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moonmunson · 21 hours ago

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don't stop (thinking about tomorrow)

wc: 2.3k

cw: live!reader who can see wally, fun little meet cute that freaks wally out, tw for two sentence mention of harry potter, set in 2023 but nothing with maddie happens, and as always i am writing with a plus size!reader in mind, but this one is gender neutral!reader as well so far

a/n at the end!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

masterlist

He was never supposed to find out that you can see him.

You could see all of them - the beatnik with the sour expression plastered on her face, the sweetheart in the jean jacket, even the blonde dude who’s always at the pottery wheel during your second period ceramics class.

You’d spent the last four years perfecting walking right past them, not looking up, not laughing at the jock’s jokes when you’re seated near them in the library.

Your ‘gifts’ are too confusing to explain, and even if you attempted to confide in someone about them, you know it would be too hard to believe.

It freaked your parents out when you were little - your comments about how Grandma talked to you long after her passing, how you waved to people on the street that nobody else could see. They never took you to be tested - worried too much that you’d get taken away or put in psychiatric holding.

So if you came home looking tired and drained, or sometimes, a little scared, your parents understood.

When you started high school, you hadn’t expected there to be so many dead people. It was so weird, seeing people your age walking around stuck in the clothes representative of their times.

You’d told your mom about the kids as you distinguished them from the living ones - sadness in her eyes growing when you’d mentioned the lanky one in 80s athletic gear. She’d gotten her own Split River yearbook from the shelf, flipped to the memorial page and pointed at Wally.

“Is that who you’re talking about?”

You’d nodded, confirming her suspicions. She’d been in his graduating class, though not in his social circles. He’d been your stereotypical jock when he was alive, for all the pros and cons of it. King of the ragers thrown after games, not always a bully, but often a bystander. Gone too soon, but quickly forgotten in the grand scheme of things.

For your safety, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t ever speak to any of the ghosts. Your mom had clocked the dreamy glaze in your eyes while looking at Wally’s picture, and while she couldn’t stop you from talking to him, she’d told you what you already knew. It wasn’t smart, and it wouldn’t end well.

In your mind, letting any of them know that you could see them would be more cruel than just letting them go about their usual business. Even if you made contact, spoke to them - hung out with them - you were leaving after graduation, and they’d be alone again, without any contact with the living world. It seemed unfair; pointless.

It’s not Wally’s fault he’s so fucking pretty.

He moves about the school the same way you do - not looking at or paying attention to the people around him - because he has no reason to believe he can be seen. It’s worked out entirely in your favor thus far, because you can stare at Wally Clark for small periods of time without him noticing. On the occasion that he turns his head in your direction, a shift of your eyes to the right or left has him believing you’re just staring off into space.

He’s so nice to look at. His slightly curled waves of black hair, gold chain gleaming under fluorescent lighting. There’s depth to him, too. When he’s around his friends, he’s energetic - bouncy, cracking jokes and patting people on the back too hard. When he’s alone, though, he seems calmer. More reserved.

You get bolder with it, the staring, lulled into a sense of safety because you’re just another face in the ever-rotating crowd of high schoolers that pass through Split River. He’d seen forty generations of kids move on at this point, stuck as a fresh 18 year old with dreams and aspirations he’ll never be able to achieve.

It must suck, having to stay behind and watch as other seniors get a chance to do what he never did. You wish you could comfort him, maybe even help him find a way to move on. It’s harder for the people who die traumatically.

So much unfinished business and pent up emotions make it difficult to find the peace needed to pass onto the next plane. It’s easy to tell -there’s always a certain aura around the sad ones. Like the air around them is heavier, darker.

You’re not complaining, though, as fucked as that may sound. Especially not when you’re lounging under a tree near the football field, not so subtly watching as a shirtless Wally picks up replicated footballs and throws them aimlessly in different directions. If you hadn’t been daydreaming about being able to talk to him, you would’ve noticed the ball soaring towards you.

You look up, just in time for the phantom ball to hit the ground next to you, bouncing to land at your feet. Absent-mindedly - and almost jokingly - you kick it away from you, suddenly aware the ball was solid against your foot. In the time it takes you to realize you just interacted with a phantom football, it's faded away into the ground, and its sender is staring at you wide-eyed.

There’s a beat of stillness, soundtracked by the cicadas and other teens on the field before you begin to move.

You scramble to throw your shit into your bag, and speed walk back inside.

“Holy shit? Wait! Hey, wait!”

He follows you, because of course he does, and you try your best to ignore the panic and guilt rising in your throat. You just keep walking, hoping that he’ll give up. He doesn’t.

“Can you slow down please? I know you can see me!”

Wally catches up to you, jogging a few paces ahead to try to cut you off. You’ve never been this close to him - you have no idea if he’ll pass through you the way you’ve seen the other ghosts pass through living people before or if you'll make contact like you did moments ago with the ball he had thrown.

It blows your cover even more than kicking the ball away, but when Wally goes to stand in front of you, you attempt to veer out of his path. And then he grabs you. Or, he tries to, anyway. He’s not fully solid, not enough to place a firm hold on you, but enough for you to genuinely feel it.

His hand does go through you, but there’s resistance to it. It makes you shiver, the ice cold sensation of his palm trying to hold your shoulder but not being able to fully grip it.

“What the fuck?” He looks down at his hands, then back towards you.

He’s caught off guard enough for you to truly get away this time. Rest of the school day be damned, you make a break for it and throw yourself into your car.

The stale air does nothing to help your nerves, your shaking hand turning the ignition to blast AC at yourself. You lean forward, resting your head on the steering wheel and try to breathe through it. This is bad. Like, really fucking bad.

You don’t know much about him, but you seriously doubt that this is the kind of thing he’d just let go.

You’re in it now, for better or for worse.

You can’t tell your mom. It’s selfish, and misguided, and you hadn’t even said anything to him, but it was something. It was yours, and you don’t want to share. It makes the guilt worse, and your drive home is spent in dissociated silence.

When you get home, your mom is in the kitchen, bouncing around to 80s music and chopping onions. The slam of the front door alerts her to your presence, and she pauses her music, concern etched in her features.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay? You’re home early.”

You don’t want to lie.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just got a headache, that’s all. Thought I should come home and take a nap.”

Spending a few days at home would probably be for the best - it would give you time to come up with some sort of plan on what to say to Wally. You have no idea what the best course of action is. He knows you can see him now. You can’t take that back and make him forget it, and you don’t even know if you’d want to.

Instead, you barrel into school the next day, head down and earphones blasting music. Your eyes don’t leave the linoleum floor except to put your bag in your locker. The grumble of frustration and annoyance that leaves your body when three Tears for Fears songs play in succession draws the attention of other students in the hallway, but you pay them no mind.

You don’t even make it to third period before you see him.

Sitting in the corner of ceramics class, shaky hands denting an already uneven vase, the slam of the classroom door makes you jump - effectively destroying the soft clay cradled in your palms.

“There you are! Dude, I've been looking all over for you.” He sidles up to you, plops down in the seat directly to your right, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face and making your cheeks hot. You sigh, squishing the clay down and shaking your head.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk. I can talk for both of us. I can just talk, and talk, and talk, and-”

Your hand shoots into the air, a frantic “Can I use the restroom please?” leaving your throat.

It’s your worst nightmare and a dream come true, being alone with Wally. He walks next to you in the hallway, and when you pass the bathroom he pauses.

“You’re not going in? I thought you needed to go.” He’s teasing, you know he is, but you still huff at him.

You keep your pace, calling out behind you, “No, Wally, I don’t need to use the bathroom.”

You don’t turn around to see it, but you can hear the slightly shocked giggle that leaves him.

“Oh, c’mon, really?”

He catches up to you, and when you crane your head to the side to make eye contact, he sucks in a little breath. It’s the first time you’ve actually looked into his eyes. It throws you off kilter a bit, and you feel the need to make up the difference with a quip.

“What, you’re Moaning Myrtle now? You feel like talking and hanging around in public restrooms?”

The laugh that leaves him surprises you, Your eyebrows raise, not expecting him to understand the reference.

“Ms. Williams plays the movies during finals week like every year,” he shrugs, “I’m dead, not blind.”

You’d taken your things with you - skipping the rest of your class to spend time with him, to answer the questions you know he wants to ask. You go back to the football field, under the same tree you’d been under when you kicked the football away from you.

He’s waiting for you to speak, to help him understand what’s going on, but the words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot and skin itchy. Your hands fidget, picking dried clay from under your fingernails and flicking it onto the grass nearby.

You look at him, trying to decide where to start.

“I’m not really supposed to talk to you.”

“Why not?” He laughs then, shakes his head a little. “It’s because I’m dead, right? Do you have a problem with dead people?”

“No, I-” You start on the defensive, but soften when you see Wally’s smirk. He’s a little shit, you should've known. You roll your eyes, “You’re not supposed to know I can see you for your own sake. What good would it do? Hanging out with me for the next three months until I graduate and you can never see me again? It’s unfair.”

He looks away from you for a second, sly smile wiped off of his face, replaced with a sadness you hadn’t seen from him before. You reach out, trying to make contact, and your hand just meets the air. When he’d tried to grab you yesterday, he was slightly more solid than he is now. You don’t know why.

“Yeah it is unfair,” He turns to face you again, brown eyes glassy and tear rimmed, “but you can see me, and that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since I’ve been here.”

Something in your chest stirs, and you know there’s no universe in which you would’ve been able to stay away from him. You’re worlds apart, or planes apart, but it doesn't seem to matter as much as you used to think it did.

“I think it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, too.”

You spend the rest of the school day - without being caught, thankfully - in deep conversation. The shrill ring of the bell signaling the end of the day cuts you off in the middle of a sentence, and you stand from your place on the grass, dusting yourself off and gathering your things.

The silence between you is comfortable now, as he walks you to your car. He can’t step off the curb - he’d explained the boundaries of the school to you, that he’d be thrown back to the field if tried to leave. You hover together, not wanting to part.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? We can hang out more, I have study hall during 5th period.” You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and he follows the movement with his eyes.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

You blast your 80s playlist on the way home, while you’re in the shower, while you’re doing homework.

Wally Clark is gonna be the death of you.

a/n: hiii i feel like this part was a little lackluster but !!!! i have a whole plan for what i want to do with this fic and i'm really excited about it. it should be four parts, but that's subject to change as i keep writing.

if you liked this and want to read more of my little stories, my masterlist is linked at the top! if you have ideas or just want to chat, my inbox is always open!

pls don't forget to like and reblog! love you mwah

#guys stay with me let me cook #i promise it'll be really good #wally clark x reader #wally clark #wally clark imagine #wally clark fluff #school spirits #school spirits fanfiction #milo manheim

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 2 days ago

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The Miraculous fandom has some of the most creative people I know in it. I mean this, positive sense.

However that same talent becomes a problem when people cannot distinguish between a narrative beat and their own post-hoc justification.

The second is useful now and again when any sort of media misses a beat or takes a leap. ML fans carry the narrative on their backs.

It's telling that you have so many fanworks out there that are equally or more valid readings of the canon when they were published that have been completely obliterated by future development.

I'm not talking the wild takes. I'm not talking ML suddenly turning shonen, or coffee shop AU. I'm not even talking 'Adrien gets equal screen time.' Just 'with what we know, what comes next?' type fanfiction.

It's like canon is deliberately trying to dodge anything remotely predictable... but narrative beats are predictable for a reason. They work. They're good storytelling. A twist can be good storytelling, but only if it is better in every way then the not-twist.

