#and then they pulled the rug out from under us

[sheep-from-rad]

About the Reader who became Jason's roommate and all. I wonder what if they were so cold and distant with the family, they made sure for them to know that they are not a family. (They already closed their heart).

It can be things like, in class they won't talk with Tim unless they have to, like having a project together and if they do they'll only talk about the project if he tries to talk about something else she changes the subject or shut it down. All with a smile on their face, the way they talk is too professional and they won't let him involve emotions. "We are only talking about what needs to be talked about" they say.

The less subtle with Dick, Bruce and Damian because they come to them as vigilantes. Waking up to Batman and Robin cuddling them. They snap at them. Because first, "when did dressing as a furry and making kids fight crime with you turned to doing that to stalking civilians? And you claim to be my 'family' yet what family breaks into the house of someone and touches them in their sleep? That's not like family behavior but one of creeps!!"

They also snap at Dick for coming to them in his Nightwing costume. "Are you trying to put me in danger by associating me with your vigilant persona? What a good hero- what a good 'brother' you are."

With Jason, what if the reader didn't snap at him till now and told him about the three show up as vigilantes to a civilian, using his protectiveness against them in that way.

I don't know how may readers treat Jason but I can imagine that they don't cook for him and they don't eat what he cooks for them. They keep personal stuff like tooth brush and all of the personal things in their room. If he comes with injuries they will give him a first aid kit and clean the mess he made but mostly won't help him unless it is something he really needs help in like bandaging his back. Stay in their room for most of the time they are in the apartment.

I can imagine reader apartment hunting after Bruce by there's and stuff but also what if Reader got a better job that can help in that? What if the Reader decided that they will pay Bruce rent because to them he is nothing but their landlord? What if Reader managed to find another place to live in and became the roommate of a friend?

If the fam asked them to hang out or visit the manor they'd use the same words who were used against them when they were in the manor like "not now" "I have more important stuff to do" "don't you have other things to do?" "Go bother someone else" "stop nagging me". So it's like how they used to treat the reader at the manor.

I also feel like what they are trying to do is swipe things under the rug so, I can imagine them reaching the point where they try to confront reader and they just say "after treating me like nothing in my most valuable times of my life you think you can waltz back in my life and play family and I'd welcome you whit open arms? What kind of delusion is this?" "You are not my family and made it clear from day one. You can't just take it back, not after all the damage you've done."

Original fic: Jason's sidecar (Yandere Batfam x Neglected!Reader)

Masterlist

Jason had anticipated it. He was a child of neglect as well not just from his original parents but also partly from Bruce. He blames himself too when it comes to you. He’s the smart one next to Tim and he had read a lot of books on how to end the cycles of neglect and emotional abuse and yet he wasn’t able to help you. He may not say it but he feels like he deserves the current treatment he’s getting from you. And honestly, he’s fine with it. He’s fine with the coldness, he’s fine with the emotional distance. He’s fine by just being the shadow in your apartment who tucks you in your sleep at night whenever Bruce and Damian are out. 

Tim is not satisfied with it. He will pull strings to make sure that you and him will always be on the same assignments and projects. If he’s not in the same group with you then he will quickly bribe the weakest link in your group to swap with him. Tim would also use his bad sleep habits as a weapon. It started with him passing out of the class and the professor having to call you to get him home and now the professor has you on speed dial (do people still use speed dial) whenever it happens. Most of the time it’s just a ploy for you to go home to the mansion because sometimes you can’t just say no to Alfred. 

Bruce and Dick were hurt but it makes sense. The cowl and the masks protect the cities but too much attention is just as dangerous. At the end of the day even when they are tired, they have made it a habit to change clothes before coming to see you. Bruce is saddened over the fact that his relationship with you became transactional but much like Tim he would find ways to outsmart you. Whenever you pay him rent every month, he would slip back a hundred or two in the less conspicuous places. Most of the time you end up thinking it’s just money you forgot about. If you have those physical piggy banks, he will surely slip the rent back little by little. Dick would make it a part of his routine to be on constant lookout on Gotham’s apartment rent and leasing. Everytime an apartment lowers its initial rent, he would immediately book it and give it to a poor citizen (he’ll do it in secret and help citizens pay for the rent and even find a stable job to keep the apartment). He is also on the constant lookout in other cities as well with help of his other friends. 

Damian hates it. He thinks you’re being a brat and that you’re doing it for attention. The estate is the safest place in Gotham and you left it for independence? Why would you ever gamble your life for it? He wasn’t in the whole ‘get you back home’ plan and he respects your decision on leaving even though he hates it. He wasn’t on it until he found his fist clenching hard as he stood inside your now empty room at the estate. He knows of emptiness and yet the feeling of you being missing in that very room felt like he’s falling down the abyss. Bruce holds you two tight every night but Damian will hold you tighter. Arms tight on your midsection and head on your chest. He’s partly glad those grip training worked off.

[heylittleriotact]

Ｍａｓｓａｇｅ(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2/2)

Manipulation of tissue in the course of preparation of the body

Chapter 1 here

Though perhaps he was of the sort that got a thrill from the act of undressing her. Yes… that seemed like something a man who freely boasted about his familiarity with the finer points of anatomy would be keen on: savouring the textures of different fabrics as his fingers grazed over them, pulling gently here, tugging gently there to methodically flay her clothing from her body as if it were her skin and she was his newest, most recently deceased patient: she required preparation so that her bones, still and silent, could be put to use housing an eager spirit, and he was not at all unfamiliar with the process of unmaking someone.

He would gladly aid her in this capacity.

The honour would be all his.

The second and final part of my piece detailing Emmrich and Amina's first time sleeping together. It's time for the main event. Batten down your panties 🩲

Rating: Explicit

Under the cut or on ao3

As it turned out there was actually a nightcap involved.

Emmrich’s mysterious bed dwelled in a hidden bedchamber in the laboratory behind one of the many bookcases lining the walls and down a curving set of stairs that split into two chambers: one emerged into a warmly lit cavern of sorts, spacious yet cozy, and the other Amina could only assume was space set aside for Manfred - his own room. She thought it very sweet that Emmrich saw fit to give Manfred a space to call his own. She knew perfectly well that wisps didn’t sleep, so she had no idea what the sentient skeleton did with any time he spent alone - she made a point of asking Emmrich another time. 

