#as if we need another one jfc

[fluffypotatey]

*smashes in like the Kool-Aid man*

PENDRAGON SIBLINGS YOU SAY????

I have. So many Feels. About Themst™

The complexity?? The layers?? The angst?? Hello??????

Their relationship is just So Much, because you are right, it's all tangled up in miscommunication and missed opportunities, and so many problems that can be sourced back to Uther "War Crimes" Pendragon, who wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it bit him on the ass.

If Merlin and Arthur are two sides of the same coin, then Arthur and Morgana are edges of the same blade.

Because it's the lonely childhoods, the shared grief, the friendship, the vulnerability, the fondness, the teasing, the envy, the jealousy, the almost romance, the protectiveness, the betrayal, the loss, the hurt, the refusal to let go and the desperate hanging on, and the love, the love, the love.

Indifference is the true opposite of love.

Hate is love that's gone rotten.

“If Merlin and Arthur are two sides of the same coin, then Arthur and Morgana are edges of the same blade.” oh fuck….

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK

WAIT HOLD ON WAIT LEMME PIGGYBACK ON THAT BESTIE @0hheytherebigbadwolf (tagging you bc it will be a couple days after you sent this ask)

(Also, for anyone wanting background context on what me and bestie are bouncing off on: voilà)

OK OK SO

we are all familiar with King Uther being the greatest (worst) dad of all time, correct? places such high expectations on his “only son and heir” whilst never officially acknowledging Morgana as his daughter until the very end?

F+ father of the year :)

he is not above sending his children into the dungeon if they disobey him as seen here:

(Jfc he even put Morgana in chains like wtf)

also, he is not above using emotional guilt towards them when he deems it necessary (aka one of the only times he actually acknowledges them as his children)

UTHER (1x02 Valiant) I trust you will make me proud.

UTHER (1x08 The Beginning of the End) I’ve treated you like a daughter. Is this how you repay me?

UTHER (1x12 To Kill the King) You are the daughter I never had.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) You would believe a sorcerer’s lies over the word of your father?

not to mention that when Arthur or Morgana try to reason with him or argue with him since they are the only ones with the status to do so, he pulls rank

UTHER (1x12 To Kill the King) May I remind you that you are speaking to your King [...] Take care, child, or I’ll have you restrained.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) I am your king and your father. You will show me some respect!

UTHER (2x06 Beauty and the Beast) We live in dangerous times, I cannot allow you to undermine my authority.

UTHER (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You have caused this to happen, Arthur. My decision is final.

ngl i could include more but i have already spent hours searching for shit (YOUTUBE WILL DIE BY MY HAND THAT STINGY BITC—) but y’all get what i mean: Uther is an abusive fucker and it has messed up the conditions of Arthur and Morgana

now, about the double edged blade…..

as previously established, Uther is a fucking dick and wants his children to obey him but also adore him. with this behavior, the Pendragon siblings react in two ways: with anger & contempt or submission and remorse

way #1

i’m gonna start with Morgana because anger is the easiest to pick out throughout the show. in the first episode of the first season, our introduction to Morgana’s character is her lecturing Uther about executing the man Merlin witnessed upon entering Camelot (such a warm welcome for Emrys, mh?)

MORGANA I just don't think chopping someone's head off is cause for a celebration. That poor mother. UTHER It was simple justice for what he'd done. MORGANA To whom? He practiced some magic, he didn't hurt anyone. UTHER You were not around twenty years ago, you have no idea what it was like. MORGANA How long are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then?

early on, it is easy to pick up on Morgana’s resentment and anger at Uther, who she believes is blinded by his fear of magic and his need for control (which she isn’t wrong about). also, we find that she isn’t one to back off when poking the bear (Uther). she does it constantly in seasons 1 & 2

MORGANA (1x03 Mark of Nimueh) Why would she kneel on a cold stone floor morning after morning when she could make these things happen with a snap of her fingers? Like an idle king!

MORGANA (1x08 The Beginning of the End) How can this child be your enemy? He's just a boy. UTHER He is a Druid. MORGANA Is that such a crime?…What have these people done to you? Why are you so full of hate?

UTHER (2x04 Lancelot and Guinevere) How many men would you have me sacrifice to save a servant? MORGANA  As many as it takes!

to be honest, i wouldn’t be surprised if screaming, arguing and berating Uther about his morals and ethics is her way of proving that she is not weak or submissive to his actions. i mean, Morgana grew up in a household the complete opposite from her time in Camelot. Gorlois, the man whom Morgana considers to be her father and one and only family member, was said to be “just” and “kind” and someone that Uther even considered a good friend who openly kept him in check. Morgana, until the age of ten, understood parental love and empathy unlike Arthur, who spent his whole life without any good or healthy substance of it.

the culture of Camelot and Uther’s wrath is not something Morgana was ever able to fully acclimate to as Uther himself pointed out in 1x12. She “was at odds with [him] since the beginning” and could never picture herself as a Pendragon (point further proven in 4x05: she looked revolted when Queen Annis compared her to Uther) because she didn’t share in their idea of magic = evil and a king = absolute control.

ironic in terms of future plot events, isn’t it :’)

way #2

compare that to Arthur: man’s respressed af. keeps all his emotions under lock and key if they are anything but haughty and serious. y’all, Arthur even says it himself how he “[can't] disagree with Father [Uther] in public.” whenever Arthur finds himself at odds with Uther, he holds his tongue and waits until he can disobey secretly (2x05 when he leaves to rescue Gwen, 1x08 when he helps Morgana sneak out Mordred in the dark of the night, 2x08 when he sneaks out to meet Morgause for more info about his mom, etc). it is only the rare moments when Arthur feels impassioned enough to speak up without fearing any retribution does Arthur talk back at him (so satisfying 👌)

ARTHUR (1x03 Mark of Nimueh) [Morgana’s] right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen.

ARTHUR (2x08 Sins of the Father) This is what fuels your hatred for those who practice magic. Rather than blame yourself for what you did, you blame them….You hunted her kind like animals! How many hundreds have you condemned to death to ease your guilt?!….You speak of honour and nobility! You're nothing but a hypocrite and a liar!

