is a private person made public because she was TAKEN HOSTAGE INTO GAZA. Writing a FANFIC about actual people who were actually injured during October 7th is beyond sickening, and it's probably the most immoral thing you can do on social media for the Palestinian cause (and if you guys claim to be on the side of morality you might want to be consistent).

Another thing that's driving me crazy is the difference between Israelis and Non-Israelis who grew up on the same things at the same time. my friends and I learned a lot about justice, critical thinking, and the power of art and creativity on the internet. I met a lot of my online friends in socialist youth movements and rallies, and many of them later became my classmates in Bezalel - BECAUSE we applied what we had learned into our adult life.

Non Israelis who grew up on the same platforms as I did who took part in the same fandoms, read the same fanfiction works, learned the same truths of social justice and the power of art- are now viewing the conflict as a fandom. You're either a fan or you're wrong - there is no middle. No room for critical thinking, for "Palestinians have every right to self-determination and an independent state BUT Hamas who actively prevents them said rights has comitted crimes against humanity on 7.10 and must be held accountable", or for "the occupation must end BUT the Jewish people are indigenous to the region" - there is only room for "by all means" and "from the river to the sea". It doesn't matter if they don't know which river and what sea - because if the conflict is a fandom, then they can write an AU to deal with every truth that doesn't settle with their narrative, and rewrite reality to fit their next fanfic.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

I Need You

George Russell x Fem!Reader

Requested: A anon who sent me a beautiful message had requested something George related so I made it smut.

Warnings: SMUT

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

The celebrations were in full swing. George, the dashing Formula 1 driver, had just won his second Grand Prix in Austria, and the team was ecstatic.

The champagne flowed freely, and the atmosphere was electric. Among the well-wishers was me, George's girlfriend of two months. I was stunning, with shimmering eyes that seemed to see right through him, and I had a body that captivated his imagination.

As the party continued, George and I found ourselves locked in an intense gaze. It was as if the world around us had melted away, and only we existed. George felt his desire for me intensifying with each passing second. He knew he had to have me, but he didn't want to rush things. Our relationship was still fresh, and he wanted to respect that.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with longing. "But I don't want to rush. Are you sure about this?"

my heart pounded in my chest. I had desired this man from the moment I laid eyes on him, and now, here he was, offering me something even more intimate. I bit my lip, my eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I've wanted you from the start, George. I'm not going to say no now."

Without another word, George took my hand and led me away from the celebrations.

We made our way to his driver's room, a private space where he could relax between races. As soon as the door closed behind us, the passion that had been building between us exploded.

George pressed me against the door, his lips crushing mine in a hungry kiss. I moaned, opening my mouth to welcome his invading tongue. His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts and squeezing them gently. I arched my back, pressing my chest into his hands, my nipples hardening at his touch.

Breaking the kiss, George trailed hot kisses along my jawline and down my neck. He nibbled and sucked on the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of wet, sparkling marks. I gasped, my head falling back to give him better access.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. "To taste every inch of you."

His hands slid down my body, grasping my hips and pulling me towards him. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my belly, and I ground myself against him, already aching for release.

George chuckled, the vibration sending shivers down my spine. "Eager, aren't we?”

Before I could respond, George lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist. Still kissing me passionately, he walked us over to the bed and laid me down gently. He hovered over me, his eyes burning with desire as he took in the sight of my naked body.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, running a hand up my thigh. "Absolutely gorgeous."

I blushed, my cheeks contrasting with my heated skin. I reached for him, pulling him down for another kiss. Our tongues danced together as George's hand slid between my thighs. He stroked me gently, his touch feather-light, making me whimper into his mouth.

"Please, George," I begged, my voice hoarse with need. "I need you now."

With a growl, George ripped open the button of his jeans, his hard length springing free. My eyes widened at the sight of his thick cock, straining with desire. I reached out, wrapping my hand around him and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Your turn to be eager," I teased, stroking him slowly.

George hissed, bucking his hips into my hand. "Fuck, Y/N, that feels so good."

He stepped back, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes before returning to the bed. George positioned himself between my legs, his tip teasing my entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he slid into me, filling me completely.

I cried out, my head tossing from side to side as I adjusted to his size. George stayed still, giving me time to get used to the feel of him. Then, he began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, deeper this time.

"Oh, God," I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as pleasure washed over me. "Yes, just like that."

George set a slow, relentless pace, each thrust driving deeper into my wet heat. I met his movements, pushing back against him, my hips moving in perfect harmony. our bodies slapped together, the sound filling the room, mingling with our heavy breathing and moans.

As the pleasure built, George reached between us, finding my clit and rubbing it in circles. I cried out, my back arching off the bed.

"Don't stop, please don't stop," I panted, my fingers tangling in his hair.

George quickened his pace, pounding into me with force. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard banging against the wall with each powerful thrust. My breath came in short gasps as I felt my orgasm building, a coiling tension deep in my core.

"Cum for me, baby," George groaned, his own release threatening to overtake him. "Let me feel you cum around me."

His words sent me over the edge. I cried out, my body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over me. George felt my pussy clenching around him, milking his cock, and it pushed him over the brink. With a hoarse shout, he spilled himself inside me, his hips stuttering as he filled me with his release.

We lay tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal. George brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

"That was incredible," he murmured, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

I smiled back, my eyes sparkling. "It certainly was."

Unbeknownst to us, our passionate encounter had an unexpected witness.

Lewis Hamilton, George's teammate, had heard the noises coming from George's room and had decided to investigate. He had watched, his breath quickening as he spied on the couple, his hand moving faster and faster over his own cock as he listened to our passionate moans and watched our bodies move together.

Now, as he adjusted his clothes, Lewis couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy mixed with arousal. He knew that what he had done was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn't deny the primal satisfaction he felt seeing George lose control like that.

As Lewis made his way back to his own room, a smile played on his lips. Perhaps there were some benefits to this new development. After all, he now had some very intriguing material for his own fantasies. And who knew, maybe this wouldn't be the last time he got to witness such a sexy display.

——————

pt. 2 maybe?

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

My God I Love This Show

I think I've rewatched that final breakroom scene from Jun & Jun episode 2 at least a dozen times since it first aired yesterday, and I need to rave about it in its own post rather than just tags.

That scene is... perfection.

First, for non-Korean speakers, it's important to note they've already dropped into banmal with each other in private (the most intimate and casual linguistic form of address). This establishes them as societal equals, despite their wildly different social positions as boss and employee. It was an intentional choice by Choi Jun at the end of episode 1, when he took off his glasses, leaned over the seated Lee Jun in his office and greeted him properly with "오랜만이야" (Long time no see.) The fact that he dropped into banmal here was likely a bigger clue to Lee Jun that they know each other intimately than the actual words Choi Jun chose.

So in the breakroom scene. (!!!) Choi Jun is radiating confident dom energy and Lee Jun is INTO IT. He begins by making sure Lee Jun wasn't hurt by scalding hot coffee and telling Lee Jun to take off his shirt. But then he does the most batshit dom thing ever and starts removing HIS OWN CLOTHES. He explains its because he has a spare shirt for himself and plans to dress Lee Jun in the shirt he's been wearing all day. Why? Because he has a scent kink! And he just says it out loud. He wants Lee Jun to smell like he's HIS.

He checks Lee Jun out like a starving man and asks, "would my size fit you?" WHICH IS THE WILDEST BLATANT SEXUAL INNUENDO and Lee Jun KNOWS its innuendo because he clutches his pearls with his hand over his heart and replies "don't people say you worry too much?" causing Choi Jun to call him cute. Lee Jun can't help but smile shyly at the compliment, and Choi Jun pounces, immediately switching gears and ordering him to hurry up and take off his shirt. Lee Jun asks "right here?" as if that's the only weird or concerning thing about being told to disrobe, so Choi Jun takes off his own vest. This man is doing everything in his power to both rattle and comfort his cute former idol childhood bestie, and I AM HOLDING MY BREATH FROM THE SEXUAL TENSION.

And then we get the first truly jaw-dropping scene. Choi Jun calls Lee Jun high maintenance (the Korean phrase is better translated as "You're a handful."). Lee Jun bristles and apologizes. Choi Jun steps closer and tells him he doesn't need to apologize; it's a compliment. He LIKES it when he needs to put his hands on someone to care for them and it makes them smell like him; it makes them feel like THEY ARE HIS. The collar caress!! The neck tie grab and pull!!! The audacity of starting to unbutton Lee Jun's shirt for him since he's taking too long!!!! MY HEAD EXPLODING.

Lee Jun freaks out a little and puts distance between them again, so they have another fun little conversation filled with innuendo about repaying favors American style, which Choi Jun says involves less clothing!