The entire space was composed of the stone foundations of the island the Lighthouse stood on, and despite the rustic implication of a bedroom in a cave, Emmrich’s room was actually quite homey: the bed itself was on a raised section of stone, and ancient but pristine rugs covered the floor, overlapping in places, each of them rich, bright colours of magenta, turquoise, or marigold. The bar was set against the far wall and boasted a humble assortment of spirits and liqueurs which included the extremely expensive absinthe Emmrich had prepared for her, demonstrating a ritual involving cold water and sugar that proved his alchemical hobbies extended even into his drinking preferences. She took a sip of it and continued to politely snoop around the room while Emmrich excused himself to make sure Manfred was settled in for the night. 

The room was illuminated by the soft glow of candles perched on various outcroppings and recesses within the stone walls. The cavern was humid and warm, but the air felt fresh and clean, free of the heavy stagnant quality air tended to take on in a cave. 

More bookshelves framed either side of the bed, with side tables built into the base of them. On the side of the bed that Emmrich obviously favoured, Amina could make out the shape of a pair of spectacles and a book on the side table. 

She stepped up onto the raised platform of stone and wandered over to the table, the sound of her shoes muted by the soft carpet beneath her feet. 

She gently moved the rectangular gold framed spectacles aside and picked up the book, flipped it and read the cover, her eyebrows raising. “Oh my…” 

It was a collection of erotic poetry with a gold embossed depiction of a couple - their genders unclear, entwining passionately - splashed across the cloth bound cover.

She tutted and set down her absinthe, leafing through a few pages and feeling her pulse quicken at the thought of Emmrich reposed in the bed on any given night, naked except for the gold spectacles perched halfway down the bridge of his nose, holding the book in one hand, stroking his cock feverishly with the other, his chest heaving, each breath rapid and desperate and sharp, teetering on a soft whimper or moan as he indulged in the exceptionally vulgar verses until he spilled himself over his own belly, his seed catching the wavering candlelight and shimmering prettily against his skin and the wispy hair that grew on him.

She let out a low expletive and shut the book, replacing it on the side table and picking up her absinthe to drink some of the intensely herbal spirit in an attempt to jar herself back to reality. Her hand ghosted over the front of her skirt, and she palmed her crotch as if to temporarily placate the burning need between her thighs. Where was he? How long could it possibly take to say goodnight to Manfred and make sure he understood he was not to wander into Emmrich’s room under any circumstances tonight? 

She wondered if she should spend this time making herself ready for him: she supposed she could undress and arrange herself on the bed so that when he entered the room again the first thing he’d see was her nude form, spread out for him like a feast more sumptuous than the dinner they’d just had, wearing only the network of scars that spanned her flesh like a topographical encyclopedia of injuries… and those adorable spectacles, of course. She’d sip from the glass of absinthe in her fingertips and haughtily ask if he came around this place often, and he would think her so cavalier and witty and irresistibly attractive that he’d shed his clothes and take her with desperate need marking every one of his movements. 

Though perhaps he was of the sort that got a thrill from the act of undressing her. Yes… that seemed like something a man who freely boasted about his familiarity with the finer points of anatomy would be keen on: savouring the textures of different fabrics as his fingers grazed over them, pulling gently here, tugging gently there to methodically flay her clothing from her body as if it were her skin and she was his newest, most recently deceased patient: she required preparation so that her bones, still and silent, could be put to use housing an eager spirit, and he was not at all unfamiliar with the process of unmaking someone.

He would gladly aid her in this capacity.

The honour would be all his.

She made a sound low in her throat at the thought, wandered over to the small table in the corner with a shaving mirror on a stand, a small hickory box she supposed contained a razor, brush, soap, and strop; a basin and a towel, and a variety of small bottles - six or seven in total. Further inspection revealed they were all different perfumes and colognes. 

She removed the cap from one and sniffed the atomizer, instantly recognizing the scent that filled her nostrils as one that he wore earlier that week: earthy and grounded with notes of vetiver and petrichor. Replacing the lid and setting down the bottle of amber liquid she picked up another and smelled it too: wet clay, the sweet tang of decaying leaves, dark oily patchouli… 

Her mouth watered - this was what he was wearing tonight, the evocative scent mixing with his own natural aroma in a complimentary way that had made it hard to focus all evening…

She let out a startled yelp when a long fingered hand slipped over her front, splaying across her abdomen as she felt the presence of someone much taller than her press close to her back. Hot breath played over her ear as he stooped down, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end as Emmrich chuckled and said, “There you are. I was worried I’d lost you.”

“Lost me?” She set down the bottle and turned in his arms, facing him now and standing up on her tiptoes to rub the side of her nose against his, her own hands wandering around his narrow waist. “I think you’re stuck with me, Volkarin. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

One hand came up to card through the hair at the nape of her neck, his fingers winding between strands, combing through them as he regarded her affectionately, though desire still smoldered in his moss-coloured eyes. The other dallied over the concave curve of her lower back and came to rest cupping a handful of her muscular rear and drawing her hips flush against him where she could feel evidence of his arousal stirring again.

“Not in the slightest, Ms. Ingellvar.” He purred, squeezing her ass.

She shivered at his words and felt her fingers curl tighter into the fabric of his waistcoat as she felt his broad palm against her behind, fingers kneading the ample flesh there while his lips trailed over her cheek, then her jaw, then he imparted just enough tension to the handful of hair in his hand to urge her chin towards the ceiling, allowing him access to the thin, hot skin of her throat. 

She couldn’t help but gasp as he licked her neck, sucking and kissing up the length of it. A pained little sound slipped past her lips and her hand flew to the back of his head, twining into his own hair when his teeth grazed her and he sucked hard against the skin above her carotid artery. The feeling was warm and wet, a sensation that was both pleasure and pain as capillaries buckled and gave way to the suction, flooding her dermis with the minute quantities of blood that would present like a tattooed clump of alpine betony against a backdrop of spring snow - richly mauve, prickling when the air caressed it…

She groaned, her knees going weak, his name slipping past her lips and suffusing through the cavern, a pleading whisper urging him to peel back layers of her flesh and muscle and bury himself inside the gleaming ruby treasure within.

Responding to the need in her voice, he parted from her neck and guided her away from the corner table, walking them back towards the raised section of stone where the bed was, kissing her, caressing her, stroking her cheek with his thumb as though she was the only thing in the world that mattered then. 

“Darling…” he studied her with his round, perceptive eyes, hand stilling over the centre of her chest where her heart hammered against her ribcage like a frantic wisp trapped in a bottle. “We don’t have to… if you would rather wait—“

He would want to make sure she didn’t feel pressured, wouldn’t he?

Her hero.