You combine the shock-at-all-costs mentality with ML fandoms devotion and creativity and you get leaps of logic that would make a crypto seller blush. It ends up going downright unhealthy places at times.

I know their hearts are in the right place. I know they just care about the show they've sunk time and self into, but there are times you have to step back.

It doesn't mean you have to give up or turn away from the media. You just need to be willing to admit 'This episode/throughline/season/beat sucked'.

Then you hope it gets better.

Not doing this now and then is engaging in cult behavior.

(Post that spawned this ask)

I fully agree. People liking "bad" media doesn't bother me. What gets under my skin is people defending bad media. I'm in a book club and we all own that we like books that are objectively bad. We don't defend them as good, we just like the good parts enough to drown out the bad stuff. That's normal and fine. You don't have to limit yourself to perfect and pure art if such a thing even exists. I can name flaws in most of the things I like, I just think the good far outweighs the bad.

Miraculous is not some deep and complicated show that requires you to watch every episode. The writers have flat out said it is supposed to make sense even if you miss seemingly vital episodes. This means that trying to go the deep and nuanced route to explain the flaws doesn't work. This is a show for young children. It is supposed to be easy to follow. If it's not, then it has failed at its job! Little kids have no expectations to subvert. Shows like Miraculous are supposed to teach them how stories work so they can go on and watch more complex stuff when they're older. (For us adults, shows like Miraculous are supposed to be cute escapism that lets us feel like kids again.) If no one can possibly predict where a story is going next at a high level, then it's probably a bad story.

To be clear, I don't mean that every plot beat should be obvious. It's just that the longer a story goes, the more obvious things should feel as all the little elements of the story build and come together. This allows the audience to get excited about what's going to happen next and keeps them engaged. Stories where literally anything can happen no matter how little sense it makes aren't fun because you can't get invested in anything. I'll take a predictable ending over an impossible one any day.

A perfect example is the season three final. That final was all about Gabriel winning because he knew Chloe's identity. This is spelled out in the episode and the episode setup.

Miraculer set up:

Gabriel: Chloé Bourgeois must become Queen Bee again! Nathalie: Are you still considering making her an ally? I'm afraid Ladybug has grown reluctant to giving Chloé the Bee Miraculous. She's being very careful. Gabriel: Then I will get Chloé to force Ladybug to give it to her. All I need is for her to lose all hope in Ladybug. To become angry enough so I can akumatize her. (smirks evilly)

Ladybug: I'm sorry, Chloé. I should've told you this a long time ago. I might never be able to let you be Queen Bee again. Queen Bee: What? But I did everything you asked me to. Ladybug: I know. But this is for your own safety. It's too dangerous for you and your loved ones because Hawk Moth knows that you're Queen Bee.

Final pay off:

Hawk Moth: Try it and see for yourself. You're Ladybug's greatest fan. You've helped her, you've trusted her. And what has she done for you in return? Chloé: (gets angry) Nothing! She couldn't care less about me! I'm done with her. She's irrelevant, utterly irrelevant! (reaches out to grap the Miraculous, stops) I want you to de-akumatize has my parents first! Hawk Moth: Whatever you say, my queen. (Chloé takes the comb and puts it in her hair, releasing Pollen)

Since the final also includes every other temp hero being outed this should mean that season four will go on to have Ladybug and Chat Noir starting from scratch, but is that what happens?

Nope! The mass identity reveal means nothing and everything is fine to keep going as is. Chloé's identity reveal being a problem was a one-off fluke we don't need to think about.

There is no justification for that. You can decide that you're willing to let the flaw slide and keep watching, but there is no way to make this a good choice for the story. It was the start of the secret identities holding less and less weight to the point where a lot of people no longer care about the love square reveal because it's been so incredibly cheapened. Marinette keeping her identity from Chat Noir no longer makes sense when it was once pretty reasonable.

#generalluxun #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #predictability is good #I have more asks on this topic in my ask box so I'll hopefully make my stance on this complex topic more and more clear as they post

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lesbxdyke · 2 days ago

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[ID: Tags that read #ok but how do i stop feeling guilty about not bending over backwards #like actually /END ID]

Prefacing this with:

I am not a psychologist, I am not a therapist, I am just the OP of the post and have been through so many rounds of so many different therapies that I've cobbled together some pretty decent ways to cope with things.

For the guilt, for me, I use a lot of DBT (Dialect Behaviour Therapy - used mostly to treat Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD) skills.

The two most notable are 'Check the Facts' and 'Acting Opposite'

Check the Facts is exactly what it says! You run through the situation, and remove "I think" and "I feel" until you've got a list of only what happened.

To use the example I used in the original post of someone asking me to call them for company on the way home:

[Friend] sent me a message asking me to call them on the way home.

I responded saying no.

I then gave an alternate plan.

They agreed to the alternate plan.

We had a phone call after I had finished my task.

See how it doesn't say what I think of their motivations, or my feelings about what happened?

Then you look at the facts and examine your feelings (in your case, guilt), and ask yourself:

"Is this the expected emotional response to these facts?"

If no, skip to step 3. If yes, step 2 is:

"Is this the expected level of the emotion to these facts?"

If yes, then feel your feelings and speak to your friends as necessary. If no, go to step 3!

Step 3 is where we move onto Acting Opposite!

Your body and mind form a feedback loop that regulate your emotions. If you're attempting to regulate yourself out of an emotional response that you don't want, or is too big for the facts of the situation, then you need to interrupt that feedback loop.

So first, you have to identify how the emotion wants you to act. Anger makes you tense and clench and snarl. Sadness makes you isolate and curl in on yourself and hug your stomach. Guilt also makes you want to make yourself small, makes your stomach flip, makes you bow and scrape and apologise.

So act opposite to that. Force yourself to stand tall. Roll your shoulders back and open your body up. Drink water and breathe to help the nausea. And despite the urge (the nigh irresistible urge, I know), do NOT apologise or make yourself small conversationally.

As you force your behaviour into the opposite, you effect the feedback loop and loop your brain out of the emotion it's trying to lock you into.

Now I'm not going to tell you that these things are easy. They are NOT easy. I did my course of DBT with professionals in 2018 and I still struggle with it some days. But if you practice with more minor things (ow, I stubbed my toe and now I'm angry at the table. Let me check the Facts and Act Opposite to bring that anger down. Oh no, a sad movie has made me cry! Let me check the Facts and Act Opposite to bring myself back to calm!) then when the big ones come, it's easier to call upon those skills!

I think one of the things that has brought me the most peace in my life was the decision to stop responding to anything not clearly stated to me.

Anxiety: Oh no your friend hates you!

Me: Well they didn't say that. So either they need to fortify and tell me themselves, or I will continue to be their friend exactly as I am.

Not just that though. When people hint drop that they want a thing from you, I act as if I have not noticed at all. Either you directly ask me for that thing, or you are not getting that thing from me.

I actually decided to start doing this because I got diagnosed as autistic and I realised how much stress and unhappiness I put on myself trying to figure out everyone's motives and wants and needs all the time. So I decided I'd just... Stop.

And I tell people that. I tell people "I don't notice or respond to hints or passive aggressive behaviour. Either you need to be straight with me or I will continue as I am." And you know the only person that has had a problem with it?

My former abuser (who I am vvvvv low contact with). Because they relied on me feeling obligated to respond to their unspoken moods and wants to keep me in line.

Everyone else has been immediately on board and my relationships have gotten SO much stronger. Because I am asked directly for things, and I will give a direct reason for my response, regardless of what that response is. (e.g. "Hey, can you call me, I want company on the drive home!" "No, sorry, I'm in the middle of [task], but I will be done in twenty minutes so if you still want my company then, I'll be happy to.")

So I put this out as a suggestion for all people, ND and NT.

Stop responding to hints, passive aggression and other 'unspoken' things. Use, model and encourage clear communication with everyone, you'd be surprised how much easier it makes EVERYTHING!

#personal #i hope this helps and i hope it doesn't sound condescending #your tags made me want to help and your question appeared genuine (like an actual question and not a shout to the void)#but my aim is never to condescend

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rikiflowers · 2 days ago

Text

the moon is beautiful, isn't it?

Steven Grant is full of surprises and you can't wait to discover them all.

chapter 1

words: 4,889

Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x female!reader (Marc and Jake appear later)

warnings: p18+ smut (oral female and male receiving), fingering, use of alcohol, virgin!Steven

You fall for him relentlessly. His smile as he guides visitors through the museum's corridors, making full use of his knowledge; his crooked smile when he has the opportunity to talk and answers all the questions from the little ones. You've worked in many museums and met all kinds of people, but never someone who made your heart flutter like that. Hell, even you think about havings kids, when you see your coworker handling them with the outmost care. The looks you give him when he isn't looking are so uncomfortable even for you in retrospect and you spend many hours in the shower questioning your behavior. But you can't stop there. The man had you completely in his hands and he didn't even know it.

He flirted with you unknowingly, always throwing you a cheeky smile as he walked past you with his group of visitors. Every time your heart seems to stop. You haven't been here long and you feel like everyone knows about your feelings except the person they're directed at. Maybe if you just ignore it well enough they will eventually disappear. After all, you have to concentrate on a job and not indulge in any crushes. And the fact you don’t know if he’s returning the feelings to begin with. A new exhibition doesn't plan itself. Donna has also been pushing for new ideas that you still have to give her. You would get to it straight away tomorrow evening. But today your energies are in the basement. Your sleep schedule is non-existent and this is clearly evident in the deep circles under your eyes that you tried unsuccessfully to cover up with concealer. The fourth coffee today was definitely one too many as you get ready for the end of the day. You're just putting your things out of your compartment when you hear your name - from Steven's lips. You lift your head, your hair falling over your face. He's standing in the doorway and again your heart was pounding too fast for your liking. “Steven?”

He seems restless and struggles with his words. He said something that you couldn't quite understand. "I'm sorry, what?", you push out, words coming out of your mouth to sharp, but it wasn’t intended. You’rejust too nervous around him.

He clears his throat and runs his hand through his brown curls, which you also wanted to have between your fingertips. Many deaydreams are spent about the softness of brown curls. “Excuse me, I was asking you if you had any plans after work… Maybe you would like a coffee or wine?”

“Everything but coffee right now,” you reply fastily with a nervous grin, showing him your shaking hand. Steven's eyes widen as he sees the trembles. Without thinking about it, he holds your hand in his and you froze at the unusual but definitely not bad contact. A tingling sensation runs through your body. Apparently he hadn't thought either and let his body act on its own. You see his ears peeking out a deep red through his beautiful curls. He lets go of your hand far too quickly. “No coffee for you in the near future,” he replied. “I can’t promise that,” you giggle, because the brown drink is your elixir of life.

“At least for today, if you want…of course,” he assured himself, looking at you expectantly. You give him a smile. “Yes, I want to” He lets out a sigh of relief when you agree. He was really clueless about your feelings. He really thought you would refuse. At the beginning of the day you wouldn’t even have to think about this happening,m

“Let’s go, then,” he grins as he holds out his arm to you and you laugh and wrap your arm around him. The dark-haired man offers you,

…

You fucked up. Steven looks at you like you've lost your mind. “I can’t believe it…”

“Are you now mistaken about me?”

The brown-haired man grabbed his chest theatrically. “I have never been so disappointed as I was at that moment. How can anyone prefer the Greek gods to the Egyptian ones?”

