#SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE

[p1astr81]

second dad zone - op81

synopsis: you have to go into work unexpectedly on a Saturday. The only person who could watch your daughter on short notice is your boyfriend, Oscar, and your little girl almost kills him (not literally).

an: sorry ik I have a lot of reqs I’m just in a bit of a block so I was hoping this would help me out of that😭

It was mid morning. The birds were chirping and light poured into the flat. Isla emerged from the hallway. Her tiny fist rubbed at her eye, trying to wipe the sleep away with unmatched ferocity.

She skipped the stretching this morning, hopping right out of bed when she smelt bacon and eggs. Her favorite.

But she paused when she entered the kitchen. Her mum wasn’t the one cooking, but her mum’s good friend. “Oscah?” Her little voice called, breaking from the remnants of sleep. “Where’s my mummy?” Her beady eyes searched the flat, but couldn’t find what she was looking for.

Oscar turned to respond, but the words died on his tongue as his eyes focused on what she was wearing.

Too many sizes too large, her little feet tripped over the hem of his home race hoodie.

His heart wanted to burst. He knew she probably thought nothing of it, but it meant everything to him.

He agreed with you when you suggested that your relationship be kept from Isla. ‘She’s young and her dad still visits sometimes, I just don’t want to confuse her or make her feel like I’m trying to… i don’t know.’ He recalled you explaining. It made sense, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see her as his daughter. He’d known her since before she could walk, and now she can tell stories with incredible details. It was only natural that he developed such a connection.

So when he saw her wearing his name, he felt loved by her. Like it was her way of accepting him into her life.

It was silly, but that didn’t change how he felt.

“She’s at work, but I made you breakfast if you want to eat.” He offered.

She took a couple steps towards him before she paused again. “But she said she didn’t have work today.”

“Something came up. It’s okay, it happens. She shouldn’t be long.”

Her big brown eyes blinked up at him. “Mummy usually takes me to daycare.”

He frowned. “I know, but you can’t go to daycare today.”

“Why?” She asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not open.”

“Why?”

“Well, many parents don’t work on Saturdays, so they don’t need to be open.”

“Why?”

“Do you want breakfast?” He interjected before it got out of hand. She could ask ‘why?’ all day if you’d let her.

She nodded pointedly, then wrapped her arms around herself, the excess sleeves hanging off her hands. “I’m cold.” Her little feet stepped closer to Oscar.

“Okay, I can-“ he stopped short seeing her little hands reach up for him, asking to be picked up. So he did, setting her on his hip—or at least trying to. She eased into him, her head on his shoulder while she watched him cook.

“You’re warm.” She muttered, her arms wrapping around his neck.

Oscar swore he could cry, or die, or spontaneously combust right there on the spot. Genuinely, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

And after breakfast, when she voluntarily joined him on the couch and curled into his side saying, “you’re a good dad.” He thought he actually felt his heart stop beating.

Because he was making his way out of the ‘Oscar, just mum’s friend’ zone to ‘Oscar, Isla’s second dad’ zone.

[thesetwoutes]

Sorry, but I like my tags on this one so I'm reblogging again during the day.

Hi there, I love your writing and saw one of your recent answered asks. If you feel like it, could you tell or point us to a story about how you were taught kindness? I worry I have not learned enough kindness.

I actually got out of bed to write this. I saw the ask, and I knew the story, and I knew what I wanted it to be. It's a little fire and brimstone, compared to my other stories, but I think that's an important part. 

My mom was a young woman's leader for our ward and she cared a lot about her charges. One of the girls in her group had parents that were in the middle of a messy divorce, and with the mom reentering the workforce after 15 years, schedules were hectic. So my mom picked up their daughter from school for a while. The daughter only lived a block away from us, so it was a small thing to do for a family going through a very painful change.

Said daughter was fat. She'd been fat since we were all kids and she was deeply ashamed of it. Always trying to fix it. Always reading about and talking about diets. And one day, I was sitting in the back seat, and she was talking with my mom about some documentary she'd seen about the corn industry, and how corn syrup was in everything, and I remember her saying "It's literally poison."

And I just didn't leave it be.  

I said something about if she was sure it was literal, and she said yeah, totally, and I asked her if she knew what literal went, and my mom shot daggers at me through the rear view mirror before changing the topic. They chatted, and my mom told her some stuff about worrying less about food, and I don't remember the details but I know my mom was trying to steer her away from disordered eating. Then we arrived at her house, and she got out, and after that it was just me and my mom in the car. 

And it was awkward. We drove for maybe a half block before my mom said, Babs, what the hell was that, and I said something about how that's not what literally means, and she took me to task for it. 

Who cares what literally means, she said. Her parents are getting divorced. She feels terrible about her body. She feels terrible about everything. And instead of listening to her, you felt the need to point out that you're smarter than her. That you know a word she doesn't. You feel big, putting her down like that? 

I didn't have an answer. We sat there a few moments, silent, before she spoke again. I will never forget how tired she sounded. 

I know she isn't as smart as you, she said. But she's doing the best she can. And you could be doing so much more than this.

There was nothing I could say to that. I saw her face in the rearview a few times on the short ride home, and she wasn't sobbing but there were tears going down her face. I think she sat in the car twenty minutes after pulling in, just trying to get her composure back. I checked on her from the living room window like ten times. I can't remember the last time I felt like that huge of a piece of shit.

My mom is a gentle woman. She cried over worms with me. She hardly ever yelled, and she apologized after she did. That conversation caved my skull in like a cinder block dropped from a skyscraper. And I deserved it. 

I know it's probably not the tumblr way to encourage shame. But I have found it useful anyway. I think it is useful for me, to have a specific moment of knowing what failure looks like and feels like.  Missing the person to pick out the part that would make me look good, missing the big view of their life, missing the idea that what they need is not necessarily to be right. Too may misses.

There are a lot of stupid things that have crawled to the tip of my tongue, only to get stopped by the memory of my mom saying you could be doing so much more than this. 

I will not make her say that a second time.

[brittle-doughie]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

∘•············•∘ʚ I’ll Take You: Eternal Sugar Cookie ɞ∘•·············•∘

[They miss you…]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

To each other, you two were a match made in oven. You had an angel would made sure that you were always happy through all kinds of loving affection. And the Sugar of Happiness had a Cookie made for her that she could cherish for as long as she lived. She was all too happy to show you what it meant to feel that joy and love in your heart.

She’d take your hand and fly around the fields of flowers to up in the sky where you two could lay on clouds as you both tell each other’s feelings. Here’s a hint, she loved you and you loved her! Not so much a secret, but always something she loved to hear come from your mouth!

She’d do whatever she could to give you everything and anything, but you’d decline these big gifts she’d give you. It didn’t matter, because as long as you had her, you were always happy. That alone is enough for the Sugar of Happiness to brighten her up the whole day. There was that extra security that you’d never be this close to any Cookie but her!

She was your everything.

To the Sugar of Happiness. You were a Cookie that she can call her everything…

“I never thought that you could make so happy for all these years, my angel…”

“And I could never have been a happier angel without you, my heavenly. I count my stars every day knowing that I was gifted such a wonderful Cookie…”

“What of the other Cookies? I wish they could be as happy as I am with you…”

“I might have the answer for that, my heavenly…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When she made her paradise, it was to be a place where all Cookies who enter it would be happy. A place where suffering and disease would only be in memory. She gave you your personal spot where all your needs would be met…but to you, that wasn’t what you wanted. You started to see her less and less as she just let her paradise do the work of making you happy. It was her wish after all, to always see you happy.

You wanted her. Your heart yearned for her.

Yes, she’d tend to you when she senses your hurt emotions. You two have that special connection to each other, but she’d now would leave once you’ve calmed down to allow her paradise and the sugar angels to take care of you in her stead.

“My garden is a place where all Cookies must be happy, all of them. I’m sorry I can’t stay like we used to, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less…”

“I want you to stay. I don’t want to be left alone…”

“The Sugar Angels will gift you company, my heavenly. I must welcome the newer guests to my paradise…”

“Wait…”

And she was gone. Just like that…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You missed those times in the past…

Where she could make Cookies happy while still having enough time for you. Weren’t you meant to be for her? If you can’t be with her always, then what were you anymore?

No matter how many times Eternal Sugar tries to paint a smile on your soul, it never lasts…

You were…unhappy….

…

…

…

“What was the world like outside of this place?”

You ponder one night, lying on your back in your bed, looking up at the night sky…was it even a real one?

Just how much of the world would you missing out on when you remained here for all this time?

Were there possibly other places then here that could you feel…happiness? Joy?

….

You hoped your Creators were listening. You ask for them to please give you a sign…

….

…You noticed a faint red string coming from your chest, you somehow didn’t notice that up until now…

You went to reach for it, only for it to somehow come loose and float away into the air…

That felt…freeing? That weight in your chest from your emotions suddenly felt light, as if you weren’t weighed down anymore…

Your angel didn’t pay you mind as much anymore, she won’t seem to fret that much if one Cookie left her paradise…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The garden stood still.

The Bringer gasped suddenly as she clutched her chest, where her heart was located. She brought a hand to her eyes to see that she was crying, her hands start to tremble as she felt her heart being torn in two…she felt…forgotten…

She immediately knew what was wrong with her…

How was she so foolish…

…

…

…No.

She won’t allow it to end like this.

She can make you happy, just like she should’ve always been doing…

And if you refuse, she’ll just have to take you…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You had taken your first steps into this new world, for you. It wasn’t anything like the paradise, with the variety of colors and plants that littered the placed.

You were nervous about this, but you also felt excited.

What did this world have in store for you-

“Heavenly….? Where are you going…?”

You froze up at the worried voice behind you, knowing it too well to mistake it for any Cookie.

“I was just wondering what outside the garden was like. You told me not to go out in fear of monsters, but..I just wanted to see it had in store.”

“Heavenly…”

“Please, call me Y/N Cookie…”

This formality only brought fear to Eternal Sugar’s heart. It was like you two were just strangers in comparison to the soulmates you two always were…it only made her want to get you more quickly…

“Y/N Cookie. I’m relieved to hear you were only curious. Please return to the garden, I..want to talk to you there about something.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you can tell me…”

“Y/N Cookie-“

“Stop.”

…

…

…

…

“I’m sorry….”

“Sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone like I did. My paradise was meant to make every Cookie that live in it happy, but I failed to see that doing that only made you unhappy.”

“No, that was just your duty. It was just how…you’d leave me to let your paradise make me happy when you’re the only one that can…”

“I see that now! So please, come back with me! I want to make this right! To have things go back to how they were!”

“I’m sorry too, my angel. The world is calling for me, and I want to see what it can give me for my own happiness now…”

Eternal Sugar sighed solemnly. It looked like she really ruined things now….

And she aims to fix that.

“Your happiness is with me.”

She immediately flew at you and grabbed you, you try to resist as she pulled you back towards the garden.

“My angel, please!”

“Don’t worry, my heavenly! I’ll make things better!”

“You’re holding me too tightly!”

“Why wouldn’t I? I need to show you how much I love you!”

“If you love me, you’d set me free!”

“But I REALLY love you, so I’ll keep you here with me! Oh, just think of the memories we can make here!”

She held your face close to hers…

“Don’t you get it, my love?”

“You’re EVERYTHING to me….”

You’d never get to see the world. Why would you? SHE is your world now…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[moonstruckme]

Heyy this is my first time I'm requesting from you so I hope I'm doing this properly. I love your fics so much I literally always go to your profile since it's a comfort space for me. I had a flight today that I had to reschedule because I forgot to make an important document. Thankfully it only came to me having to reschedule the flight but I feel so bad cause I feel like I'm constantly forgetting important stuff and making mistakes and have people scramble around me to help fix it even if they tell me it's ok i feel so so bad. Can you write me a comfort fic around smthn like that? Marauders, anyone of them is fine or poly. Sorry if my request is too specific and thx!! 💜

Thanks for requesting angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Walk faster,” you call over your shoulder, laughing.

“Relax.” Sirius’ tone is scoffing. He refuses to quicken his pace down the sidewalk. “They’re not going to kick us out for being ten minutes late, you pest.” 

“They might! It’ll be fifteen by the time we get there at this rate.” 

“And if they do,” James says, catching up to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, “you can tell them it was all Sirius’ fault.” 