She reached up between them and unclipped his collar pin with a deft twist of her fingers, her eyes never leaving his. 

“I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime already: I want to make love to you right this minute.” She walked him backwards until the edge of the bed met the backs of his knees and he was forced to sit, hands hovering over Amina’s hips as she stood between his long longs. She guided those hands to the bottle green satin of her blouse, closing his fingers around it and guiding his wrists upwards with her index fingers hooked under them so that the hem of the garment slipped free from her waistband. 

Bangles slipped one by one down his willowy arms, chiming softly as one hand wandered underneath the blouse, exploring the expanse of scarred but soft skin over hard muscle, tracing the shape of the costal cartilage that defined the boundaries of her rib cage, protecting the precious organs that lay beneath it. 

She watched his hands rove over her; took in the expression of reverent longing on his face as his mouth parted and he stared up at her. His tongue darted over his lips to wet them before he spoke, his voice rough with lust. “If that is your desire, dearest, I am happy to oblige.” 

“Oblige?” She repeated, running her fingernails through his hair, following the patterns of the gray dispersing and mingling into black like the thick, impermeable mists that hung around the obelisks and headstones in the gardens. One hand started slipping the small buttons at the side of her skirt loose, the other found her ass again and resumed squeezing and massaging. “What about you? Forget about everyone else’s needs for a fucking minute and tell me: what do you want, Emmrich Volkarin?” She tipped his face up, her fingers on his chin. 

He freed the last button and pulled the skirt down over the swell of her ass, letting it slide to the ground where it pooled at her feet. He filled his hands with her bare cheeks, lifting them, feeling the weight and heat of them. He dipped his head and she could feel his hot breath through the thin material of the silky black thong she was wearing, her breath hitching as his nose buried into the cleft just above her throbbing clit and he inhaled deeply, filling himself with the scent of her need. He lingered there for a moment, then looked back up at her, eyes dark with lust. 

“I want you, darling. Every inch of you…” His hands travelled to the waistband of the lacy little thong and he hooked his fingers under it, working it from under the garter belt that held up her stockings, sliding the sodden bit of fabric down, peeling it away from her dripping sex and down her thighs until he relinquished his hold on it and it joined the skirt. He parted her slightly, thumbs nestling softly into her dark hair, and smiled besottedly at the glint of gold that greeted him at the peak of her thighs. “I want to steal the air from your lungs and make your lovely legs shake...” He lowered his mouth again and feathered his searing tongue over the shape of the open hoop adorning her anatomy, urging a low whine from her as her hips jolted in his hands. “I must admit that I’ve often found myself wondering if your grave dowry was of the intimate sort…” he nuzzled against the soft thatch of hair and inhaled again, emitting a satisfied sigh as Amina’s mind swam, adrift in a sea of touch and awe that she was finally here - finally this close to him… and about to get closer still.

“Indulge your curiosity…” She managed to prompt with a coy smile. “Find the rest of it.” 

His head snapped up and a lascivious smile that made her stomach flip-flop spread over his face. His hands found the backs of her thighs and he pulled her down onto his lap, her legs on either side of his hips, her slick core pressed against the bulging front of his pants. She rolled her hips against him and let her shoes clatter to the ground, his fingernails digging into soft flesh as he let out a low growl and then claimed her mouth with his, tongue sweeping brazenly past her lips to collide with hers enthusiastically as she opened wide and returned his fervor.

He held her in his lap, his free hand diving under her blouse to squeeze a handful of breast, the warmth of his touch muted by the expensive lacy brassiere she wore underneath.

Unsatisfied by this impediment, Amina wrenched her hands from Emmrich and hooked her thumbs into the bottom of her blouse and yanked it up unceremoniously over her head, no longer caring whether she appeared poised or elegant. Emmrich’s fingers found the clasp at the back of the brassiere and it slackened as he crushed his face into her breasts, laving his tongue over her skin, practically tearing the cups free of her chest and down her arms so she could shed it completely. 

He laughed - a high pitched, giddy titter that went straight to her cunt  - and thumbed the ends of the gold barbells flanking her erect nipples before clamping his mouth over one and sucking hard, tongue flitting over her stiffened peak while he continued playing with the other one. 

Her back arched and she rutted against him again, keening at his hands and mouth all over her; his cock between her legs. She reached between them and gripped him through his pants, feeling his readiness as she stroked him through too many layers of clothing. 

She rolled onto the bed, dragging him with her, wrapping her legs around his waist and scrambling at the buttons of his waistcoat while she explored his mouth with a ferocity that suggested she hadn’t just sat through an entire six course meal. She managed to get all the buttons undone without ripping a single one off, and immediately set into the absurd quantity of buttons on his shirt next - why did he need so many damn buttons anyway? 

Laughing breathlessly, he pulled away from her to take a breath, rocking back on his knees and holding out a warding finger when she launched forward to follow him.

“Wait,” he panted, looming above her, tracing soothing circles on her thigh with one hand, his normally perfectly coiffed hair an absolute tumble of wayward strands and dishevelled angles: he looked so wonderfully undone with his hair a mess, his prim waistcoat thrown open, and his collar pin askew, clinging to his shirt with little more than wishes and prayers at this point. His mouth was curved in a crooked, slightly daft grin, and his fingers abandoned her thigh to settle between her legs, running up the length of her slit and massaging her slick into her engorged clit as he began deftly undoing buttons with his other hand, observing her with an expression of maddeningly inhibited curiosity when she threw back her head and uttered a deep moan, her hips bucking into his hand, her knees clamping against his sides. 

“Fuuuu– Emmrich!” She cried, fingers and toes curling tightly into the blanket beneath her hips rose off the bed and he toyed with her clit, teasing her piercing with the edge of his thumb; rubbing, stroking, softly pinching her blushing bud, and brushing his fingertips along her innermost lips like they were the fragile petals of a delicate flower - all while methodically undoing the buttons of his shirt and finally reprieving his macabre collar pin of its duties. He slipped her leg over her shoulder as he stretched over the bed to deposit the accoutrement on the side table - on top of the book of poetry. 

Drawing back, he kissed the inside of her knee, echoing her laughter when the coarse hairs of his moustache tickled her sensitive skin through her stockings and she writhed in his hands. He manipulated her leg, bending her knee and kissing down her shin, rubbing his cheek against the meat of her calf, his strong, nimble fingers finding the arch of her foot. He slipped a single finger into her desperate core and held the bottom of her painstakingly pedicured foot to the side of his face, leaning into it as another finger joined the first and he languidly worked them in and out of her, still sitting back on his knees, his shirt open, his eyes glazed. 