ARTHUR (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You can't forbid my feelings any more than I can. I won't deny them any longer, I love her. I love Guinevere.

we can even compare how the two react to Uther’s violence towards them

(ahahahahahaaaaa what a wonderful dad)

on the left, you see Arthur’s face right when Uther crushes the morteus flower needed to heal Merlin (his manservant/friend/????) and on the right, is Morgana after Uther discovers she was harboring a Druid child in her chambers and she refuses to listen to his reason.

notice how both faces are remarkably similar 👀

however, Arthur’s look of shock and dismay come from his hope that Uther would do the right thing. that he would help save Merlin’s life from dying of poison. that he wouldn’t use this as a method to teach Arthur “what it means to disobey and cross the king.” he truly did hope, just like he always does with the people he holds close. Arthur cannot help but hope and trust that those close to him will not betray him and yet so many do. hence the remorse

looking at Morgana, her shock comes from the fact that this might be the first time Uther reacted to her words and actions in a physical manner. my suspicion is that most of the time, all Morgana previously got was Uther reprimanding her and yelling at her to stop questioning his methods (bc, let’s be real, she was the favorite child.) never has he lifted a finder on her like Arthur and i have proof (cue transcript!)

AND! and, Arthur is constantly warning Morgana about not angering Uther any further because of the consequences she might face (consequences this boy is very familiar with) when Uther deems it necessary to “teach” his children obedience.

UTHER (1x04 The Poisoned Chalice) You have to learn there's a right and a wrong way of doing things. I'll see you're let out in a week. Then you can find yourself another servant.

UTHER (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You have caused this to happen, Arthur. My decision is final [...] This is for your own good. - UTHER She will die. The enchantment will be broken. You'll see I was right.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) I am protecting you from your own foolishness!

so educational 🥰 but see, because Uther presents his punishments as lessons, Arthur himself views them as just a fucked up but meaningful way of his father’s concern because “yeah, I am the first born son and only heir to the throne. of course I need to learn not to do silly things like disobey, talk back to him, be my own person.” <- I’m paraphrasing here

Arthur does and has never seen a way out of the life thrust upon him by Uther (see 3x06). succeeding Uther as king, marrying a noblewoman of high standing for heirs and alliance strength was always expected of him. Arthur never saw a way out of this. even when he and Gwen were in their secret relationship phase, Arthur had to remind himself that this would never last. he loved her and knew she loved him, but there was always that reminder (that sounded a lot like Uther) in the back of his head telling him that it would never last so long as he was prince. he had a duty (constructed by Uther) to serve Camelot and going against his father would mean (in his eyes) that he is going against Camelot (as Uther always presented it to be).

so unlike Morgana, he did not kick and scream but stood firm because that was what he believed was stronger. if he stayed in his lane and did his part, then he would be a good king, maybe even a better one than his father, for Camelot. however, the show proves that differentiating himself from Uther actually made him the better king and more respected, but this is not the meta for that. I am getting side tracked.

OK: so we’ve established parental issues between the two siblings. now onto their very complex, complicated yet beloved dynamic

sO, as i mentioned in this post (because i am lazy and too tired to copy/paste the evidence from there), these siblings do care for one another. they just go about it in the most hilarious and repressed and in-denial way (hilarious to me 😤)

when we meet them, it’s established that these two have known each other for some time. enough for them to bicker and have banter, you know, as you do with a Pendragon. also, should add, neither character are ever aware they are blood-related until s3 (because of some weak-ass bitch named Uther), so you have that very, uh, interesting subplot in s1 that everybody forgets about until you rewatch it. (honestly, I have so many questions. number 1: why???? number 2: it’s only in s1—was it scrapped??? is it like it never existed???? what was its purpose to the plot??? bbc explain yourself—)

however, despite how much it is shown that they do care for one another, they’re relationship in s1 is still undefined and vague as if they also don’t know how to accurately define what the other means to them. it’s very similar to the whole “i really love this person so much but is what i’m feeling platonic, familial, or romantic?” because….you know, guy and girl besties who are close are typically expected to grow romantic feelings for each other, so tbh i would not be surprised if both mistook their love as romantically inclined in the beginning bc, reminder, neither of them were aware they were siblings until much later.

[and this is ALL i am saying on this subplot. i do not want to cause any negative discourse, so if anyone has a few choice words about it, either keep it to yourself or feel free to talk about it with people you know. personally? not a fan of the ship and never will be, but i am not here to post about that.]

anyway, have some featured receipts showing Arthur and Morgana slipping up and showing how much they care for each other.

SEE!!!! LOOK AT HOW THE CARE!!!! SEE HOW THEY WORRY FOR THE OTHER AND WISH TO PROTECT THEM FROM HARM!!! (and see how even when they’re on opposite sides there is still that same love. just more warped and corrupted T^T)

^worried/protective Morgana

^Arthur’s face after Merlin informs him that there’s an intruder heading to Morgana’s chambers

Morgana is very aware of Arthur’s trusting nature. Arthur is very aware of Morgana’s empathy and righteous nature. they understand each other so well which is why Morgana knew just how to harm Arthur in later seasons and why Morgana’s betrayal hit Arthur so hard. it’s also why he never stopped trying to reach out to her in s4 & s5. as @merlinemrys said in this lovely post, the show’s driving force is love. love of all kinds. whatever conflict it is, love is there at the center of it all and, in Arthur and Morgana’s case, it does not save them (just like how love does not save Merlin or Arthur from what lies ahead, as the op of the post pointed out).

that is what makes their relationship/love be like a double edged sword!! that is why they are edges of the same blade!!! they protect and fight for what they believe in and for the people they love, but the same blades cut deep and twist their wounds into a lasting scar.

it is because of Arthur’s love for Morgana that he cannot help but hope and mourn the woman he once knew. it is because of Morgana’s love for Arthur that her feelings of hatred are so strong and ugly.

like honestly,

look at them T^T compared to before

their relationship is so tragic T^T because we knew them before it all went wrong. we knew they cared and understood each other. we knew that for some time, they only had each other to rely on for a friend, a crutch, a breather for when the royal life was too much. both of them were fighters and strive to honor their values. both of them had once leaned on the other for support, had wanted nothing but happiness for each other.

fuck, they didn’t even get the chance to really be siblings because they found out too late, and by then Morgana was on a war path and Arthur only found out at the last minute.

like fuck, man

two sides of the same blade: forged with love, yet used for blood

screencaps brought to you by me, @sourdough-morbread, and farfarawaysite

[lupismaris]

.

[didiwaffles]

The more I look at those so-called supposed "healthy" relationships, or at least how they supposed to look, the more I have the feeling that they imply not caring about your partner at all.

What the fuck do you mean "true love" implies that you feel good spending time with them but you also feel good when they're not around. I understand that not being able to function without your partner is toxic, but if there's absolutely no difference whether you're with them or not, how is it love??

Healthy relationships are about overcoming challenges together, not about avoiding them. That's the farthest from "healthy" OR "relationships" I can think of.