“Guilty” Your lips go back to the third glass of wine, feeling the red juice warming you up (or it’s Steven’s presence causing it). “How can you sit here with me after I betrayed you like that?”

“Your smile makes your betrayal a little better”

That damn heart pounding again. “And how can I make it completely fine again?” Your leg accidentally brushes against his. You can clearly see the effect in his facial features. The corners of your mouth turn up a little further as you look at him meaningfully. He returns your gaze, but far too intensely. You're literally falling apart under him.

“Steven?”

Only when you speak to him does he seem to awaken from his torpor. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “Sorry…I think I had one drink too many, but I was so fascinated by the sight of you, your smile…my first thought when I get up and get ready for work is that smile.”

You stare at him. Heat rises to your cheeks.

He misinterprets your reaction. “I said too much again…sorry,” he tried to apologize hastily, running his hand through his brown curls.

"I could kiss you here now, Steven."

“I know, I just can’t keep my mouth shut- What?”

You grin again. “You already understood me”

“Bloody hell…” His eyes keep moving back and forth between your lips and eyes. Everything inside you tingles as you think about kissing him raw, hogging his lips, running your fingers through his hair and pressing yourself against him, hearing your name fall from his lips as you-

“A penny for your thought?”

“X-rated, my dear,” you reply breathlessly as you take the next sip. “I want to kiss you too, Steven...and have for a long time” You admire your courage and your heart flutters as Steven grins from ear to ear. God, this man was wonderful.

“Thank God we’ve already eaten”

“and the restaurant is closing soon too…” you reply conspiratorially, resting your head on your palm and batting your eyelashes inconspicuously. He sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned back slightly. “We don’t want to exhaust the staff…”

"Exactly…"

At that moment, Steven's hand shot into the air, signaling to the waiter that you wanted the check. Of course the black-haired man insisted on paying for the meal. You let it go, but you playfully threatened him that you would pay the bill next time.

He helped you put your coat on, his hands touching your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine and you looked over your shoulder, noticing how close he was to you. His breath brushed your cheek. His eyes became a shade darker as they traveled to your lips. You interrupt the moment, even though you would have liked to pounce on him straight away. You walk out of the restaurant together, your heart pounding in your throat and almost bursting out of your chest.

The cool evening air hit your face. The city lights illuminated the path. People are making their way along and you realize you're in the way. You take a step back and turn to your companion, who was already looking at you. At that moment you act quickly. Your hands cup his face and your lips press against his. You immediately feel the fireworks in your stomach as Steven immediately returns the pressure of your lips, placing his hand on your neck. As if your lips were a complete puzzle; they fit each other perfectly. You sigh into the kiss. All the tension falls away as you finally got to do what you could only hope for in dreams. Steven became more urgent, running his tongue along your bottom lip and you parted your lips immediately. Your tongue meets his as the tingling in your groin grew stronger. Everything about this man captivated you. His smell, his touch. How will you ever live without it? Your thoughts were already circling around him.

You break apart breathlessly. Steven leaned his forehead against yours as he looked at you. “Wow…” You giggled in response. Your lips curl into a smile as your hands rest on his shoulders. “Finally...” you replied, quickly kissing the tip of his nose, which made him grin.

He sighed. “Where have you been all my life?”

“I could ask you the same thing…” He caressed your cheek lovingly. You didn't want the night to end yet...Everything inside you was tingling and not just from the alcohol. You continued to look into each other's eyes and couldn't keep your eyes off each other.

“Do you want to come to me for coffee or tea?”

Without thinking twice, he nodded and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “You’re welcome…tea sounds good” Your lips curled into a warm smile. You call a taxi because you didn't feel like taking the train for so long. Steven carefully linked your hands together. While you waited, the handsome man stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. You can't wait to get home and wrap this man in your arms. The thought creeps up on you that maybe it happened too quickly. Maybe you caught him off guard and didn't do it because he wanted to. But then there was the gentle squeeze of his hand. “The taxi is here…” he said, snapping you out of your circling thoughts. He helps you into the back seat before walking around the car to sit right next to you. You greet the driver and you tell the driver your address. There was some space between you and Steven, but that didn't stop the black-haired man from carefully reaching for your hand and holding it in his. His hands were warm and lay like a blanket over your cold skin. The soft light from the driver gently enveloped you as he looked at you, giving you a small smile before answering the driver. You tune out the conversation a bit, looking out the window as you stroke his hand.

…

The journey seemed to have dragged on forever when you were finally able to get out of the vehicle. You suddenly felt ice cold and Steven seemed to notice that too. He grabbed your waist and pressed you lightly against him. “Do you want my jacket?”

You just shake your head. “We’re almost there, I can handle it…” you waved him off, chattering your teeth, which made him laugh darkly. You lead him to your apartment complex, nervousness taking over your body. You missed the lock a few times, which made you laugh nervously. His proximity didn't help you much either. The walk to the third floor to your apartment was also stressful because you had to be careful not to fall over your own feet. Why was it all so exciting? Otherwise it wasn't so bad to take someone home with you. You reached the top much too quickly and this time you will catch up more quickly. The cozy warmth of your apartment immediately welcomes you as you lead him inside.

“Feel at home,” you say over your shoulder as you finally kick off your shoes, which are a little too tight. Steven next to you takes off his jacket, his shoes neatly next to your pumps that have been carelessly thrown into the corner.

“Wow…that’s a lot of books,” you hear Steven next to you. You grin. Your living room acts more like a kind of library that you've worked hard to build over the years. “May I?” You nod, watching the curly-haired man euphorically examining your bookshelves. You seem to have completely forgotten the intention behind why you are in your apartment. The wetness between your legs is very present and only gets worse as you watch him nuzzle. “You really have to explain to me the background of all these little anime characters!” You're down bad for him. It's not funny anymore. You go into the open kitchen, rummage through the bottom drawer for the good wine you've been saving for really bad times.

“A court of thorns and roses? Sounds interesting,” you hear Steven say and you bump into the kitchen counter. You're suddenly next to him at the speed of light and, your head red, you snatch the book out of his hand. “I don’t think that’s your taste,” you stutter out, looking at his big brown eyes.

“Oh, okay…why, if I may ask?”

God. What have you gotten yourself into? He doesn't have to know right away that you read Faerie Porn. The wine definitely went to your head. You just give him a wry smile and he slowly seems to understand, looking at you with wide eyes as you put the book back. “Oh yeah, I think I understand” His ears turn a dark color as he avoids your gaze. God. You want him. A little too much.

"Wine?"

“Gladly”

He follows you into the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools as you pour the two of you a drink. You watch his lips touch the glass and he watches you watch him. At this moment everything is happening very quickly. You don't know who will take the step first, but that's irrelevant now. Your body is pressed against the kitchen counter. Strong hands grip your waist as your fingers bury themselves in his soft curls. Warm breath hits your lips and you part them slightly, wetting them. Steven is so close to you and yet you need him even closer.

“Darlin’… is it okay for me to finally kiss you?” Steven looks between your eyes and lips, waiting for you to back down. Never. “Fuck…please Steven,” you breathe out desperately. That is confirmation enough. Mouths crash into each other, literally devouring each other. Your tongue pushes itself between his lips, which he greets with his. Your heart jumps, your moans encourage the curly-haired man to grab his hands behind your neck and literally press you against him. Breathing heavily, you pull away from each other. Your head rests in the crook of his neck, you feel the goosebumps your warm breath causes on his skin. Steven's fingers run through your hair, kissing your head.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this…”

You hum against his skin, your lips hovering over his neck. “How long?” you breathe, tracing his skin with gentle kisses. He sighs heavily, running his fingers through your strands. “I think you know that yourself, love…” Your lips curl into a smile.

“...you just want to hear it again, right?”

You hum in agreement, causing him to chuckle quietly to himself. Rough fingertips reach under your chin, causing you to lift your head so that you have to look into his deep brown eyes. His facial features are relaxed and gentle; the deep circles under his eyes stand out far too clearly on his skin. You carefully move over the pigmented skin. His eyes flicker briefly. Steven's fingers close around your hand, bringing it to his lips before touching each fingertip with his lips. You look at him breathlessly, feeling the tingling sensation in your fingers as his soft lips kiss them. “Love, I fell for you the moment you first walked through the doors of the museum. Your excitement and charm fascinated me from the first second.”

His open and honest words trigger a storm of emotions in you that you can't yet fully understand. You look at him with wet eyes.

“If you want me, then I’m yours,” he adds afterwards and now you release yourself from your rigidity. “I want you Steven. I want to be yours,” you mirror his answer. He gives you the most beautiful smile before you can't hold yourself anymore and throw your arms around the unsuspecting Steven, throwing him off balance. Together you find yourself on the cold floor of your kitchen. “Steven…oh god, I’m sorry,” you mumble to yourself, stroking the back of his head and hoping he doesn’t get a bump. A gasp escapes him before he starts to laugh, which calms you down a bit. You straddle his lap, your hair tickling his face as you lean over him. What you clearly feel is his bulge pressing against your thigh. You become bold and move your hips slightly, noticing how he gasps harshly, his fingers pressing harder into your upper arm.

“Very dangerous, what you're planning on doing…” he says, tucking the strands of hair behind your ear, which was useless because they immediately fell into his face. “Does that bother you, sir?”

“Not in the slightest, My lady”

You move your hips again, grinding against him. A soft moan escapes Steven's lips, only making you go faster. You want to hear more. “Steven…I want to suck you off….is that okay?”

“Oh god…are you sure?”

“There’s nothing I want to do more than to taste you.” Just what comes out of your mouth makes the dark-haired boy whimper. "Please…"

There it is. The magic word. You kiss him gently before getting off his lap and trying to get comfortable between his legs. You run your fingers over his probably aching erection, desperate to be released. You fiddle with the fastening of his pants, Steven helps you pull them down and you slide them off his feet.

“Darling, wait...the ground is too hard,” he says gently, holding your shoulder. “You just smile. “I want you in my mouth now”

“naughty girl...” he grins, which sparks fire right between your legs. “How can I say no to that?”

Your mouth is watering when you finally pull down his shorts and his cock presses against his stomach in its full bloom. “So pretty” Before Steven can respond, you kiss the leaking tip and lick it up. The curly-haired man accidentally grabs your hair harshly, which only makes you moan against his cock. You try to take all of him into your mouth, but it seems almost impossible. He's just too big.

“Love...I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for you...” you hear him say softly. This only encourages you even more to take him deeper, so that his cock massages the back of your throat. You don't care. You want him to lose his mind under you. “Bloody hell...” he blurts out, making you grin before you start moving your mouth. Your saliva collects at his base, the sounds of your mouth around his cock making him throb inside you. “Darling…so good…don’t stop,” he blurts out, trying to press his hips against your face. Your fingers claw at his hips, pushing him to the ground. Your pussy leaks at the taste of his cock, his glassy eyes focused on you between his legs. His fingers run through your hair, which falls loosely over your face. “So pretty…if you could see you, love”

You moan around his cock, going faster. You gag, but try to continue with your fast pace. You want to see him coming. Want to hear the highest notes from his velvety lips. Your fingers cup his balls. You suck on him, feeling his thighs start to shake. “Darling…I’m coming…wait”

You keep going, wanting him to cum in your mouth. “hell…I’m coming in your mouth…”

You finally taste his cum on your tongue and hear your name on his lips before you start swallowing everything his cock gives you. You feel some of his juice running down the corner of your mouth. You suck him dry before slowly letting go of him, his cock gently in your hands.