And then we get the second jaw-dropping scene right on the heels of the first. Choi Jun says Lee Jun has grown fiestier (he likes them feisty? just a guess), but that he's still "squishy" on the inside. Lee Jun is already looking 10 times more secure in this conversation, unhesitatingly flirting back through the entire next few dialog exchanges. The eye contact! THE MOST PERFECTLY EXECUTED WAIST GRAB!!

The "you can teach me!!!" The way Lee Jun takes that as permission to manhandle Choi Jun right back, grabbing his hands and moving him around like a marionette!!!!

THE NECK GRAB!!!!!

And that final last line from Choi Jun that sent me SCREAMING INTO MY PILLOWS:

Looking at the rolled up napkin in his hand, "Malleable is something soft..." and then looking at Lee Jun's lips like the very thirsty man he is, he finally makes eye-contact again and finishes with, "squishy is... something sexy?" Lee Jun gulps. Cut scene.

MY HEART CANNOT HANDLE HOW PERFECT THIS WAS. From the dialog to the body language to the eye-work to the kink exposure to the RIDICULOUSLY HOT EXPOSED FOREARMS ON CHOI JUN. I am in awe and Korea is FEEDING ME.

@absolutebl this seems like your jam

[tiredsmashbros]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEO !!!!

all what blud is pondering + yapping bout smh @neo91502 🍔💛

credits to nxva on the tsmg4 fanart LMAO

this is my bday gift to the blue canine with wings nothing crazy underneath nooooo nope nope nopity nope :) shhhh

and now for my essay speech bc that's becoming my trademark now other than being comic ceo of smg34 apparently LMAO

neo, you already got my lil emotional yap thru dms bout ur "loyal lettuce" role, but ong i'm boutta give another sappy essay for you to use ur big pikmin brain to read: once again, thank you, for wanting to talk to me, hang out with me, and just yap about shared interests. it takes a lot for me to open my shell due to past experiences with folks its hard to even open myself to making friends at times,,, yet never did i expect anyone to know or like EPIC: the musical as much as i did nor even WANT to go forth the idea of a smg4 au for fun. i'll admit i was very nervous being invited to the private dms to yap bout it and a part of me from bad habits wanted to run away, but your understanding and providing ways to help so i didn't feel excluded made me feel so relieved and welcomed. as i already told you, it's been a VERY long time i got to really yap my love for musicals in this way in depth and getting to know even more folks from that outburst {lookin at you knightmare and lore 💛} has genuinely made me so much happy. i love musicals in a very deep level and finally getting that opportunity to talk to others just has been the greatest ever /gen /srs.

other than musicals, FINALLY i have met someone who loves isaacwhy too hELLO????? like i've gotten very few people irl to show them clips but none have either really stuck into watching or liking them as much as me. so getting that opportunity to watch LTLVC with you and nova was SO FUN {despite my stream quality was laggy and slow} i enjoyed it so much and finally i can reference the jokes so much BC GOD I USED TO DO THEM SM IRL U HAVE NO IDEA HAHAHAHHAHAH TYUFGHEDCSXYUIGJHEFDC

another big factor was just being so surprised and shock you had a fursona!!! neo!!!! it just made me so happy GENUINELY bringing me back to my furry home adobe and knowing the fact i could draw other's fursonas and even my own and being welcomed about that idea just made me explode /pos. even more when i got to watch you DRAW TOMMY.... like at that point i finally got over my fear and confidently pressed that follow.

you are such an awesome guy neo. you're really fun to yap with and never once had i had any second doubts other than being afraid i would embarrass myself ITYGJHFCDSX i still remember almost vividly the first time we aCTUALLY talked when i was doing thumbnail sketches of my final comic assignment, with the "typer" joke YOU CHOCKED FROM LAUGHTER HAHAHAY89IUTGYFUEHJDSX TO THE NEXT DAY ANDER AND I TALKED BOUT IT AGAIN HAHAHAHA still one of my fav vc's ever. thank you so much for being a fan, joining my server, and joining vc to us being friends. you mean so much to me, thank you for being your silly self, i srsly look forward to yapping to you every day.

and good gOD i will continue that binge on getting into the pikmin lore TRUST..... 💛🍔

BTW, THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO ATTENDED NEO'S BIRTHDAY PARTY EVENT IN THE TSB SERVER !!!! whether it was just for a bit or the whole event, THANK YOU. /gen

i don't plan on doing much birthday vc events unfortunately, but i def wanted to do one {and using neo as a guinea pig once again} since this silly man had impacted me so much i wanted to give him the best bday he could have. even if it got really chaotic several times YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY OH MY FUKIN GOD HAHAHHAHAA and no im not sorry for being absent the first 40 mins my stephen king fixiation is a priority /j

[thexvthmember]

🦇To be King of Halloween🦇

TWST Nightmare Before Christmas Event Spoilers Below

I've been seeing some people talking about these two line from the last event chapter, that seem to be causing some confusion

Essentially the confusion I've been seeing boils down to "If Halloween was already a thing, why would Skully be called the King of Halloween?" And ironically, given which movie this event is taken from, I think the simplest answer to this question is solved by Christmas. Or specifically, Charles Dickens "A Christmas Carol".

Christmas had been around for centuries by Charles Dickens time, but it wasn't the massive celebration it is today. Prior to the Victorian era, it was just another day off for workers, and a private religious holiday. At the turn of the era, the changing culture in England led to individuals (as well as companies taking advantage of new ways of marketing) creating their own ways to celebrate; trees, roast dinners, yule logs, gift giving, santa claus, all the sorts. Still, there wasn't some unified way of celebrating, or meaning, of Christmas, it was scattered across the country.

And then came A Christmas Carol.

Charles Dickens novel brought together most of the little aspects of how people had begun to celebrate Christmas, and injected them into a story of empathy, growth and reflection. It exploded in popularity overnight, and the release of A Christmas Carol can easily be seen as the turning point in which Christmas became what it is today. All the puzzles pieces of people's traditions put together into a single frame. People, especially children, even referred to Dickens as Father Christmas while he was alive.

I think it's this that Skully did for Twisted Wonderland. Time within the Book is not linear, it would seem. We meet a Skully from hundreds of years in the past, and go on an adventure together. In his time Halloween was not major worldwide celebration, but isolated instances. Even then, his worldview of the meaning of Halloween is very narrow, defined by his own loneliness and isolation in his extremes.

Then he meets the NRC crew, and Jack Skellington, his idol, and suddenly he met with new perspectives he couldn't have heard in his own time. Halloween is to scare, but in good fun. Halloween is dark, but just as flashy. Halloween can be and mean many things. Skully rejects these views at first, but in the end comes around to them.

When they all leave the book, Skully, like the rest, most likely didn't retain any concrete memories, but what he did retain was the feeling that something had changed. Like Scrooge on Christmas morning, he came out of the experience a (somewhat) different man. Upon graduating Night Raven College, he traveled the world to spread the scares and joys of Halloween to Twisted Wonderland, both the ideals he'd held onto for years, and ones that seemed to come from a dream. He created a unified vision of Halloween that could be shared for generations to come.

And thus, did Skully become The King of Halloween

[spicyclover]

The Racer's Victory

Y/n awaits her boyfriend Max and their desire ignites. In his private room, she undresses, teases herself, and welcomes his touch. Their sexual tension explodes in a powerful, intimate union.

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Y/n's heart was racing, her anticipation building as she awaited the arrival of her boyfriend, Max. The young woman, with her vibrant hair, piercing blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose, had spent the entire day at the race track, but her mind hadn't been solely focused on the competition. All she could think about was Max, his strong physique encased in his racing suit, and the promise of his muscular body against hers.

As the trophy ceremony concluded, signaling Max's victory in the race, Y/n made her way to his designated driver's room, a private sanctuary amidst the bustling track. The room was dimly lit, with a subtle scent of motor oil lingering in the air. She knew Max would be brimming with adrenaline and excitement, and she intended to channel that energy into something far more intimate.

She couldn't wait any longer. The anticipation was killing her. With a mischievous smile, Y/n approached the massage table, her eyes scanning the room to ensure she was alone. Her hands trailed along the smooth surface of the table, her fingers tracing the edges as she imagined Max's powerful hands working on her body.

Slipping out of her dress, she revealed her curvaceous figure, her skin flushed with desire. She climbed onto the table, her bare skin caressing the soft surface. Her hands roamed over her body, cupping her full breasts, pinching her pink nipples until they hardened further. She let out a soft moan, her fingers dipping lower, sliding through her moist curls to find her throbbing clit.

Y/n began to rub herself against the table, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. Her fingers worked their magic, circling her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. She bit her lip, her breath coming in short gasps as pleasure coursed through her body. Her moans filled the room, a mixture of desire and frustration as she longed for Max's touch.

