#and the lack of long lasting effect
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time-awa-y · 2 months ago
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Dragon age veilgaurd, although a beautiful game, honestly should of spent more time on the story then on the graphics.
Everyone likes the story of dragon age even when the graphics looked like they did in origins and the reason most people dislike veilgaurd is because it lacks story and choices.
Not to mention the ending is a bit underwhelming, like even the end monologue didn't have much going for it.
They made a beautiful game instead of a good story.
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danielnelsen · 5 months ago
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things aren’t going well with peach. while i think my dad’s very right to be concerned that she hasn’t eaten anything in nearly 60 hours (obviously i am too), im becoming increasingly concerned that she hasn’t slept at all in around 36 hours and prior to that she was under anaesthetic, which isn’t exactly restful, so it’s closer to 48 hrs
like dad took her back to the vet today and we’ve got injections for her painkillers now because she’s not eating, and also injections for fluids (because she doesn’t drink; she only gets water from her food), so the not eating is Bad but also kinda under management, but if she doesn’t sleep soon i’m extremely worried. dad was like ‘if she doesn’t eat by tomorrow afternoon we’ll take her back because the injections will run out’ but like. if she doesn’t sleep tonight we have GOT to take her back first thing in the morning so they can sedate her or something
#her pain doesn’t seem to be too bad now that she’s got pain relief so idk what’s stopping her from sleeping#she won’t even lie down unless i’m sitting next to her. she just sits there staring out the window#her pupils are also taking up her entire eyes and have been all day#that’ll be a side effect of the medication and maybe the lack of sleep? but it won’t be making her feel any better#she can probably barely see at this point#like imagine you’ve been awake for 2 days after surgery and you’re in a lot of pain and haven’t eaten since before surgery#and are also on strong painkillers. and you also have no idea what’s wrong with you or why everyone’s doing things that hurt you#bruh your brain would be COOKED. there’s no way she has any idea what’s going on rn but she’s clearly feeling terrible#personal#like i think she’ll be ok in the long-term but she’s gotta somehow get through all these immediate issues#last time something like this happened she stopped drinking and never started again#not eating or sleeping don’t have workarounds as simple as putting water in her food#it really doesn’t help that there’s so much other shit going on rn#i’m doing a whole bunch of stuff with my phone and computer that’s taking a lot of work#but also my sister’s going on a long overseas trip that she’s leaving for tomorrow#so the combo of dad and sister coming and going constantly and also like 6 random deliveries for tech stuff in the last 2 days—#has the dogs really wound up. so georgie’s been howling at absolutely everything#and it’s rainy so my clothes aren’t trying and they’re hanging on a rack hooked on the hallway door so the door can’t close#which puts one less door between my room and the dogs so they’re waking me up every time anything happens#and i sleep during the day so that’s ALL THE TIME. i’ve had like 8 hrs of sleep between the last two afternoons#my sister always has so much random life stuff she wants to talk about and was getting really annoyed that i wasn’t very receptive#like ‘im about to go away for 3 months’ sorry i know its a big thing but i can’t just reschedule peach’s medical emergency
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sidesteppostinghours · 9 months ago
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9 and 25 for all of them !! :)
evening gideon!! thank you for the ask :]
9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?
ok. so. the thing about me is that i dont actually listen to music all that often??? its mostly when i draw digitally, and im primarily a traditional artist so i dont really know that many songs. i also have shitty memory so its hard for me to remember quotes. aka this is a pretty hard question for me to answer, but i will try my best:
Caine-"Oh, captain, make up your mind/Before the salt burns your eyes and you run out of time/'Cause you're popping the cork, you get lost in your brain/And you lose touch with all the things that made you feel sane" - Ship in a Bottle (fin)
honestly ive never really associated this song with him before but i looked into the lyrics just to see whether it had anything i could think of them with and theres??? actually a bunch of lyrics there that fit???? like to the point i was struggling to decide which one to use for this. but i think this one, the second chorus, really encapsulates the biggest parts of their character. hes the decision maker out of all my steps, the one that knows how to make the logical choices and think his way out of a problem. but hes on a time limit. he doesn't know when it will end, just that it will at some point, and they cant stop if they want everything done in time. also sight and eyes is something i associate caine with a lot, especially closing your eyes/refusing to see. "you get lost in your brain/and you lose touch with all the things that made you feel sane." COUGHS. coughs. caine has the most gates open out of all my steps. i also fully intend to make them the source of hb 2.0. yeah.
Cyrus- HE WAS THE ONLY ONE I THOUGHT OF AN ANSWER FOR STRAIGHT AWAY AND I SPRINTED TO HIS TAG JUST TO FIND THE POST
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look him in the eyes and say this to his face. he will look like he got hit by a freight train.
Cecilia- another quote!