“You’ve no idea how often I’ve thought about this, darling,” he huffed, the bridge of his nose flushed pink, and Amina couldn’t take her eyes off his tented trousers.

“I think I do,” she breathed, reaching for him, her fingertips caressing the damp spot on the front of his pants. 

He treated her to another ribald grin - where were these coming from? They were so… dirty. So decidedly un-Emmrich, and they drove excited shivers up her spine. He shrugged his shirt off, relinquishing his contact with her for long enough to slip the sleeves down over his many bracelets and bangles and drape it carefully over the footboard of the bed - an act that had Amina clenching her eyes shut and stifling a giggle - Maker forbid his expensive Orlesian-cut shirt ended up in a wrinkled pile on the floor for a night…

He turned back to her, naked from the waist up now, looking nonplussed at the specter of laughter on her face, “What?” He asked, the corners of his mouth drooping as his smile disappeared as quickly as Assan on bath day: she thought he was laughing at him.

“Oh,” she pushed herself up on her elbows a little. “Nothing, love.” 

He cocked his head to the side inquisitively and Amina snagged his left hand, now desperate to move on, pressing his fingertips to her lips, tasting herself on them. “I see I’m not the only one who keeps my grave dowry close to my person.” 

She was referring to his nipples that were equally as gilded as hers, and didn’t leave room for him to reply as she started gently but systematically pulling rings off his fingers with the same mindful care she would use when removing jewelry from the deceased before she bathed and embalmed them. 

“I want to be with you as you are,” she explained coquettishly  when he arched a brow at her audaciously helping herself to his jewelry. “Without all of… this.” She lifted a stack of bangles on his wrist and let them fall back down, their metallic settling punctuating her point. “I didn’t fall for Emmrich Volkarin’s gold.” 

Silence fell for the first time in a while as she collected his rings in her hand, plucking them from his branch-like fingers and palming them with the same delicate touch she used to handle the cherries that she harvested from the tree that grew behind Reda’s house when she was a child. 

“You are…” he breathed, looking at her with an expression on his handsome face that was difficult to read.

“Bizarrely hung up on ritual and meaning? Yes. You’ll find that to be quite a maddeningly common trait among Watchers, in case you weren’t aware,” she quipped, and her fingers paused over his left pinky and the grand looking ruby ring that occupied it - his Father’s, a gift to young Emmrich before he died - she knew that much. Then she relieved him of that too, marking the dark stain revealed in the ring’s absence for only a moment before he whisked his hand away and hid it behind her thigh, extending his other hand to her now, wordlessly bidding her to continue. 

She finished stripping him of his gold and jewels, depositing handfuls of rings and bracelets and bangles on the side table, the book of erotic poetry now buried under a small fortune, and then she set to work on his trousers which had lingered for far too long.

First went the cummerbund, slipping through her fingers as she untied it, the soft ‘fwip, fwip’ of the sleek material filling the silence that had fallen again. It joined his shirt on the footboard, and as she stretched under his arm to put it there she notched her waist against his and let him fondle her ass and thighs and cunt some more before she planted her ass back on the bed and finally freed his delightfully hard cock, taking him in her hand and stroking him experimentally, nibbling on her lower lip as he knelt before her on the bed, shuddering at her ministrations.

“Darling…” he whispered, eyes lidded, jaw slack as he watched her slowly, sensually jerk him off. Now that his arousal was now out in the open, his own scent filled the air: clean, masculine musk and the aphrodisiac tang of arousal collided with her nose and she swallowed the buildup of saliva that flooded her mouth. 

His cock was lovely: as elegant and distinguished as the rest of him, surrounded by a mantle of clearly tended hair that matched the hither and thither shades of black and gray on his head, his pulse thrummed strongly against her fingers, the skin of his shaft velvet smooth over his hardness. She gently worked his foreskin down to reveal his shapely, leaking head, as rosy and ripe as any cherry at the peak of its season. 

“No grave gold here?” she pouted, working her thumb over his slit, spreading the slick moisture that had beaded there over his blushing crown - an act which caused him to draw a sharp breath through his clenching teeth.

“I did… at one time…” he exhaled, voice wavering as his eyes flicked back down to resume watching her movements. “But I did away with it years ago...”

“Shame,” she tutted, jerking her head to the side. “Bet your pierced cock was a majestic sight indeed…” her cheeks heated and panic struck her. “Not… not that it’s not now.” 

Shut up, Amina, shut up and just fuck him.

But Emmrich only chuckled deep in his throat and pulled himself from her hand, stretching out over her and dwarfing her with his lanky stature as he pressed a soothing kiss to the blossoming love bite on her neck and finished shedding disrobing from his place between her thighs.

“Years spent in ruthlessly discriminating academic circles have granted me the virtue of a thick skin, dearest,” he purred into her ear, catching her lobe with his teeth and uttering a pleased sound at the gasp he wrought from her. His chest met hers and she was at the mercy of his skin against hers, enshrouding her; capturing her - binding her the same way he bound spirits to vacant bone. 

She might have babbled something in response as her hips arced into his, searching for the heat of his cock to relieve the burning need between her thighs, but then his lips found hers again and he kissed her with a sweetness and depth that drove words from her brain and air from her lungs.

And then he was gone, sitting back on his haunches again, so far away as his fingers danced along the oversensitive flesh of her inner thigh and he drew her towards him over the bedspread with an easy yank, lining her hips up with his, their thighs connected.

Cock in hand, he dragged himself slowly through her folds, collecting her pooling slick and massaging her engorged clit with his tip, humming sumptuously as Amina squirmed, her clit slip-sliding against the most sensitive part of him.

He dipped just inside of her entrance and back out again, and her fingernails dug into his abdomen. 

“Please…” she pleaded. “Please Emmrich…”

He acquiesced with a gentle kiss, pressing his hips to hers, pushing inside of her slowly, almost hesitantly, drawing back before thrusting forward again, stretching her, his elated groan joining hers as his he breached her fully and her walls flexed and clenched around him, their heat finally joining, their connection at last made complete.

She exhaled a ragged breath as her thighs tightened against his ribcage and he delved further, his thumb sweeping a strand of hair from her face as he cradled her head in his arm, his nose brushing hers as he lowered his mouth and whispered against her lips, “Is this all right?”