[moophinz]

While it’s understandable when people are against a live action adaptation of a source media- and I’ve had many such thoughts and opinions on that topic myself- there’s a certain extent that starts to bother me. There’s been an enormous amount of adaptations that completely fail to understand the source material and were clearly made with the hopes of a quick cash in on something without a doubt, but there’s some other stuff to be talked about…

1) It’s another no brainer that things would change from one medium to another. Yet, the things that would need to change, and the things that were changed gratuitously are not the same despite some viewers trying to say otherwise. I often see people shrugging the most unnecessary differences in characterization as an “obvious” thing because it’s in live action. There are certain things that can easily remain intact if the people behind it put forth more effort.

2) Not having played/read/seen the original it’s based off before taking on a role is another big one. This is up in the air depending on how things go with the adaptation. Sometimes, there’s a very reasonable explanation behind why the actors involved didn’t, or they were told not to by the show runners/movie people because of [insert reason here that makes sense]. Regardless, there’s no reason for the very gatekeepy attitude taken by fans when they get offended by “filthy casuals and locals” *looking at you gamers*. And I don’t think it’s completely fair to expect every single last person involved to have encyclopedic knowledge on something. All I ask is that it be respectful to the original. Which can be a tall order depending on who’s involved. I know this type of behavior stems from people believing fans will be nicer and more accurate about the original, though.

3) Adaptations that are 1:1 with the source material feel useless, admittedly. I don’t want them to veer off track heavily to the point it becomes unrecognizable, but I also don’t want a clone of what it’s coming from. I like a nice middle ground where that adaptation is able to stand on its own.

[savage-rhi]

Fuchsia? 😂

[billowyy]

.

[ennobaka]

Hearing about rich people is actually my villain origin story

[endeverous]

.

[entry41]

// major warning for murder, discrimination, and murder amongst transgender youth

im trying to find the part where the three girls, all older than them, are charged for murder? or are those girls not going to have to deal with any sort of represcussions???

is this going to be another case of "let's keep these people's identities private!!" or what. are we ignoring the fact that those girls bashed nex's head against the bathroom floor meanwhile nobody helped before, during, or after the situation??? because the media did the same thing with brianna ghey, they refused to release information on her killers until what, a year later? why are we working so hard to protect persecutors but not the ones being persecuted?

there are so many things wrong with this situation, let's start with the fact that an ambulance wasn't called upon nex being found? those three girls had quite literally banged their head against the bathroom floor NUMEROUS times, where was your sense of urgency upon finding a SOPHOMORE, A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT WHO IS NO OLDER THAN 16, beaten on the bathroom floor??

we are talking about a 16 year old, somebody with a whole life ahead of them. nex had so much to live for and now their blood is on your hands and i hope that you feel guilty. i don't even think enraged is the word i am looking for in this situation, it's a feeling far beyond rage.

as a society we truly need to do better because jfc. i have to live my life in fear everyday, so do my friends, the people i love, and thousands of others - we aren't scary, we are scared.

rest well, nex, they will never forget your name ❤️

adding onto this post because i still have so much to say: nex was no different from you and i, they took interest in the same things we do. nex liked the walking dead, minecraft, and their cat, zeus. but now nex won't be able to partake in the things they love because of how f'ed up society is. the fact that america is perfectly fine with murdering innocent people on a daily basis truly tells you all you need to know. we are fighting a war we will never win because people refuse to accept the fact that trans folk just want to live their lives, almost like everybody else!!

i read in a reblog that nex was twospirit and i just wanted to add that, sorry if it seemed as if i was trying to leave that out, i wasn't aware. that doesn't change anything though and my point still stands.

we are not scary, we are scared.

2/25/24: please read what @youareprobablywrong said in the reblogs, it also includes ways to actually take charge and help prevent future events like this

[thetriumphantpanda]

i'm not the only one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | You have your baby. You have your family. But can you really have everything you want? Can you really have your cake and eat it too?

Warnings | Fluff, mentions of breastfeeding, small children (in my world they need to come with a warning because ew), let's say it one more time for old times sake: TOMMY GETTING CUCKED BECAUSE HE LOVES IT, dirty talk, fingering (f) and allusions to other smut.

Word Count | 1.9k

Authors Note | Wow. I just wanted to take some time to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and supported me through this little fic. What started as a filthy little one-shot has become something super special to me. I'm so proud with how this turned out and I really hope that you love this ending as much as I do. I need to say a massive thank you to the JFC - @cavillscurls @dinsdjrn @morning-star-joy @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers for continuously losing their mind over this fic with me and helping me come up with the ending where no-one gets their heart broken, I love you girls more than I can express 🧡 Thank you to each and every person who has read this, has given me their love, interacted with me and generally just made me the happiest girl for deciding to come back to fic writing. You're all awesome and I love each and every one of you. Please let me know what you thought of this, either by commenting, reblogging or sending me some love in my ask box, and if you'd like to support me with a donation, you can do so over on Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The late September sun is still warm, even as it begins dipping below the horizon, painting the sky a beautiful mix of pink and orange. The beer in your bottle is lukewarm, but you finish it off anyway, attention dropping to your son, sat on your knee, as you bounce it up and down to keep him occupied at the table. He’s just turned two and is a much better table companion at Joel’s birthday cook-out than he had been last year. He’s starting to show a little personality, babbling along when Sarah tried to talk to him, teasing Tommy when he hands his son a toy, throwing it to the ground because he already knows he’ll pick it right back up and play along. 

Everyone else has long gone by this point in the evening. This year’s celebration of Joel’s birthday being held at your house because he’s having his garden landscaped. It’s just the five of you, the people who matter most to you in life, sat around, finishing drinks and just enjoying each other’s company. Sarah yawns to your left, the day finally catching up with her. 

“You tired, bug?” Joel asks, smoothing a hand over her hair. 

“I’m not tired.” But she yawns again, chuckles erupting from the table. 

You poke at her arm, “Your room is ready whenever you are.” It had already been agreed that Sarah and Joel would stay here tonight, so he could have a drink and enjoy his birthday without worrying about driving home. 

To her credit, she lasts another hour sat at the table, but once Joshua starts fussing as well, it’s clear it’s time for everyone to call it a night. Joel kisses Sarah on the forehead, wishing her a goodnight as she heads inside. Tommy takes Joshua from your arms and presses a kiss to the top of your head, leaving you and Joel together for the first time that evening. You reach out your arm across the table, palm up to the darkening sky, Joel’s own, much larger hand, slipping into it. 

“Shall we go?” You ask, the smile across your face mirroring his own. 

“I think we should.” 

As you’re walking through the neighbourhood your mind drags back to this time last year and the conversation with Tommy as Joel’s birthday loomed on the horizon. 