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im just gonna go ahead and put my own tags to this one because thats where i put it best:
#thinking about this again with ceci#the best part is the bullet hole#like yeah shes not ready to face the fact that everything shes been doing up till now#was just to distract herself from the absolute misery life became after heartbreak#she has FRIENDS she has people she CARES about and they even seem to like her back!!!!#she even has a girlfriend!#isnt that enough?#tell her thats enough#cecilia rider
theres a reason shes a thrill seeker yall.
Cynthia- "I swear, I'm so fucking sorry/I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all/But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all" - Against the Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)
uh. *looks at cynthias relationship with ortega* uhhhh. *looks at cynthias relationship with sidestep*. uhhhhhhhh.
this song was also difficult to choose lyrics out of, but there is just something so special about girls who simply have to be the best they can to make up for the sin of being. there is something equally as special about girls who take their past selves as judge, and their lover as executioner. also "im not a good person, im barely a person at all" kills me. the regene flavouring on that line??? utterly insane of mr wood to make a song just for her.
25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?
THESE BITCHES ARE SO CONTRADICTORY!!! THERE IS ALWAYS SOMETHING CLASHING ABOUT THESE FUCKERS AND ITS DELICIOUS. not even just trait wise, but with their themes? their core ideals? their relationships???? its always some sort of fucking fundamental difference shaping the way they act and i am Obsessed with it. also all of them are dangerous and it makes me vibrate a little bit. rangers you are so lucky that none of them are interested in leaning into being a full blown villain. but this question is,,, also difficult to answer because idk how to pick just one favourite lmfao. i will attempt it though.
Caine- he is the normalest guy around. there is also something Deeply Wrong with him. my favourite thing about caine would probably be how fun it is to dive into his psyche! ill often have times where i get bored of them and wonder why i got so interested in the first place, and then i get hit with another round of it and i remember "oh right! its because hes insane." his whole character revolves around what is going on inside their brain, from their high subterfuge to their connection with heartbreak and his relationship with the puppet. theyre the most fun to play with in their mind.
Cyrus- god. my favourite thing about him is a tie between his stubbornness and his surprisingly strong sense of empathy. both of those were the things keeping him from becoming a villain in the first place, and now its whats stopping him from going back to being a hero. i want him to confront what hes become so bad yall dont understand-
Cecilia- cecilia is just. a breath of fresh air. shes easy and super fun to play, and while she certainly has her moments (i am looking directly at the checkpoint three mortum reveal scene), shes mostly lighthearted fun cruising through the game as nothing more than a silly guy. i think the next game will actually dig into her character more deeply and allow me to showcase the parts of her shed usually keep hidden, but for now im having a good time getting her to kiss argent and embarrass her friends.
Cynthia- somebody come pick her up please before she starts crying in this club. she is crying because of me but lets not talk about that. i think my favourite thing about her is the contrast between her general wimpy sad lovergirl disposition and her revenge scar, and how she chooses to cope with it! because like,,,, it is just so so tasty watching her fumble with the overwhelming emotion, Especially since the emotion is hurting people. she never learned what to do with the anger! she does not want it! she wants to be as kind to other people as possible! "im not a bad dog, i dont know why i bite" etc etc. eventually she might figure it out, but Definitely Not Now lmfao.
questions from here!
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the-busy-ghost · 9 months ago
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Five hours before a deadline when you've been sweating over the right introduction for days always brings out the worst in me, so I have decided to quote Thomas Aquinas in order to begin an essay that isn't even about him and you know what sometimes I think I should be allowed to be a pretentious git
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elektroyu · 2 years ago
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Just went potty with the doggos and found it has snowed like 6cm in the last 2 hours and
it's like winter ✨❄️🌨️
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worst-mithrandir · 6 months ago
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bring back shows with 20 episodes a season with upwards of 5 seasons please o lord
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freakylittlestarcreature · 10 months ago
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My brain is so silly. I feel my brain trying to go zoom, but the brain fog is pretty thick right now. Thus, I feel like my head is running in weird and discomforting circles rn. This is just making me tired, please 😭
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dulcento · 2 months ago
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# CHEWBACCA ?!
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๑ sum. ceo of the HPE ( hairy pussy eaters ) club: TOJI FUSHIGURO
content ∿ warnings◞ fem. reader, established relationship, explicit content, foul language, feminine pet names, cunnilingus, reader’s got a bush ( duh ), dirty talk, one pussy spank, mating press, whore used once
wc. 1k
lola’s ☆ note. …..this was supposed to be a drabble 🌚
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“no.”
your denial falls on deaf ears, toji’s stout fingers latching onto your hips, dragging you closer to the edge of the couch. “babe!” your pitch heightens as you snap your hardcover book shut, swatting his hand with it. toji flinches, letting go of your hips like they were on fire. “the hell?” he shakes his hand dramatically as if trying to propel the pangs right from his bones.