“Yes…” she panted, “… ohhh Emmrich… please don’t stop…” She felt the smoothness of his back under her fingers as they travelled downwards, and squeezed his pert ass in her hands, encouraging his thrusts as he moved inside of her, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he fucked into her and uttered soft gasps and the sweetest nothings she’d ever heard into her ear for a time before his movements ceased abruptly, and she could feel his heart racing against hers.

“Ah— oh.” He took a deep breath and exhaled, long and smooth - grounding: Nevarran breathing techniques. “Darling, I’m… I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m not going to last much longer… you feel entirely divine, and it’s been some time since I’ve—”

Her heart flooded with affection for him as her Reaper’s gift kicked in and she felt his emotional state change abruptly as his aura shifted: he felt embarrassed. Inadequate. Pathetic.

“Hey,” she cupped his cheek with her hand and dragged his eyes back to hers, then treated him to an understanding smile. “That’s one hell of a compliment.” She undulated against him, urging him on.

“Amina…”

“Will you cum for me, Emmrich?”

He let out a soft whine and his eyelids fluttered slightly at her words. 

“Yes,” he whispered, his thrusts resuming, his steady rhythm returning as the sound of skin on skin filled the cavern again. “I daresay I would do nearly anything for you…” he kissed her again, their tongues entwining as they tasted, licked and sucked. 

She locked herself against him, riding him from the mattress, meeting his thrusts and feeling his hips buck sloppily and shudder as his climax drew near - hers was not far behind: each movement dragged his cock over that place inside of her that made her thighs quake and tremble against his sides.

“Unnngh!” His eyes went wide, then shut tightly. He gasped her name like he’d been immersed in a tub of freezing water and cupped her jaw in his hand, his eyes opening again to hold her gaze as his hips arched against hers once, twice, and she felt the telltale heat expanding through her from the inside out as he spilled his hot seed deep within her. 

It was more than enough to send her hurtling over the edge as well, so over the edge she went, groaning in soul-scraping ecstasy as she tightened around his twitching length, crushing him to her chest as she cried out his name followed by a babbled stream of blissed out expletives. Her vision went white and she clenched so hard around him he was almost forced out of her, but he drove his hips forward and remained in place, covering her throat in soft, encouraging kisses as he murmured quiet praises into her ear as she tensed and writhed under him. 

“Ohhh, good girl…” he cooed as they rode out the dwindling waves of their release, and Amina whimpered, feeling her heart leap into her throat at those words, so sinfully spoken from his flushed, kiss-swollen lips…

She smoothed the hair at the nape of his neck as they collapsed together, quaking and trembling, sweat-slicked and reeking of sex. 

Emmrich’s fingers found themselves winding through her stormy black hair where it spilled over the pillow, and he did not let go as he rolled off of her to stretch out beside her, pulling her tight against him, his wet, softening cock squashed against her slightly shaking thigh. He kissed the crown of her head and held both of her hands in his as he hugged her to him. 

“I’ve had a wonderful evening with you, dearest Amina,” he said, his voice dripping with all the familiarity and intimate cadence one would anticipate from a lover.

“I’ve had a wonderful evening with you as well, Emmrich.” She kissed the back of his naked hand, her mind hazy, her heart achingly full of affection for the man tangled up with her. “Here’s to many, many more.”

They rested for a time, peacefully dozing in each other’s arms, but neither seemed capable of staying asleep for long - the exhilaration of their joining was too fresh; too real. 

A couple of hours later, Amina awoke to see Emmrich sleepily regarding her from his pillow, a strand of her long hair still twirled around his fingers, her name on his lips. Moments later, those very lips wandered down her belly and between her legs, and he lazily licked his leaking seed from her, bringing her to the softest, coziest orgasm she’d ever had with his fingers splayed over her lower belly and his tongue deep inside her. 

They fucked again after that, and then one more time before sleep properly found them and they drifted off in the early hours of dawn, entwined and undeniably in love. 

[straykids-2001]

Could you please make a Dom!female!readerxmin-su (player 125) who has a mommy kink? You don't have to if you dont want to

Mommy??

Warning ⚠️, mommy kink, dom reader, sub min su, talk about roleplay, talk about breading knik, blow job, hand job, watching min su masturbate, begging, I guess some fluff at the end, mention of daddy kink but not used,soft dom reader

Y/N had gotten home not too long ago. I was a bit sleepy. I walked to mine and min su shared room but stopped, when I heard whimpers and moans, peaking in through the creaked door, my eyes widened slightly as I show min su masturbating.

Min su didn't notice you watching. He kept going faster, my back arched off the bed as he moaned out your name, his other hand holding onto the bedsheets.

I bit my lip and tilted my head, watching him, making sure to be quiet so he didn't know I was there.

"Mommy fuck please." Min su moaned loudly, his hips buckling and he grabbed the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding the sheets

He gasped and arched his back, his hand working quickly. He whined your name, "Mommy~"

I gently pushed the door open and walked in, closing it behind me, walking over to the bed and sitting on the bed. "Min su?'

He blushed and covered his face, hiding under the covers completely. He was clearly embarrassed to be caught.

"You have a mommy kink?... Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, moving closer to him, sitting my hand on his bare thigh. He whined and moved his hand away from his face, looking at you with pleading eyes. He was a complete mess. "I-I didn't want to freak you out..."

I gently moved the covers and scotted closer to the smaller boy, grabbing his cock, and slowly jerking him "I won't have been freaked out my love." I cooed out softly, watching him with a small smile.

He whined again, the feeling of your hand on him making him arch his back more. He whimpered and squirmed under your touch* "Mommy~!"

He couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe that you were ok with this, that you weren't jerking him about what he likes, He bit his lip and moaned, his eyes rolling back as you moved your hand faster, he was a complete mess of moans and whimpers, your touch was driving him insane

"So you just been faking, huh? When we were in bed that you wanted me to call you daddy?" I asked him lowly.

He let out a shaky breath and nodded, he couldn't even speak, he was a panting mess "Y-yes~ I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable, I didn't want you to be disgusted with me.."

I bit my lip and spat on his tip, rubbing it in. "You look so much cuter like this." I muttered, taking him in my mouth, groaning around his shift.

*He let out a high pitched moan as you took him in your mouth, his hips bucking up slightly, he gripped the sheets again, his eyes closed tightly, tears brimming in them* "A-ah! Mommy~"

I hummed and bobbed my head up and down, grabbing onto his thighs, He continued to whine and whimper, his thighs quivering as you gripped them, his head was spinning with pleasure, his body twitching"M-more, mommy please~!"