Sirius scoffs again, but it’s an amused sound. James can practically feel Remus’ fond look directed at your slow-moving boyfriend. You’re all in a good, sunshiney mood after spending a long afternoon at the park, teasing without bite and taking pauses for kisses in between quips. Your idea to make reservations at everyone’s favorite dinner spot, always too busy to walk into on a weekend night, was inspired; James’ heart feels as full as his stomach does empty. Nothing sounds better than tucking into a good meal and then spending the rest of the evening near comatose with all of you on the couch. 

You’re twelve minutes late by the time you make it into the restaurant. (James wouldn’t have guessed, but you make a point to let Sirius know.) You give the hostess your name, and she begins searching for your reservation on her list. 

“I apologize, it doesn’t seem we have you down here,” she says after a few moments. 

You smile, sheepish (and adorable). “Yeah, we’re a bit late, sorry. The reservation was actually for seven.” 

“Right.” The hostess glances over the list again, hesitating. “I don’t see your name here at all, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh. Um.” You begin chewing your lip. James exchanges a look with Remus. “I’m sorry, can you check one more time? Just to be sure.” 

The hostess is accommodating. She has you spell out your name, running through the list again before telling you again, remorsefully, that it’s not there. 

“Is it possible you booked with our other location?” she asks you.

Any remnants of a smile drain from your face. Your eyes round out. “There’s another location?” 

“Yes.” She gives you a thin smile. “We have one south of the river as well.” 

“I had no idea,” you say, voice quieter than it had been. 

“Me neither,” James chimes in in solidarity. You’re getting this look like you think you’re an island. Waiting to be attacked from all sides. 

“Alright, that’s okay.” Sirius reaches over to squeeze your shoulder, sensing with the rest of them your rising embarrassment. “We’ll just go there, then. Thank you.” He shoots the hostess a winning smile and leads you back towards the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say as you go outside. “I had no—I didn’t think to check if there was more than one.” 

“It’s fine.” James shoots you a smile. Remus is already on his phone finding the other location. “I wouldn’t have guessed there was another one either, lovely. But maybe it’ll be even better, yeah? We might end up crossing the river every time if we really love it.” 

You look slightly comforted, but then Remus says, almost under his breath, “Oh.” 

You slow your pace warily. “What?” 

“Um.” He looks up from his phone, wincing like he doesn’t want to say. “It looks like the other location closes a bit earlier than this one. Even if they let us keep our reservation, I’m not very sure we’d make it, and with traffic…” 

“Oh my god.” You bring a hand to your face, rubbing harshly above your brow. “I’m so sorry.” 

“We can find somewhere else to eat around here,” Remus tries to placate you. “It’s not a problem. I think we’re all hungry enough that any food would be good, yeah?” 

“Yes,” James agrees heartily. 

You, however, remain put out. Your walk back to the car becomes a trudge, guilt thickening the air around you. 

“Hey.” Sirius bumps your hip with his. “It’s fine, baby. Everything’s fine. We aren’t going to go hungry.” 

“I know, I just…” You shake your head, gnawing cruelly on your lower lip. “I’m always messing this stuff up. I’m really sorry.” 

James watches as Sirius’ brow creases defensively. Remus ducks to try and catch your eye. “What makes you say that, lovely? This could have happened to anyone.” 

“It always happens to me, though,” you confess lowly. A moment later, you seem to change your mind, waving it away with forced lightness. “It’s fine. I’m just sorry.”

“It only happened to you because you were the one with the idea to make a reservation,” James points out. “We still wouldn’t have ended up with a table if you hadn’t done anything. It was just a little mistake.” 

“Okay,” you say, but your voice is quiet. Your smile wan. “Where should we go?” 

“Hey.” Sirius grabs your hand before you can get into the car. He pulls you into a hug. “Get over yourself, yeah?” he says, squeezing your middle. “Nobody’s upset with you. The same thing could have happened with literally any one of us. If you’d asked me to make the reservation, I would’ve known fuck all about there being more than one and done the exact same. So you’re off the hook, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur again. 

“That’s right,” says James, taking the opportunity of Sirius’ distraction to position himself closest to the passenger door. Remus sends him a knowing look from across the car. “If Sirius could have done it, it can’t be anything bad.” 

“Precisely.” Sirius grins. He lets go of you but keeps you trapped with his hands on your shoulders, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Stop punishing yourself. No one is asking you to.” 

You shrink a bit, shying in a way that’s difficult to avoid when Sirius makes his gaze all intense like that. Remus looks to be hiding a smile. “Okay,” you say for a third time, sounding like you mean it. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Sirius lets you go, signaling for you to get in the car with a pat to your bum. “James, don’t think I don’t see you edging in on my seat there. Turn it around.” 

[psuejo]

❥ nerdmin 😻,,,

inspo!!

your friendly tutor being a hardcore munch certainly wasn’t on your bingo card for the year.

you weren’t even meant to be at this party. you’d planned to finally destress after a hellish week of finals by curling up with your ipad, a twelve episode anime, and a pile of snacks — a much deserved reward after the literal tears you shed trying to study and prep.

but, no. somehow, someway amongst hitch getting ready to go party and you scrunching your nose up at her, you’d ended up at some shitty frat party with poorly mixed alcohol and hot, horny bodies, no hitch in sight. it’s not really your thing — too many people and too little security — so of course the second you spot armin, a familiar face and your long-time tutor, you stuck to him like white on rice.

how were you supposed to know that he’d be the one having you bent over the guest bathroom sink, soft hands keeping your pretty legs spread just for him?

“armin, fuck...” you moan, teeth sinking into your glossy bottom lip. a futile attempt to muffle yourself, but he’s never been one to not give credit where credit is due.

armin’s knees ache against the awkward tile of the floor, but the pain is nothing in comparison to the taste of you, sweet and syrupy like the finest drizzle. he doesn’t waste a single drop of slick, the little metal ball in his mouth occasionally nudging your clit and coaxing even more wetness.

“f-feels good, right?” he asks and you can only nod, the typical softness of his voice practically dissolved underneath the needy hoarseness. those anatomy classes really did come in handy.

he pays deliberate attention to every single part of your pussy, almost like he’s got a reference image pulled up in his mind. not a single area goes unexplored — plush lips on your swollen clit, sucking until you mewl, pierced tongue shoved deep in your weak hole, slurping and thrusting all for the reward of your sweet voice.

everything about you is addicting to armin’s senses, a constant flow of pure dopamine, making him drunker than even the strongest of alcohols and higher than the hardest of drugs.

he’s insatiable when it comes to you.

“did you know,” slurp, “that the vagina has proteins in it?” another slurp, one that’s silenced beneath your moan, “i-i mean, it’s — ngh — not a lot, b-but... could help people meet their quotas.”

it’s pathetic and downright shameful how his inopportune fact-dropping makes your cunt throb, the pressure in your gut becoming unbearable. your thighs quiver in his grip, breaths catch in your hoarse throat — all typical, textbook signs that you’re going to cum. “don’t stop, ‘m sooo close. f-fuck, armin, god—”

he whimpers when you buck back against his face, slick smearing even more and knocking his thick glasses askew. nevertheless, he doesn’t stop, the tightness of his cargo pants be damned.

he doesn’t even stop when you cum with a cry, squirt spraying all over his face and the floor. he keeps his aching jaw slack to swallow every bit, too focused on the gorgeous mess between your legs to notice the growing darkened patch on the front of his trousers.

“armin!” you squirm, hips uselessly wriggling against the cool, smooth marble. you’re still trembling and twitching, the tsunami of bliss from your previous orgasm nowhere near done. “w-wait, slow down—”

armin shakes his head, tips of blonde hair tickling your skin as he leans back far enough to fix his glasses before delving back in. “i’m sorry, just let me test something, okay?”

not a single drop of apologeticness.

he makes you cum on his tongue twice more, all under the name of “research”. next time, he hopes to see if you’re just as tight on his cock.

[snowande]

Yandere dark crown prince x male reader knight. You missed your best friend, the crown prince, he was so nice to you but when he started learning dark magic, he became colder and more demanding of you and his subjects. What would happen if the reader was caught trying to escape? How would the prince react?

Dark Crown Prince

(Male x Male Reader)

[Warning : no minors allowed!! , stockholm syndrome, imprisonment, forced BJ]

Lumi's Note : Hellooo hii hiii!! Thank you for the ask anon!! I hope you don't mind I make it as a fic hehe... I can't help it, I'm really sorry if this takes to long! I had a meltdown with my studies lmaoooo

Hope you all enjoy this! Please tell me if you see any spelling errors, please and thank you! English is not my first language :)

So pretty much you already know he was learning dark magic... Because he told you about it. You didn't think about it that much, you just thought he was just curious, but sometime later you became really scared how he change so much, you don't know who he is anymore.... where did your old bestfriend go?

You prepare an escape plan from the palace, he cage you in the palace. You cannot go anywhere,you can't even do your knight duties anymore....

You attempted to sneak out of the castle under the cover of night, you thought you had gone unnoticed. however, the prince had been expecting this. His dark magic allowed him to sense any movement within the castle walls. He appeared behind you, his eyes glaring the back of your head.

"Leaving without saying goodbye, my dear knight? How rude of you," he said, his voice low and menacing. He stepped closer, his long black cloak billowing behind him. His hand reached out, grabbing your arm with an iron grip.

"You're not going anywhere."

His other hand came up, pressing a cold, sharp object against your throat. You felt the unmistakable prick of a blade. "I've been watching you, my dear friend. I know you've been plotting to escape. But you belong to me, always have and always will." Then he knocked you out to the back of your head with the handle of the blade, making the world around you goes dark.

When you regain consciousness, your head throbs from where he must have struck you. The cold dampness seeps into your bones, and you realize you're in a small, dark cellar beneath the castle. The rag clothes barely cover your body. "Comfortable?"a chuckle echoes through the darkness as the prince's silhouette appears at the doorway, Backlit by flickering torchlight.

He leans against the frame, arms crossed. "I see you're awake. Did you really think you could abandon me so easily, after all we've been through?"He pushes off from the doorway and steps closer.

His boots echoing on the stone floor. He crouches down to your level, his eyes locked onto yours. "You know, I could have killed you for trying to escape. But I didn't. Why do you think that is?"

"w-why?" you ask him as he tilts his head slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I still care for you, you fool. Even after all the darkness that has consumed me, I can't bring myself to end your life. But that doesn't mean I won't punish you."

He stands up and turns to leave, but pauses at the door. "You'll stay here until I decide you've learned your lesson. No food, no water, no light. Just you and the darkness. We'll see how long you can stay sane without me, without my presence to keep you company."

"Wait please!" You plead to him, He freezes as your hand reaches out, his eyes flicking down to your touch. For a moment, his expression softens, almost vulnerable. But then his features harden again, and he captures your wrist in a firm grip. "Don't."

He steps back, breaking your contact. "You don't get to touch me like that. Not after trying to leave. You need to understand what it feels like to be without me, to be alone in the dark."

He turns away sharply and slams the heavy wooden door shut. The sound of a large lock clicking into place echoes through the cellar, sealing you in complete darkness. You hear his footsteps retreating, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the cold.

Hours pass, or maybe it's days—you can't tell in the endless darkness. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant drip of water and the occasional scuttling of unseen creatures. You begin to question your own sanity, wondering if you'll ever see light again.

As the days blur into a never ending nightmare, your body begins to weaken. The hunger pains become unbearable, and your throat feels like it's on fire from thirst. You start to hallucinate, seeing shadows that aren't there, hearing whispers that echo through the darkness.

You curl up on the cold stone floor, shivering and delirious. Your mind is a jumbled mess, filled with doubts and regrets. Why did you try to leave? You had everything you could ever want here. Food, shelter, safety... and him.

Your thoughts become increasingly fragmented, consumed by paranoid. "Why was I so stupid? I could've been in his arms... warm food... comfort... Why? Why did I try to leave?" You hug your knees to your chest, rocking slightly.

Your voice echoes through the empty cellar, "He... He'll come... He has to... He can't leave me here..." You break down sobbing, curling into a fetal position, mumbling his name over and over like a broken record. "His Highness... Crown Prince..."