“hmph, serves you right,” you huff, snootiness lacing your tone, tilting your chin high, determined to maintain some semblance of composure. toji exhales a long-suffering huff, resting his cheek against your outstretched inner thigh, indigo irises squinting up at you. “what’s goin’ on, doll?” he murmurs, his voice low, brimming with curiosity. he knows something’s up. you’re never one to turn down the holy trinity— slurps, suckles, and laps —from the man before you. unless, of course, aunt flo makes her rude appearance. but judging by the lack of deserted dove dark chocolate wrappers and your atypical pout, he’s certain your rejection is rooted entirely in something else.
“nothing’s ‘goin’ on’,” you mimic, deflecting with a biting tone. toji’s scarred lips curl into a smirk, his amusement thinly veiled. “yeah? then why am i still talking to you and not your pussy?” seduction drips from his tongue, his hands mapping out the curve of your waist, settling on the plush swell of your hips. You ignore the shiver whizzing up your spine, swallowing back his effect on you. instead, you spit, “keep trying me, and you won’t talk to my pussy again.” a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, deep and unshaken, as if your feeble attempt at a threat only further serves as entertainment for him.
“oh girl, you wouldn’t last a day without my tongue fucking this perfect pussy,” toji emphasized his assertion with a harsh flick to your clothed bundle of nerves, relishing in your startled gasp. cute. as your eyes begin to settle into a sharp glare, it diminishes as toji inflicts another flick to your steadily erecting pearl. “ah!” you cry, savoring the delicious pain his rough touch imposed on your covered sensitivity. toji’s smirk turns cheshire, gazing upon the desire coating your pupils, turning them glossy.
“now hush, and lemme eat,” toji, with the quickness of flash, rips your lacy thong at the seam, flinging the shredded fabric to the side, exposing your hairy cunt to his starving orbs. wait… hair? his raven brow raises, finger pads tenderly spreading your legs, which have snapped shut like a clam. toji’s blown stare zeros in on your bush, the hairs soaked in your tacky essence, curling slightly.
an inferno spreads across your cheeks as the silence stretches on. and right there, barren to the cool air circulating in the shared living room, is why you turned down toji’s unrelenting advances. any titillating verbiage withers on his tongue, the muscle feeling overgrown, overcoming with the feral need to taste you.
“i… i didn’t get a wax this month,” you confess, embarrassment latching onto your tongue, licking each syllable you utter. “so, i get if you—” a thunderous smack! echoes through the room, your body jolting at the sudden, painful sensation descended upon your throbbing nub. as toji pulls his hand back from your pussy, sticky arousal strings create a lewd connection, locking you together.
“don’t talk, woman,” the heel of toji’s palm grounded deeply into your clit, circular motions urging your pedicured toes to curl in the air. “the only girl that should be talkin’ to me, is this whore of a pussy you got here,” toji lowers his handsome face, eye level to the ‘girl’ in question, “spread her f’me,” his sizable hands cup the bends of your knees, pressing the caps into the perky flesh of your tits, ably folding you like clean sheets.
slicing your digit through the crevice of your pussy, parting your unruly pubes, toji’s warm, moistened tongue darts from between his lips, lapping at the slick woven into your short and curlies. as your honeyed nectar tangos with his taste buds, toji curses under his breath, “fuck,” causing erotic butterflies to flutter in your tummy. “toj, ‘s nasty,” you whine, your hips bucking, clinging onto the subtle tickling of your strands brushing your labia. oh, how you’re an inherent contradiction.
“jus’ how i like your pussy,” toji winks, his tongue slithering from your now clean pubes to your stiff button, circling the bud before engulfing the rigid pearl into his hot cavern. toji’s lips encapsulate your clit, sucking fiercely, as his head moves back and forth, back and forth, back and— “fuck! ngh, hah,” you mewled, your manicured phalanges threading into his dark tresses, shifting his hair away from his forehead.
the sheer intensity of his movements floods you, sending your back arching against the couch cushions. a relentless focus burns brightly in his dilated pupils, leaving not a shred of uncertainty— he is by no means finished with you. toji’s thumbs usurp yours, pulling back the skin of your clit, snapping his tongue against the bundle of nerves in quick succession.
“such a g-good fucking t-tongue, shiiit,” you stutter, your voice trembling with insatiable hunger. toji beams at your praise, driving him to devour you with unabashed urgency. from hasty figure eights being precisely drawn, to eager, desire-filled kisses, no part of your sopping heat is left bare by his unabated lust.
it’s too much— he’s too much. your palm presses upon his damp forehead, a faint, desperate effort to push him away as the blissful coil of your climax tightens in your loins. “haah~ wait… tojiii! don’t—” too late. your needy cries fall into an abyss, toji being too far gone to recognize the way your body convulses, your climax hitting you like a freight train. between your melodic chorus of pornographic music and the soft caress of your pubes on his shaven face, there was no way he was going to stop.
as your pussy flutters, akin to wings on a butterfly, toji swiftly inserts two digits into your rapidly pulsating cunt, reveling in the effect he has on your body. separating his lips from your pearl with a wet pop! toji’s perma-smirk is already etched onto his expression. “keep this pussy hairy for me, doll. it tastes better this way.”