I pulled back and leaned up, kissing his soft lips, I held his dick in my hand, rubbing up and down slowly

He moaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly, his hips trying to buck up into your hand. He was getting desperate for more. "Please.. I'm so close~"

"So much more into this." I moaned against his lips, squeezing his balls gently, I glanced down and rubbed my thumb over the precum lesling from his tip

He moaned loudly, his hips stuttering as you squeezed his balls, his eyes rolled back again and he whimpered "Please let me cum mommy.. Please, I need to cum.."

"Cum, my love, cum for mommy." I whispered in his esr softly, moving my hand faster, He let out a choked moan as he came, his body tensing up and his hips bucking, he whimpered as he rode out his high, looking up at you with teary eyes

I gently wiped the tears with my clean hand and got up, grabbing and rug and going to wet it, I came bsck and cleaned him up

He was still trying to catch his breath, his body was trembling slightly, he was a bit overstimulated but he didn't say anything, he just laid there and let you clean him up

I slid on some shorts for him and laid down, spooning him, holding him tightly against me. "You could have told me I won't have judged you, you know, right?" I whispered, rubbing his stomach.

He cuddled against you, resting his head on your chest. He nodded softly and mumbled a small 'I know. "I was just so scared that you'd think I was weird.."

"Do you have any other kinkd I don't know about?" I asked, running my fingers through hid hair gently, He blushed a deep shade of red and nodded again. His voice was soft and a bit embarrassed.

"I have one other.."I hummed and licked my lips "Yeah what is it?" I asked with a smile, looking down at him. He hesitated for a moment, burying his face into your chest, his face completely red. "Promise you won't laugh..?"

I nodded and tilted my head, waiting for him to speak, He took a deep breath before whispering it. "I have a breeding kink.."

I bit my lip and hummed "Wait so like you want me to breed you.... or do you want to breed me?"

He blushed even more. He was a blushing mess at this point. He hid his face completely in your chest now. He was too embarrassed to speak.

"Come on, tell me. and I tell you about one I have." I muttered, pulling him closer to me, tugging his hair softly, He let out a soft whimper as you tugged his hair, he took a shaky breath before speaking up "I want you to breed me, I want you to fill me up with your cum.."

"Maybe I can order a strap with fake cum and well try it yeah?" I smiled at him, kiss him on his lips

His eyes widened a bit, his cheeks were a deep red, and he was completely flustered. He slowly nodded, looking up at you. "I-I'd like that a lot.."

"Ok, and I have a roleplay kink, I like to roleplay, a lot." I told him and chuckled, covering my face a bit in embarrassment

He smiled and moved your hand away from your face, giggling a bit. "Really? That's actually pretty hot.."

"Maybe when I breed you, we can roleplay, maybe cop and bad guy?" I suggested and cuddled him, He blushed at the thought, biting his lip as he nodded again."Yeah, that'd be fun.. And hot~"

"Ok, sleep now." I whispered, tighting my grip on his waist. He nodded and yawned, cuddling up against you. He was already starting to fall asleep, and he mumbled a small 'I love you' before drifting off.

My eyes softened, and I smiled, pushing my face in his neck. "I love you to so much more than you know." I whispered against him, closing my eyes and difting off to sleep

He let out a soft hum as you spoke. He felt warm and safe in your arms. He slept peacefully through the night, holding onto you tightly,

Got a bit lazy. Sorry 😞, I hope you like it still though, you guys can request from different shows if you like, my request are open right now, so yeah 😀

I'm going to be putting more stray kids stuff out, too

BYE 👋

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

Is that the aunt's assistant/maid or whatever from the first episode?

She's a ghost, right? How did she die? Also, is she haunting the aunt or the hospital? (I think aunt)

This is interesting. We still have a property that is managed by the aunt that hasn't been exorcised yet so is that where this is going?

Can't say this is making me trust the aunt any more, although she's been so comically self-centered that she's probably a red herring. Or maybe that's what they want us to think?

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

It's incredibly funny to me that NPMD has multiple points where you could stop the play and it would leave off on a happy ending. If you stop it right before Max falls, you can pretend they have a party and he stops bullying them because he had a good time. Or, if you stop it the second Richie says he's happy to be alive, you just need to erase the first 3 minutes of the musical from your brain and boom, Richie has been accepted by his peers and he's loving life. Lastly, if you want to stop it at the end of Best of You, you have an upbeat ending worthy of a 2000s Disney Channel original movie.

[waterlinkedgirl]

Musical Touken Ranbu: Michinooku ~ Hitotsu Hachisu (Michinooku ~ A Single Lotus)

Here we go! Only a few days after the archive release and toumyu's ninth anniversary (congratulations!)

Michioku, or Michihasu, is a myu I have many conflicting feelings about, both positive and negative. However, I do believe that with the right amount of care in the next Mika-related story myu, the negative can still be cleared. Plus, I'm glad about a lot of things being re-established. The writer does need to step up her game a little on the plot-writing side of things, as well as the understanding-and-respecting-past-myu side of things, but as long as she does, this can still be given a proper place within what was already established.

Keep in mind that these are only the subtitle files, timed and tled to the DMM senshuuraku and the bluray respectively. The archive version will have a talk at the start, so the starting times of the subs will have to be delayed accordingly.

You can find the subtitles and my TL notes document here!

[starleska]

hear me out for a moment...

so the lovely lady the Doctor spent a year at the hotel with is named Anita, right? what a coincidence...the name of Mrs Flood's actress just happens to be Anita Dobson 👀 with every passing second i am more certain that Mrs Flood is a member of the Pantheon, and her fourth-wall-breaking abilities are because she is the embodiment of Story or Narrative. i think that Anita was Mrs Flood in disguise...!! 🔥 (and are we absolutely certain that Sutekh was the only one responsible for Susan Twist appearing everywhere the Doctor and Ruby went...?)

[ofthebrownajah]

I do wonder when they're gonna get into "you do not want to be the chosen one" aspect. Cause yes they have shown the madness and what the Aes Sedai want to do to him but we do still have some show onlies thinking being the Dragon is a good heroic figure? Guess I'm just waiting for the shoe to drop in the show where they're like "actually this is more like finding out you're the antichrist."

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

alright so the dude who owns the house we (trans polycule with varying levels of disability) live in visited....and idk why

since I am now nervous abt us needing to leave faster than our timeline allows for, i'm asking for vehicle funds

we have ~$3k saved but need a bit more than $5k for even the cheapest used car, and we need it as soon as humanly possible bc, even if we AREN'T losing our home earlier than anticipated, we still need to be out in less than 3 months

you can send monies via ko-fi or cashapp

[project-sekai-facts]

taking khn valentine's into consideration, what are your prediction for the next lim banner?