Out of breath, Steven sits up, cups your face to wipe your lips, ridding you of his remains. You take his fingers and put them in your mouth, licking them clean. The curly haired man sucks in a sharp breath. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and alternates them with his lips. You sigh into the kiss, cupping his cheeks. You smile at each other.

“I don’t want to spoil the mood…but my ass is freezing like hell”, the pretty man exclaimes, earning a snort from you and you both heave yourself off the ice-cold floor. “And, already exhausted?” you grin at him, your hand scratching the back of his neck. He smiles, his white teeth biting his bottom lip. “Darling…you just gave me the best blowjob of my life…it would only be fair if I gave it back to you…”

The prospect alone makes your pussy throb around nothing. “If you can do that?” you wink challengingly, which only makes him raise his eyebrows. He takes up your challenge. You grab his hand, leading him to your bedroom. You push him onto the edge of the bed. “Oh you’re so lovely when you’re feisty like this,” he breathes out, looking up at you, desire reflected in his eyes. You brush your fingertips along his chin. “I have to admit...I'm a little excited,” the curly-haired man whispers, his fingertips brushing your arm that you've rested on his shoulder. “Me too…” you reply with a grin. He shakes his head, lowering his head slightly. Your gaze turns to him questioningly. “You don’t quite understand…when I said you gave me the best…you know…that was actually my first”

Steven speaks so quietly that you almost missed it. “Oh,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, without really thinking about his revelation first. “Are you still a virgin?”

His beautiful head nods. You feel bad at the moment. Have you perhaps pushed him to do something he wasn't ready for? “I know how uncomfortable this is for you…”

“Steven,” you interrupt him gently. “Look at me.”

He slowly lifts his head and you immediately hold him, caressing his cheeks. “Why should I be uncomfortable? I just think that if I had known that, I would have slowed down. You don’t have to be embarrassed”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he replies, leaning into the touch of your hand. “You can’t scare me, but I understand your thought process,” you reassure him. “Shall we cuddle?” you ask gently. “Darling…you can’t want to cuddle right now,” he replies in disbelief, making you laugh. "Why not?" Your fingers run through his dark curls again. “Because I want to know what you taste like,” he mumbles, his face bright red. This makes your heart beat faster. “Steven…”

“May I…please?”

How could you say no to that pleading look and words? You are a whole lake down there thanks to him and he would soon discover that for himself. “Fuck okay…” you reply. Everything inside you is tense. He runs his fingers painfully slowly over the contours of your body, which were still far too covered by your clothing. “Darling, will you please take off your clothes for me and lie on the bed?” You nod quickly before literally ripping your clothes off, not avoiding his gaze. You can clearly feel how excited he is, but you can't help it. You also take off your old bra and panties. You would surprise Steven with your good underwear next time. You can't wait to see the look in his eyes when he sees you...

But now he looks at you with shining eyes as you stand completely naked in front of him. You feel like a teenager about to experience his first time. It's your first time too; with him. You close the distance to him, wanting to feel his skin under your fingertips. “Don’t you want to take off your clothes too?” Your heart is pounding even though you already had his cock between your lips. God, his dark eyes looking at you as he unzips his shirt. You see him struggling with the buttons and your fingers are quicker, fumbling around to open those annoying buttons. You're way too impatient. Your hands grasp his shoulders, pulling him onto the bed with you. Steven lets out a surprised sound as he leans over you. Finally he pulls his shirt off his shoulders and throws it on the floor. Suddenly Steven pushes his knee between your legs, rubbing it against your pussy. You gasp and claw at his back, causing a growl to escape him. “Steven…”

“Yeah, Darling?”

“Touch me…please” You no longer recognize the voice that says that. You've never been so desperate...

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “Show me where…”

You reach for his hand, guiding it to your tormenting wetness between your legs. His knee on your pussy disappears, but his fingertips run over your vulva. Everything inside you convulses with anticipation. Two of his fingers tentatively move between your folds. A whimper escapes you as Steven's eyes are on you, watching the movements of your face. His lips part slightly as he moves along your pussy, slowly starting to rub your clit. Your fingers curl into the bed sheets as he explores you. His fingers on your wetness results in the slick sound, which makes you a little uncomfortable. You try to avoid his piercing gaze and close your eyes.

Steven harshly penetrates you with a finger. You suddenly open your eyes and press your pussy against him. “Fuck...Steven...” you gasp out, spurring him to take a second finger and sink it into you harder.

“Exactly like that?” he breathes against your open lips as he rubs his thumb over your clit and you can barely hold yourself up. You mumble unintelligible words, lifting your head to feel his lips on yours. Steven grants you the kiss, your tongues mingling together as he purposefully curls his fingers. This almost made you lose your mind. “Steven oh my God!” you practically screamed, you would definitely wake up the neighbors. “Darling….more of this…” he speaks darkly. And you give it to him with ease. YOU are way too close to your orgasm.

“I..I’m going to cum.”

“Love, cum for me” He kept the pace, rubbing your clit in just the right places. The climax literally hits you. Steven is there, holding you tightly in his arms while his fingers are inside you. He clearly felt your climax. Your pussy throbbed around his fingers and your name left your lips in a strangled moan. Under Seven's lascivious gaze, the waves pull you along. Your hips fell onto the mattress. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, looking at them with fascination. Your juice glistened in the dim light and suddenly he put it in his mouth and licked it clean. This scene literally takes your breath away. With your heart still racing, you watch as Steven suddenly places himself between your legs and pushes your thighs apart. “Steven…What?”

“I have to taste you…” he breathes darkly before he disappears his face between your legs and you have to watch helplessly as the beautiful man devours you. Your thighs automatically close around his head before he grabs the flesh of your thighs and pushes them apart again. You claw at his dark curls, making him moan against your wet pussy. His one hand reaches for your breast, kneading it while his tongue licks your folds. The smacking makes everything even more perverse.

“Steven...I can't take it anymore...oh!”, your whimpers get louder, but Steven doesn't listen to your words, instead he sucks a clit to drive you crazy. How can he be so good? He's a virgin...That doesn't make any sense. Your thoughts are a mess that quickly disappears as the next painful orgasm approaches far too quickly.

“I'm coming - Fuck!” you let out from your lips as everything inside you tenses and you fall onto the mattress. Steven slowly lets go of you and you lift your head, exhausted, to look at him. His lips are shiny with your juices. Your hands pull him towards you so you can press your lips to his and taste yourself. Your skin sticks to his as you start trailing kisses down his jawline and neck. You feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

“Steven…I thought you were a virgin?”

He looks at you with those big, gentle eyes. “I am Darling…did I do well?”

The tingling sensation in your pussy is answer enough. A giggle escapes you. “You just gave me my second orgasm. I think that says it all, right?”

His ears actually turn red. You run your fingers over the warmth of the shell of his ear, a gentle smile on your lips.

“Steven…you’re beautiful.”

He shyly places his head in the crook of your neck and gently kisses the area under which your carotid artery pulsates. “Oh darling…don't flatter me too much”

“It’s no flattery…”, you reply softly, massaging his scalp. “I mean it” Steven buries himself against your body and you let him, feeling his heartbeat against yours, moving in the same rhythm. Oh. Oh.

You like him a little bit too much. Words wait on your tongue, ready to be spilled out, but your mind holds them back. For now you just enjoy his warmth, lulling you slowly into a well needed sleep.

...

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight system #moon knight system x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #smut and feelings #no use of y/n

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littlestl4mb · 12 hours ago

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omg more thoughts on luigi being a taurus man pls…🙏

omg omg ok. disclaimer: i really am not the most knowledgeable about astrology and charts and all that. however i love some good old fashioned pattern recognition 😻 so here are my thoughts abt taurus men that seem like they pertain to luigi too.

first things first, they are STUBBORN. they get stuck in their own ways and do not want anyone disturbing it. because of that, they are also the most argumentative mfs i’ve ever encountered. AND they always have a damn ego. god help you if you encounter a taurus man before he has an ego death 🙏 if you bring up a differing opinion to them that they might actually agree with, they will pretend they disagree in the moment and then later circle back to it and open themselves up to it. but when it’s in the moment, they have to be right and on their own side. they’ve got too much pride. AND i need to emphasize this: you are lucky if they actually change their mind. don’t expect it. but somehow they also really love arguing?? the person they’re arguing with will hate it, but a taurus man LIVESSSS for the debate. he will keep pestering you even if you try to end the argument, like they just can’t help themselves lmfao. they’re a lil arrogant and cocky that way.

while the stubbornness can be difficult to navigate in some situations, it’s kind of endearing in other facets of their personality (imo). even though there are of course many different factors that play into a taurus man’s relationships, i find them to be very loyal men! i can see this being true for luigi. as i’ve experienced it, when a taurus man is into someone, they are all in. they want one specific person and they want them bad!!! like they become full time yearners if they can’t have the person they want. they want the one perfect match for them. nothing else. so they don’t really even bother pursuing anyone else. their heart has to be fully in it 100%, they don’t want to go half way. also, they want everything to be right or they don’t want it at all. some people might think they’re too big of romantic idealists because they are willing to wait for what they think is perfect and well… most people don’t believe in perfect partners. however, a taurus man will tell you that those people are wrong. and a taurus man knows the critics are wrong because they know so clearly when they’ve met the perfect one. and they make it clear to you too. i’m just speculating here ofc, but i wouldn’t be surprised if luigi was this way.

they try to not be super emotional, but somehow in doing that they go full circle into being the most emotional & dramatic man you know. this is because they are so vocal about how they feel, and bc of that aforementioned stubbornness. it makes for some really deep connection though in conversation and relationships. i think it’s nice personally because they don’t shy away from showing you exactly who they are. they are truthful!!! it’s a beautiful trait. and kinda rare in this day and age. and i find that to be very obvious in luigi’s character.

what else… oh yeah, a taurus man LOVES adventure. he can find it in traversing across the globe, he can find it in a walk down the street to the corner store, and he can even find it in as something simple as reading a book on an unknown topic to him (does this ring a bell for a certain someone we know??) they are whimsical as fuck!!! they can find adventure and beauty in everything. and through that, they know how to enlighten those around them too :-) they want to share adventures with others, and they want to share knowledge and learning too bc of that :-) they are just so intellectual!!! and they value it in others— they like people with a similar curiosity for the world as them.

oh! and they are typically very hard workers. they just love to use that brain of theirs in one way or another. having autonomy over their actions life is very important to them (it’s like, their way or the highway lolll).

so yeahhhh luigi deff gives me total typical taurus man vibes <3

#asks #luigi mangione thoughts #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader

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quietstormxr · 3 days ago

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Not a request but I don't have many people to talk about books to so here's a theory. Rebecca said one person's gonna die in book 4, and Vi's squad said they'd all make it to graduation

...what if one dies at graduation. I'm thinking Rhiannon, like she achieves all her goals of being wingleader and such whilst in education but I feel like that role will end up being Violets.

Just a thought, like I said, I feel like this is a safe place to drop it so I've told someone

Please send me all the theories! This is definitely a safe place! ❤️

I only have one book bestie and my fixation on The Empyrean series is a lot, obviously and specifically our Tyrrish men, so I try to not bombard her with things. However, please feel free to bombard me with anything you've got!

Minor OS spoilers…

I completely agree. She stated with Liam that there wasn't any growth left for his character, leading to his death. If that's the case, I can totally see that with Rhiannon too. Especially considering, although we had her POV, she really didn't play much of a role in the story overall for Onyx Storm. Yet, she's important to Violet so the emotional devastation would be high.