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© all rights reserved to dulcento, 2024
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thymewayster · 2 years ago
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Really good Twitter thread originally about Elon Musk and Twitter, but also applies to Netflix and a lot of other corporations.
Full thread. Text transcription under cut.
John Bull @garius
One of the things I occasionally get paid to do by companies/execs is to tell them why everything seemed to SUDDENLY go wrong, and subs/readers dropped like a stone. So, with everything going on at Twitter rn, time for a thread about the Trust Thermocline /1
So: what's a thermocline?
Well large bodies of water are made of layers of differing temperatures. Like a layer cake. The top bit is where all the the waves happen and has a gradually decreasing temperature. Then SUDDENLY there's a point where it gets super-cold.
That suddenly is important. There's reasons for it (Science!) but it's just a good metaphor. Indeed you may also be interested in the "Thermocline of Truth" which a project management term for how things on a RAG board all suddenly go from amber to red.
But I digress. The Trust Thermocline is something that, over (many) years of digital, I have seen both digital and regular content publishers hit time and time again. Despite warnings (at least when I've worked there). And it has a similar effect. You have lots of users then suddenly... nope. And this does effect print publications as much as trendy digital media companies. They'll be flying along making loads of money, with lots of users/readers, rolling out new products that get bought. Or events. Or Sub-brands.
And then SUDDENLY those people just abandon them. Often it's not even to "new" competitor products, but stuff they thought were already not a threat. Nor is there lots of obvious dissatisfaction reported from sales and marketing (other than general grumbling). Nor is it a general drift away, it's just a sudden big slide. So why does this happen? As I explain to these people and places, it's because they breached the Trust Thermocline.
I ask them if they'd been increasing prices. Changed service offerings. Modified the product.
The answer is normally: "yes, but not much. And everyone still paid" Then I ask if they did that the year before. Did they increase prices last year? Change the offering? Modify the product?
Again: "yes, but not much."
The answer is normally: "yes, but not much. And everyone still paid." "And the year before?"
"Yes but not much. And everyone still paid."
Well, you get the idea. And here is where the Trust Thermocline kicks in. Because too many people see service use as always following an arc. They think that as long as usage is ticking up, they can do what they like to cost and product.
And (critically) that they can just react when the curve flattens But with a lot of CONTENT products (inc social media) that's not actually how it works. Because it doesn't account for sunk-cost lock-in.
Users and readers will stick to what they know, and use, well beyond the point where they START to lose trust in it. And you won't see that. But they'll only MOVE when they hit the Trust Thermocline. The point where their lack of trust in the product to meet their needs, and the emotional investment they'd made in it, have finally been outweighed by the physical and emotional effort required to abandon it. At this point, I normally get asked something like:
"So if we undo the last few changes and drop the price, we get them back?"
And then I have to break the news that nope: that's not how it works.
Because you're past the Thermocline now. You can't make them trust you again.
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phagodyke · 1 year ago
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I have to be up for work in 3 hours and I'm gonna be real I think ive hit the point where I might not be getting any sleep at all. for fucks sake.
#ive survived all nighters before ill scrape through the day itll just be Rough. at least i dont have much in my schedule#im not gonna take the dose this morning bc i think thats a really bad idea to do on zero hours sleep#and i can't risk two consecutive all nighters. like I have done that before but not while working full time 💀 its not worth it#drafting an email to my doctor to let her know im skipping day 2 + ask advice re. whether its worth resuming again on day 3#bc she did list 'trouble sleeping' as a common symptom that often passes but i need to know a) how long it usually takes to pass and-#b) if this is unusually bad + would she rec supplementing with a sleep aid or just switching tack entirely and trialling a non stimulant#by this stage of the night i dont think its actually acting anymore bc i took it at 7am and its now 3am. it shouldnt last that long#i think its more just triggered my preexisting insomnia. my ability to sleep is very very sensitive sometimes + hates routine changes#just so fucking frustrating bc ive spent the past 2 months nailing my sleep routine + ive had a couple weeks of being able to-#go to bed like 9:30-10 and it only takes an hour to get to sleep and i get usually a good 7 hours sometimes 8 only waking once halfway#and i dont feel like utter shit like yeah im tired but from work not so much lack of sleep.... and now thats all fucked lmao#whatever. maybe i should just take the next dose anyway#ill see. gonna try to sleep for another 2 hours but once it hits 5 im not doing this anymore ive been trying for six hours already man#i cant even remember when i last pulled a full all nighter. it might be longer than 6 months ago... i was doing so well :-(#im so mad i was so hopeful it would have SOME good effect like ik its not a miracle worker + these things take time but so many people-#seem to have an immediate positive response even if its probably a placebo. and i got fuck all except This.#i was searching on the reddit for sleep issues and other ppl only seem to report bad ones on higher doses or years in..#like damn. do i even have adhd then. ik thats a stupid thing to think bc obvs everyones body metabolises meds differently etc but still#it is ALMOST HALF 3 and i am FUCKING TIRED#UGH. alright bedtime round 189447383#.diaries#.vent
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feminist-space · 1 year ago
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Cat in the Hat:
"The German Health Minister gave an important update on the Covid situation yesterday.