Somehow, I’m going back to the thing I initially said since the last white day event ran:

Akito

[raayllum]

Something I’ve been mulling over bc it also stuck out to me when I first watched the season, took the symbolic reasoning, and then didn’t think too much over it. However, I think I do know the in-character / story reasoning after some time & reflection, so let’s talk about it. Or rather, let’s try to answer

Why didn’t Callum figure out the mirror?

Simply put: because he didn’t, Narratively, need to. 

Let me explain. 

What’s the Point, really, of Callum being interested in the mirror? We know it’s in character because he’s always in curious about magic. We know it’s in character because he already has a tendency to fixate and attach meaning to objects. And we know it’s doubly sound in-universe given that Callum knows from Rayla’s binding and the Storm Spire archway that elven stuff is hardly ever meaningless or without a deeper meaning underneath. 

From a symbolic standpoint, of course it’s meant to show his parallels to Viren, even if his and Viren’s personalities and circumstances are wildly different. However, Callum has even less context for the mirror than Viren did. All he knows is that it’s something Viren has had and is seemingly elvish in design. He doesn’t know it was in the lair of the Dragon monarchy or any hint at all that it’s connected to the archmage mentioned in his father’s letter / that he has a somehow related Key. 

One of the main reasons I thought Callum might go after Rayla into Xadia from a storytelling structure was because 1) we need humans in Xadia as an audience surrogate (hi all the kiddos just going into Xadia with Zubeia and Rayla to provide just that) and 2) I always thought they wouldn’t have the time for Callum to have a full fledged arc with mirror Aaravos the same way Viren had and that it could end being too similar to what had come before. (Turns out I was right because the plot didn’t have time lmao! But I digress)

Don’t get me wrong, Aaravos manipulating Callum through the mirror in terms of conversations could have worked (and I’ve written a few here and here pre season release) but that always felt like it might infringe a bit on Callum’s character for two main reasons

1) Besides Rayla being gone, he has virtually everything he ever wanted; helping his brother, a powerful mage, getting to pursue more magical resources etc. Viren only went to Aaravos out of outright desperation because he believed that had “nothing left to lose” and because he had goals he was chasing. Until Aaravos possesses Callum, Callum is a hot mess, sure, but he’s not particularly desperate. There’s no tangible way in - Callum was offered unlimited power back in 2x08 and still turned down being a dark mage. Just something nondescript wouldn’t really work this time either

2) Callum is skeptical as hell and is accordingly slow to trust, and even barring Rayla’s absence, he still had a support system of people who cared about him at the castle, particularly Ezran and Soren (and even Bait) who would keep an eye on him. Callum can be reckless and let his curiosity get the better of him, but he still listens to his instincts (2x03 with Soren and Claudia) and the people around him.

The main information Callum could’ve gotten from Aaravos, if the Startouch elf had been 1) willing and 2) truthful would’ve been details of his backstory - well before his imprisonment, as everything else (the fact that he is imprisoned, the lack of knowledge about where he is, who put him there, etc.) are all things we really knew. So it’d require more of a switch from Aaravos than Callum in a lot of ways too - elongating and stretching things out, and not necessarily giving Callum a segue into an arc where he’s actually able to start processing his feelings. And again, no desperation as a way in

But with all that out of the way, why have Callum be more obsessed with the mirror beyond the initial scene in 4x01? Why not have him investigating the cube because it’s also related to Aaravos and could communicate the same purpose? Why have it be the arguable C-plot of 4x02 at all if he’s just going to be interrupted? 

Like I said, there’s the very blatant symbolic reason of Rayla’s entrance being what deters Callum from getting too close to the mirror, her halo’d by the moon figure representing the other path he’s going to choose away from the more blatant visible path of darkness (black dark magic eyes, gazing upon a fallen star, “what if i’m on a path of darkness” etc etc) in the end. I do think that’s the Surface Level reading we’re meant to have as a takeaway, kind of similar to when Rayla spares Marcos in the forest in a moment of emotional illumination. Another path.

However, I think it actually goes deeper than that:

Which is to say, step out of the narrative / audience mindset, and look at it from Callum’s perspective. 

You see the six primal sources Rayla has drawn after the craziest night of your life and think of something exciting and familiar. The cube in the Banther Lodge. Conveniently on the way and free of humans. You have to go get it. 

You give up on having it when shit hits the fan. You just want to make sure everyone, especially Rayla, gets out safely. You completely give up on the cube. And even though she’s pissed at you, she tosses it into your lap anyway. 

It turns out that, of all the possible things and secrets your stepfather could’ve given you that you might have missed out on, he intended and left the Key of Aaravos to you. It soothes the ache in your chest. It feels like destiny, especially after a week of being lost and magic-less

You bury yourself in your work to soothe another heart break. You hate the bulk of what you’ve inherited from your predecessor. You learn how to translate runes. But no matter how much you learn, you can’t translate the mirror. The gleam routinely catches your eye. You hate a riddle you can’t solve

You have a feeling the mirror is related to the evil returning to the world due to Ibis mentioning the Fallen Star; the same way you had a feeling that the cube could help you. (A feeling that Rayla couldn’t be trusted, a feeling that the storm made you feel like it did when you cast fulminus.) 

Then you cannot feel anything except numbness as your limbs and mouth move beyond your control and it’s worse. It’s so much worse. 

You worry you’re on a path of darkness, that you will inevitably, accidentally, play into his hands because you almost have three times before without even realizing.

You cannot let go of the cube. 

In every adjacent encounter, Callum has had a step of separation from Aaravos. He thinks and behests they make a heartfelt detour so he can go get the cube, but Rayla is the one who finds it. Before he can even know the cube is more special than it seems (although he already thinks it’s more special than Rayla does and certainly not worthless), Harrow is granting him key ;) information. He didn’t find the mirror, Viren having already stolen and hauled it back into Katolis, as the last thing Runaan ever saw. By the time Zubeia tells him what it is, it is too late.

In so many ways this exemplifies how even before Callum knew it in 1x01 for a decent chunk of the episode, the events that would radically transform and destroy his life had already taken place in more ways than one: assassins spotted, egg stolen. Harrow dead just as the narrative truly begins. 