She's also always described as being so perfect, which makes me lean to the Liam death theory.

On the other hand, now that I'm thinking about Rhi, perhaps her signet will come in handy when we get down and dirty with the venin? (This is a big hope for me. I need enemy territory to be breeched people!) Although, we never really see her use her signet except for that one scene in FW for the squad battle.

Regarding graduation...

The idea of graduation in OS and the next two just seem so laughable to me. We are supposed to be in an active war and you mean to tell me they are studying for physics and dragon kind??? 🤨 Please....

I totally get the signet sparring, battle brief, hand to hand, general training, and flight maneuvers. I could possibly even see runes and wards, but I in no way think that the first years are going to history class still. What benefit are we getting from that?

We are sending in the second and third years into actual battle and you want me to think they are also going to study for their next test on top of that?

In Samara, it was obvious how hard up they are for actual riders to fight, yet you're going to keep those with manifested signets at Basgiath? Come now. I don't believe any general worth their salt would leave actual weapons out just because they hadn't graduated yet.

Just some of my thoughts. Y'all let me know what you think!

#empyrean series #the empyrean #fourth wing #rhiannon matthias #iron flame #onyx storm #onyx storm theories #rebecca yarros #violet sorrengail #iron squad #liam mairi #onyx storm spoilers

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trek-tracks · 11 hours ago

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Something that I think is interesting about McCoy and Spock's dynamic with each other is that neither of them verbalize their affection, instead preferring to show it via action. The fact that they are simultaneously extremely different and extremely similar, I think, is both the cause of much friction and why that friction is so compelling. It's not just that they're philosophical opposites, it's that, practically, they're often alike with a different veneer or mask. (They probably wouldn't get to each other so much if they didn't recognize this to at least some extent.) Neither of them are much with words that acknowledge their importance to each other; it's Kirk who says, "I need you. Badly!" or "I need him."

In the James Blish novelization of Bread and Circuses, McCoy thinks, "I am very fond of this man," but he says, "I know. I'm worried about Jim too." In The Immunity Syndrome, he can't say "Good luck, Spock" until Spock is out of earshot. Even when he's talking to Kirk, he expresses affection obliquely with lines like "Don't destroy the one named Kirk," and when he's on the verge of death, he expresses his affection to Spock by telling Spock, "You've got a good bedside manner," a nod to McCoy's own caring profession that serves as his highest honour.

While McCoy is driven by emotion, he also relies on it as a mask, just like Spock relies on logic as a mask and excuse for any action he decides to take. We see McCoy take action for Spock again and again at the risk of his own life. He rescues him in The Galileo Seven after fighting with him half the time they're stranded on the planet. He volunteers to die in Immunity Syndrome, and he convinces Kirk to save Spock later at great risk. He risks his own mind and life to save Spock in Spock's Brain. He injects himself with an untested vaccine in Miri for many reasons, one of which being to let Spock get back to the ship. He risks his life to snap Spock back to himself in All Our Yesterdays. He defies thousands of years of Vulcan tradition so Spock won't become a murderer. He holds Spock in By Any Other Name.

He agrees to stay on a doomed spaceship/planet so that Spock won't be executed. He tries to stay with the Platonians because Spock is being humiliated (in fact, many of his nice words about Spock are defending Spock to other people--in The Menagerie to Kirk, in Plato's Stepchildren to the Platonians, in The Omega Glory to the villagers...calling him "the best first officer in the Fleet" when he thinks Spock can't hear (or does he? It would be a great excuse).

And then, of course, there's The Empath, where he allows himself to be tortured to death to prevent Spock from being tortured to insanity--not death, but probably worse than for a Vulcan. Much as Bones says he doesn't understand Vulcan dignity in S2, I think he has a clearer idea in S3, considering how much he risks himself for Spock's mind. I'm not even getting into the movies, but Spock clearly trusts McCoy with his soul, and McCoy clearly proves worthy of that trust--and yet, in the same film, we get the "Jim, be careful" "WE will" exchange, with Spock still withholding the words. It becomes almost a game of tacitly acknowledged chicken by the end of the films, with neither willing to break.

The funny thing is that, while both Spock and McCoy show their regard for each other through actions and not words (and both can be genuinely cruel in words that completely belie their actions), many viewers can see Spock's bluff, but not McCoy's, taking everything the latter says at face value. Perhaps that's because they expect McCoy, being emotional, to mean everything he says and say everything he means. That's pretty obviously not true. (Similarly, a lot of people tend to take Spock's self-aggrandizement and McCoy's self-deprecation at face value, but that's another discussion. There's also the theory that McCoy is reinforcing Spock's preferred Vulcanness by allowing him to push back against his statements.)

McCoy challenges Spock to verbalize his feelings instead of the logic he uses as a mask, and Spock in return challenges McCoy to verbalize the actual feelings he feels, not the ones he's expressing as a mask. But it would be so much less interesting if they both clearly said what they meant, instead of going to increasingly ridiculous lengths to save each other's lives.

This scene is so interesting to me.

We all know Bones accuses Spock multiple times that he isn’t able to love (while knowing it’s not true). Bones and some others around him even accuse him being heartless or unemphatic.

Spock IMMEDIATELY started holding Bones’ hands when he found him when Bones was unconscious. He looks worried and upset. He didn’t know if Bones will die, but even when Kirk came, which was after some time, Spock was still holding Bones’ hands and wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He doesn’t try to wake him up. Just holds his hands.

It looks like he wanted to make sure that if Bones is dying, he won’t be alone. That he will probably feel that Spock is there.

This gesture is touching, and shows how human Spock is, how much he cares for Bones, didn’t want to leave him alone, didn’t go to search for Kirk. It is very touching.

This scene adds a layer to the scene in Bread & Circuses when Bones accuses Spock of being incapable to have a decent warm feeling, to Spock’s reaction “Really, doctor?”. Because he doesn’t want Bones to die not only because it is logical. Probably Spock hoped that Bones knows it, realizes it.

I wonder if Bones felt at this moment Spock’s grip.

It is interesting how Spock often shows signs of affection to Bones, but Bones still doesn’t acknowledge it. Why does Bones want for Spock to acknowledge his affections verbally? Why his actions are not enough for him?

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werezmastarbucks · 2 days ago

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honey badger

masterlist - part 5 of 6

in which you go on a date with yoongi and he turns out to be literally the best human??? who is surprised?

yoongi x reader

word count: 3073

warnings: yoongi speaking about his scooter incident (i will throw hands)

music: crescent moon by aleph, moonlight by anthony lazaro and marle thomson

You pushed the door, with the other hand struggling to push the disobedient strand oh hair behind your ear. You thought of that one absolutely insane lock of hair that always lies next to Yoongi's ear and got an unsurmountable desire to see it as soon as possible. The bag on your shoulder was heavy with your laptop, papers and folders inside, but you spotted him immediately on the sidewalk. Black cap on his head, but his shoulders were straight today, hands in pockets, head turning right and left: he wanted to be seen. Before you managed to even say hello, you noticed the car he was standing next to:

"Of course".

A thought wormed its way into your skull: how much money exactly does he have? Is it googleable? What do you need to brace yourself for?

"What? It's the best car I have".

You felt timid. Yoongi smiled a little shyly, like before, like he didn't choose to take you to a bubble-tea cafe in a Porsche. The type of car people have sex in. At least that's the stereotype. You craned your neck to look at his left ear, where the black crescent was, and satisfaction washed over you.

"Huh? What is it?"

"Nothing", you smiled, "I really like this".

You braved up and touched the strand of hair, brushed the tip of your finger over his cheek. Yoongi didn't budge, but tensed up a little. He didn't drop his smile though.

"Oh, that. I have full head of that".

"Do you know how many hairs an average human has?" you asked, as he circled the ridiculously slick car, sitting there on the road like an expensive toy, and opened the door for you. People were turning their heads.

"No, how many?"

"I don't know".

As he got into the passenger's seat, he looked at you clutching your bag on your knees and carefully took it from you and put it in the back.

"A million hairs?"

"A billion", you suggested, "billion trillion hairs".

He sighed.

"That would be so hard to brush".

"Very heavy", you agreed. You both grinned. He started the car with that pleasant purr, and the car moved, wheel smooth under his palms. Yoongi took off his cap and threw it in the back, too, shaking his head.

"Have you eaten?"

He was asking all these small questions, like, how was your day? What did you do? How did you sleep? You knew the last question was placed carefully in the end not to sound too concerned, because he definitely remembered. All your body wanted to tense up, sitting in this car, the circumstances of going on a date with a freaking millionaire, but as you glanced at him, every time, the nervousness took a step back. That was a good sign: the sight of Yoongi relaxed you. He drove calmly with a frog face, pulling his lips to the sides, entertained by the road, and chatting with you lightly. He didn't really make a big deal about it, spreading his chill to you, so you found it easy to speak to him.

"I was never good at this", he was finding a word, "switch, you know. When do I get to tell you that you look nice? Why can't I say it when we're just friends?"

You realized you were biting your lip when your eyes were on him, and released it.

"Because there's a code, there's friendship vocabulary, and there's romantic vocabulary".

"But girls tell each other that all the time".

"Do you tell Minji if she looks nice?"

The thought of Minji was still somewhat triggering to him, because he scrunched his nose, like at the unpleasant memory.

"Okay, I get it".

He thought a little.

"But I do, sometimes. She likes to hear it".

"You're a good brother".

"Namjoon forced us to be good brothers to Minji".

He stumbled upon his own thought, undoubtedly thinking about the same thing as you,

"Except Seokjin, of course. What the fuck", he whispered to himself.

"You know, she is much happier than she was last year".

He looked at you as if to check if you're lying.

"Really?"

"Yes".

"I love Jin. I do. He is a good man; but I always believed he only loved himself".

"There's always a Minji", you grinned.

"Let's not talk about them", Yoongi sighed, turning the wheel, and the car started slowing down to the curb. You looked outside.

"Because when Namjoon finds out and starts killing people, I want to pretend I didn't know".

He helped you out of the car, took your hand, and it was gentle and firm. The street was crowded, and he clearly was in a good mood, because then his hand pushed you lightly in the small of your back:

"Run, run!"

You sprinted towards the doors of the cafe; he left the cap in the car. Whether he really wanted to get out of the street, or just played, you went along.

He asked about your work; he pushed a little muffin towards you across the table, that he insisted you eat after the salad you'd ordered; Yoongi had a habit of looking to the side, at the invisible spot in the air, when he spoke about something serious. He didn't know where to put his hands, sitting his elbows on the table, then hiding them, then running his hands through his hair; like what he really wanted to do was to hold yours. But conversation went easily and the understanding you immediately caught back then, in September, was a great foundation for pushing out the awkwardness of a first date. Yoongi managed to immediately understand what you were talking about, and vice versa. You helped him with some English words, and he confessed that he always thought that 'unbearable' is connected with a bear, the animal. More bears, or fewer bears, depending on how hard it is. You told him his imagination was not too far off. You debated with yourself whether it's worth telling him what internal conflict you have, and decided he'd understand, too.

"I was very unwilling to go to the party in the first place", you explained.

"Namjoon's birthday?"

"Yes. And then, just, I have this negative prejudice against idols".

You looked at him honestly. Yoongi didn't seem shaken at all.

"I don't feel like an idol", he said, "I think of myself as a musician. That suits me better. I like music more. I would prefer to just make music, for myself and for people".