Just as her pleasure peaked, she heard the door open. It was Max, his face still flushed with victory, his dark eyes sparkling with desire as he took in the sight before him. Y/n made no move to hide herself, instead spreading her legs wider, inviting him to join her.

Max wasted no time. He strode across the room, his race suit still on, and placed his hand firmly on her pussy, feeling the heat radiating from her. He growled softly, his voice hoarse with need. "You've been waiting for me, haven't you, baby?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes locked on his. "I need you, Max. I've been dying to feel your dick inside me all day."

With swift movements, Max unzipped his suit, revealing his broad chest and toned abs. He lowered his fireproof underwear, his thick cock springing free, already hard and straining towards her. He positioned himself between her thighs, his hands gripping her hips as he guided himself into her wet heat.

He thrust into her with one powerful stroke, filling her completely. Y/n cried out, her back arching off the table as she welcomed him inside. Max pounded into her, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm, the table creaking beneath them. His breath came in hot pants, his lips brushing her neck, his beard tickling her sensitive skin.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted, his voice raw with passion. "I love hearing you moan, Y/n."

Y/n's hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she matched his rhythm. She could feel her orgasm building, each thrust bringing her closer to the edge. Max's lips found her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel that tight pussy squeezing my cock."

His words sent her over the edge. Y/n's body trembled as she climaxed, her pussy clenching around him, milking his cock. Max groaned, his own release building as he thrust harder, faster, until he buried himself deep within her.

As their hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal, Max gently disengaged from her, his cock sliding out with a wet sound. He helped Y/n off the table, his hands roaming over her body, caressing her curves. "Let's take this to the couch," he whispered, his eyes dark with desire.

Y/n smiled, her body still buzzing with post-orgasmic bliss. She led him to the small couch in the corner of the room, her movements graceful despite her wobbly knees. She straddled him, her hands resting on his broad shoulders as she lowered herself onto his hard shaft.

This time, Y/n was in control. She set a slow, teasing pace, rising and falling on his cock, her pussy gripping him tightly. Max's hands moved to her hips, guiding her movements, but she set the rhythm, her eyes never leaving his. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest, her lips finding his in a passionate kiss.

As she felt his cock twitch within her, signaling his impending release, Y/n had a playful idea. She tightened her thighs around him, locking him in place, and stopped moving. Max's eyes flew open, his breath catching in his throat. "What...?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse.

"Shh..." Y/n whispered, her lips close to his ear. "I want to feel you beg for it."

Max's eyes widened, his cock throbbing inside her. "Please... baby, please move," he begged, his pride momentarily forgotten. "I need to cum so bad."

Y/n smiled, her pussy muscles clenching and releasing around his sensitive cock. "Do you like that? Feeling my pussy pull on your dick?" She whispered, her breath hot against his neck.

"Fuck, yes!" Max groaned, his hands gripping her thighs, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. "I love it... Oh, god, Y/n..."

Unable to resist any longer, Y/n began to move again, her hips rolling in slow circles, driving him wild. Max's hands found her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as he thrust up to meet her. With a final, desperate growl, he climaxed, his cock pulsating as he filled her with his hot cum.

Feeling his release, Y/n's own orgasm crashed over her. She cried out, her body shaking as waves of pleasure rippled through her. She collapsed onto his chest, their sweat-slicked bodies pressed together, their hearts pounding in unison.

Max chuckled softly, his hands stroking her hair. "That was incredible, but I'm not done with you yet," he whispered, his lips brushing her forehead. "I promise to take you well tonight, baby."

With a final, lingering kiss, Max stood, his cock slipping out of her with a satisfying pop. He grabbed a towel, gently cleaning her up, his touch tender and loving. "I'll be back soon," he said, his eyes holding hers. "I just need to take care of a few things."

Y/n smiled, her body sated and satisfied, as Max left the room, already planning their next passionate encounter.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for watching Bluey behind my mums back?

TWs: emotional abuse, parent leaving, suicidal thoughts

Before you assume this is me just looking for validation or whatever, I'm feeling guilty about this for a few reasons.

Basically, I (15M) age regress. It's mostly involuntary, though I have done it voluntarily in the past. What it means is that because of some experiences I've had in the past (emotional abuse, my dad leaving, etc.) my mind sometimes reverts to the state of a child's when something happens to trigger it- most of the time it's triggered by me crying; if I'm not regressed I'll feel guilty and try to supress it because I was always told off for crying, but when I'm regressed I just want to get these nasty feelings out.

My mum (41F) isn't very supportive of this, and says it makes her uncomfortable. I get where she's coming from, but I can usually tell when I'm about to slip into regression (there are a few signs- big words and sentences are harder to process, I'm more sensitive, etc.) and try to find somewhere private if possible.

This is working for me at the moment. I do want to get a therapist to talk with about it and maybe find a way to mitigate the time I spend regressed so I can hopefully stop involuntarily regressing altogether, but right now it really helps. I actually get my emotions out, and I can distract myself easier from bad thoughts about myself- I've tried to distract myself when not regressed, but my mind will always just drown stuff out with thoughts about how everyone would be happier if i was dead and stuff like that; but when I'm regressed, my mind is simple. I just like bright colours and stuff, and simple messages.

This is where Bluey comes in. I've been watching Bluey in secret whenever I regress, because I love the characters, the messages are easy to understand on a basic level, the character designs are great, etc. Heck, today I started cleaning my room while regressed because of the Daddy Robot episode. The depression room hasn't been cleaned in months.

Why I might be NTA: It's just a kids' show, and this coping mechanism has really benefited me in the long run (I don't bottle up my emotions, which means I don't explode on anyone later on).

Why I might be TA: My mum has expressed discomfort with me regressing (she doesn't know I can't control it all the time), and I've already broken her trust before. I also could tell her about it and try to explain it more, I'm just a bit of a wuss and am scared to.

[bcwritingjourney]

Chapter 8 of my novel, Sanguinatus, is up on patreon for my members! Below will be a portion of the chapter if you're interested, and the prologue and chapters 1-7 are free to read on my patreon.

This novel is a labor of love, and one of my dreams. I don't need to make money or get famous, just release the world's and stories I've created and get better over time.

Chapter 8 and upcoming chapters will be exclusive to members for a short time, then they will be available to the public. You can support me by joining my Bound by Blood tier, which is only $3! Even if you only decide to support me briefly, during that time you'll get access to chapters of this novel and my other works before the public, private communities, exclusive content and behind the scenes content, polls that will influence smaller things, and more!

Any and all support is appreciated, even just reading or liking this post.

Read on below!

She pulled on the Drossenac blood as she peeked out of the alley again to look at a point a few paces to the right of the group, and was quickly sucked into the other place. She cleared her head, focusing. When she approached the rift that would spit her out, and her form seemed to solidify again, she dug her feet in, squatted to strengthen her stance, and willed herself not to be pulled out of this alien place.

She threw her three daggers in quick succession, and at the same time focused on the distorted image it showed her through the rift. She settled her gaze on a point to the left of the rift, right past the furthest guard. As the daggers flew into the first rift, she was pulled into a newly opened rift, and since she didn’t fight it this time she was deposited to the left of the men.

Luckily that had worked better than intended. Her foes had turned to the first rift, likely at the command of the specialist. They had done so just as she fell from her rift and dropped into a crouch.

As she appeared and landed, the light of her warping or some slight sound caused the specialist to whip around in surprise,and almost simultaneously, the daggers, one after another, flew from their rift. Two hit the guard closest to the rift, both digging into his chest deeply, while the other narrowly missed the specialist, heading towards her.

She leapt, assisted by the Khurdae blood, power coursing through her muscles, and snaked an arm around the neck of the other nearby soldier. He flailed in surprise, but she easily spun them around, into the path of the dagger.

It pierced his side, planting itself into his stomach. He hardly had the chance to scream as Ryanil pulled out her long dagger to thrust into his lower back several times. She let him drop to the floor afterwards, calmly wiping his garish scarlet blood off her dagger before sheathing it.

The last man was silent and still, watching her cautiously. He may have been able to help his comrades, but it wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t moved a single step from where he stood. He held his right brown furred hand up as his left pulled a water skin from his belt.

She tried to dive away as she realized what he was doing. Water exploded out of the skin, flowing to swirl around his right hand. In the blink of an eye he had snapped his hand forward as though he held a whip, and a tendril erupted from the water, arcing through the air.

She hit the ground and was about to go into a roll as she felt the tendril of water curl around her right leg with crushing force. She knew what was to come. It was even more ironic to her in her already tired state, as he used Sesinae blood to combat her, with her being a Sesinae who essentially couldn’t manipulate a drop of water worth a damn.

That was all the time she had to muse about the irony of it before she was pulled away from the cool bricks of the street, only to be slapped against the ground a moment later. She groaned and was pulled up again, before being whipped away and let go by the tendril. She sailed through the air gracelessly for a brief moment she flailed, then her back met the trunk of a tree, driving the breath from her.