The cube is his part of the puzzle to decipher, not anyone else’s. Claudia, Viren, and Callum are all needed as equal parts of Aaravos’ plan for his pawns. For Viren, it was the staff and the mirror; for Claudia, it is the quest; and for Callum, it will likely be the cube. This is shown even in 4x01 when the two times Callum is talking about the mirror, he is Interrupted by either the guard coming to fetch him on his brother’s behalf or by Soren messing with the cube, and Callum is interrupted again by the cube glowing and then Rayla’s arrival, literally turning away from the mirror for each. 

The point of the mirror and Callum’s obsession with it wasn’t to solely highlight how he’s like Viren, necessarily (otherwise they could’ve just kept throwing in the same parallels they have from the very beginning), but to show how his agency has been undermined from the very beginning and will be to the end (of S6 at least), that he and Viren are tethered by the same thing that is Worse than Death, and that while more cognizant of it, by the time Viren realized Aaravos was using his Power and that Callum was entangled, it was already, as Harrow says

If Callum had figured out the mirror and that it was a prison or even communicated to Aaravos on his own, he would be able to look back and see and know all the places he could’ve stopped, all the places he actively chose to wander down. But even that is taken away from him. Even with delays, even with self-preservation, even by both repeating and rejecting Viren’s mistakes, it adds to Callum feeling like his destiny is already written, that this path as a pawn is inevitable. That no matter how different or similar he is to Viren, there’s only one way this can end, that there are no divergences, there are no other choices - there are no safe choices except to take him out. That he will continually come back to Aaravos regardless of if he knows it or not, that his own wishes will hook him right back in, that his fate is already sealed. That it’s written in stone. 

Callum has chased agency (magic) his whole arc, wanting to be able to protect his loved ones and make something of himself. However, he’s also had more agency than he was giving himself credit for even in S1, stopping Claudia from going after them, having the final say about going up to the tower or not. Thus S1-S3 is largely Callum deciding who he wants to be with the agency he has and recognizing his strengths, building his confidence. He hasn’t struggled with concepts of agency more than he has since S2, which is one of the reasons S4 mirrors S2 so heavily in how its emotionally structured for the main cast in particular. Realizing that the ability to fully commit to the choices he wants has been within him all along; that’s why he narratively gets the Sky arcanum. So of course an external factor reaching inside him and taking control is the most bone-chilling inversion of that possible.

If he went the Viren arc as a slowburn in S4, we would get the Viren S4 resolution, of Callum unknowingly giving away his agency until he has basically nothing left. If he was driven to figure out the mirror for it or his own sake, we would see him being having Claudia’s arc, falling further and deeper in with a devastating relentlessness. 

Instead, we get that lack of agency on speed run to give Callum the opposite arc of having agency brutally ripped away from him, only to open up a path for him to take it back stronger than ever before. In many ways, Callum has more to lose and more at stake, the fact that he can be possessed an even greater blow now than it would’ve been in Arc 1. 

Arc 1 for him was about acclimating and adjusting to Power. and believing in his own Potential .This first portion Arc 2 is about how much of a say does he have in how he uses that power, now that he’s no longer a child; now that he’s no longer free.  

Callum doesn’t typically worry about making the wrong choice, however. Most of his anxiety tends to stem when he feels like he has no choice. Thus, it sets Callum up to have a really interesting arc of reconciling these dualities rather than just retreading old steps. Viren had full agency when chasing after Aaravos; as Soren says to Claudia, “Dad is dead; you don’t have to do what he wants anymore,” believing that Claudia is merely picking up where Viren left off, not that she’s steamrolling their own father into it in order to save his life. 

It’s one of the reasons that of all characters, Callum arguably also parallels Zym a great deal as well. Like Zym, he’s being treated like a thing and a weapon more than a person. Like Viren believed of Zym, Callum worries he may be forced into a terrible destiny. That:

Callum being possessed is still a form of manipulation, if not also a misdirect, forcing him into a desperate position that makes him even more vulnerable to Aaravos than he ever could’ve been otherwise. But it’s a different form of manipulation than how Aaravos lured in Viren, and a different form than how he’s manipulated Claudia the past two years. Aaravos is terrifying because he knows what strings to pull, not because he’s pulling the same strings every time. For a character with such a strong breath / mouth / freedom motif, being choked / being robbed of his voice / and of his freedom is the absolute biggest smack in the face. I’ve long mandated that the worst possible thing that would rattle Callum the most would be feeling like his mind was unsafe because of Aaravos, not his body. 

Callum seeking Aaravos out in S4 of his own accord is thematically / narratively opposed to the possession plot line. The possession plot line is the ‘replacement’/subversion chosen, but it’s not a bug; it’s the feature. 

It also sets Callum up to have a really interesting arc of battling for control, eventually winning it (S5 and/or S6) but still losing to Aaravos, making the wrong choice or call or being forced into something anyway while he’s cognizant enough to make a choice at all, anyway. It’d be empowering and demoralizing all at once.

But still not without any hope, since, after all: 

Nothing is truly inevitable. Nothing is written in stone. It is never wholly too late, not for anyone. Aaravos just doesn’t know it yet - but Callum will be sure to show him, by S7 at the very least if not sooner.

[baby-prophet]

so like now what.... where does pinocchio get his power from now that reality is shattered and is on stepmothers shit list like..

[fission-mailure]

I am laughing a little bit at Gotchard trying to do the whole shock-twist-reveal of Inspector Woman Lady being evil, because -- I mean, of course she's evil.

You introduced two new characters to us, and make it clear one of them is a spy -- one who is overtly aggressive, kind of shady, and is all but accused of being a spy early on, and one who seems pleasant and agreeable.

Of course it's the pleasant and agreeable one. It's always the pleasant and agreeable one. At this point, the red herring is so well worn that I think it'd actually be more of a surprise if the one who everyone dislikes and who seems shady actually was the evil one.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

I've come to the conclusion that when it comes to new characters I have the same attitude as a poorly socialized dog. I swear every time new content comes around and we get the news of new characters my instant reaction is to just. Dislike them. Hope they have little to no importance in the plot. Even when the design looks nice and the characters seem interesting. They're taking screen time away from my faves and my heart tells me to Bite

[paaopalpoerepr33]

For whatever reason it’s only men* and white women who do the “I can excuse racism but I draw the line at animal cruelty” bit. Like I’ve never met a woman of color who has said that, ever. Like ever ever. And it really makes you think 🤔 like I can befriend white people and I’ll even date them, I think I’m pretty lenient to an extent.

*yeah even most men of color unless they’re not fucking morons

[ivy-saurs]

i didn't even like lorelai and christopher as a couple and i very much wanted lorelai to get together with luke, but the season 2 finale of gilmore girls absolutely broke my heart