As you lie there, weak and delirious, suddenly you hear footsteps echoing down the stairs. The sound is so real that for a moment, you think it's just another hallucination. But then the door creaks open, and a figure stands silhouetted against the faint light from above.

The figure descends the last step, and you can finally make out his silhouette—tall, broad shoulders, familiar dark hair. He pauses, taking in the sight of you huddled on the floor, filthy and emaciated. He says nothing, just stands there, staring.

He slowly approaches, his boots clicking on the stone floor. He crouches down in front of you, reaching out a hand to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His voice is cold and calculating as he speaks. "Look at the state you're in..."

His eyes darken as your fingers touch his hand. Your voice is barely a whisper, "Im sorry... Your Highness..." He freezes. Your apology throws him off. He watches you shiver again, your body clearly starved and cold. "You're sorry?

His eyes scan over your dirty face, sunken cheeks, and the ragged clothes hanging off your frame. He notices the way you're trembling, your lips cracked and dry. His expression remains stoic, but his hand tightens slightly around your chin.

" I'm really sorry your highness I'm really am! I shouldn't have escape when you gave me warmth and safety but I throw it away because if my own selfishness..." You beg him for forgiveness, His expression softens briefly, then contorts into a smirk.

He releases your chin and straightens up, towering over you once more. "You promise? You'll stay here, with me, and not try to run again?" He crosses his arms, waiting for your response.

"Yes of course yout highness , I promise..." He watches you nod eagerly, your eyes filled with desperation and sincerity. He almost smiles at how pathetic you look right now starved, cold, and begging for his forgiveness. He uncrosses his arms slowly.

He nods, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "I'm glad you realize how foolish your attempt to escape was. Who else would care for you like I do?"

Suddenlyhe grabs your hair roughly, forcing your head down towards his crotch. His voice is commanding and cold. "Show me just how sorry you are. Use your mouth." He smirks darkly, relishing in the power he holds over you.

His eyes glint with amusement as he watches you hesitantly reach out and unzip his zipper, and grab his thick, hard member. You timidly stick out your tongue and lick the head, tasting the pre-cum leaking out. "Mmm, like that,"

He hisses through his teeth as you tentatively lick the tip of his throbbing manhood. His hands tighten in your hair, pulling slightly as he encourages you to take more. "Open wider," He growls, his voice hoarse with desire.

He pushes your head forward, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. You gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat. "That's it," he groans, his hips beginning to move in a slow, steady rhythm. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with lust.

He continues to fuck your mouth, using you for his pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper and harder. You can feel yourself getting lightheaded, tears streaming down your face as he chokes you with his thick meat.

Your mouth is stuffed full, your lips stretched around his length. He watches you try to breathe through your nose, saliva already spilling down your chin. He pulls back slightly, then forces his way back in, hitting your throat again.

"You're doing such a good job apologizing," he taunts, knowing you're struggling to breathe. "Look at you, taking my cock like a good boy." He speeds up, thrusting faster and deeper, his heavy balls slapping against your chin.

He pulls his slick, throbbing cock out of your abused mouth with a wet pop. Strings of saliva connect from your lips to his shaft. Panting, he grips himself tightly, stroking rapidly. "Open your mouth." he commands, his other hand clamping your jaw and forcing it wide.

His muscles tighten as he jerks himself faster, his eyes fixed on your open mouth. Your tongue sticks out slightly, waiting. He groans loudly, his release nearing. "Right there..." He tenses, his hot seed shooting out and hitting your tongue, chin, and lips.

You feel his hot, sticky cum splashing against your tongue and face. He keeps coming, his hand never slowing as he continues to jerk himself off onto your mouth. Your face is soon covered in his thick, white cream, some of it dripping down your neck. "Swallow it. " he orders harshly.

He zips up his pants, his gaze lingering on your messy, cum-covered face. "Do... Do you forgive me? Can I go back with you...."You speak softly, your voice hoarse from being used so roughly. He pauses, considering your question. Finally, he leans down, his face inches from yours. "Forgiven" he murmurs.

He watches intensely as you swallow his cum obediently, a twisted smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Lifting his still-hard cock, he wipes the remaining drops onto your lips, marking you. "Good..." he purrs darkly, tucking himself back into his pants.

You've been without food and water for almost two days now. Your body is weak and dehydrated. The rough blowjob you just gave him took the last of your energy. Your eyes roll back and shut your eyes.

When you wake up, You were in a bed and your body is washed, and wearing a soft sleepwear, you think to your self where are you? looks like it's his majesty bedroom, of course it is, you've been here many times.

You slowly turn your head, taking in the familiar surroundings. The heavy curtains are drawn, casting a dim light over the room. You notice a glass of water and a plate of food on the nightstand beside you. Your stomach growls softly, reminding you of your prolonged hunger.

Just as you're about to reach for the water, you hear the door creak open. Heavy footsteps approach the bed. You turn your head to see him, the crown prince, entering the room. He's dressed impeccably in a fine suit, his hair perfectly styled.

He sits beside you on the bed, his cold eyes scanning your face. He reaches out and grabs the glass of water, lifting it to your lips. "Drink" he orders. You comply weakly, greedily gulping down the water. "Slowly"

He takes the glass away as you start drinking too fast, coughing slightly. He waits until you catch your breath before allowing you to drink again. He watches you intently as you finish the entire glass. He then picks up the plate of food, bringing it to your lap.

He watches closely as you hesitantly take a bite of the offered food, his expression unreadable. After a few bites, he speaks, his voice a low, threatening murmur "If you ever try to leave me again, I'll make sure you never eat or drink anything ever again. Understood?"

He grips your chin firmly, tilting your face up to look into his cold, calculating eyes. "Answer me" he growls, his fingers digging painfully into your jaw. "Will you try to leave me again?" His eyes search your face for any sign of defiance.

You whimper softly under his grip, tears welling up in your eyes. You know better than to defy him. You shake your head weakly, "N-no, your highness. I won't leave you again" you whisper, your voice trembling. "I swear..."

His expression softens, and he reaches out to gently cup your cheek. "Good boy" he murmurs, his thumb caressing your skin. "You know what happens when you displease me" He leans in, pressing his lips softly against yours in a gentle, almost loving kiss.

The kiss is a stark contrast to his usual rough handling. It's soft, gentle, even tender. It's a kiss that speaks volumes about his feelings for you. When he pulls away. "I missed you,"

He pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you possessively as he buries his face in your neck. His voice is barely above a whisper, completely different from his usual commanding tone. "When I thought I lost you... I almost went mad. No more running away, okay?"

You nuzzle against his chest, your body relaxing in his arms. He's being surprisingly gentle. You answer softly, "No more running..." You pause, then add softly "your highness..."

He hums, a sound of contentment that you rarely hear from him. His hand gently strokes your back, soothing and comforting. "Good boy," he murmurs again, pressing another soft kiss to your temple. His voice is almost tender when he speaks next.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "You know you are mine, don't you? Mine and mine alone. No one else will ever touch you or have you." His voice is possessive yet gentle, sending shivers down your spine.

You nod against his chest, your voice soft and submissive. "Yes, your highness... I am yours. Only yours." You look up at him with adoring eyes, completely devoted to him. He smiles, a real, genuine smile that lights up his face. "That's right..."

He hugs you tightly, his heart filled with happiness and relief. He knows you're his now, completely and utterly his. There's no more running, no more fear of losing you. You're his beloved possession, his treasure, his everything "Forever mine."

This picture is from pinterest reconfortante

Tag list : @nymphea0

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

This is referring to the "Everything we know about Neige" post. I was just going to comment, but since it became quite big I decided to send here.

Seriously, the RSA boys throwing themselves in from of the NRC always gets to me, because they essentially sacrificed themselves to a unknown treat and I love how this shows the difference between the students on each school, and how RSA is always playing as a team instead of the each men for themselves style of NRC. And especially how that strength is the exact why RSA keeps winning against NRC in the intarscholastic spell drive tournament, and has done so for 99 consecutive years!

I love how around the beginning of the manga (also in the game, but I personally fell like the manga explanation was better) Crowley says how because the mirror's choice are always magicians with big potential, that also leads for a group of people who are somewhat arrogant and refuses to work together.

This is such a core part of the story, but I don't see a lot of talk around it, and personally, I think it's one of the biggest charms.

I do really enjoy how even by telling a story though the villans side, the writers were still able to showcase the very core Disney idea that the reason the heros win is because they are working together, opposite to the villains who ,for the most part, work alone and isolated. It also highlights the importance of dialog and conversation while ALSO showing how naive and self sacrifizing most of the heros are, with Neige and Chenya without think twice throwing themselves into the flowers to save the NRC boys.

I appreciate so much the dinamic of this two schools because by that we can see the strengths and weaknesses of BOTH sides.

Sorry if that was to long and sorry for any grammar mistakes or misspellings. Hope you have/had a nice day/night. Take care. ♡

[Referencing this post!]

It was definitely a really commendable moment for the RSA students, especially when Ruggie and Idia (in the same event) wanted to abandon their asses and save themselves 😭

I feel the common sentiment is to claim RSA’s wins against NRC are “undeserving” or impossible to believe when NRC has so many powerhouses, but it makes sense when you consider the philosophies of their students are so different. Neige and the dwarves performed a popular children’s song from the Shaftlands—a song which adults have nostalgia for and kids love, a song which encourages everyone to join in singing and dancing. Vil had a new song made, but the style won’t appeal to everyone and the lyrics are hard and brag about beating down a foe and winning. You won’t win the audience vote if your performance fails to emotionally connect with people.

RSA’s 99-year win streak in magift/spelldrive is no coincidence either. Their cooperation (which is emphasized in their school curriculum as well) allows them to pull victories, whereas NRC often falls apart due to in-fighting. Ace and Grim give an example at the beginning of Stage in Playful Land. Leona also states that their team last year started fighting before the game even started. It's a consistent pattern.

With the end-of-year tournament being a team composed of one member from each dorm (dorms which have strong rivalries and think they are better than the others), there’s bound to be even more issues that arise in a match. RSA wins not only because they have talented students that can work together well, but also because NRC quite literally tears itself apart from the inside out 💀

It's interesting when we think about how the Mirror of Darkness seems to select students that have great magic potential but are also very arrogant because of that same potential. And this also reflects in their morals as well; it's not uncommon to find NRC students willing to use underhanded methods to get their way (Jamil and Ruggie controlling NBC students to be meat shields, Leona in all of book 2, Jade suggesting they use booby traps to take down their Sledathon rivals, etc.), whereas none of the RSA students we've met so far appear to have morals that deviate from that of a typical nice yet naive "hero". NRC values self preservation, independence, and ambition, whereas RSA is far more self-sacrificing and caring for the entire group. It makes me wonder if RSA has a method of enrollment that minimizes the arrogance and underhandedness in its student population (or at least boasts humility or open-mindedness)? As far as we're aware, the students at RSA also have great magic potential... so what makes the students enrolled at NRC arrogant about it and the students at RSA not arrogant about it...?

I think what separates villains and heroes in Disney films is their dynamics with others. Villains often have henchmen or partners in crime, but the villains are definitely presented as the ones in charge while the others are subservient to them. Villains give commands and/or manipulate to get their way. There is a clear power dynamic, a leader and followers behind that leader’s ambitions. Heroes are willing to compromise, and you’ll seldom see heroes bossing around their friends or allies. If people help the hero, it’s typically of their own volition and not because they are ordered to. Sometimes they help because they are moved or inspired by the hero—but ultimately, their autonomy remains intact. The hero treats others as equals and not as a means to an end. Their kindness is a virtue that attracts others to them. It’s a “me against the world” vs an “us against the world” mentality.

[teaboot]

in WHAT universe is rising of the shield hero less of a dissapointment than spy x family? ppl glaze sxf a bit too much but theres few anime worse than Incel Isekai 20472.

anyway. if you want something actually good, frieren, odd taxi, and my roommate is a cat. havent watched ascendance of a bookworm yet but i hear incredible things.

Oh yeah no ROTSH felt like ABSOLUTE dogshit episodes 1-5ish, I have no idea why I kept watching cause the MC was so cringe but I’m enjoying it quite a lot now! (I was actually checking my inbox before catching the next ep, lol)

I’m actually really happy with how they showed the MC’s immaturity and flaws and all the stupid and confusing common isekai tropes in a realistic light- And I’m kinda sorry you didn’t keep watching too ‘cause it absolutely lays bare all that stupid “chosen one” crap about halfway through s1. You stop cringing at the awful stupid incel asshole shit E3 or so and start GENUINELY LIKING him, which is wild!