She slumped to the ground for a moment, dazed. The man, fangs bared and eyes dark, stalked forward slowly, carefully. Ryanil had her eyes closed, one hand touching the tree she leaned against, the hand just out of view of the man. She just hoped he wouldn’t notice until it was too late.

Her eyes shot open, and she drew on the well of Osin power within her. Three thick roots burst from the street, sending bricks flying. The man was too fast however, the roots converging on empty space as he leapt away with frightening speed.

Ryanil pushed herself up with a groan, getting even more annoyed when she noticed the roots withering quickly. Drops of water bled from them oddly, streaming towards the Khurdae’s hands. Within moments he had significantly more water than he began with.

Alright, maybe we don’t use Osin powers against this bastard. She thought.

Ryanil didn’t dare take the time to try and drink more blood, so all she had was warping, thick scales and a dagger. Maybe it would be enough? She shook her head to clear it and dashed forward.

Only to immediately be met by multiple tendrils of water, which promptly swept her off her feet and into the air. She pulled on the Drossenac blood and focused on a spot just behind the man. It was a valuable thing, being able to slip out of attacks.

She leapt out of the vortex a heartbeat later and straight into a tackle. He managed to turn towards her, but nothing more as she hit him, the extra weight of her armored scales letting her knock the heavier and larger man off his feet. He quickly got a foot under her, flat against her stomach.

He pushed with surprising force, and she was thrown from him, landing flat on her back a ways away. She was getting awfully sick of getting thrown around by this over confident blood mage. She looked up and cursed, rolling to the side and leaping into a dash as a bolt of fire struck the ground where she had been.

He sent two more bolts of scorching flame towards her after the first, giving her no respite. One grazed her, singeing her cloak and blackening the scales of her right arm. The second, unfortunately, hit her dead on.

She was thrown sideways and to the ground again. This wasn’t working. She hissed as the pain set in, the scales of her entire chest blackened by the flame. While the thicker scales had protected her in a sense, she could still feel the flesh underneath blistering and cracking.

She struggled to get up, each movement sending waves of pain across her chest, and she watched as he raised his flame engulfed hands towards her. She slammed a palm down to the bricks, sending green energy into the earth.

Hundreds of tiny plants and blades of grass shot up through the cracks of the street, growing quickly. They twisted and knotted themselves around the man’s legs, though otherwise they were harmless. He looked down in annoyance before sending out sweeping waves of fire, the plants turning to ash against the onslaught.

[samsalami66]

And I'm back again with an addition to my Knight!Hob Prince!Dream au (I've decided to go with royal au for shortness' sake lmao) which you can find the first part of here.

Once again all the love and thanks to my wonderful @im-not-corrupted , who provided me with motivation and screams as I wrote this little drabble and is the #1 fan of this au.

-----

Dream hated audiences. 

Audiences meant spending an awful amount of time in his parents' presence, and even if nobody paid much attention to the third royal child in a line of seven, it was still painful to spend even a minute longer than necessary in the King's and Queen's presence. Dream could feel his father's disapproving gaze drift towards him every time his eyes would droop a bit too low, whenever his elbow would slip from where he had it propped on the armrest of his throne to hold his head upright, which felt heavier with every word the current Lord or Duke let spill from his lips. 

Lord Burgess, the man currently grazing the family with his abnormally boring presence, looked about ready to explode as the King once again denied his request for an addition to his land, which would allow him to hunt in the forest neighboring his crops. But the forests were strictly royal territory, and Dream could have told Lord Burgess in much fewer sentences than his father that they would never give up on ancestral lands, not in this lifetime or any other. 

But just as Dream's eyes were about to close to allow him another few moments of respite from this whole ordeal, sounds echoed through the halls outside the throne room. Voices got louder in volume and increasingly more frustrated the closer they got. It was a blessing, an escape from these confines of literal hell, and Dream perked up curiously to figure out what the tumult was about. 

Between the shouts and hisses he could make out a hysterical You can't just waltz in there! and a very joyful Watch me, mate! and Dream decided that this was bound to become a much more interesting audience than he had anticipated. And, true to the small exclamation Dream overheard, a man did just waltz into the room, a smile on his face that would cause even the strongest hearts to faint in charm. Dream didn't quite know how he managed not to, when bright brown eyes caught his over the entirety of the room in an instant, familiar mischief hidden somewhere behind the obvious amusement. 

Christ, those eyes had brought ruin upon Dream once already, years ago, when they had both been young and stupid. Though, by the looks of it, Hob Gadling had not cast that particular trait aside, if his entrance was anything to go by. Guards were hot on his heels, panic written all over their faces as they didn't manage to keep this man from interrupting a private audience with the royal family, which would surely end in them being excused from their service. 

But Hob Gadling seemed to care little for their steps behind him or the guards eventual fate, his stride purposeful, a clear destination in his step. Dream realised much too late what that destination was, too distracted by the way Hob's shirt clung to muscles that had not been there when they had last met, hair that was longer and curlier than he remembered and that framed a bearded jaw so beautifully Dream almost swooned. There was no time for that though, not when those eyes finally left his and were cast towards the ground, not ten meters away from Dream. 

Hob Gadling was kneeling, his head tilted in a bow that was entirely unnecessary for the position he was already in, in front of Dream. 

Not in front of the family, or the King himself, but before Dream's throne, an unmistakable message to everyone present, a showcasing of ultimate loyalty.

To his left Dream could hear Lord Burgess hiss in annoyance at the interruption, the words You dare to interrupt my audience, commoner? falling from his lips like venom-infused blood. Dream did not care for boneless threats. 

He merely cared for the smile stretched over rosy lips before him, the cheeks that stretched with unconcealed amusement. Two guards reached Hob Gadling's side, prepared to force the uninvited guest out the room, and it took all of Dream's years of carefully trained composure to not jump from his throne in a sudden surge of panic. 

"Leave him be!" he demanded, voice overshadowing any and all conversation as he slowly rose from his throne. Hob's grin turned victorious at the exclamation, his posture more relaxed where he knelt on the black carpet to Dream's feet. "I want to know what he has to say." 

There were eyes on him, Dream knew, those of his parents, those of Lord Burgess, those of his guards. He knew his eldest sister was hiding a smile somewhere to his left, fully aware of his and Hob Gadling's relationship, and the only person in this world aware of Dream's feelings towards this infuriating, obviously insane man. 

All the attention Dream had held with his command shifted towards Hob Gadling when he opened his mouth to speak, determination colouring his voice with self-confidence that vibrated through Dream's body like the pleasant rumble of a cat's purr. 

"I come to pledge myself to you, my Lord," Hob started, almost causing Dream to choke on thin air. "In body and in mind, I swear to protect you with my blade and life. Make me your knight, Dream of the Endless, so that I might serve under your name until I take my last breath, until my body betrays my desire to keep you from harm." 

There was no sound filtering through the pounding of Dream's heart in his throat. This – This, Hob's declaration, his offering of complete and utter submission – it was insane, completely crazy, simply not done, not in royal families, not in any politics around the world. One pledged themselves to the King and thereby the country, not to a prince who would never be king, an outcast from his own folk, from his own family. 

This wasn't done, had never been done before, and yet Dream found he didn't care. He didn't care for one single moment about propriety, not when all he had ever wanted kneeled before his feet and offered him Heaven. 

"I do not know who you believe yourself to be, but I will not allow-" The King started off, but Dream cut his reply short, his voice purposefully overpowering that of his father. 

"I accept your request." 

The answer wasn't grand or eloquent, entirely false in its deliverance, unofficial without the ritualistic knighting. But Dream was in a trance, his hand not his own as he stepped down the stairs to stand before Hob, one hand reaching to the hilt of the sword that was hidden beneath his robes. 

When Dream pulled the sword from its sheath and held it to Hob's head, all those eyes reflected back at him was trust, even when faced with total submission, with surrendering himself entirely to Dream, his office and his personal whims. All of this, when Dream had left him behind at the mere notion of friendship, knowing he could not be friends with a commoner. He could be friends with his personal guardian, with a Knight who stood entirely under his protection, and the fact that Hob had been willing to go to such lengths to find a way to be in Dream's presence… 

Well, if Dream felt tears build in his eyes as he allowed his sword to rest on Hob's shoulders, once on each, then that was between him and his Knight. And when his voice trembled slightly as he spoke next, then that was just between them too. 

"Rise, Sir Robert Gadling." 

Dream huffed a silent laugh into the hug he was pulled in next, the excitement bubbling in his chest enough to chase away every ill thought of his parents' opinion as he burrowed his face in Hob's neck. 

The sense of safety he felt in the arms of his oldest friend was almost too much to bear. 