“What do you think we should get him for his birthday?” Tommy asked, flipping through the catalogue of construction gear that comes through the letterbox every few months, “He was saying his toolbox is too small these days, maybe we can get him a bigger one?” 

Joshua is cradled against your chest, suckling as you feed him. You’d always wondered how the other women you knew could multitask before he’d been born. One of your best friends could breastfeed her child, cook dinner and talk to her older daughter all at the same time. Now, standing in the kitchen feeding your son, two pans on the stovetop as you cook, holding a conversation with Tommy, you realise it just came naturally. 

“I mean, we can,” You throw over your shoulder, “But I think that man deserves more than a toolbox for his birthday.” 

Once Joshua has finished feeding, you hand him to Tommy, along with placing a rag over his shoulder – you fed him, Tommy gets to burp him, that’s the deal. 

“I just feel bad,” You comment, going back to pushing the steak around the pan, “Do you not feel like you’ve kinda just abandoned him a little?” 

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks, patting his son on the back. 

You sigh, trying to focus on cooking as you speak, “I just mean that he did this for us, gave us this life we have now, and what are we going to do to thank him? Give him a toolbox? Just seems like we don’t care.” 

“Well, what would you suggest?” He asks, you're quiet in response, trying to think of how best to put this, "You miss him, don't you?" He finally asks.

You turn around, leaning against the counter to the side of the stove, “I do miss him,” You say simply, not afraid to admit it, “You said before Joshua was born that you understood the connection we have, I just want to give him something good.” 

Tommy has Joshua cradled in his arms now, trying to get him to go to sleep so he can lie him down and enjoy dinner with you in peace, "You wanna fuck him for his birthday?" There's a smirk on his lips, just like there was when you'd needed Joel before Joshua was born.

“Hey, language!” You chastise, pointing to his son in his arms, “Don’t say it like that either, you know you come first, you always have, I love you Tommy, but can’t we just give him one time, once a year, where I can really show him how grateful I am for what he gave us?” 

You can see him mull it over in his mind as he bounces his son in his arms before he relents, “Okay,” He’s smiling, and it reaches his eyes, so you know he really means it, “If that’s what you want, I’m happy.” 

You smile, walking over to kiss him, “I don’t deserve you,” You murmur against his lips, “I love you so very much, Tommy Miller.” 

Joel thinks, as he walks hand in hand with you back to his home, that he really didn’t need this. He didn’t need thanking for what he’d done. He remembers walking into your hospital room with Sarah after Joshua had been born – she’d insisted on picking the biggest and brightest bouquet of flowers for you and had been so excited to finally meet her nephew. He’d pushed open the door for her that day and had been overcome with a strange sense of satisfaction. 

You were propped up in bed, Joshua cradled in your arms, his tiny hand clutched around one of your fingers, Tommy stood, hand brushing your hair as he looked down at the both of you with pure adoration. He knew he’d given you everything in that moment, that he’d managed to make the two of you the happiest people ever, and that was enough. A fleeting moment in time between you and him, that had created the most beautiful baby boy he’d ever laid eyes on, he’d been happy to let it lie, to wait and see if you wanted more and came back to him down the line. 

He hadn’t expected that on his birthday last year, you’d have cornered him and kissed him with such passion that he wasn’t sure he’d survive once he pulled away from you. Then you explained, one night a year, he could choose when, where you could show him how thankful you were to him. A night just to yourselves, without Tommy’s eyes trailing over you both. Secret and sacred between the two of you. 

Once Joel has unlocked his front door and brought you inside, he wastes no time. He craves this, has spent the last year thinking of the moment he gets to fuse his lips with yours. It’s soft, as his mouth opens against yours, slow as your tongues meet, he doesn’t have to rush with you anymore, he gets you to himself for the whole night. He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Hey.” You smile softly. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” He’s smiling, palms resting at your hips, “You want me to take you upstairs? 

You bite at your bottom lip and breathe out, “Yes.” 

He leads you up the stairs, your hand clutched in his own, through the threshold of his bedroom. He settles himself on top of his sheets, head propped up on his pillows as he motions you to join him. You clamber onto the bed, crawling up his body on your hands and knees until you’re straddling his hips with your mouth back on his. 

As you grind your hips down onto him, his hands coming to cup your ass under your dress, you can feel him growing hard for you. All you want is to strip him down and put your mouth on him, but it seems he has other ideas, and since this is all for him, you let him take the lead. He slips his hands under the waistband of your panties, warm hands on your flesh as he pulls them down as far as they’ll go in this position. 

“Lie down for me, babygirl.” He whispers against your lips, you oblige, settling yourself down on your back as he pulls your underwear off fully, shucking the hem of your dress up to your hips. 

He’s got one of his arms under your head, his lips at your ear as you spread your legs for him, letting his fingers slip through your folds to gather the slick that has slowly been gathering there all evening as you both watched each other, knowing what was coming. 

“So wet for me, pretty girl,” He breathes into your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth to nibble as he slips two of his fingers into your tight pussy, “Been thinking about me?” 

He drags those fingers from your core, up to your clit where he begins to play soft circles across it, it’s so gentle that your breath catches in your throat as you arch yourself into his hand, “Couldn’t stop,” You admit, turning your face to kiss his lips, “Thought about you all day.” 

He dips his fingers back into your cunt as he kisses you, you can feel him smirk against your lips when you grind down to meet his fingers, “I’ve been thinking about you all year, hot mama, couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.” 

He brings his slick fingers back up to your swollen bundle of nerves, showering it with attention as you whimper for him, arching your back and bucking your hips, fingers gripping at his arm as he works you to the crest. You come for him, moaning into his mouth as he kisses you, his fingers making sure they work you for every ounce of your orgasm. 

Joel has you more times than he can count that night. He brings you over the edge over and over again until you can do nothing but sob, beg for a reprieve but beg him not to stop. You let him put you in positions you didn’t know possible, his cock thick and heavy inside you, brushing that spot within you that makes you sing and scream for him. He fills you up with his cum, protected by the pill you take each morning, and then, when the sun is rising and the beginnings of the day break through his drawn curtains, you lie on his chest, fingers drawing patterns on his skin, slick with sweat. You’re both sore, both spent, and both happy, most importantly. You know that within the hour you’ll have to start the walk back to your own home and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Sarah will think her dad slept on your couch and you were in your rightful place, in bed next to Tommy, and that's how it will continue to be for another year, happy with the man you love, but safe in the knowledge that you still have this slice of heaven each year. The play will continue for another year – the doting uncle and niece, the happy family with their growing son, and you’ll be happy, because this is all you’ve ever needed. 