It’s not perfect media obviously- I kinda REALLY don’t like some of it- but it focuses a lot on personal responsibility and thoughtfulness and working within the context of your environment, learning to heal relationships, and the importance of diplomacy and communication.

What I REALLY like is the central theme that being a hero doesn’t mean everything you do is correct- but that people WANT TO BELIEVE everything you do is correct, so being a symbol isn’t so much a ritzy ride as it is a HUGE responsibility that one shouldn’t be eager for.

Also, I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I’m at a point now where they’re starting to touch on the idea that there’s a difference between fighting for an idea and fighting for PEOPLE, and I’ve never really seen that done well before so between that and the twist here that’s being foreshadowed I’m genuinely SUPER EXCITED to see where they’re going with it.

Also- even WITH all the “pretty girls love the hero” trope- if you watch long enough you’ll notice how they PLAY with the trope without investing in it. There’s genuine respect between the characters, and several times the MC makes it clear he sees some of them as family, that he’s not into kids and it’s creepy when others are, and there’s no fanservice panty shots or surprise “oops I’m naked” shit. It really does show by example how a REAL good-hearted protagonist should- or would hopefully- realistically act in the circumstances of an unrealistic isekai type series. There’s been pretty much zero actual romance or any interest in romance shown by the character after episode 1-2. (At least as of s2e1)

And I love that! It’s incredibly character-driven. It feels like the MC genuinely might fuck up, that there are real stakes, that the correct path is unclear, and I want to see if what I’m hoping for will happen. The MC is selfish and closed-off and heartless sometimes and TOTALLY has a cruel and pragmatic streak, and the narrative takes full advantage of that to force him to confront those issues. Some of his vices are even advantageous, as they would be in real life!

Spy X Family didn’t do anything for me. It appeared to be what it said on the tin. I never got any real sense of stakes or depth or personal development, or of reoccurring thematic elements or symbolism or overlying message, or any kind of statement that was poignant or meaningful. It came off as a fun story, but not anything exceptional or different.

I couldn’t bring myself to care much because it was pretty clear that the good guys were right and they were gonna pull something off and have a happy ending and live a cute little family life with a mom and a dad and a daughter and a dog. It was never surprising or curious and I never felt emotionally intrigued or invested or attached.

They’re both enjoyable, but I like Rise of the Shield Hero more because it’s been proving me wrong in exciting ways and making me think about why I feel the way I do, and I like that in a series.

Spy X Family is fine, I don’t think it’s BAD, it just didn’t scratch the itch for me personally.

If you watched like 15 eps and hated it the whole time that’s fair but if you stopped at e2 I’d super recommend giving it another shot!

[ghostgirl-22]

i’ve been thinking of this for days and i cant get it out of my head but tashi and art playing good cop bad cop essentially with patrick in the bedroom, patrick had been pissing them off more then normally and they have had enough, art fucking patrick from behind making patrick lose any sense of speech going on and on about how pathetic patrick is for him, tashi holding patrick’s hand and tugging his hair while he eats her out whispering about how good he is being for them

whoops i went insane. Here’s 3.6k words anon. Help! Idk why this is so long. Also I’m really fucking bad at dominant Art like…i don’t know why it’s not clicking but here he is trying like i am.

CW: MDNI, NSFW, not really proof read, soft!dom art

—-

It’s always hotter when Art gets jealous. So pretty and sweet and compliant for her. He’s got this other side to him. This side of him that Tashi never really saw until Patrick came back into their lives. This side of Art that she’s kind of obsessed with. It comes out when Patrick’s flirting with other people�� usually guys.  

Patrick’s always been flirtatious, it’s something of a default. But these days… the way the three of them have been unable to keep their hands off of each other… it’s just been so much… worse. And Tashi—well Tashi’s complicit actually. She often finds herself egging him on—sometimes even starting it. Both of them doing it just for a reaction. 

It’s an otherwise typical summer day, another hotel. Another tournament. Lily’s at home with Tashi’s mom, she’s going to day camp with friends from her expensive private school and she refused to miss any of it. 

So it’s just the three of them this week. On their best behavior.

Well… it’s only night one.

They have a couple hours off before a charity awards banquet and she and Patrick are lounging at the pool. It’s Tashi who notices when the pool boy spares an extra glance at Patrick spread out on the deck chair. Half naked, short swim trunks, still wet and clinging to his muscular thighs. 

“Someone’s got a crush,” she says softly, nudging between his ribcage and looking towards the pool boy. Patrick can’t resist. Suddenly he’s showing off, asking all about pool maintenance (like he fucking cares). Legs spread on either side of the pool chair, the beginnings of a bulge in his shorts just visible. The kid, he can’t be much older than 24, is practically drooling. Can’t keep his eyes off of him. 

It’s timed so perfectly when Art comes out of the hotel to join them on the pool deck.  Tashi can see the peak of color blooming on Art’s cheeks as he takes in the scene. Watches his eyes go dark and the way he grips his phone tighter. The pool boy is practically on Patrick’s lap. 

Art clears his throat and Patrick just waves, still flirting, acting oh so oblivious when he knows. 

Tashi grabs Art’s arm as he approaches, pulling him down onto her pool chair.  Whispers in his ear, “He’s so fucking out of control… I told him to stop flirting but you know how he is.” She pouts. 

They both look over at the manager who seems to be the only one more annoyed than Art. “Oh no, I hope he doesn’t get the kid in trouble,” Tashi says, genuinely.

That’s all the motivation Art needs. “Patrick let him do his job so he doesn’t get in trouble over you,” he says, coolly. Controlled. 

“Shit… I’m sorry. You can tell him it was all my fault,” Patrick says with a grin that makes pool boy blush. He stands up and stumbles a little. Tashi wants to laugh because she gets it… Patrick’s so annoyingly disarmingly charming he has that effect on people.

“Maybe I can tell you more about it later,” the kid says, eyes falling back down to Patrick’s shorts. 

“You can tell me whatever you want when you’re off the clock sweetheart,” Patrick smirks. 

Tashi notices the way Art’s white knuckling the pool chair, his jaw set.   

“Thank you mister… um…” 

“Just call me Patrick.” 

“Thanks Patrick,” the kid grins and then waves, hurrying back to his work. But he keeps glancing over, and Patrick’s always there to show off a little more for him. 

“What the fuck are you doing? You’re old enough to be his dad,” Art snaps. 

“Oh yeah, cause I was having kids at the age of 8,” Patrick laughs. “Don’t be jealous, baby. He doesn’t get to have it. He just gets a show.” 

But Art is jealous…so fucking jealous. “Tashi already told you to stop flirting. Maybe you need a lesson in how to behave,” He says it soft, but it’s definitely a warning. Tashi almost grins but she bites down on her lip instead.  

Patrick glances at her and then smirks, both of them knowing she told him no such thing.    

*

It’s the same thing at the gala that night. Patrick’s all dressed up in a three piece suit. It looks so good on him he might as well be naked. Pearlescent lavender tie, tucked neatly into his fitted waistcoat, perfectly tailored suit jacket to pull it all together. All the trappings of being a former rich kid slipping through. She can’t believe she’d ever worried he wouldn’t fit in. He's fixing his cuff links in the full length mirror and it takes everything inside her not to hike up her gown and straddle him before they leave. She can tell by the way Art’s gaze lingers on him that he feels the same way. Patrick knows it too… which is the problem. 

He’s preening all night. No one knows he belongs to them. They’ve all decided to keep it quiet just for the fact that they don’t really want the general public and all their crazy judgements and opinions in their bedroom. (She’s still seeing think pieces about Will and Jada’s open marriage for christs sake). 

But that just means it’s open season. 

Tashi’s playing both sides. In Patrick’s ear, pointing out all the pretty girls and boys who seem curious about the Donaldsons handsome new friend. And then pretending to be so furious alongside Art when Patrick flirts with them. 

She does sometimes wish that she was normal. That she didn’t find it all so exciting. She’s pretended to be normal for so very long. She’s a wife, a professional tennis coach, a mom. She’s even a token an honorary member of the stuffy all waspy parents board at Lilly’s school. She can’t imagine what any of those mothers would say if they knew what she was really like.  

“It’s pathetic really,” Art complains to her, clinking his whiskey glass on the table. Staring hard at Patrick who’s been cornered up against the bar by some handsome tall guy. Talking too close. Phone in hand for his number. ”How is he this fucking desperate for attention?” 

“Oh I know,” Tashi agrees, like she’s innocent. “I was thinking the same thing.”

She looks him over, he’s so fired up, blue eyes alight with hunger and frustration. It makes her wet. Makes her want to get on her knees for him right underneath their table and take him into her mouth… lick him till he feels better. Instead she reaches up and gently brushes his hair back, his hungry gaze falling onto her. “Mm sorry, it’s just annoying and we’re in public I wish he’d…” he sighs softly and kisses her on the cheek and then the shoulder, she responds by gently rubbing his thigh.  

“What if…tonight we taught him a lesson?” She suggests. 

Oh he likes that idea. For the rest of the night he’s eager, leg bouncing impatiently as they’re seated for dinner (Patrick flirting with the waiter). Nearly forgets himself as they get up to accept the award for their charity work. They’re taking pictures and shaking hands (and Patrick’s in the back chatting up some guy from the press).

Art can’t take much more. It’s how the night ends early. How they race to get Patrick back upstairs to the bedroom. All of them still in their finest dress clothes. Tashi sitting on the edge of the king sized bed watching Art play with Patrick’s tie, a gentle tug to pull him closer. “Why do you need so much fucking attention?” Art asks it like he’s shy.  

Patrick just grins, “What do you mean, Art? You’re the one who got the reward… I mean award.”

Art tugs a little harder on the tie and Patrick’s forced to stumble forwards. ”Come on… you know what I mean. Why do you have to flirt with everyone you fucking meet?” Tashi crosses her legs, leaning back on her palms, she’s so fucking obsessed with this dynamic.

“I can’t help it if everyone wants me,” Patrick says, Cheshire grin only widening. ”I’m not even married to you, sweetheart. You’re getting all this for free so honestly…you should just be grateful.”

That makes Art smile, but there’s nothing sweet about it. “Should I be grateful? Sweetheart?” Art asks, eyes so wide and “innocent” ...tugging full force on the tie so Patrick is made to lean in close, his hands flying up to brace himself on Arts shoulders. 

“Well yeah,” Patrick rubs at his neck, tenderly, still smirking. Their faces inches apart and Patrick’s tongue peaks out between his lips. Oh he loves it as much as she does. She can barely sit still. Barely be quiet. She had no idea this was in Art. He's so sweet with her. So compliant. So yes, no, whatever you want babe. Apparently takes it all out on Patrick. 

“I think if it’s attention you want…” Art shrugs, wrapping the tie around his fingers. “Maybe we should give you attention. What do you think Tashi?” he glances at her and Patrick follows his gaze, though he’s already on a really short leash. Two pretty boys, eager for her, eager for each other. Tashi tries not to reveal how desperately hot she finds all this. 

God she can hear the snobby mother of Lilys best friend now. “Two men. You have two men in your bedroom? I knew you were a freak.”  God forbid she found out they also fuck each other. This is so far from normal. But god she needs it.

She rests  her head on her shoulder, eyes darting back and forth between them. “I agree, I think he needs it.” 

“Bout fucking time,” Patrick says. 

His last bit of sass before Art makes him get on his knees. Patrick Zweig all prettied up in a ridiculously expensive suit, on his hands and knees on the floor of their fancy hotel suite, wiggling his ass suggestively for Art’s benefit. “Like this?”

”Yeah like that,” Art says, his tone light. Soft. He’s always so soft until he isn’t. “Now can you please say sorry to Tashi? Tell her how you’re really sorry that you acted like such a slut tonight.” 

Patrick snorts. “Sorry Tashi even though—“ 

“No Patrick…” Art cuts him off.  “Say it between her legs. Spell it with your tongue.” 