[lyricalt]

[tf2 minific] hindsight / foresight (interlude)

sniperspy - rating: G - aftermath of hindsight, please read first.

Note: I've had these parts done for a while. Actually finished these before ever finishing hindsight, haha. They don't really go into the next bit either so up they go here. A little bit of closure. Thanks for reading!

+++

Spy pops out dead in Sniper’s arms. Sniper stumbles under the thrown weight and falls flat on his back. He clutches Spy’s corpse, the breath knocked out of him, and blinks as the teleporter goes dark again. When Sniper sits up, he sees that Spy’s got a hole in the middle of his forehead—from a bullet he’s fired three years ago that he doesn’t remember ever shooting. 

Also, Spy’s maskless. Not that he’s recognizable from eating whatever high caliber bullet that went through him. Still, Sniper puts a hand over the mangled face, covering it. 

Behind him, the rest of the team explodes in various sighs of relief.

“Thank fuck.” 

“Woah,” Scout says, peering over his shoulder before ducking away in surprise. “Why’s he got his mask off?”

“His head’s shot through,” Medic observes with a critical eye. “Too messy. I prefer the look of your headshots. At least there will be brain matter left.”

Sniper huffs. Somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.

Engineer clears his throat. “He oughta be popping into respawn soon.”

The rest of the team take off, leaving Sniper sitting in the desert dust with a dead body cradled in his lap.

The blood’s gone all tacky already, but Sniper still tries to card his fingers through the hair, since he rarely gets to do it. He’ll take what he can get.

“Huh,” he says. He sits back, winding tension in him finally releasing as Spy’s corpse starts shuttering away, like a roll of film about to run out. 

Sniper takes one last look at the face. Not one of Spy’s best looks, unfortunately. But…

It isn’t until Spy’s body disappears completely that Sniper lets out a quiet laugh.

“Guess this makes it three times now.”

+++

Spy stumbles out of respawn, relieved that his stupid plan worked and he assumes he’s back in the present time. He’s respawned without his mask though. That’s a little worrying, but luckily he’s got a spare in his locker. 

Engineer is the first person to greet him, peeking into the room. “Spy?”

“I’m afraid so.” Spy sticks his head in the locker so that Engineer doesn’t see. He pulls the spare mask on, not particularly caring if it’s skewed or his hair is poking out from the holes. He takes a look at the calendar at the wall and, most importantly, the year. “Yes. The correct old weary age, even.”

Engineer blows out a relieved sigh. “That was a close one, partner. Wasn’t sure if my formulas were right.”

“You could have not said that, and I promise you I would’ve been fine not knowing. But thank you.”

It isn’t long before the rest of the team blunders through, hearing Engineer talking. Heavy crushes him in a hug. Medic complains about not being able to dissect his brain (for why, he doesn’t know). Spy even lowers his pride a smidge to give Scout a high five. It’s a little nice, knowing he’s been missed. Missed, on various levels and definitions. 

From over Demoman’s shoulder, Spy sees Sniper hanging by the door. Hysterically, it looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep. Spy smirks. When Sniper gives a small wave, his hand is covered with dried blood. Spy can take a few guesses as to how that happened—one them being Sniper might’ve murdered his younger self in a fit of rage. The other guess… Spy can imagine that scenario as well.

Later, when Spy manages to finally escape everyone’s attention, he finds the one he really wants in the hallway, waiting for him.

They’re alone, in a not quite private part of the base, but Spy stops in front of Sniper anyway.

“I believe I was a fucking bastard, wasn’t I?” He laughs, quietly.

It speaks a lot to the waiting when Sniper puts his head down, resting his forehead on Spy’s shoulder. One hand clings onto the end of Spy’s sleeve. 

“Yeah, you were bloody appalling,” Sniper says, muffled. “Knew you’d be, though.”

Spy can only imagine. Kicking and screaming the entire way to self realization, no doubt. He wonders if he should recall anything from this moment, but his memories seem intact. He doesn’t remember any time traveling he’d done three years past. It’s probably for the better. He’d probably want to wring his own stupid neck. 

Spy nudges Sniper’s head from his shoulder. Sniper straightens, his crumpled expression vanishing the moment he looks up, and Spy touches his face to hold it there. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Spy says, peering at Sniper’s face. Tired eyes, mouth set a little too stoically. There’s a sliver of worry in Spy; he is fully aware that he can be quite the cruel person. Now. Then. And will continue to be, likely. “If possible.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you would,” Sniper says with a small smile. He puts his head down on Spy’s shoulder again, and this time Spy doesn’t stop him. “We’ve got time.”

[weird-an]

Steve's laptop is on his bed, pants kicked to the floor. He's half hard in his shorts already, but he needs some input, some inspiration and at least the illusion of something real. He's fucking lonely, totally not moping (really Robin!) after his girlfriend dumped him a few months ago.

He's not entirely sure what he's looking for, but somehow ends up here. He knows he's one of many watchers, a flood of comments already in the chat.

He blinks. The guy's name is Billy Hardon, very subtle, very classy - Well, Steve isn't here for classy. But he sits back, taking a deep breath.

Steve knows the guy. Billy Hargrove. The arrogant fucker he went to school with, that stole his stupid fake ass title and knocked him over every gym class.

Billy's body is still as toned as he was years back. His blond curls are about shoulder length, lips bright and pink like he put on some lipgloss. His left nipple is pierced and he wearing pink latex panties. His eyes are so fluorescent blue that they reminding Steve of neon lights. He's fucking beautiful.

He's also hard, rubbing his bulge a little, almost careless and distracted. There is a slight flush painted on his freckled cheeks.

Steve's dick twitches. He should close the tab. This is Billy of all people.

"I've got a new toy," Billy pants, voice low. "Do you guys wanna see?"

Steve's throat turns dry. Billy holds up a violet dildo. Steve's cock slaps against his belly.

"It's special," Billy purrs. "It vibrates. If you play nice, you can choose the setting."

The chat explodes. Steve closes his eyes for a second. He's so stupid, but he hasn't been that turned on in a while. He wants to see Billy stretching around the vibrator. He wants to tease him, to make him beg. Maybe it's because that guy has been such an asshole. Maybe Steve is a sadist. Or maybe Billy is just insanely hot.

There's another button. Go Private. The fee is ridiculously high.

Billy licks the toy. His tongue is also pierced. Steve's dick throbs.

Steve sighs. He clicks on the button. It's just for one time. Maybe he can make Billy cry.

[vodika-vibes]

Hurt

Summary: When you're injured while on a job, some truths come out.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Thief!Reader

Word Count: 1811

Warnings: Violence

Song: None

A/N: I've been watching Leverage, so this was born from that. And then I remembered, halfway through writing this, that I already had a Fox x Thief!Reader story, so this is technically a continuation?

Divider by Saradika

You enjoy your job. It’s not, perhaps, the most high paying job on Coruscant, but you enjoy it all the same. You investigate crimes, and try to fix what happened for the victim.

Of course, you don’t go out into the field so much anymore. Which is more than fine for you, you’ve always been happier being tech support rather than doing the actual grifting, or hurting people. You hate hurting people. And you’re not allowed to jump from buildings anymore because your maybe-boyfriend doesn’t like it.

He also really doesn’t like that you had elected to join this crew rather than remaining with the Guard, but he understands. At least a little.

“Let’s keep this simple, everyone.” You roll your eyes as your boss’ voice echoes across the comms that connect you with your team, “We’ll get in, get the money and the information, and then pull out before anyone knows we’re here.” 

You scan your monitors for a moment, “You’re all clear,” You say, “And your timers start…now. Happy hunting.”

You press some buttons, so you’re able to watch over your entire crew and listen in on all of their conversations, but your part in the con is over. Well. At least until they get you the information they’re hunting for.

Thirty minutes later, the comms burst to life. “You need to get out of there!” One of the members of the crew hisses, “This was a set-up! They’re coming after you!”

“What? Me?” You ask, your voice pitching up in alarm.

“Yes! Get out!”

You scramble to your feet, and grab the computer, shoving it into your bag, and then you scramble all of the other computers with a few keystrokes, and you head to the front door.

You dart behind a wall as the door explodes in, and you silently move to the back of the safehouse. If you can get to a window, you’ll be home free.

You don’t make it to the window. As large men, with a lot of weapons, manage to surround you.

“Are you going to try and fight?” The man wearing the largest armor asks, his voice heavily modulated by his armor. And, judging by his armor, he’s the commander of the private security team of your team’s current mark.

You shrug one shoulder, “There are less painful ways to die,” You reply dryly.

“Hm. Smart,” The leader removes his helmet, revealing a Miralian man covered in scars, “What’s your name?”

At that, you just shrug. 