“I love you.” Joel whispers, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as he brushes the sweat slicked hair from your face, his eyes mapping every inch of you, claiming this scene as his own, committing it to memory so he has one thing he can think of, in the depths of his nights, when he feels the loneliest. To remind him that he’s not lonely at all, because even if he can only have you once a year, at least he can have you. He’s a simple man and he’s happy to take this one moment with you, until you decide you want more from him, if that’s ever the case. 

“I love you too Joel.” 

[madlori]

Ship dysphoria

Ok so a bit of time has gone by, and the 9-1-1 fandom is settling into a bit of an...existential crisis?

Because 90% of this fandom is built on Buddie. Buddie has always been the strongest driving force. We love our other blorbos, but it's Buddie that usually drives us feral.

Except...Buck/Tommy. OMG. It is WORKING for a lot of fans. (and JFC we cannot settle on a ship name. Tevan? Kinley? I'm gonna stick with Buck/Tommy)

A LOT of fans are having a "I'm a devoted Buddie shipper, why do I like this so much??" moment and it can almost feel like a betrayal, or that you're deserting the ship (the ship that, remember, Oliver told us to stay aboard).

And I think I can probably speak for everybody when I say that the last thing we want or need is a ship war in this fandom, something we haven't ever really had but which has torn other fandoms apart.

So I'm gonna put on my veteran-of-many-fandoms hat for a second and tell you a thing:

It's okay to ship Buck and Tommy. It's ok to do that and still ship Buddie. It's also okay to leave Buddie behind if it's not working for you anymore. It's okay to just tolerate Buck and Tommy and not really care about it, and stay focused on Buddie. You are allowed to ship however it works for you, and you are not limited to one and only one ship. If you decide you don't think Buddie will happen and you're going to cut your losses, that's okay, too. It is not a reflection on your character or something. You don't swear an oath of fealty to a ship.

We don't know how long Tommy will stick around, but Buck will still be bisexual. He may date another man. He may date a woman again. You can ship those things too.

But why is this ship hitting me so hard? I never thought I'd like Buck with another man! I'm so confused!

I get that. There are some reasons why that might be.

There is something very appealing about a ship that's canon. Some of you might never have had a canon queer ship, but the pull is strong. There's no guessing, no interpreting, no subtext-examining. It's there, it's real, you don't have to wonder if you're just overinterpreting things. Yes. Buck and Tommy kissed and are going on a date. Even if that's all it ever is, you'll never be accused of "seeing things that aren't there." Don't discount that.

Tommy, even in just 1.5 episodes, is a LOT more integrated into the firefam than any of Buck's previous girlfriends. Tim talked about not wanting him to be "siloed off" away from the main cast and that was exactly the problem with his prior girlfriends. Tommy is friends with Eddie. He knows Christopher and has hung out with him. He spent most of that loft conversation reassuring Buck that his place in Eddie's life was secure. He feels more like part of the gang than any other ones. That makes it easier to see him in Buck's life.

The mere fact of Buck's queer awakening is so monumental for so many of us that the character who helped him get there is going to naturally earn our affection immediately, and it's going to make you want that relationship to succeed, even if it's ulitmately not endgame for Buck. You want to see Buck have a good experience the first time out with a man. Of course you do.

And we just want to see Buck make out with a hot beefy firefighter. That is so valid of us.

Anyway. There is no need for a crisis. You can love Buddie with your whole heart and still be excited about this pairing, and want to see how it goes, and read fic about it. I may be writing a lil something myself.

You're good, fam.

[fuck-customers]

I work at a bargain outlet that's expanding in new england and unfortunately a huge part of our customer base are seniors. I say unfortunately because so many of them are the most bitter and self-pitying assholes you'll ever meet.

One particular gem came in and was complaining with another boomer in line about the donation we have running right now: donating backpacks to low income kids in the local school district. Started ranting about "people on welfare with their $1000 phones and designer clothes". When it comes time to ring him out, I say the line asking if he wants to donate to a kid in need. He immediately shoots it down and starts saying that no one in the town needs that kind of help. I said "there are low income people everywhere" and he just went "I don't believe that at all" and basically started saying how no one has it worse than he does. Like no, sir, currently no one has it worse than I do because no one else is having to put up with YOU. Like...do us all a favor and go play in traffic. No one's forcing you to donate a backpack. Just say no and go about your day. Keep your misery to yourself jfc

Posted by admin Rodney

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Fifteen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Heavy Voyeurism/Mild cuckoldry, Fingering, Bondage, Praise kink, Oral (reader recieving and giving), PinV sex, Creampie, Breeding kink, Size difference, Monsterfucking, Masturbation.

Word count: 6200 Notes: this really might be the most smuttiest smut i've ever done, this shit made me blush writing it, jfc pls enjoy

You’d hoped to get home to Mig as soon as you left Miguel’s office, but at the last minute you were been called to help wrangle an escaped Lizard with a few other lower-level spiders.

You hated not being able to message Mig about your whereabouts. He knew you might be gone for most of the day but you knew he’d worry regardless, and with nothing to distract his mind it must be so much worse.

You took a few dangerous risks while trying to capture the escapee just to get it done faster, risks that your colleagues absolutely noticed. When they asked what you were thinking and you just awkwardly shrugged them off, you saw in their eyes the same mix of morbid curiosity you saw in everyone now.

Everyone knew. You couldn’t avoid it now. Whether Miguel had snapped after your fight and spread it even wider you didn’t know, but you knew you’d just have to learn to live with the universe’s judgement.

You were dating a spider. Big deal. Everyone here was a spider in some way or another, and nobody looked at MJ weirdly.

By the time you returned to Mig’s universe it was getting dark, with the sky a messy palette of dark red and purple above the darkened silhouette of the pines. You called up to Mig after dropping the tech you’d brought at the base of the nest.

‘MIG! Babe, you okay?’

‘Ah, mi arañita!’

You paused, your hand hovering over the rope ladder. Did he sound okay? You tilted your head as you replayed his voice. That was weird, he sounded almost worried? Was he still stressed out?

You grappled onto the rope and tore your way up to the entrance.

‘Hey! I’m okay Miggy, don’t worry!’

‘Arañita! Don’t—’

You grabbed the door right as he spoke, but you didn’t hear the last part of his sentence as you grunted to get over the edge.

‘Hey baby! Are you—’

You jumped out of your skin as you pushed the door aside, only barely catching yourself from falling back out and onto the earth below.

‘AH—WHAT—YOU?!’

Miguel was sitting in the nest, his body perched on one of the stools to the right side of the central fire. He didn’t even look up as you entered, but Mig rushed to steady you from falling.