"How did you end up in the biggest band in the world then?" hearing this out loud was so scary that you thought, you should run. The way he laughed with only his shoulders stopped you.

"They tricked me. They straight up lied to me and said I will produce music. Next thing I know, I am dancing my ass off and Hoseok is yelling at me".

He bowed his head and scratched his temple, restless hands.

"You treat me like a normal person. Like a human".

"That doesn't happen?"

His eyes searched the space for an answer. It took him a while.

"No".

"What about the other members? It's very clear you are family".

"Yes, but they are all also... not human now. You know? They don't get to do normal things. Buy food in the supermarket", he paused after each sentence, "hold hands with someone".

"Don't you have any free time at all?" you wondered. He shook his head.

"It's not that. We have free time. We are just afraid, always".

You felt so bad for him, for the way the industry crafted them all, granted them with straight, white teeth, smooth skin, ethereal wolfcuts, perfect chins and the desireability of angels, and then severed their drive to live and use all of that. It was worse than claustrophobic, like they were all in chokeholds, all the time. It must be a very narrow path to choose to live like that, a path that only significantly unique people would choose. Yoongi looked at you like he was recording your face with his eyes, with a kind of anxious question, trying to predict what you'd say, what you'd think of him. You realized that he was as scared of you, as you were of his baggage. Then you realized your baggage was maybe lighter, and of different sort, but still nothing to be jovial about. You wanted to lift him up a little. He was, after all, yours for the day, and deserved to smile. It dawned on you that you might no have your happy ever after with him, but today would last for exactly as long as it's supposed to.

You left the cafe quietly happy, the both of you, and he took you home without asking for more. Only, for a second date? You nearly forgot your bag in his labyrinth-like car. He had to dive inside, his ass up, to get it out.

When you fell in love, you hated the way your brain handled it. You'd lose appetite completely, and you'd get very jumpy. You'd get dizzy occasionally, like the room would start spinning. The good side of it this time was, though, that the PTSD symptoms were absolutely rummaged and buried under the new stress factor. Now you couldn't sleep because you were nervous all the time, and not because the sounds of the street scared you. The nightmares changed: instead of the standard car crash, you started getting the weird dream in which you kept falling and falling into pinkish-dark abyss with nothing to hold on to.

You discovered that you could only eat when Yoongi was literally in front of you, like your brain used him as a hook to ground and distract itself. While it admired his face, you could stuff as much food in yourself as you could, replenishing involuntary starvation.

"Oh?" he was a little concerned.

"Why do you not eat?" he immediately pushed another plate towards you. The table was already full of it, but he wanted you to have meat in view.

"I'm too nervous", you replied, your face like a stone, "I think I am falling for you, hard".

You were too adult to mince your words about it. Plus, Yoongi said it first. Nevertheless, he got flustered and lowered his eyes, pouting a little. You noted this reaction.

"You should eat", was all he could muster.

"I am", you replied and put a huge piece of chicken into your mouth. He was chewing his upper lip for a second, then gathered his courage again.

"You are very beautiful when you eat", he said. You froze in your place, in between the two motions of jaws. He shrugged, like, I said what I said, and got to his own plate.

"Only when I eat?"

"No, not only when you eat".

"That's a strange kink to have".

He chucked into his dish and looked up at you.

"You know what I meant", then: "have you thought about a cat?"

You nodded,

"I keep postponing, I don't know, why. I have a stable job, really, I am just being cowardly about it. I just have to get a pet, a lizard, a rat, whatever".

"What's your favorite animal?" he asked. You didn't need to think even a second:

"Honey badger".

Yoongi made a face.

"Huh? What's that?"

He took out his phone and googled because the picture just didn't click in his head.

"Aah. He looks like... that... you know Hugh Jackman movie?"

"Yes, wolverine. Fun fact: the characterization of Wolverine in the comics and the movies is more suitable for a honey badger rather than a wolverine. Honey badgers are the psychopaths of the animal world. They will fight whoever, whenever, and they are incredibly tough. It's almost impossible to kill them. Some of them have such thick skin that some bullets can't pierce it. Also", you pointed the chopstick at him. Yoongi was listening with his perfect mouth open,

"The skin of a honey badger is not connected to its... uh, flesh? and muscles, so it can twist inside its own skin. If a tiger grabs it with the teeth by the neck, honey badger can twist and turn around and bite the tiger in the face. They are incredibly tough. They are savage. They are great survivalists".

He nodded, impressed.

"I thought you'd say a cat, or a butterfly, but I like it".

"What is yours, Yoongi?" He shook his head,

"Y/N, I haven't thought about his since high school. I have no idea. I love Holly".

"I don't see him much anymore", you complained, "why don't you take him with you?"

Yoongi looked caught up. He opened his mouth and stared above you.

"About that... I, ugh, had to take him to parents. They really... I decided that I travel too much, and just, constantly moving him is not good".

"Oh", you got upset, "I thought you'd ask to babysit him again sometime".

"I'm sorry. My mom also asked to see him. They really wanted him. He's very popular", he looked guilty.

"Alright", you sighed, "where do your parents live?"

"In Daegu. It's about three hours away from Seoul".

"Oh, long way".

"I like driving. I missed driving", he said, brushing his hand across his face, and smiled a little, hiding something in between his lips.

"Have you heard about it?"

You shook your head no.

"Oh right, you weren't here at the time". Yoongi's face changed to amused expression.

"I fell off a scooter and had my license revoked for two years".

"Electric scooter?" you clarified, shocked.

"Yes, I was a little drunk. I scarred my knee a little".

You chuckled.

"Dammit, some laws here are very tough. Dude, people who find it criminal wouldn't survive a day in Europe".

His smile was big and unsure. You gave him a long look.

"What?"

"I don't know if you want to hear this, with your hatred of the industry".

"Go on".

"People started sending me death threats and In was almost kicked out of the band".

"Sorry, what? For falling off an electric scooter?"

Yoongi laughed now. He was laughing now, but the tone of this laugh clearly showed what he had to go through to be able to laugh now.

"It's tough. It was tough. But I got my license back".

"So, you get it every time you do anything out of the ordinary", you concluded. He nodded. Right before your eyes, the missing pieces of the puzzle were joining and completing the picture. His quiet stoicism was coming through clearly now, explaining why he was so patient with his life and people around. Yoongi finished his glass of beer and said,

"The first time when we had a girl in our music video, we were boycotted for half a year, and lost nominations for MAMA".

You covered your ears with your hands because you wanted to unhear this.

"But it helps you to understand how to navigate in this world. It builds the character, you know, things like that".

"Hatred and death threats?"

He nodded,

"Yes. It always helped me work. You know, are you listening to music here while we're here?"

You nodded. The soft, toned down soundtrack from the radio was playing on the background, flowing from one song into another.

"We've been here, how much, an hour?" he looked at his phone for time, "Seven songs played, that I wrote".

It was nice to see him unlock this side. Yoongi's arms were resting calmly on the edge of the table. Even if he was trying to impress, you felt he had a full right. It weaved a meaningful message. It made you change the lense through which you viewed him.

"You are a honey badger", you realized. His eyes lit up a little, pleased with the unexpected words.

"That's crazy".

He lifted way more than eighty, that's what he meant. You hoped he understood that you'd never forget it, too. There was previously absent determination in his look, a shade of pride. Paired with the salmon-pink of his superior smile, it was almost completely irresistible.

You decided to walk off the weight of food after dinner. Your heels clicked rythmically on the sidewalk as Yoongi walked beside you. When he held the door for you, he took your hand to help you step over the threshold and never released it. He got tired of speaking about himself, quite pleased with the bomb equivalent of information he gave you, and switched to you, acting petulant if you asked something back. His dark cat eyes begged you to remove himself from the conversation as he silently gushed over you.

You walked to the river and took to the embankment. It reminded you of the night you walked with Holly in the dark park, and you told Yoongi about it. He smiled with the corner of his mouth, his long hair covering his eyes. You touched his right shoulder as the memory of his trauma came back, too. You were learning about his silent cues. He didn't lean forward but didn't flinch either, like a statue that craved to be in contact. As you approached a curve in the road, Yoongi's hand suddenly slid across your waits, and he lifted you up with his strong right hand. With that, he sat you onto the parapet. You adjusted the skirt of your bodycon dress to release your knees, and Yoongi stepped closer, holding you in place.

"Aren't I supposed to face river?" you asked. Yoongi stepped to your side, putting your knees against his hip.

"No", he said simply. The halo of dark-green trees behind him. May was swinging its heavy summer bat. The river smelt of grass and earth, giving strange, home-like comfort. Yoongi's hands were resting on your sides securing you in your place so that you wouldn't move, like he was aiming for surgical accuracy. Your lips touched his open plump mouth, and immediately you bit him, because you wanted to do it for the longest time, maybe even on the first day as you met him and his local pout. Maybe you should've thrown yourself at him back there at the bar, while you were in your SPOILT top, and he, in his full black mourning attire. Maybe he would've even refused to push you away.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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overlordneon · 2 days ago

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tell us more abt ran??

RAN? My Zutara steambaby? Dragon of the Southern Water Tribe? Red twin? Sun Warrior? THAT Ran?

GLADLY! I've sortof reworked details of their backstory since I last talked about them anyways. Here's a lengthy ramble about her I guess...

So as you may or may not know already- Ran and Shaw were both raised in the Southern Water Tribe. Katara actually opted to do it alone (she was worried about introducing the two kids to the stresses of FIre Nation poltiics. Zuko respected her choice, hoping to avoid repeating the same relationship as him and his sister.

So neither of the kids knew who their father really was until the day that Ran started firebending. She was pretty sensitive as a kid, basically scared about everything and running to either her mom at anything scary- including her shooting fire out of her fist.

After that Katara finally came clean to them both and told them all about their dad. He would come to the Tribe to visit from then on but Ran wasn't super eager to learn firebending. For the longest time, she would've much rather prefferred to have been a waterbender, having the power to heal people like her brother and mom was something she really wanted. It took a lot of encouragement from her brother before she decided to give it a try. Zuko would try his best to teach her during his visits for a while but they realized that it was going to be better for Ran if they moved to the Fire Nation for her training (it took Katara a lot of convincing to agree to it.) And making it publicly known who his children were.

Being around so many more firebenders was a bit of a culture shock to both Ran and Shaw, where Ran felt a lot less like the freaky firebender of the family. It caused a major flip in her personality. She became much more of a hothead, (a lot like her parents) to counteract her brother's cooler and relaxed temperaments. She took her training a lot more seriously, getting more and more competitive and headstrong as a bender. For better or worse, Zuko saw a lot of Azula in her. When she was around 15 or so, Zuko would be the one to suggest that she should train with the Sun Warriors, feeling it would be the best way to keep her on a good path.

Her time training with the Sun Warriors was not the easiest. With neither her status as the Firelord's daughter or the familiarity of her home in the Southern Tribe she had to work to earn her place there, this included a lot of grunt work, cleaning up after dragons included. And while it was forbidden for any of them to directly interact with the Dragons (or their hatchlings) Ran would essentially do the thing where you feed the dog scraps under the table and leaving him meat treats. I think Shaw would briefly come to train alongside her for a bit there too. I imagine that part where she would finally earn the respect of her Sun Warrior peers would be something like... her confronting some aspiring firebenders that arrived to hunt the young Druk for sport. "You came here to make a name for yourself by killing a dragon but you'll have to settle for losing to one." It would still be some time later in her life before she would earn the official title of "Dragon" and finally return to her family. Around 19 i think? Druk coming along with her as they had bonded pretty strongly.