“Sir,” A second man says hurriedly, “I believe this is the infamous Blue Rose of Coruscant.”

“Is that right? Are you the Blue Rose?”

You shrug again, a small smirk playing on your lips.

He scowls at you, “Take her.”

The last thing you think as the butt of the rifle flies towards your face, is that Fox is going to be pissed.

When you come too, you’re tied to a chair. Your arms tied to the arms of the chair, and your legs bound to the legs of the chair. Your bag lay, unopened, on the table in front of you. 

And you have a pounding headache, and you’re pretty sure you’re bleeding. Or you had been, based on the amount of blood on your formerly white shirt.

“Ah, awake at last.” You cut your eyes over to the leader, who had decided that he was safe enough to remove all of his armor. “I apologize for my men, they were a little rougher than I intended.”

“Yes, you look all broken up about it.” You counter snarkily. 

“Hm. Tell me, where’s the rest of your crew?”

“What crew?” You ask.

“You expect me to believe that you’re doing all of this alone?” He asks, “I’m not stupid.”

“Agree to disagree,”

He sighs, and stands, “I didn’t want to have to do it this way.” He grabs his gloves and pulls them on, “Until you tell me what I want to know, I’m going to slowly break every bone in your body. Starting with your fingers.”

You say nothing. There’s nothing to say.

He sighs one more time and moves closer to you, and then there’s a loud crash from behind you. His gaze snaps away from you, and onto the door. “Your crew finally arrived, I take it.”

The door slams open behind you, “Not quite.” A very familiar voice drawls, “You see, we got a report that someone was being held hostage here, so naturally we had to investigate.”

You turn your head as best as you can, and see very familiar red armor. Tension drains from your shoulders, “Nice of you to join the party, Commander.” You say lightly.

He presses his hand against your shoulder, and squeezes gently. Several more members of the guard hurry into the room and take the Private Guard into custody for kidnapping. 

As soon as they were gone, Fox kneels and cuts the tape holding you to the chair, “Are you alright?” He asks.

“I have a headache, and I’m sure I’m going to hurt tomorrow.” You admit, “Thank you for coming.”

His gloved hand comes up and lightly brushes your cheek, “Yeah well, when your boss called and said that you were being held hostage, I couldn’t not come.” He pulls his helmet off and flashes a small smile up at you, “Tell me you have something that I can use to nail the bastard?”

You smile at him, “Of course I do.”

Fox’s eyes gleam with triumph, “This is why I didn’t fight so hard when you left the guard.” He gently helps you to your feet, “There’s a medic just outside, and then I’ll have Hound drive you home. Come on.”

One hour, and five stitches later, you’re home again, curled up on the couch in one of Fox’s old shirts and a pair of shorts, while you eat some ice cream and watch a holo.

The door to the apartment slides open with a quiet beep, “Welcome home, Fox.”

“Did you at least eat real food before you raided the ice cream?” Fox asks from the door, where he was peeling his armor off. “Also, how are you feeling?”

“Nope.” You reply. “I have a headache, but I can’t take any more medicine.”

He walks over and leans over the couch, pulling the ice cream and your spoon out of your hands, “Pizza?” Fox asks before he presses a light kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re the best.”

“I know I am.” Fox walks back to the kitchen and puts the ice cream away, “Order the pizza we like, please, cyare.” He says, “I need to take a shower.”

You hum in response, opening your datapad and slowly scrolling through the app to order the food that you both prefer. You only just hit the order button, when Fox returns from his shower, wearing low hanging sleep pants and nothing else.

He drops on the couch next to you, and turns his gaze on you, “You know we have to talk about today, cyare.”

You sigh, and turn to look at him, “Yeah. I know.”

“Come here,” You slide across the couch and carefully lay your head on his shoulder. His arm hooks around your waist and he effortlessly picks you up and sets you on his lap. “Are you okay?” Fox asks, as he folds his arms tightly around you.

You hum thoughtfully, “Being a hostage never gets easier, but I’m okay.”

He sighs and his grip tightens around you, “I wish I could tell you to quit that job, to do something, anything, else.”

“Hm. I often feel the same way about you and your job,” You point out lazily.

He glances at you, and then he smiles, “I think you like making me worry.” Fox counters.

“It is nice having someone around who cares.” You admit as you reach up and lightly brush your fingers against his cheek, and then slide your fingers back into his hair.

He stares at you for a moment, and you stare right back, a small smile on your lips.

“...do you have any idea how much I love you?” Fox asks quietly.

Your smile grows, “Enough to let a known thief move into your apartment.” You lean in slightly, “Enough that you came to save me when I was kidnapped.”

He shifts and one of his hands comes up to cup your face, his fingers lightly ghost over the bruise on your face, and his thumb runs across your lower lip. Fox’s gaze is locked on your lips, and you’re helpless to do anything but kiss his thumb.

He exhales slowly, “So.” Fox starts, “So, I was thinking.”

“Always dangerous.” You quip quietly, and he smiles at you, soft and gentle.

“I was thinking,” He repeats, “You know how we’ve been pretending to date so no one looks too hard at you living with me?”

“I do recall that, yes.” You reply with a laugh.

“I was thinking that maybe we could try dating, for real.” Fox says quietly, “You already sleep in my bed most nights anyway, and we do everything together when we’re not working-”

“Well, when you put it that way,” You say quietly, “The only difference is that we can kiss each other.”

“Yeah,” He shifts ever so slightly, and bumps his nose against yours, “And I really, really want to kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?” You ask lightly.

“I’m trying to be respectful, cyare.”

“Well, knock it off-” You’re barely able to finish your sentence before his lips are against yours. The kiss starts off slow, and hesitant, as though he’s not sure he’s actually allowed to do this, but when you don’t pull away, and you actually enthusiastically respond, he deepens the kiss.

You moan into the kiss, lightly carding your fingers through his hair, pulling a pleased groan from his throat. He tightly grips your hips and pulls you so that you’re straddling him, and pressed flush against him, and he manages that without breaking the kiss.

You feel as though you could keep kissing him all night, if he let you. And, by the way he keeps pressing himself against you, and the way his hands slide under your shirt, he isn’t all that inclined to ask you to stop.

And then the doorbell rings, and you break the kiss. “Our food is here,” You say, sounding slightly breathless.

“You should probably get that,” Fox replies, his hands flexing on your hips.

You shoot him an amused look, and extract yourself from his embrace, to head over to the door, “Will you get the plates and stuff out, please, Fox?”

He sighs and his head falls back against the couch, “Yeah, cyare. I’ll get right on that.” Fox turns and watches you for a moment, and a small smirk crosses his face.

[wistfulnightingale]

The Metatron's Second Coming ("I will not Hesitate to Mock you!")

Part 2 of 8 in the Chess Moves Theory Set by @wistfulnightingale

As I've been pondering the Final Fifteen (and connected scenes, not like I'm obsessed or anything. Really, I'm fine...!), the scene with the Metatron in the coffee shop that day kept making my brain twitch. Everything about the Metatron appears normal, but is it too normal? Meanwhile, Nina initially acts out of character. Even for a woman who spent the night battling demons from Hell.

The Metatron is from Heaven.  Yet he knew what to order, fairly quickly, and under pressure from a rudely impatient person. How? The archangels don't understand books or sushi or matchboxes or human love or needs or relationships or wanting to keep one's original children... When the Metatron pretends to take an interest in Muriel's book (Yep. Pretends. I'll die on that hill), the Metatron doesn't ask them, "What's that you're reading?" -- he asks, "What's that you're holding?" Heavenly beings are unfamiliar with earthly objects or customs, unless they purposefully learn about it.

"Order accurately and fast... I will not hesitate to mock you if I don't like your order."

It's a comic moment, but it's out of character for Nina, IF it's unprovoked. Yes, she hasn’t slept in 30 hours and was fighting demons most of that surreal night, so it seems reasonable that she might explode.  But this is Nina.  Nina remembers people by their coffee order.  Nina is a practical business woman. 

Why would Nina, who had tidily set her emotions aside and started her workday, now suddenly be inexplicably rude to a new customer, a well-dressed man who appears to have significant funds and could possibly become a regular? Threatening to mock customers is not a sound business model, even on an Extremely Bad Day.

Bear with me, I'm about to propose something radical. But it certainly gives us something to talk about as we wait for the final story!

I think that the Metatron was in the coffee shop the previous day. Learning about the complicated human ritual of buying a coffee. And ingesting his first sample of human consumables.

Here's why...

As we get to know Nina, we learn that she is private, rather guarded, and blunt. She is also incredibly practical and dedicated to running her business smoothly and efficiently. Even when briefly socializing, she is wiping tables, or signaling a "six shots expresso, big cup" order with gestures. Her coffee business is about earning a living. Nina didn’t understand Maggie’s sentimental attachment to a store that can’t sell anything. When dramatic issues with Lindsay happen during work hours, Nina sets boundaries but keeps herself from snapping at customers, even when Mrs. Sandwich criticizes her.