I’ve written up the section of his speech from the video below for easy reading.
It’s immensely refreshing to see a government minister warning of the harms of Covid in such a transparent way."
https://x.com/_catinthehat/status/1732092683508678954
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Prof. Karl Lauterbach
Health Minister, Germany
4 December 2023
"This second (long Covid) round table was very interesting, lasting three and a half hours. It serves as a unique forum for dialogue among scientists, researchers and those affected by long Covid, facilitating the exchange of ideas.
There are many new findings about long Covid. Not all of them are good news. One piece of not-so-good news concerns the fact that long Covid is actually still a problem for those who are newly infected. One estimate that has been put forward is that the risk of contracting long Covid now, even after vaccination, is around 3%. Now you may say, "that's not such a big risk" , but there are tens of thousands of people who are repeatedly affected in a short period of time. And so, the long Covid problem has not yet been solved.
We have also established that there really are many subgroups of long Covid and that we do not yet have a cure. And it was clearly pointed out that we are also dealing with problems here that will challenge society as a whole, because vascular diseases often occur after long Covid. Throughout Europe, we are currently seeing an increased incidence of cardiovascular disease in the middle-age group - from 25 to 50. This is associated with the consequences of Covid infections.
We also very often find cognitive impairment in older people. And one participant pointed out that it may well be like the Spanish flu, where 20 years after the Spanish flu there was a significant increase in Parkinson's disease and probably also dementia.
This is something we must pay attention to, as the past infection afiects how the immune system in the brain functions, as well as the brain's blood vessels, potentially increasing the long-term risk of these major neurodegenerative diseases. This is why we need to conduct very intensive research. This research has played a major role.
What is the overall assessment of the situation now?
We have to be careful. Long Covid is not curable at the moment. We also know that over 40% of those who have several manifestations of long Covid, for example, five or more, still have symptoms after 2 years, so it doesn't seem to heal spontaneously. We also know that those whose symptoms are more pronounced at the beginning are less likely to heal.
So some of what we know from the demographics of long Covid has been confirmed, and we now know more precisely which mechanisms in the brain, but also in the blood vessels and the immune system, are responsible for this. Professor Scheibenbogan will explain this briefly later.
At this point, I can only say the following - this is particularly important to me:
First of all, long Covid is a disease that stays with us and that we cannot yet cure. And we are seeing an increasing number of cases as the waves of infection continue to affect us.
Secondly, Covid is not a cold - with a cold, you don't usually see any long-term effects. You don't see any changes in the blood vessels. You don't usually see an autoimmune disease developing. You also don't usually see neurological inflammation - these are all things that we see with long Covid. Therefore, one should not assume that Covid infection is just a common cold. It can affect brain tissue and the vascular system, and we still lack an effective treatment, making these studies crucial.
Significantly, we know that the risk of long Covid decreases when you're infected but have been vaccinated. That's why it's concerning that only 3 million people have been vaccinated with the new, adapted vaccine. That is a very bad result.
Please protect yourself from severe infections.
Please protect yourself from long Covid.
Currently, the danger posed by Covid is indeed being underestimated. Nothing is worse than infecting someone at Christmas who then becomes seriously ill and may not fully recover."
Alt text is included in all images of this post.
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somnoir · 1 month ago
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Demon Twins and Death
Inspired by this post by @spiders-in-the-primrose
Damian had spent years loathing Danyal. The weaker, pathetic son. The son who did not have what it took to carry the name Al Ghul. The twin who had died and was swallowed by the Lazarus pits, never to be seen again.
The twin Damian killed.
His brother had welcomed death with tears and sobs. His last words were stained by the blood he choke out, "It had to be you, akhi." He whispered as the blood spilled from his mouth and a sword was pressed further into his stomach.
When he was sent to his father, he remained with his belief in being the better son. That Danyal was not worthy of being the son of the demon and the son of the bat. He could have been one but in the end, only Damian was worthy for both.
And yet as the years passed, Damian grew and changed. And then he finally understood.
In his family of heroes, his family who strived to make the world better—Danyal would have been a better fit. Instead, Damian had been the one to become his father's son with his own twin's blood on his hands. His father must never know.
The idea of Danyal sparks rage, resentment, and utterly self-loathing. His kind and sweet brother who would have been the perfect son for his father. The son who was clearly the better person. Not in skill, power—but morals. Because like their father, Danyal would never kill.