‘Arañita, are you okay?’ he whispered. You didn’t hear; you were utterly fixated on Miguel.

‘What are you doing here?!’ you snapped.

Miguel narrowed his eyes, still refusing you eye contact.

‘Change of plans. Until you fill out the full paperwork to sanction this relationship, I’ve filed for an emergency supervision order. I need to be sure that you’re not breaking any rules.’

You were incredulous. Wait, is this what he’d meant? Was he really that petty? This man who was supposed to be in charge of the multiverse?

‘What- what the fuck are you— Why not put a camera up? Why not fucking warn us first?’ you snapped, your hands flying wildly as you pointed between him and the nest.

‘You could turn off a camera’ Miguel noted. ‘Besides, it’s a waste of resources.’

‘Oh, and the head of the society wasting his night watching us personally wasn’t a waste of resources?’ you argued back.

Miguel was keeping a straight face, but his smug aura radiated out of him like pus. He simply curled his lip and scoffed. ‘My job is to avoid anomalies. I’m doing that now, by ensuring that you’re both… following orders, and remaining on birth control, and that you’re not getting hurt. It seemed- the right approach, to me, as boss.’

‘You don’t need to watch us to prove that!’ you snapped back. ‘Put a- tracker in my fucking patch or something, or let me do the check ups like we agreed!’

Miguel had the audacity to yawn as you stared at him with an open mouth and clenched fists. ‘I could. But that would be a breach of your physical rights, you’d have to sign off on it, and you haven’t gone through the company mandated relationship therapy or de-escalation training. We need to agree the terms of surveillance. Until then it seemed safest to keep you on observation. That’s all.’

You opened your mouth to argue back but Miguel was faster. He raised his hand, halting you in your tracks, as those cold red eyes lingered on your face. ‘Or, would you rather hand over your watch?’ he said, his voice dipping as he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed until it hurt, your forehead furrowing with the injustice of it all.

‘You—You petty bitch.’

Both Mig and Miguel seemed startled by your language. You pointed your finger squarely at Miguel’s face, your lips drawn back over your bared teeth.

‘You petty bitch. You really think I’ll let you do this? Signing off orders so you can invade my space, because I wouldn’t sleep with you?!’

Miguel’s lips twitched. Was he holding back the urge to smile?

Mig, in contrast, looked horrified. His eyes darted between the two of you.

‘He- arañita, I-I don’t understand’ he stammered. You looked at him with nothing but sympathy in your eyes.

‘Your variant, there, revealed that apparently while I was in heat, he was hoping to— what did you say Miguel? Help me out? Ease that, hormonal pain? Something as slimy as that, anyway. He even asked why I picked you over him, and now he’s here, what a fucking surprise, huh?’

‘Mm. That’s quite the accusation. Shame you don’t have any evidence’ Miguel noted as he admired his claws.

You felt Mig beside you bristling violently.

‘You… Is this true?’ Mig murmured. He was addressing Miguel, not you, which was a comfort. He clearly believed you, as he was clutching you so tightly against his side that it was crushing your ribs.

‘Yes’ Miguel said. ‘It’s true. Of course I was interested. They reeked of heat, it was distracting. Repulsive almost. The most- desperate stench. But, that was supposed to stay between us. And it will. Because like I said, it’s your word against mine.’

‘You—’

Mig took a step forward but froze again when Miguel raised his claw, pointing it directly at your watch.

‘Again. I will remove your watch if you don’t follow the societies rules. Understand?’

You and Mig both glanced at each other. The hopelessness in your eyes was clear; you could lose your watch, and then you’d lose Mig. With a frustrated huff you turned and stormed across the nest. ‘Fucking—asshole’ you hissed beneath your breath.

Mig followed and caught you in his arms as you practically fell into his lower abdomen. You allowed his fur to muffle your continued insults.

‘It’s okay arañita. We’ll be okay.’

His soothing words were like honey, warm and sweet after a long and exhausting day. You settled into his grip.

‘So- fucking unfair’ you grumbled into his fluff. Mig didn’t disagree.

‘You need to learn some accountability’ Miguel snapped across the room. ‘You chose to do this. You chose to put yourself in a situation where you could cause an anomaly, and even though I can’t bring it forward in formal writing, you decided as a member of my society to get close to someone who is a threat. Now its my job to make sure you’re safe.’

You felt Mig breathing on your neck as he turned to watch his counterpart. His lips parted as he tasted the air with his tongue, feeling the brewing tension in the back of his throat.

In his heart, something was changing.

He’d spent so much of his life terrified of the man before him. Miguel had posed himself as the better O’Hara, the superior O’Hara, the one who knew what was best for him. But, was that true?

Mig had been told he wasn’t safe, worthy of love or affection. He was disgusting compared to Miguel, a monster in the flesh, and yet he’d soothed his self-loathing by promising that they were at least both monsters inside. Both bound to abstinence for the greater good.

And this hypocritical scum, now sitting in his nest, had tried to steal his arañita from out under his paws? How could he?

But you weren’t with Miguel, were you? Mig looked down at you as his rage boiled over. His poor arañita, nestled into his fur. No, you were with him. You’d slept with him, and you were still alive.

You’d looked him in the eye, knowing what he’d done, and you’d said he was still beautiful to you. You said you’d stay. Not with Miguel, but with him, the monster.

In his heart, something was definitely changing.

‘Fine. Miguel, you may stay’ Mig bluntly replied. ‘I’ll let you observe.’

Miguel, ignorantly assuming Mig’s concession was a sign of him backing down, took a step forward. He had such a smug look on his face.

‘Good. If you want to continue this charade, then you have to—’

Miguel’s words turned to muted gibberish as you squeaked. Mig had grabbed you between his forelegs and arms, and while Miguel had been preparing his self-righteous speech, he’d lifted you up into the air. This wouldn’t have been that unusual spare for one thing: Mig had shifted his fluffy little foreleg between your thighs, and now it was lightly probing at your clothed pussy.

Miguel just stared, too blankly shocked to respond.

‘Mi arañita, I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you so much.’

Mig purred softly as his hands began to grope you in a similar manner. He cupped your chest and your waist with his clawed fingers, lightly ripping the fabric to reveal the tender skin beneath. He prodded your clit a second time and noted the way you squirmed.

‘M-Mig, fuck—that’s, sensitive—’

‘Mmhm. Soft little pretty spider’ Mig breathed. ‘So, so pretty… Let me help you relax.’

‘What- the, f- what the fuck are you doing?’ Miguel spat in disgust.

Mig’s foreleg continued to squish against your clit, the fluffy appendage moving in neat little circles over the bunched-up fabric. He pushed it in until your lips were perfectly highlighted by the thin silk. You felt Miguel staring.