The morning after the demon attack, Nina had already shifted into business mode -- she was late, people need their coffee. She shuts off consideration of the bizarre night, and is prepping and planning. She calmly started putting down chairs, and knew exactly what milks she needed Maggie to pick up. Maggie returns promptly, and everything is well under control before the Metatron's turn in line.

The Metatron is a very intelligent Heavenly being, but we've seen that he has no concern for, nor interest in, humanity. He doesn't know human ways, and when he speaks, he fills his sentences with British posh slang as if he just took a crash course from a travel brochure! And he was just in a bookstore, but doesn't know what a book is. (Probably because he doesn't see it as important.)

How does he know how to put together a coffee order, from the multitudes of choices, for the very first time? He understands the difference between an expresso, a frappuccino, a cappuccino and a latte? Caffeinated or Decaf? To select whole milk, nonfat milk, almond milk, oat milk...? Cold, or steamed? Nondairy sweet cream? Heavy cream? Half and Half? Would you like whipped cream on that? And, by the way, how many syrups are on the "Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death" selection list?

(****Also, have you ever been with an older person the first time they visit a coffee shop? It takes time to figure it all out...!)

"Order accurately and fast... I will not hesitate to mock you if I don't like your order."

The VOICE OF GOD puts his hands up in surrender and says, "Yes, I quite understand." He's okay with this? Why? I suspect that when he came in yesterday (in Episode 5) he had NO IDEA how to order, and would have held up the line looking at the many, many choices.

I can imagine it! The first time the Metatron showed up, Nina walks back in the shop after her conversation with Crowley. She doesn't like thinking so much about Lindsay during work hours, and she's trying to refocus. It's important to her to keep the line moving. Meanwhile, this posh fellow comes in with no clue what he wants, asking ridiculous questions and ordering things that don’t make sense together and that means he’s taking Forever and Holding Up The Line.  

The next day (Episode 6), she’s again trying to just FOCUS and run her shop, and NOT think anymore about battling demons all night, but here he is again, this upper class elderly sophisticate-wanna-be, about to mess up her morning and put her even FURTHER behind and if he asks for something STUPID AGAIN,  SHE. WILL. MOCK. HIM…!!!

This time, however, he places a reasonable order, quickly and sensibly.  So Nina quickly calms down, and can even tolerate it when he asks such an odd question.  “They don’t ever ask for death, no.”   Nina can bear with a customer who is strange, and can be polite (even if blunt) to someone who says odd things.  

But DON’T. HOLD. UP. HER. LINE. 

I think this idea, on it's own, is worth considering. I hope you might think so, too. It's at least a question worth asking.

..........

Now, please, breathe deeply, and please don't hate me.

I broke down the Episode 5 scene outside the coffee shop with dozens of screenshots, lightening, brightening, and posting only the best in another post, The Metatron Misdirection. There's a guy wearing an orange shirt moving around inside the shop, behind Nina. There's also a guy with white hair and a dark overcoat. In the scene photos, he seems to be talking to the orange-shirt man before taking his place in line. I think it's the Metatron. Perhaps he's asking the orange-shirt guy for advice about how coffee orders work. (See my Part 1, The Metatron Misdirection, for lots and lots of detail to back up my absolutely bonkers idea!)

I think it was a Time Misdirection, across 2 episodes. (See Misdirection in Magic, a Masterclass article.) The most significant part of the magic trick happens before we start looking for the trick. If we wondered at all about Nina's outburst, it wouldn't occur to us to look for the answer in the previous episode. We didn't think the Metatron was there yet! (inside, on the right, in line behind the orange-shirt guy!)

I reeeeeeeally wouldn't expect you to believe this, just from one photo. I'd be grateful if you'd check out my other post with all the details before you come at me, please please please (she implores🥺). (And you might especially like #8, Aziraphale's Jubilant Smile!)

😊

If you'd like to see more of my ideas/meta-theories about the stuff I think is radically interconnected to the Final Fifteen, please check out the other parts of my Chess Moves Theory Set at @wistfulnightingale for the full picture of what I think might be happening for our Ineffables.

Thanks for coming with me on this crazy ride!

The 8 Chess Moves MetaTheory Set:

1 - The Metatron Misdirection

2 - The Metatron's Second Coming

3 - Ineffables in Check

4 - A Hefty Jigger of Death

5 - Nothing Lasts Forever

6 - The Circle Kiss Theory

7 - The Nightingale DID Sing

8 - Aziraphale's Jubilant Smile (Not the crazy elevator grin)

Also: The Chess Moves Theory Set, Why Chess & Magic?

[ramne7]

First Meeting with Atsushi, Dazai, Chuuya and Ranpo (Part 1)

Soon: Kunikida, Akutagawa, and Ango (Part 2)

killing, explosion, stalking, mention of suicide, foul words, f!reader, fluff scenario

ngl you gotta be so fuckin' unlucky to meet them out of all the ppl u could've meet 💀

ps. this post and the next, next(2nd meeting) r connected obv, so some details will be kind of confusing

AtSUSHI

I'm walking up to one of the stores to buy something. I got in and picked up all the things I needed. There weren't a lot of people inside, but for some reason the moment I stepped inside I felt something is amiss and usually my gut feelings never gets wrong, so I'm confident that something is wrong and I've been trying to observe the surrounding—

“GET DOWN!” I shouted as loud as I can when I saw blinking in the upper corner of the store— just beside the CCTV camera and just like my hunch...

“AH!” A civilian screamed in shock. Something in that corner made an explosion, fortunately people who were left were already running out of the store before it exploded 1/3 of the store.

2 men came running towards the store, they introduced themselves as the Armed Detective Agency with their IDs. Though, to be honest I couldn't care less...

“Can you tell us what happened?” The boy with the er... unique? haircut asked.

“Boi, you have pretty uneven bangs”

“Oh? You thought so too” The boy wasn't offended but looks like he hears this on a daily basis. Though, I shouldn't have pointed that out.

“Oh, sorry I shouldn't have said that. Well, the CCTV camera is still working, it caught exactly what happened, it'd be better to ask the footage instead” They seemed confused.

“I made sure it wouldn't be damaged during the explosion, so that I wouldn't need to be interviewed” They said their appreciations and I said my goodbyes before going out.

OsaMUAH (DUHzai)

“Tell me... What do you know about that guy you're staring at?”

“Fuckin- Can you not talk to strangers such as me??” I got jumpscared by a guy who looked like a mummy... But hot though— priorities, anyways he's been following the guy who I have also been following, since he's the guy in my mission.

“You're with Ango aren't you” He wasn't even asking, that's a statement.

“And you're with ADA” I sighed my most tired one as this one seemed to be the most troublesome according to all the things I've heard about his glorious reputation before and after him joining the peaceful side.

“Look, you're prolly in a mission too about that guy, but my mission here is to gather informations about him, since he's one of our suspect so...” I observed his facial expression and ngl I enjoyed it more than I should've have.

“If you can exchange infos with me, I can let go of that guy for today and forget you ever followed that guy” I assumed he's also on a private matter with that guy and it seemed to be an important one considering it's only him investigating this.

“Hmm~” He gestured a thinking position. He looked at me again after 2 seconds.

“Commit a double suicide with me then it's a deal” Can I punch his pretty face?

“You can die alone” I retorted.

“Such harsh words from someone who's been enjoying herself while looking at my pretty face” I raised my eyebrow and made a disgusted face as a first response to that truthful claim.

“Fine” Was my second response.

ChūyUH

I walked in the elevator and pressed a floor. The elevator opened and I proceeded to go to our agency. Just as I was halfway of opening the door Kunikida spoke;

“Good morning, Y/N. Good timing I have work for you” I gave him my 'really?' face.

“It's not so 'good' morning anymore” I sighed before approaching Ranpo with his requested snacks, Ranpo hugged the paper bag full of calories.

“C'mon, it's just an errand, no serious cases” Supposedly easy tasks are always the dangerous ones and Atsushi can vouch me on that one.

“Yeah, sure” I strolled my way out off the building and walked my way to the location.

I'm supposed to meet a double agent who'll be delivering an important envelope to the agency by the request of the Special Division.

An 'errand' so to say.

I spotted a guy that matches the too detailed description of the double agent, so I started approaching him before a bullet head shot him. I wandered my eyes to locate the culprit and spotted the mafioso.

“Why kill him?” I asked since that guy wasn't even in the Port Mafia.

“Well, it was a request offered with a great sum of reward. Sorry to take your double agent” The last sentence was said sarcastically. He approached the now dead guy and tried looking for something.

“Looking for this?” I smirked while raising my hand with the envelope.