That's most of the rundown of her lore wise. She's set on bringing Sun Warrior philosophies to modern firebending, treating fire as a form of life rather than a force of destruction or power and in a way it made her feel more connected to her mother and brother too, no longer feeling like she was on opposing ends from from their elements.

And that's what I've got worked through so far. If you'd rather learn something specific feel free to ask more details. Ask me about Shaw next, how he's off breaking the women-as-healers stereotypes and working to implement bloodbending into healing practices (sortof against his mother's wishes). If the next Avatar series doesn't give us at least one male waterbender healer, I'll riot.

Side note but Avatar Wiki giving me better fuel for naming the twins after the dragons. Shaw is blue twin and Ran is red twin.

#i need to do some touch ups to the Watertribe outfit tbh #zutara #steambabies #nextgen #oc #ran

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stradakiev · 1 day ago

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Ok I’ll talk about it

I love this idea and agree with it soooooooo much and it’s my favorite Martha take ever

From Martha’s first story Smith and Jones she is figuring things out as if the doctor would without first seeing the doctor do it. She talks about how the windows aren’t exactly air tight and that there must be something keeping the air in. She figures out the genetic transfer, gets the Jadoon to catch the plasmavore, and brings the doctor back so he can fix the scanner. If you want to dig deeper with this episode the doctor is not introduced as his character he is John smith and Martha is studying to be a doctor. Foreshadowing she will play his role at the end of the season.

We don’t see much of this in the second episode because it her out of here element for real this time and she’s taking it in but still a very active character in the story.

Gridlock we get to see Martha separated from the doctor and kidnapped onto the highway. Martha is the one descending to the lower lanes and learning the stories of the sounds at the bottoms and putting the pieces together. It’s her quick thinking to turn the engines off to save them until the city was open by the doctor and they could drive up.

Daleks take manhattan and evolution of the daleks is when we see Martha start to boss the doctor around. Unlike other companions we’ve seem Martha spends a lot of her initial time traveling with the doctor actually away from him. When the doctor wants to just go off and see why the daleks changed their minds she asks if he’s just going to leave Hooverville to die. She is the one thinking of how to keep people alive like a doctor like the doctor. I like to think that the doctor hiding from the daleks behind Martha is symbolic of the doctor hiding from his grief and in many ways responsibilities and becoming more reckless while Martha holds things together.

The Lazarus experiment- the only part of this episode I want to focus on is the ending. The doctor suggests “one more trip” and she tells him she’s not going to keep doing it like that and that it’s either a full time passenger or good bye and the doctor agrees to it. Her being the one to have the power to chose to travel with him and be a full time companion makes her fulfill the role of the doctor as she decides who will be traveling in the tardis and he agrees like a companion typically does to an invitation.

42 her and the doctor are again apart for most of the episode and once the doctor has saved Martha he is possessed for the rest of the time while Martha cools his temperature and ejects the fuel from the sun saving both the day and the doctors life. So again companion doctor reversal once the doctor has saved her from imminent death.

Human nature and the family of blood- do I need to go into it? The doctor literally turns into a human and leaves everything up to Martha so she is the doctor for the episode and is the only one using the tardis (we’ve never seen her touch the console this much).

Blink- my man isn’t processing his grief with rose and now is separated from his ship. I can only imagine how much he was struggling. Martha was keeping them afloat with her job in the shop.

Utopia and the sound of drums!!! You can see Martha this whole episode just process more and more how poorly she’s been treated by the doctor by the way he interacts with jack and the stories of rose. She moves the story around narratively with the watch which. From here to where he family is kidnapped in the next episode (and we get the iconic scene of her yelling at the doctor) she is transforming herself through her actions until when she finally uses the vortex manipulator (the first type of time travel she has used by herself) she becomes the doctor.

Last of the time lords Martha is fully acting in the doctor role walking the whole worlds by herself without a weapon spreading a message of home. Her message is the doctor but in that moment she is the doctor. She embodies everything he is while he is removed from having control in the story.

I think the sound of drums/last of the time lords is Martha’s version of dark water/death in heaven. Martha is a lot more emotionally healthy than Clara and also has a live she has dreams for on earth so she chooses to leave. Martha has to cope with the consequences of becoming the doctor so she becomes a unit soldier I think to cope with how she has changed fundamentally but it also nicely brings those two lives together for our successful Queen. Whereas Clara becomes the doctor and no longer has anything or any dreams connecting her to earth to she toxically spirals out until she dies and then becomes not human so we love our toxic queen too

So basically I like to call season 3 the season the doctor was numbing his grief with reckless decisions, straight up not existing, and he’s classic running from it with adventures bc they have a savior complex. He got away with falling apart this much for a whole season bc Martha is a queen and held shit together.

Clara becomes the Doctor but can we talk about how Martha is also the Doctor. Besides being an actual doctor, she also becomes a soldier and tries to justify it to herself. She went through hell and saved the earth and bore that weight alone, and was never thanked for it. In the Doctors Daughter she is forced to watch as her Hath "companion" sacrifices themself for her and dies horribly, and she has to leave them behind. Is this thing on

#Martha jones deserves your respect #Clara became the doctor because she wanted to #Martha becomes the doctor because the doctor is being an absent father #if you think about it the master made Martha into the doctor and Missy made Clara into the doctors #doctor who #martha jones #clara oswald #freema agyeman #10th doctor #12th doctor #I love narrative parallels

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hvnsinureyes · 23 hours ago

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𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃’ 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈. . . | luka dončić

summary | luka gets a new car and somehow you end up giving him head in it. whoops!

warnings | nsfw!— m. receiving oral, road head (do not do this in real life 😭)

author’s note | inspired by this…also i haven’t written smut in months so, sorry, i tried! practice makes perfect ig?

luka always had an eye for cars. you always forget the exact number of how many he owns, but it’s definitely somewhere in the double digits. lately, he’s been raving about wanting a new one– a bugatti.

truthfully, you don’t know a thing about cars. but it’s hot when he starts going into detail about the mechanics of a car, the engine and its horsepower, what the brand is known for– all that car guy stuff. his eyes get excited, his accent gets even thicker, and you get to watch his veiny hands wave around as he explains to you.

it was only a matter of time until he bought it.

“what happened to being responsible with your money?” you ask, teasing as you elbow him. the bugatti sits in the driveway of your shared home, sparkling under the hot californian sun. after all, the only thing stopping him from getting the car in the first place was the price. he only shrugs, a sheepish look on his face.

“he gave me a good deal,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “i couldn’t say no.”

“couldn’t? or you didn’t want to?”

the silence he gives speaks volumes. you’ve come to learn luka can never say no to two things: you and sports cars.

“luka…”

“anyways,” luka moves on quickly, bringing you closer to the car, tracing his hand against its curves, “i wanna take you out, drive it around for a bit.”

“but–”

“please, come on, baby.” he says, eyes pleading for you to say yes. he even bends his knees to get down to your eye level. “i promise i’ll go slow. nothing crazy, 10 minutes and we’ll be back home.”

you sigh, giving in as always. “fine.” luka beams at you, pulling you towards the passenger door and opening it for you. the interior of the car is somehow even better than the outside, with pure colored leather seats and an elegant design. luka quickly slides into the driver’s seat, the car roaring into life as he shifts gears. the whole time, he wears a proud smirk, as if he’s saying, “it’s nice, isn’t it?”

and you can’t help but agree.

the bugatti drives smoothly on the road, air filled with the small murmur of chatter between you and luka, just talking about random aspects of your day and what you plan to do later. although you try to distract yourself by admiring the surrounding area, the way luka looks right now is starting to get to you. he’s gorgeous, a better sight than the pink and orange hued sunset outside.

sweatpants hanging dangerously low— showing off a tiny piece of his happy trail in the process— sharp eyes focused on the road, large hands flexing against the steering wheel (when really, they should be on you). maybe its the air he drives with, confident and… manly.

or you’re just horny. two things can be true at the same time after all.

you look down at his pants and grin, knowing no matter when or where, he’s always needing you somehow. “luka? sweetheart?” he hums, still looking at the road as he steers.

“try not to get distracted.”

he’s quick to arch a brow and ask you what you mean, until he feels your nails creeping closer to his groin. oh. your eyes flick over to him, seeing if he’s against it at all, but there’s no change in his demeanor— except for a light blush on his cheeks.

taking your seatbelt off, you lean closer to his crotch area, untying his sweatpants so you can finally get to what you’ve been craving for. luka lifts himself up to let you bring down his pants a bit, the tent in his boxers finally exposed.

the moment you start to palm his boner, luka quickly curses out in slovenian, darkened eyes flickering down to see you and your shit-eating grin. it’s almost laughable how easy it is to get him to fold so quickly. it makes you want to ruin him even more. “c’mon, don’t tease,” he says, frustrated with you.

“what makes you think you’re in any position to tell me what to do?”

“i can pull over right now and show you myself.”

fair, you think as you pull down his boxers, aching cock popping out. he’s hard, no surprise.

with the bat of your eyelashes, you drag your tongue up the shaft of his cock, bringing your mouth down to take him all in. “ah, fuck me,” his breath hitches, overwhelmed by the warm feeling of your mouth.

on instinct, luka weaves a hand into your hair, grip tight but not painful. you can tell he’s more on edge now, seriously doing his best to make sure the two of you don’t end up on the news for such a reckless act. you feel the car slow down a bit, luka using his hand to guide you up and down his cock.

the sinful noises of you gagging on his dick echo throughout the car, spit and drool gathering in your mouth, making a white ring around his base. “keep going, just like that, baby,” he says, voice rough. you let him thrust his hips up, fucking your mouth as you gag around him.

“where do you want it? your mouth?”

you nod, desperate, pleas muffled by his cock. with a grunt, luka moans out your name, tears forming in the corner of his eye. you feel ropes of cum hit the back of your throat, swallowing every drop until he finally lets you up.

he lets go of your hair as he pants, trying to get his breathing even once again. that was risky— but hot. “you’re…” he trails off, “dangerous. very dangerous.”

“you still liked it though,”

“hell yes, of course,” you giggle at his silliness. you glance at the front view mirror, gazing at the state of you, mascara ruined, hair messy, spit coating your lips. even when you look a mess, he doesn’t hesitate to bring your lips to his, tongues clashing as he tastes himself on you.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says, breathless. you smile, shrugging shyly. now it’s luka’s turn to look as if he wants to ruin you. the car's speed changes suddenly, luka pressing down on the gas. there’s only one destination on his mind. you whip your head towards luka confused, “what happened to going slow?”

“we need to get home quick. i can’t wait anymore.”

“for what?”

“what else? i need to take care of you too.”

#rennie writes #luka doncic x reader #luka dončić x reader #luka dončić #luka doncic #nba imagine #nba imagines #if this is genuinely bad pls lmk cuz the amount of time i took to edit this was insane

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no-namenerd · 12 hours ago

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Hello Sanders Sides Tumblr! I have made a connection that I haven't seen many people talking about so I thought I would share!

We all know that each side encompasses more than what their title suggests. For this post we'll be focusing on Janus(I don't know how to make text yellow so he's going to be orange) and Roman. We've learned from specifically POF that Janus is more of a self preservation side rather than purely "deceit," the more negative term being "selfishness."