Tashi feels her heart rate pick up. She’s already squirming and now Patrick’s looking at her… eyes so hungry. 

“Mmkay,” Patrick grins as he crawls over, eyes dancing with their little secret. Co-conspirators. Both of them working together to get Art to this point. She uncrosses her legs and he plays with the straps of her heels for just a moment before he starts to move up her body. Slowly guiding the sheer fabric up her calves along her knees to her thighs. Peppering little kisses as he works his way up. She opens a little wider for him as the gathered fabric pools at her waist. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers. 

“Shh,” she smiles and he grins back. He plays his fingertips along her calves, under her knees, and she curls her fingers into his thick black hair as the soft scruff of his beard tickles her inner thighs. 

He mouths at her panties. “Mm, just like that,” she sighs softly as his hot tongue laps at the lacy fabric. He groans. She gazes up at her husband while Patrick’s tasting her, like she wants his approval. (“Am I doing it right baby? Is this how you wanna play it?”). It makes her giddy to be able to follow his lead.

He holds her gaze as he shuffles out of his suit jacket, his waistcoat, undoes his tie. There's a careful practiced control in his movements, years of being in the spotlight, a dominant player on the professional tennis circuit… he's got a good handle on his physicality by now. But everything’s still visible in his eyes. His gaze heated, intense, feral. She glances down, noticing the visible bulge along the inseam of his dress pants. 

God. Tashi bucks up against Patrick eagerly. Feels him slip his tongue just past her panties, directly into the wet heat of her cunt. It makes her gasp and he hums between her legs in response. the vibration of it makes her wiggle her hips, spread her legs wider. 

“Mm so good at that baby,” Tashi breathes. 

“Tastes good, Tashi,” Patrick breathes, hot against her thighs. 

“Why are you talking Patrick? I don’t think I told you to stop,” Art says, singsong, he’d been rustling around in their luggage. Now he’s approaching Patrick, a little bottle of lubricant in hand. Slowly he gets to his knees. Takes his time undoing Patrick’s pants, dragging them off of him. Followed by the deliberate tug of his boxer briefs. “God you’re a whore,” he sighs as he surveys Patricks bare bottom. 

Patrick whines and Tashi shivers in response . “It's okay baby, I've got you,” she says, trying to be gentle, but the tension in her body is rising. She feels so out of control she’ll probably end up shoving his face deeper into her cunt soon.

“Imagine if we weren't here to keep you under control.” Art continues. “I bet you’d let anybody come inside. I bet you’d let them line up for this. Men just taking turns loosening you up.” He slips his lubed up fingers inside, his eyes back on Tashi as he does it.

Tashi feels the ripple effect when Patrick moans.

“Thats what you want isn't it?”  Art murmurs, fingers working faster. “One man after the other after the other. All of them so hard for you. No time in between. Just boy after boy pumping you so full of cum you can’t think straight. Fucking you dumb like the horny brainless slut that you are.”

Patrick moans again. God. He’d love that. Boys standing in line jerking themselves off watching him take it while they wait their turn. He's already pushing back on Art's fingers while he laps at her, so hungry all the time. So greedy.

 “Oh fuck,” she whines, she can’t help pushing Patrick’s head down. She can feel herself thrusting up against his face, mouth and tongue, she drapes one leg over his shoulder. Pulling his hair to hold him there. His desperate lapping at her wet cunt starting to sound obscene. 

She feels it when Art takes hold of her heeled foot and places a gentle kiss to her ankle. “Fuck yes. Is he sorry baby? Does it feel like he’s sorry?” 

“Yes,” Tashi gasps, stunned by the whiny octave of her own voice.

“Mmm, i dont know,” Art’s voice breaking too… just a little bit. “I don’t think he’s sorry enough. I think he can do better.” 

Tashi whines as Patrick, desperate to prove Art wrong, presses his tongue deeper, teasing her clit. So much heated pressure all at once she’s holding her breath, toes curling in her strappy shoes. “Oh fuck Patrick… ohmygodohmygod oh. oh fuck,”  she whines, practically fucking his face as she feels the tension spill over and suddenly she’s clenching, over and over… her body spasming through orgasm, drawing whines from deep within her. 

“Fuck,” she hears Art whisper as she sinks back onto her elbows arching up while Patrick is gasping into her cunt. His big hands under her thighs dragging her closer to the edge of the bed, like even with his head jammed into her pussy, it still isn’t close enough. 

She has to shove his head away a minute later when it gets too sensitive. She catches her breath, pulling her leg off his shoulder. She realizes she’d been pulling hard on his hair so she makes up for it by gently brushing it back. He’s looking between her thighs like he wants to start again. She makes him look at her face, she wants to see the mess she made. His mouth all wet, eyes glimmering in the dim light.

 “Good boy,” she whispers. 

Patrick’s breathless and moaning and thats when she realizes Art’s still fingering him and he’s pushing back, eagerly. Whining as he presses light, eager, wet kisses into her inner thighs.

“Fuck Patrick…I'm barely two fingers in and you’re dripping all over the floor.” Art says, and oh he's breaking. she’s watching him fall apart in real time. He removes his fingers to the sound of Patrick whimpering and Tashi notices Art can barely keep his hand steady as he unzips himself. He’s shivering… the last crumb of control going out the window.

Art presses himself inside of Patrick, falling apart with every inch, desperate. Pretty, pretty boy. He's not gonna last. Patrick is taking it. Giddy for more. Needs it harder. Rougher. Faster. “Oh fuck yes, Art, fuck yes,” Patrick groans so giddy for something more substantial to fill him up. 

“Quiet,” Tashi says. She knows Art like Patrick knows Art. Too much talking will cut whatever time he has left in half.  

She slips two fingers inside herself and Patrick gasps watching her. “You want another taste?” She breathes. 

“God yes,” Patrick groans. She can’t help fingering herself just a little longer before feeding her sticky wet fingers into his mouth. God, shes so turned on watching Art fuck him it’s like she’s ready again. Like she didn’t just finish a minute ago.

She’s gentle with her fingers in his mouth at first. And then her mild tendency towards sadism takes over and she's sitting up…shoving more fingers in, shoving them deeper. Filling his mouth while Art fills his ass. Making him gag for her and then telling him, “it’s okay… shhh, you're okay.”

And Art so messy… so all apart. Skin slapping loudly as he shoves himself inside, talking like he needs it. Talking like its the only thing keeping him sane. “Dont you love it Patrick? All the fucking attention. Dont you fucking love it? ” voice like honey, sticky warm. punctuating his words with deep jerky thrusts. “You little fucking whore.” Fingers dug so tight into Patrick’s hips they’ll be etched there for days. “You think that silly little pool boy could do this? Hm? You think he could fuck you like this?”

Patricks whining with his mouth full. Eyes watering because of all the gagging. He wants to touch himself but Art wont let him. Its not long before he’s just a mess of moaning and whimpering and gasping. All sensation, all exposed. Like a raw nerve. 

That's when Art shatters. Groaning, hips stuttering as he releases, holding himself flush inside Patrick letting himself spill as deep as he can. It makes Tashi shiver. She pulls her fingers dripping from Patrick’s mouth and slides them under the buttery fabric of her dress. Pressing them back inside herself while she watches them.  

Patrick tries to touch himself again and she nudges him away with her foot because she knows it’s not what Art wants.   

“Fuck I need— I need—,” Patrick gasps. His breathing uneven, voice a raspy shell of itself. Christ. Patrick, absolutely wrecked, sounds so sexy.

Art begins to come down as he slips out. He lifts his pants back up over his ass and drops onto the floor, breathlessly looking at Patrick still displayed on hands and knees in front of him. “Look at you,” he hums like hes proud of his handiwork. “All dressed up just to be fucked like a whore.”

“Fuck, please Art can I— can I— just need a little—“

“Oh? You need more attention? After all that we just did for you?” Art says condescendingly. “Hey… why dont you go call that guy who gave you his number?”

Tashi giggles and Patrick groans. “Art, fuck, come on… tashi…” Patrick looks up at her desperately. Shamelessly. Her natural tendency isn’t to be nice but she’s fair… and to be fair they are kind of in this together. After all she did egg him on.

She gazes at him, slips her fingers out from inside where she’s been lightly playing with her clit and paints his pouty lips with her slick, his greedy little tongue following her movements. So gorgeous. “Baby be nice,” she says to Art. 

“Thank you, fuck yes, be nice. Thank you Tashi.” Patrick looks back at Art though…still begging him for permission.  

Art smirks at her and then shrugs as his gaze falls back to Patrick. “You’re so lucky aren’t you? You’ve got two people taking such good care of you…you little fucking show off… give us a show.” 

Patrick doesn’t need to be told twice. He clambers to his shaky feet. Stripping down to nothing for them. A strip tease that’s effectively more amusing than sexy…At least until he takes himself in hand. The full heft of him sliding between his thick calloused fingers, his biceps flexed, abs taut. Art on the floor, Tashi on the bed and he’s looking between them both as he gets closer and closer.

“Like it?” Patrick gasps out. “Just like when we were teenagers, huh? The time you asked me to do it while you watched me, Tashi.  Fuck. All those nights lying next to each other in bed while we did it together, Art.”

Tashi and Art exchange glances before looking back just in time to watch him finishing, blowing it all over his fancy dress clothes… puddled on the floor. Still tugging at it, heavy breathing, moaning as more of it spatters. Shameless.

Tashi feels antsy. She can see the way Art is beginning to tent his briefs. She knows this is only round one. No kids. Nothing to do tomorrow. They’ll be up all night. 

[kitnita]

Hi I hope this isn't a dumb question but I'm a new Stars fan (This is actually my first time watching the hockey season) and I was wondering what the "We're not going home" phase is from and why did some people here got emotional when Khudobin said it during our home game on Tuesday

hi!!! there are no dumb questions!!!! the phrase came out of the 2020 bubble playoffs which, wild as it is to realize, were nearly five years ago 😭 so even if you'd been watching for a couple seasons it's the kind of thing that you might've missed anyway!!!!!

technically (& i didn't even fully remember this!) the stars using 'we're not going home' as a rallying cry in the bubble didn't even originate with dobby!!! joel kiviranta said it first, after the stars beat colorado in game seven of the second round thanks to his overtime game-winning hat-trick goal.

the stars' player of the game token at the time was a chain with a big dallas logo in it; a long-haired roope rightfully handed it over to kivi, the room called for him to give a speech, and in response kivi said, 'fuckin' right. we're not going home!'

it became associated with dobby when he was given the player of the game token after the stars beat vegas in game five of the WCF, and succinctly said, 'WE'RE NOT GOING HOME!' before putting the chain on.

all the love to kivi but dobby just said it with a little more panache!! he'd presumably had more time to think on how he wanted to use the phrase!!! also, as you may or may not know, espn+ had a series called quest for the stanley cup for a couple of seasons (it looks like 2023 was the last, maybe because the amazon documentary series kind of took over last season? who knows) & the title of the fourth episode was 'we're not going home' & featured dobby's use of the phrase as a closer to its coverage of that series, which i think helped cement it as dobby's in general hockey media. sorry kivi. we will always have 'joel fucking kiviranta' though!

anyway. all that to say, it was very nostalgic to hear dobby say it on tuesday!!!!!! it's such a Bubble Playoffs Phrase because it just .......... wouldn't really make sense as a rallying cry any other year. eliminated teams in 2020 left the bubble pretty immediately after getting eliminated so everyone could go home & go back to quarantining and waiting to hear what the league's plan was to return to play for the next season.

obviously most of the time, getting to go home during the playoffs is a good thing!! it's part of why teams want home ice advantage so much!!!

2020 flipped everything on its head though & turned being stuck in a hotel in edmonton for that much longer into a good thing. 'we're not going home' essentially just meant 'we're moving on to the next round' but it sounds so much cooler. dobby saying it on tuesday didn't literally mean 'we're not going home' so much as it meant 'we're moving on,' except that he was a game early so once more: can he please come back on saturday?? for the vibes???

i really wish i could easily put footnotes into a tumblr post but here are some sources:

rmnb put out an article about dobby saying 'we're not going home!' because andrej sekera referred to him as the russian machine, which is ovi's nickname. this was super useful in sourcing the vidoes of kivi & dobby saying the phrase from the stars twitter so shoutout to them.

espn did a recap article about the 'we're not going home' episode of quest for the stanley cup, which is kind of fun as an artifact now because pete was vegas' coach when dallas beat them! which i Knew but had like. kind of forgotten. 'Apparently DeBoer greeted every Stars player with "go win it" after they eliminated Vegas in the Western Conference finals.' pete can you somehow bring this energy back but in the locker room this time & with some extra juice. please pete i'm begging.