“How—” He tried to get it from me when I suddenly burned the envelope.

“Too bad, it's on Kunikida's table now” I can teleport any matter that I'm currently touching to places I've been.

“You could've saved that double agent if you wanted to, why didn't you?” He asked annoyingly.

“It wasn't in my task”

RUNpo

I spotted the crime scene I'm assigned with. I also spotted the infamous member of ADA. I walked my way closer to the detective.

“I'm from the Special Division, Y/N. I'm only here to collect a certain evidence” He's circling around the dead body like he's looking for something on the body.

“This case is under our agency. You'll have to wait until I close this case” He replied. I sighed mentally as I was hoping to finish this task as quickly as i can.

I waited at a nearby café, since I'm not about to stand under the burning sun for a long period of time.

8 minutes later I ate some of my words.

“You're already done??” I asked the agent who's now in front of me.

“Yeah. Is this the evidence you needed” He handed me the victim's phone.

“Thanks? How'd you know?”

“Buy me those cookies first” I was informed of his obsession to sweets and his amazing deduction skills, but I wasn't expecting him to solve it in less than 10 minutes.

He hugged the paper bag full of sweet pastries.

“You're under the Special Division-Tech. The victim had no other useful belonging with her in the crime scene other than her phone and wallet, you're not wearing any gloves and you chose to not watch over the crime scene in case the evidences get touched or go missing, so you're not here to collect any DNA nor did you need the contents inside the wallet. The phone gave away your position as a tech” He explained before walking away.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

He's Just a Herald and He's On Fire!

So, if there is one consistent theme with protagonists in Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar universe, it's that there is a STARTLING number of them who are misfits in their families, misunderstood, and a little anxious and melancholic about the whole thing. You'd think that this would get boring fast, but Lackey manages to mix up the details enough that they don't meld together in my head, and in point of fact, I have actual favorites. One of whom we are talking about today. That's what this post is for. Lan Chitward is one of my favorite herald protagonists. Let's talk Brightly Burning.

Hi, hello, welcome. If this is your first time on my blog, please be warned that this is A SPOILERIFIC ZONE. I will SPOIL THE CRAP OUT OF THIS BOOK. Consider yourself warned.

Y'all, I am a Shakespeare scholar, so if I ever post anything along the lines of "Tragedies suck and I hate them," please send help, I've been kidnapped. Your girl LOVES a good tragedy, and that's really what this book is: An Amazing Tragedy. But that's just the end for Herald Lavan Firestorm and his Companion Kalira.

At the beginning of this book, we meet Lavan "Lan" Chitward, ugly duckling son of a pair of extremely prosperous merchants who feels ignored, misunderstood, and transplanted from the place that made him happiest. Kiddo has zero desire to follow either of his parents into their trades, so when they hit their wits' ends, said parents send Lan to a merchant-run school so Lan can find himself a direction in life that he feels will suit him.

Lan's parents might not be able to empathize or communicate with their son, but they did try to set him up for success. They tried. They get a couple of points for that. Not a lot. But a couple.

Unfortunately for Lan, he gets to discover the downsides of private school firsthand when he is relentlessly and cruelly bullied by older students. Lan's anxiety and very real, rational fear of bodily and social harm get so bad that to save his life, his Firestarting Gift explodes out of his control. By the time the smoke clears, four boys are dead and Lan is being carted up to the palace to explain to Herald Pol what on earth had been happening in his school and how the fire started. Stress from being questioned makes Lan lose control again, but before he can start a second killer fire, Kalira chooses Lan. Handily, Kalira is the daughter of Pol's companion, Satiran, so Pol is aware from the jump that Lan is more than just Kalira's Choice: The two are lifebonded.

Go nuts, Ao3.

However, this is about when the members of the heraldic circle start looking at each other sideways and going, "oh no. Firestarting Gifts usually only pop up when we're going to need them..." So while Lan is getting tutored by Pol, Kalira, his new best friend Tuck, and Pol's daughter Eleanor, Karse is causing trouble at the border--like preparing to invade and burn all the heralds to death trouble. Karse is not your friend, and their sun priests tend to target heralds and healers, and the only thing worse than being killed by Karsite troops is being taken alive to be burned at the stake or--for healers--be forced to use your gift until you burn out and die. So: Bad Situation.

Ultimately, the command decision is made to send Lan to the front. Lan at this point is an emotionally unstable, half-trained at best trainee herald. The poor kid is getting yeeted into a situation he is absolutely unprepared to handle. Before he and Pol even MAKE it to the front, they're attacked by a scout group and Pol is blinded--put a pin in that, we're going to come back to it. So Lan gets to the front already traumatized and somewhat sans his trusted mentor. It's not good.

Ultimately, the title of this book comes back to haunt Lan and Kalira: they burn, too brightly. Kalira takes an arrow in battle to save Lan, and in his grief and rage, Lan unleashes his final strike, taking out the Karsite army, an entire pine forest, and even some of his own soldiers--firestorms are hard to aim. Lan is posthumously raised to full Herald rank, and losing their entire army puts Karse on the shelf. It's the very definition of a pyrrhic victory, however. Lan burned himself out at age sixteen. He was a half-trained child doing his level best, and he was put in a situation that he was objectively unready for. It's heartbreaking, it's tragic...it's WONDERFULLY done.

The entire time you're reading this book and falling in love with Lan and Kalira, you're thinking "they'll be alright, won't they? They have to be alright." But you have enough other beloved characters that you get to know well enough that you also get to mourn with them once Lan and Kalira are gone. You get pulled into this story and you just want to hug Lan and stick him somewhere safe. This is one of my favorite Valdemar books, no question.

This is where I want to just briefly come back to Herald Pol and the attack that costs him his sight. I have no objection about the context in which this occurs. Shit happens in war. It's tragic, it's traumatic, it COMPLETELY SUCKS, but there aren't any red flags in terms of how Pol is disabled. There is also a fairly realistic period in which Pol is trying to adjust to not having sight. He also can see through Satiran's eyes for short periods of time because magic, but since this comes with a cost in energy and magic and doesn't inherently negate the disability, we're still fine. It's an emergency stopgap measure, not a functional cure. So far, so fine.

Unfortunately, there are a couple of things I don't love about how Pol's blinding is handled. The first thing is a bit "your mileage may vary" rather than a genuinely harmful negative representation, but it threw up a faint red flag when I was reading, so I'm talking about it. Traumatic injuries are so described for a reason; people have very very valid feelings and reactions to being suddenly and violently disabled, and part of adjusting is having the time and space to work through those feelings. Now. Pol and Lan are literally in a war zone, they are indispensably important figures, so they can't just be sent home. There also kind of isn't time and space to deal with the emotions in a war zone. All of that is fair enough. It would suck to have to just swallow the feels and keep functioning, and that could even lead to some good narrative tension.

That's not what happens though.

I'll just give you the text from the book for this bit:

Some time during the ride to headquarters, Pol had made up his mind on several points; it had given him relief from the pain to work things logically through in that way. Losing his eyesight was not going to be a tragedy, and if Ilea could not Heal him, then he would simply accept that. The events of the evening only confirmed that belief. He worked through everything as logically as he could during the ride, and during that night and the day and night that followed, in his dreams he was able to employ a technique called directed dreaming to work through things emotionally. It wasn't easy; he exhausted himself all over again, weeping for what he had lost and raging against everyone involved, including himself. But it had to be done, and quickly, and dreams were the best and least harmful place to do so.

I'm not going to say that his experience as a Herald and soldier don't give this some credibility, and I'm not going to say that narrative compression isn't a thing that writers can and do use to get characters from emotional point a to point b, but this stretched my credibility just a skooch and made me go, "They're going to keep him blind, right?"

Reader, they healed him at the end of the book. Can we PLEASE let him live a full herald life while blind??? He was no less effective without his sight than with it, and A LITTLE PHYSICAL DISABILITY REP AMONG THE ACTIVE-DUTY HERALDS WOULD BE LOVELY. Plenty of them live with anxiety, depression, hypervigilance, or other mental health challenges, but heaven forbid a herald have a physical disability.

This is a pattern I'm noticing more and more in books. Soldiers and soldier-adjacent characters can experience mental illness and disability, but not physical. It's that really annoying mind-body split looming large, and I don't have a good solution for this other than letting active duty characters also have physical disabilities, rather than having them be cured, retired, or in roles that never require them to be in the field. And I do get that like...if you are physically disabled, your best bet is not to be in a fight, but that's not how LIFE works. Sometimes the fight comes to you, or your expertise is needed in the field. It happens. LET IT.

Other than my growing frustration with disability rep in military, military-adjacent, and martial-esque organizations in fiction, I love this book to little tiny pieces. It's a beautifully executed tragedy without being self-indulgent or unnecessarily maudlin.