What would have happened if Danyal was here with him? If he were still alive?
Damain can imagine his brother in the colors that Robin wore, another costume, another name. Because Damian will not give up that name after he managed to take it from Drake. But Danyal would have work the colors, would have been bubbly like Grayson. He would have taken care of the children on the streets like Todd. He would have helped their father in cases like Drake.
He would have been the brother they would have wanted.
And Damian tries not to drown in what his brother could have been. He can't help but admire this figment of his imagination. This hero in his kind that wore what could have been Danyal's face. This light within the darkness of Gotham who had a voice identical to Damian's.
And Damian does drown. Because he wants what his brother could have been.
Danyal Al Ghul died by the hands of his brother.
In the back of his mind, he thinks that he just wants his other half back.
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Danny Fenton was born as the girl who would be his sister dragged him from a lake and nursed him to health.
The Fentons were strange people with strange ideals. Jack and Maddie were obsessed, they were not suited to care for children as they grabbed their weapons and hunted down any ghost their could find. When they were absent, Danny was left with Jasmine.
The memory of Damian is strong and cruel and it burned itself into his mind. The memory of that katana sinking into his gut, just as blood bubbles up his throat. He remembers an older brother who had to be the one to kill him.
He remembers and then he looks to Jasmine. She is warmth incarnate, with fiery hair and bright eyes that reminded him of stars on painting. His parents lack the warmth he craves but Jazz gives him so much that he can't help but melt everytime he's in her arms.
Neither of them can forget how fearful he was towards her when she first found him. He had only been six years old, feeling the effects of the Lazarus pit on his skin before he was spat out somewhere far, far away. He remembered being in Nanda Parbat then he was spat out somewhere in Illinois.
Jasmine had found him. Jazz had found him.
And Danny has decided long ago that Jazz was much better than Damian.
Even from the distance between them, Danyal continues to fear Damian. The part of him that he wished died when his own twin stabbed him to death continued to live on.
Then he died.
Again.
And he can't help but hope that Danyal is finally dead. That the failure was finally dead. His body only needed two. He only needed Danny and Phantom. Yes... Danyal was dead.
Danny would kill that part of him himself if he could.
He donned the mantle of hero, even when the people called him a menace at times. Danny was finally a hero, he was finally someone who could do good in the world. It was a blessing for him.
In all honesty, being a hero had been fun, even as he suffered. His rogues that fought him felt like friends that he had missed in his life. Parts of him yearned for when Skulker came out for a fight. He laughed whenever Ember moved to blast her music through the town and he was forced to fight her. He was fond of both Kitty and Johnny, even when they fought and caused havoc. Trouble felt like home for once.
The half of him that was dead yearned for a fight, yearned for an obsession. Protection—he was told—was his own obsession.
To protect, to fight, to make sure that whatever fell into his obsession was safe and sound. He thinks of Amity Park—his haunt, his domain—and assumed it was what he wanted to protect. He had fought Pariah Dark, became King through conquest and continued to protect.
But a part of him knew that something was wrong. He knew that it wasn't Amity Park that he would protect at all cost. No.
It was always Jazz. Always his big sister who cradled him, who figured out he was Phantom, who could tell whether he was himself or not. The greatest part of his obsession fell onto the older sibling who loves him unconditionally, always reminding him that there was another half of him in the world that killed him. But Jazz was none of that.
Danny loved his family. He loved Elle who grew to be his little sister. He loved his parents even when they were difficult. He loved his friends—Sam, Tucker, Valerie. He loved them so dearly and yet they could never match up to Jazz.
Danny doesn't know what he'd do without her.
(Lies. He knew what would happen if Jazz was taken from her. He knew what kind of monster he'd become—one that the observants demanded to be killed. He knew damn well that Jazz Fenton was the only thing that kept him human.)
(Dan existed for a reason.)
(Danny would burn the world for his sister.)
(And he'd kill himself for fear of his brother.)
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Fate is a cruel mistress that knew what she was doing. Twins were tied by blood, mind, and soul. An invisible thread that made sure they were connected one way or another. He shouldn't be surprised that they were going to be reunited at some point.
Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne meet.
It's been years. They've changed. They've become new people. Damian is Robin, the son of the bat (not heir to the demons head). Danny is Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms (not the failure devoured by the Lazarus).
But that doesn't stop Danyal Al Ghul from drowning in fear at the mere visage of Damian Al Ghul.
Danny plays as ambassador, not king. He won't risk himself by telling people who he truly is. He can't. No.
When he summoned and claims that he is an ambassador sent as a substitute, the Justice League accepts what they are given and pleaded for aid.
But Robin is there with Batman. Robin and Phantom meet.
Robin sees Danyal and Phantom sees his murderer.
The moment his body was no longer frozen, Damian sucked in a deep breath as he stared at the face of his own beloved twin. His brother that died by his hands and was claimed by the pits. Had the Lazarus turned him into a creature of the realms?