[simp4jungwonn]

If you can, can you please make a vampire softdom sunoo and reader fic. Like he's mad that the reader ran away and punished them while saying, "I love you." I hope this makes sense. I'm so sorry if it doesn't. ❤️❤️

Don’t run

Pairing:vampire soft dim sunoo x reader

Warning: smut,unprotected sex with vampire

You didn’t mean to run, but panic swept you from your bed in the dead of night. The moon was a pale sliver as you stumbled through the silent corridors of the old manor, your heart hammering. Your bare feet quietly swept across the marble floors, your breath shallow. You had told Sunoo you needed space just a moment to think yet the guilt gnawed at you. You pushed open a heavy door and slipped into the misty garden beyond, cloaked in shadows.

But a vampire’s senses are sharper than fear, and Sunoo found you within minutes. He emerged from the mist like a dark dream, tall, lean, eyes glinting amber in the moonlight. His coat billowed around him, fangs just visible at the corner of his mouth.

“Running won’t help,” he murmured, voice low and warm. Each word made your limbs tremble.

Before you could answer, he closed the distance with impossible grace, one hand caging your wrist above your head, the other pressing your hip to the cold wall. Your breath caught as his chest pressed against yours.

“I told you—” you began, but he silenced you with a finger over your lips.

“No,” he said softly, fangs glinting. “You don’t understand.” His thumb brushed your lower lip, then trailed down your throat. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

His grip tightened just enough to thrill you and he leaned in, fangs grazing your pulse point. You shivered, fear melting into need. His other hand slid beneath your night gown, his fingertips pressing into the soft curve of your waist.

“Stay still,” he whispered, voice husky. With gentle dominance, he spun you around and swept you against the smooth wall. He brushed your hair aside, planting a series of slow, fierce kisses along your neck, each one a silent claim. You moaned, knees going weak, as he nipped lightly carful not to draw blood, but he did leave a mark.

He backed away, eyes flicking over your trembling form. “So beautiful,” he murmured. Then he cupped your face, lips brushing yours. The kiss was urgent, tender, and you melted into it, arms draping around his neck.

He pulled back, voice rough with desire. “You’ll learn not to run from me.”

His hands roamed your body under your dress, tracing your breasts. You whimpered as he found your nipples, thumbs circling until they pebbled at his touch. He chuckled softly, a low, intimate sound, “You like that, don’t you?”

All you do is nod, mouth too full of need to speak.

Without breaking eye contact, Sunoo lifted you—legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and carried you to his room. He laid you down on his bed, your blanket-soft night gown riding high. He knelt between your thighs, parting them with one firm hand. His other hand cupped your pussy, fingertips brushing your wetness in teasing circles.

“Look at how perfect and wet you are for me,” he murmured. Then he bent to taste you his tongue sliding up from your entrance to your clit in one slow, worshipful stroke. You cried out, fist gripping the sheet as his tongue traced long, languid circles.

He lifted his head, lips glistening. “Beg for me.”

“Please- Sunoo more.” Your voice cracked as you begged

With a soft grin, he pressed two fingers inside you curling them expertly against your g-spot while his tongue flicked rapid circles around your clit. You bucked against him, body trembling.

“Good,” he praised, fingers pumping, tongue swirling. “Such a sweet girl.”

You came with a strangled moan, your release radiating up your spine. He held you through every shudder, then rose to hover over you, wet fingers brushing your lips. He pressed them to your mouth.

You tasted yourself on him.

He sank into you in one slow thrust every inch savoring your warmth then set a firm, unhurried rhythm. He kissed your collarbone, your jaw, murmuring, “I love you,” between each deep thrust.

Your hands fisted in his hair as he fucked you gently, intentionally punishing you not with pain, but with pleasure so profound you forgot why you had fled.

When he finally reached his peak, he held you close, murmured, “you’re always mine,” and came inside you. He stayed buried as your breathing slowed, then pulled out and pressed soft kisses along your body.

“Never run again.” He whispers

You pressed your face to his chest. “I won’t. I love you.”

A/n: idk wtf this is help 🥲

[evecolourshock]

I... had a fic idea. You're welcome.

Tron tries to see any of Dyson in the face he's presented with. It's more disconcerting that he can't.

That's Dyson's frame. Dyson's face. Dyson's eyes downcast and fixed on the floor.

But not Dyson.

"You fucked up a perfectly good Monitor, is what you did." The words fall from Tron's mouth unbidden. He doesn't take them back.

Clu puffs up, indignant and offended.

Dyson- there. A glimmer of Dyson in the shell of Tron's SIC.

Tron forces himself to his feet - he shouldn't be standing, not with the gaping wound in his chest and the slash far too close to his neck. If he's not careful, his head could simply... fall off. Tron finds right now he doesn't care.

"You fucked up my SIC. He was perfect the way he was, if injured because I messed up, and you went and ruined him." Tron hisses, jabbing a finger at Clu. "I was working around Flynn so I could get his User here to heal him, and what did you do?" He snarls. "What did you do? You broke him. Who even knows if he can be fixed now."

Clu tries to start talking. Tron flips him off, reaches to gently tug Dyson away from the golden Admin.

"Come on Dyson." Tron coaxes quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I wanted to make sure what I was trying to do would work so I didn't hurt you with false hope."

Tron doesn't act like this when he's on duty or around Flynn, he knows. Always the prim and proper Monitor. But he's not on duty now - may never be again, given his wounds - and Flynn isn't in range. He can afford to let that persona go.

The first step Dyson takes has Tron's core soaring - still Dyson in those mostly dead eyes. It plummets when Clu yanks Dyson back and he disappears from that shell again. Tron hears Dyson's armour creak under Clu's hand - just how much pain must Dyson be in, trapped like that? Caged in his own frame somehow, strangled by something Tron can't identify, pinned with a grip like a vice.

"Give me back my SIC." Tron rumbles, low and sharp. His Admin versus his friend... his only hesitation comes from whether he can kill Clu without hurting Dyson. Tron is very good at killing Admins who've made themselves threats.

Clu is still talking. Tron's long past listening.

His disc drops into his hand again, and he knows what he has to do with it. Tron's a more... direct fighter, most of the time. Shows off in Games, of course, because they're not serious fights. But when doing his job... normally, he's quick, efficient, and takes his enemies out without fancy flourishes.

Ram taught him how to use his disc to pull off impossible shots. Sark proved to him it's possible to remote-guide one's disc, if the first shot doesn't work and it's still flying.

Tron flicks his disc sideways, sensing it sail up and reflect off two walls before curving around on a collision course with Clu.

Clu moves one hand to Dyson's neck. Tron glimpses his friend's fear-

Tron dives for Dyson, pulling his SIC to the ground. His disc jerks downwards sharply, still in flight-

Slams into Clu's dock. Said part's nowhere near as solid as Sark's big head.

Tron covers as much of Dyson as he can, braced for any retaliatory strikes if he failed. "It's okay." He soothes quietly, cushioning Dyson's head and disc. "It's okay. You'll be okay." His disc clatters to the floor... somewhere. Close, but nowhere he can grab it.

Dyson's eyes flicker, trying to reboot - Clu must be destroyed, then, like the MCP before him. He's seeking an authority, someone to lead him and the Grid, and needs to reboot so he can set a new one. It's... not a good sign he's struggling to.

"I'm here." Tron offers, pushing some of his flagging energy into Dyson's system, trying to help. "I'm here, Dyson. You can reboot, it's okay. I'll keep you safe. Better than I did."

Dyson manages to at least start a reboot, limp and lax under Tron. His circuits almost immediately bleed white again, truncated and re-routed but closer to his own.

Tron pushes himself up carefully, manages to pick Dyson up with only a little bit of pain, and slinks off towards an alcove he can use to protect them both. The rest of the guards are also mid-reboot, Tron has a few precious nanos to get to safety. He kicks his disc up on the way, remote-guiding it back to his dock. Can't leave that behind, defeats the point of getting to safety if the most important part is still vulnerable.

"We'll figure it out." He promises Dyson, letting his consciousness slip away once he's sure no one can get to them. "I promise."

"What do you think, Tron? I made Dyson perfect again."

[boopiemadz]

Travis Martinez x fem reader post rescue that broke up in the wilderness and then reunite after and move onto a farm together and they get really soft with eachother like he’s cooking breakfast and she comes up behind him like resting her head on his back still disheveled from sleep. Idkk I hope this makes some sense lol also I love those social media posts you needddd to do more Travis x reader dating ones!!!<33

yesss I love domestic Travis sm. I spent way to long making backstory for this... so half of this is just set up that doesnt affect the last part whatsoever mb. so sorry if the pivot from kinda angsty breakup/ reunion to domestic fluff is sudden lol. anyways enjoy :)

[A quiet life]

Travis x !Fem reader

---

You crouched by the base of a tree, sifting through the scattered bits of wood Travis had gathered. The sticks felt damp in your hands, bending and twisting when you tried to snap them. “These won’t catch,”

“They’re dry enough,” he said with a shrug, brushing dirt off his hands. “Dry enough doesn’t mean dry. You need kindling that snaps clean. Otherwise, you can’t get a fire going.” He didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a breath and muttered, “Fine. I’ll go look for better ones.” And without waiting, he disappeared a few steps deeper into the forest. “Feels like nothing’s been going right lately.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, He shrugged, “Nothing.” But the weight behind the word made it feel like everything. 

You turned to look at him, the tiredness in his eyes catching you off guard. You changed the subject, trying to keep things normal, well as normal as it gets, you two hadn't really been 'talking' much lately. Mostly just sitting with each other in silence pretending everything is understood, but really it's not. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. You didn’t believe him. You knew him too well. “You don’t sound fine.” He frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. “It’s nothing.”

“Travis...” you began, your voice softer now. “I can’t keep guessing. If something’s wrong, you gotta tell me. I can’t read your mind.” He looked away, jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple.” You sighed, frustration bubbling up. “No, no it’s not. But I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one trying to make this work.”

He took a step closer, dropping the sticks he had just picked up, “You don’t get it. Sometimes, being around you... it reminds me of things I don’t want to remember.” You blinked, hurt flickering. Your heart tightened. “How am I supposed to help if you keep shutting me out?” You stepped closer feeling an uncomfortable sinking feeling boil up into your throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But the distance didn’t shrink as you stepped closer. Instead, it grew wider.

You paused, standing in that feeling, just looking into the eyes of a boy you once knew, now faded and worn, rusted like an old swing set. “Maybe we’re both too riddled with scars to keep this up,” you said finally, voice trembling.

He swallowed hard, the truth of your words sinking in. “Maybe.”

For a long moment, you both stood there in silence. The forest around you felt still, like it was holding its breath.

Then, without warning, Travis’s hand wrapped one of his arms around your waist gently, grounding you. He leaned down and kissed you, soft and familiar. You closed your eyes, letting the connection hold you together, if only for a moment. When you pulled away, your breath was shaky. “I don’t want to lose this, us, you.” he whispered.

“Me neither,” you said, your voice breaking. But the weight in your chest wouldn’t let you pretend anymore. “But maybe that love isn’t enough.”

His shoulders sagged with the burden. “I love you,” he said quietly. You shook your head slowly, tears pricking your eyes. “I love you too.”

You stepped back, the space between you growing heavy, but the haze lifted with the confession. No shouting. No anger. Just two people who loved each other enough to let go. The kindling lay forgotten at your feet as he walked away running his hand through his hair.

---

It’d been almost a year since the rescue. New Jersey felt familiar but strange, like a place you used to know, but everything had shifted underfoot. Twelve full months of hospitals, media silence, therapy sessions, long showers that never felt long enough. A year of pretending to be okay in public and unlearning how to brace for survival in private. You and Travis had both tried to find your footing, living separate lives but never quite letting go.