Throughout every episode that Janus has had a main part in Roman is also present. And I believe that this has to do with the fact that Roman is not only creativity but also c!Thomas's hopes and dreams and ambitions, generally all very selfish desires. Whether or not it is intentional by the costume designers, Romans outfit includes small notes of gold on it, a commonly yellow color but also can be a symbol of greed(think of Robin Hood and all that). This is why I believe Roman has such a problem with Janus, because Roman is supposed to be a morally "good" figure for Thomas. He's supposed to be his hero.

In Selfishness V. Selflessness, Janus possesses the metaphor of "life being like a pinata," and says that it has the stuff you want inside and Roman says quietly, almost to himself "do I." He doesn't want to fully admit that he agrees with Janus for wanting things for selfish reasons because that's not what a hero does, they do it because they know it's right. Which are exactly the arguments that Patton uses in POF.

If I keep going with this post I'm just going to end up repeating myself and regurgitating information from the episodes. All of this is to say that Roman has such a big issue with Janus because he truly agrees with him on such a level that goes against his morals.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #janus sanders #ts janus #roman sanders #ts roman

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sal-absinthii · 1 hour ago

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It is frustrating when people make a show about how open-minded they are but then apply it inconsistently

That being said, I would still have an issue with it even if they weren't also being hypocrites about it, for the same reason the entire ~body positivity~ thing went so off the rails when it started getting flattened into "everyone's beautiful!" (which, I'm sorry, but it's just not true -- beautiful is a relative descriptor indicating that something has more beauty than another and by definition cannot all be equal; what an individual considers beautiful can certainly be very different from another individual's idea of beauty, and it's true that no matter what a person looks like, there is probably someone out there who thinks that is the height of beauty, but that does not mean everyone is obligated to find everything and everyone beautiful) when it was supposed to be "your worth as a person doesn't change based on how many people consider you beautiful."

I know there are people in the fandom who get extremely upset when Snape is called ugly, and insist that he's actually very attractive. Now, that is entirely subjective and they are perfectly free to consider him attractive. However, I have a problem with this weird knee jerk reaction some of them have about it where no one else is allowed to think he's ugly. Whether or not you personally have conventional tastes, he is not described as being conventionally attractive, and I think it's important to be ok with that as well, to accept that how he looks definitely causes people to judge him, but that it doesn't actually say anything about him as a person. And to that end, I don't think there needs to be a reason why his hair is greasy or his teeth are crooked or whatever. It's possible he has some skin condition, it's possible he has sensory issues...but something rubs me wrong about the line of thinking that involves finding some "excuse" (especially when there's absolutely nothing remotely in canon about it) as to why he's "allowed" to look a certain way, because the unspoken implication is still that appearance matters, and he gets a pass because of some special circumstance, and that if he is actually just a regular neurotypical straight white man without any other issues it would not be acceptable, and it's only acceptable as long as we can come up with a reason. You are actually allowed to think that something is unattractive regardless of why (biology, aesthetic or cultural choice, situation, condition, etc) and you are not obligated to defend that, at the same time, you probably shouldn't be going around bullying people for features beyond their control whether you know the reason or not. I dunno, this just gets into a lot of identity politics issues I find very fucked up about Tumblr.

I know the point of this post was about the hypocrisy and not whether Snape's good-looking or not and I fully agree with that. I just additionally think that those people's fundamental premise of "everyone's beautiful! uwu" is itself missing the real point and I am strongly on team Let People Be Ugly.

I love how the Marauders fandom is like everybody is perfect the way they are, they can be black, brown, white, fat, skinny, tall, short, everyone is pretty. Except Snape, no no no, he cannot be pretty, he has greasy hair, you cannot be pretty with greasy hair

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jazeswhbhaven · 20 hours ago

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I'm going to be that person. I do want to see WHB end because while that game needs work, my personal issue is PB. I don't have the time to play the game often but I came across the reddit post where the Vday event daily gifts are like... 10 golden keys and that's it. And from the previous daily gifts we gotten like the Anniversary? If WHB has to sink so PB suffers a loss for being scummy, I'm all for it. Sorry everyone.

I saw this and I wasn't sure how to answer 😭 now I do....

I won't lie, although I did have fun toward the end of the event reading about Ro and Dan, the Vday event just felt...bleh. Last year we got Beel's Butt card for free and this year all we got was an artifact I'm not even sure if it's useful...and then another artifact as well for the event story. I kinda miss us having the option to clear the event in one day and grinding for the rest of the month it's out but I can see why they changed it to a daily thing. Also, I do feel that more could be done with this game. A couple of my friends agree that PB just needed more time with this and it would have been great. We ain't getting the red keys in the pancake shop back, nor are we going to see less of Nightmare Passes and frequent chapter updates. I think the past year has set expectations (for me anyway) and I'm like ya know...whatever happens happens at this point because there's only ever so much PB can do about it because they do have to answer to someone higher up. I'll say it again....this game would of been so much better with just the 7 kings, 7 routes, and a pay once and you play as many times as you want with some DLC content if you want to romance a king's nobles instead. Oh well though.

#jwhbasks❓#whb critique

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mosertone · 2 days ago

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via Volodymyr Vlad Kunko

I’m calling it as it is. I dont care whether you agree with me or not, just check your response with your gut. My gut never lies to me.

I’ve had my suspicions all along about this stooge. He’s not intelligent enough to pull this off by himself. We better hope that all the social security numbers and tax info that Muskrat just uploaded from SSA and IRS from every single american citizens account, doesn’t end up in Putin’s files. Whoever has that info can potentially wipe out every dime we have and can potentially fund a world takeover:

There is something rancid in America, a slow, creeping rot that smells like cold McDonald’s fries, aerosol hairspray, and the unmistakable musk of a country too sedated to recognize its own hostage situation. For years, the idea that Donald Trump was compromised by Russia was dismissed as paranoid fantasy—just another wild-eyed conspiracy theory, another overblown headline in the endless saga of American political dysfunction.

But now, two former Soviet intelligence officers—Alnur Mussayev and Yuri Shvets—are saying it outright: Trump was recruited by the KGB in 1987, groomed as an asset, and remains under Russian control to this day.

And the worst part? He’s already back in the White House.

That’s right, America. You did it. You walked face-first into the banana peel of history, slipped, and fell straight into the arms of Vladimir Putin. Trump was kicked out in 2020, spent four years plotting his comeback, and now he’s returned, like a bloated, orange cockroach that just won’t die. The Kremlin’s favorite stooge is running the country again, and this time, he knows exactly how to stay in power.

If you think this is just another round of the Trump Show, you’re not paying attention. This isn’t politics anymore. This is treason. This is foreign subversion. This is a goddamn coup in slow motion.

Let’s break it down, nice and simple.

Alnur Mussayev isn’t some Twitter conspiracy theorist with a tinfoil hat and a podcast. He’s the former head of Kazakhstan’s National Security Committee, which means he knows exactly how Russian intelligence works—because he was part of the system. And what he’s saying should make every American’s blood run cold.

According to Mussayev, Trump was identified, recruited, and compromised by the KGB in 1987 during his first trip to Moscow. They saw him for what he was: a narcissistic, greedy, attention-starved buffoon who could be easily manipulated. The KGB flattered him, promised him business deals, and planted the seeds of political ambition in his empty little head. And from that moment on, he was their man.

But Mussayev isn’t alone. Former KGB major Yuri Shvets said the exact same thing in 2021: Trump was cultivated by Soviet intelligence because he was an easy mark—too stupid to realize he was being played, too egotistical to care. They saw him as a useful idiot—a man who could one day be nudged into power, a walking, talking Trojan Horse for Russian interests.

And now? The plan has worked. Trump spent four years in office weakening America from within, got booted out, and now he’s back for round two.

If you had told the American public in 1962 that a Soviet-backed asset would one day sit in the White House, they would have burned Washington to the ground before letting it happen. But today? Nobody seems to care.

The media treats this like just another wacky subplot in the never-ending Trump reality show. Congress is too busy fighting over meaningless culture war nonsense to do anything about it. And the American public? Exhausted. Numb. Checked out. Years of scandals—Russia collusion, Ukraine blackmail, classified documents, tax fraud, sexual assault, an attempted coup—have fried the country’s brain like an overcooked steak at Mar-a-Lago.

Trump has done the impossible. He has committed so many crimes, so openly, so brazenly, that none of them matter anymore.

And now, with Mussayev’s revelation that Trump is an active foreign asset, we have finally reached the point where the biggest political scandal in American history is met with a collective shrug.

This is how democracy dies—not with a bang, but with a goddamn eye-roll.

This is the part where the skeptics start clutching their pearls. “Oh, come on,” they say. “If Trump were really a Russian asset, wouldn’t there be more proof?”

To which I say: Are you blind, or just willfully stupid?

Let’s go through the evidence, shall we?

Trump spent his entire first term doing exactly what Russia wanted. He attacked NATO, calling it “obsolete” and threatening to pull the U.S. out. He tried to blackmail Ukraine into manufacturing dirt on Joe Biden, because weakening Ukraine helps one man and one man only: Vladimir Putin. He pulled U.S. troops out of Syria, handing power over to Russian forces. He picked fights with Canada and Europe while cozying up to dictators.

Even now, in his second term, he is more openly pro-Putin than ever. He has made it clear that he will not protect NATO allies from Russian aggression. He is actively dismantling America’s alliances, just as Russia planned. And while Americans scream at each other over whether Target should sell rainbow t-shirts, Trump is quietly selling the country to the Kremlin.

At some point, you have to stop calling it a coincidence and start calling it what it is: treason.

The United States is running out of time. If Trump serves out this term without being removed, America as a functioning democracy is finished.

The media needs to wake up. Enough with the “Trump fatigue” excuse. This is not just another scandal—this is the single greatest infiltration of American power in history. Journalists need to dig into Mussayev’s claims, demand declassification of intelligence files, and treat this like the national emergency that it is.

Congress needs to subpoena Mussayev immediately. His testimony must be public, and every document he has should be reviewed. If there is proof that Trump has been compromised since the 1980s, the American people need to know.

The Justice Department needs to stop pretending that Trump is just another politician. If there is evidence that the sitting president of the United States is working in Russia’s interests, he must be removed from office and prosecuted for espionage.

And the American public? You have one last chance. This is not about Republican vs. Democrat. This is not about taxes, gas prices, or whatever nonsense outrage is dominating the news today. This is about whether the United States remains a sovereign nation, or if we spend the rest of the century as a Russian client state with a golf course.

The sheer volume of Trump's corruption, the blatant nature of his crimes, the mountain of evidence that should have ended his political career a hundred times over—none of it mattered. He survived it all, not because he was innocent, but because he drowned the country in so much scandal that nothing stuck.

But this time, it’s different. If Mussayev and Shvets are right, this isn’t just another chapter in the endless Trump circus. This is the culmination of a decades-long Russian intelligence operation to install an asset in the White House.

There is no coming back from this. If America lets Trump serve out this term without removing him, then the United States as a democratic republic is finished. The country won’t collapse overnight. There won’t be tanks in the streets. Instead, the destruction of democracy will happen in slow motion—buried under lawsuits, propaganda, and corruption so blatant that people stop caring.

If America lets this happen—if Trump is allowed to complete his mission—then Putin wins. The West crumbles. And the people who could have stopped it will look back, years from now, and wonder how they let it happen.

Good night, and good luck. Because if people don’t wake up, America is going to sleepwalk straight into its own funeral.

Hangnailias Nix

18h

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