"Danyal..." Robin sounded hopeful, desperate. He reached forward and almost crossed the circle if not for his father and Nightwing pulling him back with confusion and concern. They look towards the Ghostly being with a face that resembled their father and youngest a little too much.
Danny? Had he been human, his heart would have stopped after ricocheting. He stopped breathing, rendering his lungs useless. This was Damian. A hero of his own right even when he was a monster in Danny's eyes.
Danyal Al Ghul feared Damian.
Phantom was a manifestation of something of Danyal's death.
"You mistake me for someone, Heir to the Demon's head." His voice tore through air, distorted by his own will. Danny was king, he had to remind himself that.
"I am a manifestation. I am born from a concept and emotion. You would not have met me." The lies were not lies. Truths bended to his will as he spoke and pressed against the barrier made by the summoning circle. "But you recognize this body that I have taken form in."
"Then your appearance belonged to a living person." Batman growled.
Danny realizes that this was his father. Perhaps Ra's was right at some point—blood calls to blood.
"What have you done to Danyal?! Where is my twin brother, demon!" Robin's words leak venom as he slams a hand against the barrier.
Danyal tremblesPhantom was amused.
"Bats, tell your brat to back off! That's the ghost king's fuckin' ambassador." The Hellblazer hissed, watching as Batman pulled his son away.
But Damian—Robin—stands still.
Phantom grinned, flashing his teeth as he leaned closed to the barrier. Even when his appearance was born of inverted colors with Lazarus eyes rather than the sky, Damian could recognize his twin's face anywhere.
Both of them knew what happened to Danyal. Killed by his own brother.
But only Phantom knew what happened after.
"Oh little bird... I killed him."
Masterpost
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spaceman---29 · 1 month ago
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Men's antagonism toward women's self defense strategies reflects their discomfort with female empowerment. When women take measures to protect themselves, such as carrying weapons or walking with dogs, some men attempt to undermine their efforts, which reveals a desire to maintain control over women by keeping them vulnerable. Radical feminist critiques of sex work focus on the broader systemic forces that push women into the industry, rather than simply protecting workers. They argue that by targeting the demand for sex work and providing resources to exit, feminists can dismantle the structures that exploit women. Radical feminists often criticize the liberal feminist approach to sex work for not addressing the root causes of exploitation. While criminalizing sex work without further support systems can harm workers, radical feminists argue for a broader restructuring of society to provide alternatives. By focusing on creating safe exits from the sex industry, they emphasize the importance of long-term solutions that protect women from exploitation while challenging the economic systems that perpetuate it. Many radical feminists express exhaustion with online activism, feeling that it lacks the power to effect real change. While digital spaces have provided a platform for feminist ideas, they can also become echo chambers where meaningful action is sidelined. The call to move from online discourse to real-world organizing reflects a desire for more tangible, collective action that can challenge oppressive systems and create lasting social change. The transactional nature of transgender healthcare raises ethical concerns. The ease with which some can access hormones or surgery, without deep psychological evaluation, reflects a healthcare system that often prioritizes efficiency over thoroughness. While access to healthcare is vital, the lack of comprehensive mental health screenings can leave individuals unprepared for the emotional and psychological challenges of transitioning, ultimately failing to offer truly holistic care. Lets tring through a scary room and see if we find any drippulous vaginas along the way.Nothing good ever comes from slop with drabbley Shadow. Why would you trip over a chicken like that in the middle of rat's squibulous burgers?
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thebibliosphere · 10 months ago
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Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.
But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.
Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:
youtube
Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.
But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.
I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.
There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."
I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.
(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)
That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.
I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.
So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.
But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.
So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.
Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?
Even the ones who might disagree with you?
Even if they're on welfare?
Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?
Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷‍♀️.
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soulprompts · 7 months ago
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SITTING IN SOMEONE'S LAP PROMPTS.
listen. i want to tell ye that i have infinite reasons for making this. that i've been designing this for weeks, months even. but i can't. this happened because i saw one (1) meme and aligned that with two (2) cups of coffee. either way besties, you're all getting a strangely detailed list of reasons to drop your muse into another muse's lap. you wanna switch the roles? add a [ REVERSE ] if you want your muse to be the lap that's being sat in! don't add to this list, don't claim it as your own, i'll curse all your potatoes to be soapy and sad to consume.
[ SHAVE ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap so they can carefully shave the last of the receiver's stubble from their face.
[ MAKE-UP ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap in order to get a better vantage point to apply makeup to their face.
[ SNIP-SNIP ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap whilst giving them a haircut.
[ HAIR ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap so that the receiver can style or just play with their hair in peace.
[ CAR ]: sender ends up sitting in the receiver's lap whilst in a very crowded car together.
[ STUMBLE ]: sender loses their balance and trips backwards, falling into the receiver's lap in the process.