You’d called a few times over the months, short conversations that danced around old wounds and light memories. One cool spring afternoon, you found yourself walking through a quiet park near your apartment. The phone buzzed in your hand. You saw his name and your heart stuttered.

“Hey,” you answered, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hey,” he said, quieter than you remembered. You talked about small things, work, the weather, the new coffee place that opened down the street. It was easy and awkward all at once. Then silence stretched between you, and you finally asked, “How are you, really?”

He took a deep breath. “I’m... better, I guess. Some days still hit harder than others.” You nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Same here.”

Over the next few months, the calls grew longer, more honest. You shared stories about the little things, new routines, bad days, music you’d discovered. And slowly, those phone calls led to texts, and then a tentative plan to meet.

---

Travis was sitting at the back of the small café, near the window, his knee bouncing under the table. He looked... older. Not in the way time ages someone, but in the way pain does. A little more shallow around the eyes. A little heavier in the shoulders. But still Travis.

You stepped in, the bell above the door giving a faint chime. The place smelled like espresso, and for a second, it all felt too normal. You gave a quiet nod, stepping over to the table. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoed, voice low. You sat down, shedding your damp jacket and trying to shake off the nerves. He was already halfway through his drink. You ordered tea. Chai. “Been a while,” you said after a beat.

He nodded. “Yeah. Guess I thought... might be good. To see each other. In person.”

“You texted me at like 1 a.m.” You say with a chuckle.

“Didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“I didn’t think you’d ask.”

A breath of silence. The city buzzed faintly outside, the storm creeping in. Thunder murmured in the distance. You glanced out the window. “Remember that time out there when Coach made you and Nat dig that shit-pit or makeshift outhouse or whatever, and you fell in?” 

Travis exhaled a half-laugh, shaking his head. “It wasn’t funny.”

“It was a little funny.” He gave you a look. “My ankle was swollen for a week!”

“And you still refused to let anyone help you walk back.” Travis muttered, “Didn’t want to look pathetic.”

“You didn’t.” You looked at him. “You just looked like someone who didn’t want to be seen hurting.” He paused. The air between you shifted slightly. “That night,” he said after a moment. “After that happened... you sat with me. By the fire.”

“I remember.”

“You didn’t say anything. Just... stayed.”

“That’s what you needed.”

Another silence. But not uncomfortable. He looked out the window again, watching the rain tap against the glass.

“Hard to believe that was... real,” he said. “Feels like a different world.”

You nodded. “I think about it a lot. In pieces.” He glanced at you. “You still have those dreams?” You hesitated. “Not every night. But yeah.” He nodded slowly, like he understood. Because of course he did. Your tea arrived, steam curling from the mug. You wrapped your hands around it, needing something to hold.

“I don’t know how to be around people sometimes,” you said quietly. “Like I’m pretending to be someone who knows how to live.”

Travis didn’t say anything right away. Then: “I get that. “Is that why you didn’t call for so long?”

Your jaw tensed, “I wanted to. I just... didn’t know what I’d say.”

“You didn’t have to say anything.”

Another long pause. Rain began to fall harder now, you checked your phone. “Shit. I didn’t realize how late it got. I walked here. Didn’t expect the sky to open up on me.”

---

“My car’s like four blocks away.” You say almost yelling over the sound of rain standing under the small awning outside the cafe. He glanced at you, expression unreadable for a second. “You’ll be soaked.” You gave a little shrug. “It’s just rain.”

“My place is closer,” he said. Then, quickly, “Not saying you have to come over. Just… It's like two blocks that way. You could dry off, warm up before heading out.”

You hesitated, but you saw no pressure in his face. Just the quiet offer of comfort. And maybe something else unspoken. “Okay,” you said softly. “Thanks.”

The rain was coming down in waves now. The wind tugged at your clothes, and you could already feel water soaking into your socks. Travis started walking fast, half-jogging. You followed, trying not to splash too hard in the puddles.

After a minute, you laughed, sharp and surprised. “You said two blocks!”

“It is!” he called over his shoulder.

“Feels like six!”

“That’s just ‘cause you walk slow!”

You let out another laugh, breath catching in your chest. You were dripping. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, your coat had given up, and your jeans were clinging to your legs. And still, you smiled. Because something about this, about the chaos of it, was ridiculous. That's when the two of you took off, running as if to prove something, like little kids chasing a daydream.

You passed under a flickering street lamp, light bouncing off the water on Travis’s face. He glanced back, and you saw it: the ghost of a smile. One that reminded you of a thousand moments you thought you’d buried.

But it didn’t last.

Your breath caught as the slap of your soaked shoes on the pavement triggered something deep in your chest. The wind. The cold air stinging your face. The feeling of running, fast and desperate, heart pounding, breath burning in your throat.

The woods. The nights you ran, not just ran, but fled. Fled from the terror of the nights spent hungry. The running and chanting, howling into the dark. The hunt. It all came rushing back in the sound of your footsteps. You slowed. You didn’t mean to.

Travis noticed a second later, turning around. “Hey?” You shook your head. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He nodded, falling into step beside you instead of ahead.

You walked the rest of the way in silence.

---

By the time you reached his building, you were shivering. He unlocked the door and held it open without a word, letting you step into the warmth of the small lobby. The elevator clunked slowly up to the third floor. His apartment was just what you expected, small, a little sparse, but neat. You stood awkwardly near the door, dripping on the mat.

“You’re dripping,” he said, already heading to the bedroom. “Hang on.”

He came back with a t-shirt and sweatpants, both oversized and clearly well-worn. “Bathroom’s right there. Towels under the sink.” You hesitated. “Thanks.”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. In the bathroom, you peeled off your wet clothes slowly, shivering as the cold air hit your skin. It was soft and warm. It smelled like detergent and something else, something uniquely him. You tugged the sweatpants on, rolling the waistband a few times to keep them from sliding down.

Back in the living room, you found him on the couch, changed into dry clothes himself. You hesitated in the doorway. He looked up. And stopped.

“I look ridiculous,” you said, half-smiling. “You don’t,” he said, voice quieter than you expected.

You hugged your knees loosely to your chest as you went to sit down on the floor leaning against the couch. “You remember that time back at the lake? Back in the summer, when Tai dared you to do that dumb backflip and you fell face-first into the mud?”

Travis blinked, surprised by the memory.

You laughed a little. “You were so mad at her, but also at yourself. Then you tried to act like it didn’t hurt.” He smiled. A real one. “It hurt like hell.”

“I know. You told me later that night. After everyone went to sleep.” He looked at you. Really looked. “I missed that,” he said. “Talking to you. Just… like that.”

Your throat tightened. “Me too.”

You didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you. Only that eventually, you felt his fingers graze yours. Not grabbing, just a touch. Barely there. You turned your hand over, letting your palm meet his. It was warm.

You looked at him. And that was enough. He leaned in slowly. You met him halfway. The kiss wasn’t desperate, it was soft. Familiar. Like putting on a song you used to love and remembering every word. When you finally pulled back, you kept your forehead against his.

“Does this mean something?” you asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But it doesn’t mean nothing.”

You sat there, holding hands, the rain still whispering against the window. And for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like pretending. It just felt like beginning again.

---

You wake up slow these days. Not because of exhaustion, but because you can.

The sun has already started to peek through the white curtains by the time your eyes blink open. Your cheek is pressed into the familiar cotton of Travis’s pillow, still holding the warmth of where he slept beside you, even though he’s already gone. Somewhere in the house, you can hear the faint clink of dishes and the low hum of music coming from the old kitchen radio. Fleetwood Mac, maybe. Something from that worn-down CD player Travis insisted still worked perfectly.

You smile sleepily and stretch, the soft quilt sliding down your arms. You’re in one of his long-sleeved shirts, oversized, frayed at the sleeves. Padding barefoot down the hallway, the creaky wood floor familiar beneath your feet. 

You find him in the kitchen, barefoot in plaid pajama pants and a thermal tee with the sleeves pushed up. His hair is a little messy, a towel tossed over one shoulder. He’s standing by the stove, focused, one hand flipping pancakes while the other stirs a pot of something on the back burner. 

“Hi,” you say, soft and a little groggy.

He turns, startled only for a second before a smile curls across his face. That sleepy Travis kind of smile. Half-curled, half-hidden.

“Hey. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shake your head as you cross the kitchen to him. “Smelled too good not to come find you.”

You wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder like you’ve done a hundred mornings before. His body is warm, solid. Familiar. Home.

You stay like that for a few moments, your chest pressed to his back, the kitchen humming with warmth. It’s a rhythm now. It’s not something you’re holding onto out of fear. It’s just living. He flicks a little piece of scrambled egg onto your plate and sets the pan down with a soft clang. “Breakfast is ready.”

You pull away slowly and move toward the table, you sit down with a tired but content smile, watching him gather plates and cups. He pulls out your chair for you, a small, thoughtful gesture, and sits across from you. You begin to eat, savoring the simple food and the calm between you. It’s not flashy or loud, but it’s yours.

“Remember the first week after we got here?” you ask, voice light, eyes twinkling. “When you tried to fix the fence and ended up covered in mud?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I swear, that fence was out to get me.”

“You looked ridiculous,” you tease, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “I couldn’t decide if I should help or just take a picture.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You took the picture.”

There’s a peaceful pause, then he clears his throat and says quietly, “I like this. Us, here. Like this.”

You nod. “Me too.”

A quiet moment passes, filled only by the gentle sounds of morning, the wind whispering through the trees, birds calling, the soft thud of hooves on the barn floor. You swallow hard and add softly, “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, you know? After everything… this little farm. It feels like a miracle.”

He reaches out, brushing your fingers with his thumb. You squeeze his hand before letting go, your stomach fluttering with a mix of nerves and peace.

After breakfast, Travis stands and begins clearing the table. You watch him move around the room with a quiet ease. He pauses near the doorway, turning back to you. “I’m gonna feed the animals. You want to come?”

You shake your head, “I’m good here.”

He nods and starts toward the door, then stops and looks back over his shoulder. Without a word, he crosses the room quickly, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You close your eyes as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. His breath is warm against your hair, grounding you in a way nothing else has.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

You rest your cheek against his hand, whispering back, “Love you too.”

Then he slips out the door, leaving the quiet stillness of the kitchen behind him. You watch the back of his head disappear down the path toward the barn, feeling the slow, steady calm of this place settle around you like a second skin.

---

You had been standing at the kitchen table, brush in hand, completely absorbed in the canvas in front of you. The afternoon sun poured through the window, casting a soft golden light that warms your skin, you carefully layered shades of blue and green, trying to capture the way the light hit the fields just beyond the farmhouse.

But paint had a funny way of getting everywhere. You glanced down at your fingers and noticed smudges on your skin. Then you realized you’d accidentally brushed your cheek with a streak of paint. You laughed quietly to yourself, it wasn’t the first time you’d ended up with more paint on you than the art you were making.

From the doorway, Travis had leaned casually against the frame, watching you with a small smile playing at his lips. “You’re a walking mess,” he said, voice low and teasing.

You grinned back, dipping your brush into a fresh pot of paint. “Messy is part of the process,” you replied, eyes sparkling. “Abstract art, right?”

He stepped forward and without hesitation, reached out to brush the paint off your cheek with his thumb.“Still messy,” he said softly, but there was no judgment in his voice, only warmth.

You leaned into his touch, the quiet closeness making your heart skip a beat. “I’m your mess,” you joked, voice playful but tinged with something softer beneath. “You better clean up before you ruin my furniture.”

You laughed, setting your brush down and wiping your hands on a nearby rag. “Fine, fine. I’ll clean up. But only if you help me.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

You both moved toward the bathroom, the space filling with warmth as the shower ran. The steam rose in lazy swirls, fogging the mirror.

You stepped under the water first, the heat wrapping around your skin like a welcome embrace. Travis joined you moments later, the closeness of his body against yours making you smile.

His hands found your waist, pulling you gently into him, and you closed your eyes as he pressed soft kisses along your neck. The weight of the world, the noise, the past, everything, felt like it slipped away there, in that quiet sanctuary of warm water and shared breaths.

Eventually, you both stepped out, Travis handed you one of his shirts, soft, worn in, smelling faintly of him, and you pulled it over your head, the fabric hanging loosely on your frame.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching you with a smile that made your heart flutter.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you wearing my clothes,” he said, voice quiet and full of affection. You laughed and settled next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Guess that means you’ll just have to keep lending them to me.”