‘F-Fuck—’ Your legs kicked involuntarily as a whimpered moan escaped you.

‘I said, what do you think you’re doing?!’ Miguel repeated louder.

‘I’m just abiding by the rules, sir’ Mig hissed. ‘If you want to observe, then you may observe. But this is my home, and I’ll act how I usually would on my own territory.’

It clicked for you then, still suspended in a potent mix of embarrassment and pleasure, what Mig was doing. You caught Miguel’s eye. This selfish asshole, who’d hounded and followed and attempted to embarrass you at every turn, was now stuck here watching Mig ravage your body. Against your better judgement, you were filled with the sheer thrill of embarrassing him right back.

You gave in and relaxed in Mig’s grip. ‘M-Miggy, fuck—more, please—’

You whimpered as he moved in to kiss your neck. His full lips were warm and wet on your jugular. You felt his tongue on your skin, his claws kneading your chest. A full body shudder went through you as he gently bit down and sucked.

‘F-Fuck- Mig—’

He was rough on your neck, his fangs easily piercing down through the soft flesh. It was a potent mix of pain and pleasure, especially with his paw still massaging your clit. Your blood was pumping at this point. Your pussy throbbed in short bursts with each tender caress.

‘You—Y-You—’

To his horror, Miguel stammered. He couldn’t even find the words to berate you with. All he could do was stand and stare, eyes fixated on this ravenous display of sexual need, powerless and confused.

‘Mm—mm—’ Mig released your neck with a wet pop and a satisfied grunt, revealing a deep red and blue hickey mark. He kissed it once.

‘Mm- you like that, arañita? Mi tesoro?’ he whispered.

‘Yes, fuck—so much. I missed you so much.’

Miguel continued to stare as Mig dropped you to the mattress. He watched his variant crawl across you, with his abdomen rustling and his soft paws tapping. He was drooling venom, practically shaking with the adrenaline rush of having an audience to his physical validation.

You reached out and sleepily welcomed him with open arms, drawing him down with your arms around his neck.

‘Let me mate with you, arañita’ Mig begged, his voice muffled as he kissed your neck. ‘Please. I need you. I need you. Te necesito, mi tesoro, te lo pido por favor.’

‘Yes’ you breathed, ‘yes. Please.’

Miguel snapped his eyes away and gripped the edge of the nest with his claws. He couldn’t stand this. If he left, he was a liar, but if he stayed he had to endure this show. He could tell you to stop, but, could he force you to stop?

He could have theoretically started a fight. He could have. He could have continued barking at you to stop.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, eyes on the wall and arms folded, trying to ignore your sweet little whimpers as Mig tore your suit aside.

He drew you close with his spider legs and began to spin a silken web across your bare skin, easily turning and spinning your body. He was soft, dexterous, so alien on your human skin. Such a filthily delicious taboo.

You lay back and let your monster bind you. You succumbed to him far too easily.

Mig spun you into a shibari style tie, with a neat little spider web on your chest and your hands tightly bound at your sides. He finished by binding your ankles with webbing he’d attached from the ceiling, using it to draw them up until they were taut and spread, with your hips right at the same height as where his phallus would emerge.

‘There. Perfect. Are you comfortable, arañita? In my web?’ he asked.

‘Y-Yes’ you rasped.

You watched Mig give an affectionate grunt as he admired you from above. He was huge. You saw his abdomen twitching and rustling with anticipation, the black fur faintly glowing the same red as his eyes.

‘Mig’ you whimpered, your lips pathetically wet. You were so hot it hurt.

‘Arañita…’

Mig purred as he put his clawed hand on your naked rear, giving your right ass cheek a firm squeeze. He wanted to look at your tight little hole, desperately dripping and clenching around nothing, aching for attention. You felt him brush one calloused finger against it and jolted in place.

‘That’s my little spider’ he purred. You felt him circling his finger around your entrance, stroking that velvety flesh until you whined.

‘Mi tesoro, my precious thing. Let me see how much you’ve missed me.’

He pushed two fingers in and you melted. The moan that escaped your lips was loud enough to echo, loud enough to grate on Miguel’s ears until he hissed.

He was trying not to look. He was facing the wall, body rigid as stone, but the noises were getting to him regardless. His mind kept imagining what you felt like.

‘You were supposed to be observing, sir’ Mig noted. He was still fucking you with his fingers, still spreading you wide as you dribbled over his hand, but his eyes were fixed on his counterpart now.

Miguel refused to turn. His eyes darted, once, and he immediately felt that disgusting flush rising in his cheeks.

‘I’ll- kill you, I swear to god’ Miguel seethed.

‘You can just go’ Mig offered. He was aggravatingly calm, the only emotion in his voice the slight pant of arousal from feeling you clench around his fingers. ‘If you’re- uncomfortable, with how I conduct myself with my mate.’

‘I can’t just, go, I am stationed here’ Miguel spat. ‘YOU could have some human dignity and cover yourself up!’

‘This is my home. My territory. THIS is my territory’ Mig replied coldly, emphasising the word ‘this’ by pushing his fingers as deep as he could. You bucked your hips and cried out in response, something that make Miguel’s stomach knot.

‘It is normal for- males, to assert their territorial claim. You’ve given me no other option. Besides, aren’t you curious? Since you’re so- good, and abstinent. Right? That’s what you told me, so how about I show you what it looks like?’

Miguel was forced once more to look away. The sound of you moaning, the sound of you pathetically whimpering, and worst of all the wet slap of Mig’s hand against your pussy as he pulsed his fingers in and out, it was stirring up something potent in him.

Anger and arousal flooded his mind. He was fighting to not throb. He couldn’t allow it, he couldn’t. He’d never forgive himself if he got enjoyment from this.

But, fuck you sounded so wet. You’d probably swallow him whole, begging and whining the whole time. Were you a little brat when fucked, complaining about it being too big, or did you beg for more? No. You probably took it all, your eyes covered in those pretty little tears as you were fucked raw.

He violently shook his head as if that would clear his thoughts, but your body cruelly decided to cum right as he was reaching the peak of his tether.

‘F-FUCK—’

Your back arched as that sweet release flooded over you. All you could see was Mig’s smug, fang-filled grin as he felt your insides clench, his enormous spider legs pattering back and forth to indicate his own excitement.

‘There you go. Well done, mi amor, you feel so pretty when you cum.’

Your body went limp as your orgasm sapped all your energy away, but Mig wasn’t done. He shifted himself down between your spread thighs and began licking up your slick with his flat, wet tongue, that warm muscle flicking deliciously right on your overstimulated clit.