[ INTIMIDATION ]: sender, in an effort to frighten the receiver by invading their personal space, sits in their lap to try and inspire discomfort or fear in them.
[ LOOK ]: sender, wanting to see something that can only really be seen from where the receiver is sitting, sits in their lap in order to see it as well.
[ HEAL ]: sender ends up in the receiver's lap trying to tend to their wounds to the best of their abilities.
[ FEAR ]: a frightened sender sits in the receiver's lap in an effort to feel some measure of safety and protection.
[ COMFORT ]: sender, after a challenging and emotionally draining experience, settles into the receiver's lap in search of a feeling of comfort.
[ ADJUST ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap in order to fix their collar or tie or other item of clothing.
[ STRADDLE ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap with one leg on either side of their legs, straddling them effectively.
[ EMBRACE ]: sender settles in the receiver's lap to give them a long, well-deserved hug in comfort.
[ CARRY ]: sender, having been carried by the receiver for other reasons, winds up sitting in their lap once they sit down.
[ THROW ]: sender flings themselves at the receiver, so eager for a hug that they end up in their lap.
[ DROP ]: exasperated (or maybe just exhausted) the sender drops down into the receiver's lap to rest.
[ CUDDLE ]: eager for some well-earned cuddling, the sender finds it much easier for everyone involved to sit in the receiver's lap during the cuddle session.
[ MOVIE ]: while watching a movie together (and possibly being so distracted by the film that they don't realize what they're doing) the sender settles back into the receiver's lap.
[ CHAIR ]: the distinct lack of available chairs in a room results in the sender having no choice but to sit in the receiver's lap.
[ CLOSENESS ]: after having been apart for a considerable length of time, the sender sits into the receiver's lap just to be close to them.
[ PRETEND ]: in a bid to persuade others that they're in a relationship (even though they're probably not) the sender climbs into the receiver's lap to convince the on-lookers of their legitimacy.
[ LEARN ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap so they can teach them a particular practical skill (e.g. pottery, knot-tying etc.)
[ ACCIDENT ]: the sender, unaware that the seat they're trying to claim is occupied, drops into the receiver's lap without realizing it.
[ EXHAUSTION ]: the sender, surrounded by nothing but uncomfortable places to rest in, finds a solution by sitting in the receiver's lap in order to rest and possibly sleep.
[ CHILLED ]: the sender and receiver find themselves in a particularly cold room, leading the sender to sit in the receiver's lap in order to share body heat.
[ KISS ]: the sender lowers themselves into the receiver's lap in order to kiss them properly.
[ FLIRT ]: the sender, only just beginning to explore the romantic side of a relationship with the receiver, sits in their lap in order to express their feelings clearly.
[ ROMANCE ]: the sender, in a well-established romantic relationship with the receiver, sits in their lap just because they can.
[ THRONE ]: having found the receiver sitting in their throne, the sender sits in their lap in order to symbolically and physically share the seat.
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seraphicsentences · 5 months ago
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all mine (pt.2)
closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader
pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.
please click here!
tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.
A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.
so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.
this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!
it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.
her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.
even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.
abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.
“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.
unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.
she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.
it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.
what’s up with that, hm?
~
2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.
“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.
it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.
abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.
skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.
her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.
maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.
towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.
what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??
cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.
and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-
you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.
“hey, anderson.”
that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.
and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.
the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.
“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.
you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.
“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”
abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.
you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.
your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.
“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.
abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.
but as always, she needs more.
she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.
she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.
“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.
“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.
“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.
every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.
you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.
curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.
abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.
as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.
“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.
she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.
the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.
“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.
you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.
her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.
you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.
“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.
up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.
you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.
your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.
abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”
you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”
she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.
“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”
she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.
she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.
“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.
all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.
her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.
her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.
it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.
abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.
she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.
abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.
your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.
“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.
“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.
“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.
you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.
“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.
“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.
abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.
“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.
“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.
“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.
8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.
“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.
“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.
“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”
it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.
you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”
you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”
“i just mean- i, you know,”
you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.
“don’t-“
“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”
“…yeah.”
“that’s what i thought.”
you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.
you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”
“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.
“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.
“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.
her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.
“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.
you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.
you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.
“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?
“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”
“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.
“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”
“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”
abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.
you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”
and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.
“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.
“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.
“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.
“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.
abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.
“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.
“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.
“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”
loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.
her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.
you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.
“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“
“abby.”
“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“
“abby.”
“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“
“ABBY.”
her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.
“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.
you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.
“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.
you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.
she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”
a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.
“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.
abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.
she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.
but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.
you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.
“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.
you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.
you settle on one.
“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.
abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.
“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.
you see her breath catch in her throat.
“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.
she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.
and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.
so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.
so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.
ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.
i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!
anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)
also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.
taglist:
@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson
@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent
@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3
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