Later, in the living room, Travis flicked on the record player. The soft crackle of the vinyl filled the room, followed by a slow, gentle melody.

He reached for your hand without a word, fingers entwined with yours. You felt the familiar warmth spread through your chest as he pulled you close, guiding you into a slow sway. Your head rested lightly against his chest, and you listened to the steady beat of his heart, the sound grounding you in the moment.

He spun you gently, laughter spilling from your lips, and you grinned up at him, eyes bright. “Look at us,” he said with a teasing tone, “grown-ups dancing in the living room like teenagers.”

You smiled back, heart full. “Maybe we’re teenagers at heart.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you close again. The world outside faded into nothing but the warmth between you, the music, and the quiet comfort of home.

You danced for what felt like hours, neither of you wanting the moment to end.

---

[vivid-bad-brainrot]

i typed out a really long rant that didnt end up making sense about your sekai lore so instead just. know im obsessed its so good . i was Aware of this before but fully like reading your posts just completely reframed how i thought of the sekai and everything its great

how old do you think the sekai actually is? im just like so amazed its so cool thiking abt the implications and lore of the loids being much older than we thought. trying to timeline it in my head. hope this makes sense sorry if u said it somewhere

HI HI HI and THNAK YOU

Ok ok so the alleyway sekai came into existence a couple weeks after hatsune miku came out…. So like 2007 type shit BYE Since prsk takes place in 2021 as of now (i think) that means that the entire sekai is 14 years old 😋 but it belongs soley to radder for 10 years (cause it imploded on itself in 2017 #rad weekend)

This whole setup is really funny because when radder go to their sekai for the first time they aren’t like “omg its hatsune miku!!!!” they are like “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?????” And miku doesnt explain shit and starts DOXXING them 😭 by far the worst first impression she could have possibly made. Listen shes new to this whole SEKAI thing….. because of this radder does not trust ANYTHING she says and so they spend like ten times longer trying to find their true feelings deadass just because they did not want to listen to her puntable ass bro

[alealuvshayden]

Scott Barringer - FLUFF ANGST

Scott Barringer x reader

𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

@ysrjune your idea.

Newbie. That‘s what everyone called him. Well not really. Everyone called him handsome.. and funny. The dude had striking blue eyes that anyone could fall for. Although.. he was moody. No one knew why.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

His first day here Juliette and Shelby immediately fought over him. Shelby made her way and sat next to him, making small talk.

Then it all happened. His manwhore, quarterback ego was back. Scott changed from Juliette to Shelby. Juliette was heart broken. But who was the real heartbroken one here? You. You were.

All of this comotion happening right in front of you and you acted as though it didnt affect you.

The guy was handsome, but he was too much of a manwhore for your liking. Everywhere you turned you saw Juliette and Shelby at each others throats because of him. Like bro goddamn he cant be ALL THAT.

The cliffhangers had made their way to the forest for a campfire. Including you. Scott and Shelby were by a tree trunk doing whatever.. they kissed. Afte that Shelby laid her head on his shoulder. It was a daily occurence so it was nothing new.

You and Auggie ate crisped marshmallows together on a stick, staring at Scott. Auggie noticed and spoke up.

„Y‘know.. he‘s only using her.. wants to be with someone else. He told me.“

„Oh shut up Aug… they obviously love each other, dude.“

„Not so sure about that.. just keeping you up to date.“

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You kept thinking about Auggie‘s words. If they had been true or just a lie to keep you hoping for Scott. Whatever it was, it kept you thinking about it. At night everyone built tents and you all had a campfire. Scott sat by you, unusual.

„Soooo, y/n… what‘s up???“

„The stars.“ you brush him off.

Scott‘s heart dropped and sighed deeply. „Tell me what‘s wrong.. did i do something?“

„Something? Something!?“

Scott kept his eyes on you, insisting you to continue..

„Dude.. y-you give me mixed signals! I dont know who you want anymore! Choose!“ you got up and sat down next to Ezra.

Scott glared at you and him and thought long and hard about your words. Later on you all went into your tents. You shared a tent with daisy, Scott with Auggie.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

„Auggie, bro, I dont know what got into her! I like her! She just doesnt get it!!“ Scott whined about you and continued ranting the whole time.

„Well, dude, what do you think? You change between Juliette, Shelby and her everyday.“

„So?? What should i do then!“

„Show her you love her, bro.“

How could he possibly show you how much he liked you? How?

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

It had started raining a bit but not harsh anough to break your tents. Scott‘s mind wouldnt stop thinking about you. It had gotten to the point he got emotional and started crying. He couldnt let Auggie see that. So, eventually he made his way over to your tent. Silent footsteps, careful not to step on a branch and make noise.

He pulled on you tent, you and Daisy jumped up.

He reassured.

„I-Its just me..“ he sniffled and entered the tent, hiding his face. You sensed something wrong..

„Daisy would you go and share a tent with Aug tonight? Please????“ you whisperly beg. Daisy groaned but agreed and left.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

„Scotty are you crying..?“

Scott finally looks up at you with tearful eyes and breaks. „I-Im sorry. I love you, I promise.“

Lighting, a storm, it made you both uneasy. You being plainly scared and Scott having the trauma of his skanky stepmother.

„y/n I-I promise I love you. I‘ll do anything you ask me to. I‘ll stop talking with every girl i swear!“ he cried out.

Your heart ached. You couldnt let him feel that way and fall into his embrace. Both of you snuggled up under the sleeping bag and kept each other warm in each‘s emrace.

Both you and Scott fell asleep hand in hand, your head on his chest and him kissing your head and forehead.

Scott‘s player era was gone.

He was now your lover boy.

i have a twin!sam/scott SMUT in my drafts but idk if i should post…

NEVERMIND hope yall like this one i had to think deeply to get an idea for this sorry bae.

taglist: @mvst4far @divineani @dollfilmz @madsluvsdilfs @hearts4sammonroe @seraphrelic

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed🤑

[violasghost]

While You Were Sleeping-Chenford edition, Season 7x18 episode discussion

It has taken me a few days to digest the season 7 finale of The Rookie. Not because the finale anything jaw dropping or really mind bending, but more because it’s taken me this long to digest how things landed in the finale for our favorite pair.

So, to start things off, I did not read the leaked finale spoilers that came out several days ahead of the finale air date but there was enough hinting and emojis and reactions around the Internet to get the message across that something disappointing was about to happen for Chenford. That said expectations weren’t high, and I hoped at the very least we weren't going to have to watch another grueling break up.

For the record, I have been one of the fans that has been super grateful for all the amazing Chenford content we have gotten this season and in seasons prior. Although I haven’t always been a fan of the plot, especially the choice to break them up, I have been 100% a fan of Melissa and Eric and what they bring to the characters and think that they continue to bring their ‘A’ games each and every episode. We are truly blessed. Which is probably why I keep going back in my mind to, if we are blessed, why does it still feel like something has been off kilter in Chenfordland?

Starting with the role reversal thing. Cause now Lucy’s like 'the guy 'who’s afraid/hesitant to commit and Tim’s 'the girl' who has put it all out on the table? Maybe it makes sense given what they've been through, but sporadically throughout the season they have been portrayed as best friends hanging out frequently, to sometime lovers, then in one episode Lucy referrs to Tim formally as 'Bradford'. Its like pick a lane. Not sure how many writers they have in the room doing Chenford but my head has been spinning this season.

On the bright side, it looks like at least they haven’t said those words ‘Lets break up’ or ‘We need some time apart,' But not sure they are even considered together-enough to be broken up at this point.  It’s like what are they doing exactly? So, we know they aren’t formal boyfriend/girlfriend. I’m guessing they at least see one another as friends-I hope. But friends with benefits? It’s obvious Tim is definitely head over heels in love, but Lucy not so sure about her. She definitely plays her cards close. I do think she genuinely cares for Tim and I thought they were heading in the direction of starting to date, but in the latest episode, it seems like with her comment to Miles, perhaps she’s not even ready to date or have a relationship with Tim for whatever reason. (Probably because she is never allowed to talk about her feelings) It seems to be more of Tim doing the talking (thanks to the writing which never gives Lucy the floor.)

So, I guess going into Season 8, Chenford has to figure out what their priorities are, or I guess I should say, Lucy has to figure out what her priorities are, because Tim already has declared his #1 priority. Their lives no longer revolve around each other by default, since their schedules conflict, so if they don’t make the conscious decision to stay connected, it could be a rocky road. And, if for whatever reason Lucy decides she wants to bail. Tim’s gotta get past that too (Sorry, I don’t want it to happen either, but I’ve been burned before in fandoms so just want to cover all the bases). Unfortunately, based on her conversation with Celina, I don’t think Lucy’s ready to move in with Tim yet, although I truly do empathize with Tim because I think he is trying his best and coming from a place of honesty and love. I think it was also a DICK move on the writers part knowing how long we Chenford fans have waited, over a year, since mid-season 6 for some sort of dialogue about their break-up and how Tim hurt Lucy, and finally in the last minutes of the S7 finale Tim actually addresses some of this in a lucid way, not on truth serum, or lie detector or any other trick, and they don’t even give us the grace of Lucy’s reaction. Truthfully, it’s probably because I’m already on a short fuse due to personal life stuff. (Working at a US University in a research dept is not a fun place to be right now, btw.)

Tim's words were much needed, despite the irony of Lucy never hearing them. And it’s important to note that Lucy also did admit to Celina that she needed to have a more serious conversation with Tim before taking their relationship to the next level. And Lucy did start to text Tim and vice versa with Tim to Lucy. So, in reading between the lines, they may actually want to have a dialogue someday. These very small breadcrumbs however, are not much to keep fans sustained over the long hiatus. The writers seem to want to go out of their way to have Lucy avoid talking about her feelings, and when they do decide to share anything, they talk about their feelings to everyone else-but each other, unless they are not lucid? What’s up with that?

Unfortunately, despite coming in with low expectations due to the spoiler shenanigans, and being grateful for what we've gotten this season, it still somehow felt like we were short changed. I mean they had time for an entire Skip Tracer Randy episode, 2nd episode to last, with lots of time for guest stars and special appearances, and Chenford still only gets 2 minutes in the finale, and no 2-way relationship conversation? Sighs, like many others have mentioned in their reviews, it was just frustrating not to get that and it felt like they chose a copout as opposed to paying the debt that was sorely owed to these two characters.

Will I still root for Chenford after this? Of course. Will I watch with blind shiny optimism knowing that they are going to get their happy ending? Probably not. Am I starting to think the showrunners at this point may think of Chenford more as the shows cash cow couple, which gives them motivation to stretch out the angst/sexy stuff and are maybe thinking less about character growth and more about how to get the next ratings spike? Perhaps.

Oh and I am so effing sick of Monica and Oscar too for that matter. Neither one of them have any business being the big-baddies. Maybe they could pull off being side-kicks to a big baddie, but not solo baddies. They should bring back Elijah-he was an excellent villain. Or, for a bit I thought they were going somewhere with the Zuzu/AI thing and then that guy showing up at Tim’s house. I was even worried something might happen to Tim and the hit man. Or even Glasser was a better villain. All IMO have more potential than Monica or Oscar to do some serious damage. Every time we see Monica and/or Oscar now it feels very cartoonish, like they always seem to be able to escape, and it’s kind of turned into a cheesy beating a dead horse-like plot twist, especially in the season finale. Kinda had to roll my eyes when Monica popped up there at the end as if everyone was surprised. It would be hilarious actually if they played up Monica as the big baddie and then introducing the new villain coming onto the scene by sharp-shooting Monica between the eyes or something. (Sorry to those who don’t like gore) But just think they have over told their stories and they need something fresh and new.

On a side note, if Lucy ever did move in with Tim (not holding my breath until we see a true confession of her feelings), but if she did, Id actually really think Celina and Miles roommate situation would be very entertaining to watch.

Lastly, didn’t Grey serve as Sargeant during the same day shift as Tim when Tim made Sargeant? So, they could potentially have two Sergeants on the day shift at the same time now that Grey has been promoted right? Does one have to be more senior in rank or something if two are serving together? Not sure if anyone took Grey’s place, but just thought there might be an opportunity there for Lucy down the line.