You screamed, unabashedly, in a way that drove Miguel mad.

With a wet pant Mig pulled back just to slather you with praise. ‘Estas mojadita, mm- Quiero explorar tus sabores, arañita.’

You knew he was speaking deliberately to provoke Miguel, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed it even more that way.

He settled down to gently suck on your clit, his red eyes fixed on Miguel’s rigid form in the corner. The man was trying his hardest to stay sober but his eyes kept darting, and every time they did Mig widened his lips and ran his full tongue across your folds, wilfully dribbling hot spit and venom down your sensitive lips.

Miguel quickly looked away, but he just kept looking back.

You kept wincing from the overstimulation, your wet lips parting and then pursing hard to avoid screaming again. You must be so god damn sensitive, he thought. Such a fucking brat. Crying over a tongue like that.

He felt his cock throb and struggled to adjust his suit. He wondered what you tasted like. He’d never got to taste one before. It probably tasted amazing.

‘Mm… so soft…’ Mig murmured, his voice muffled by your pussy as he continued his rabid smothering of your cunt with his tongue. He wasn’t skilled so much as desperately passionate, and god knows it was enough.

‘Wish—I could eat you right up—all of you, all of you, mm—’

His eyes were dangerously red, but you were too close to cumming to care. His claws dug into your hips as he pulled you into his mouth, his lips soft as they ravenously made out with your clit.

You came quickly the second time.

‘FUCK—’

As you shuddered in his grip his entire body shivered, a low rustle emanating from his abdomen as it visibly shook.

‘Ahh.. ah, good arañita, that’s it’ he breathed dreamily. He was still licking, still lapping up everything he could, to the point that his spit was sliding and dripping down your thighs and rear and back.

Once you collapsed with exhaustion for the second time, Mig began to move in. He couldn’t wait a second longer. His cock was painfully erect, having sprung from the slit on his abdomen the moment he tied you down, and it was aching for you.

‘Here. Help get me wet’ he said softly.

You looked up to find Mig bent over your bound head, his thick shaft lightly pulsing about an inch from your lips. You could see each black vein pulsing, the tip already smeared in pearly cum. In a trance you licked it.

‘M-mm—that’s it, that’s it.’

It was adorable the way he shivered at just the lightest brush of your tongue. He let you take the tip into your mouth and gently suck on it a little. Fuck, you thought, his cum was sweet. Strangely sweet. The sensation of warm, heavy, throbbing skin on your tongue was mesmerising.

After a few wet licks Mig gently released your mouth with a wet pop. With everything now utterly saturated and sopping, he moved to fuck you instead.

‘Shh, that’s it’ he soothed. You stirred in your bindings as he mounted your strapped body.

‘I’ve got you. You can take it.’

With both hands on your ankles, Mig drew you body up and began to penetrate. Instinctively you squirmed.

‘A-Ah--!’

‘Shh, shh. You’re so tight, mi tesoro. Can you loosen up for me?’ Mig affectionately whispered. You tried your best to relax as he edged deeper but with an audience it was hard. His thick veined cock was pulsating hard, stuck with only about a fourth of it inside you.  

In truth, Mig was enjoying it. He would never hurt you, but, was his ego slightly peaked at how big he looked inside you? Absolutely. Spiders were judged on their size, after all, and that primal part of his brain loved feeling so large. He wanted Miguel to see you spread wide on his cock.

‘Shh, you can do it. You’ve done it so many times before, arañita.’

Another subtle jab, one that made Miguel sneer.

Mig gave himself plenty of time to fit. He’d pump a few times, gently stretching you out, and when it proved too tight he moved to licking you instead. He’d let his cock slide out and replaced it with his tongue, eagerly slathering every inch of your pussy with venom and spit. The venom helped ease the ache and the spit was lubricating enough, and after three or so tries he bottomed out.

You whimpered as he settled himself inside you. Yes, you’d taken him many times, but it always took you by surprise. You were stretched to the limit, your belly bulging, his thick shaft putting a heavy pressure on your muscles that you felt whenever you moved. When he throbbed it pulsed through your entire body.

He could see those pretty little tears on your lashes as you grappled with the pressure, the light pain in your core.

‘F-Fuck… ‘s so big, fuck—’ you whined.

‘You’re doing so good’ Mig praised. He vibrated his abdomen just a little to help ease the ache, as it allowed his shaft to gently vibrate against your insides. Your body shuddered at the unusual sensation. ‘Shh, you’re doing so, so good. That’s it. You’re taking it so well.’

Slowly, Mig started to move.

His whole body arched as he thrust into you, the power of each movement making your thighs and ass jiggle on impact. He loved feeling how soft you were, how squishy and comparatively small you were against him, how his claws sank into your bare skin. He started to pant.

‘Ah… ah, that’s it.’

In the corner Miguel was wincing. His eye kept twitching from the strain of not looking, and now the soft thwap of your mating was ringing in his ears. He couldn’t stand this. He couldn’t take his humiliation. He couldn’t take it.

‘Ah-- Maybe I’ll, rip that patch off, arañita’ Mig purred. He was pushing the limits in this pussy drunk state, pushing every button that Miguel possible had.

‘I think—you deserve a belly full of my babies, don’t you, sweetheart?’ he panted. ‘I want to see what you do with my seed. Let- let me fill you, please, pretty little spider. Let me get you pregnant.’

It was too much. Miguel snapped. He rose to his feet and stormed forward in a blind rage, his claws spread and ready to tear you both apart.

‘¡QUÉ CABRÓN ERES!—’

But then he faltered. Once actually face-to-face with the mirror image of himself he weakened, because Mig was, as you’d noted before, huge. He was bent over to fuck you but still had to look down at Miguel, his red eyes burning in the dim light. His fangs were bigger, his claws sharper, and his body heftier from carrying such weight.

Miguel froze. He’d always seen Mig cowering or backing down, too afraid of his own strength to show it, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. To his great shame, Mig saw the hesitation in his eyes. The spider’s lips curled into a soft smile.

Mig continued to move inside you, openly panting onto his counterpart’s face with each hard thrust.

‘Mm—mm—mmf—’

You jolted slightly with each pump as your belly bulged.

Beneath the two you were helpless, your body small and bound. You were inches away from Miguel’s thick thighs, his carefully contoured pelvis sitting right above your face. You saw his suit throb and desperately tried to look away.

‘You— Y-You—’ Miguel bared his teeth in a desperate attempt to regain control, but his eyes gave away his own perverted thoughts. He was losing. His breath was hot and his cheeks were the colour of burnt umber.

You let out another pitiful whine as Mig arched himself back, allowing just half of his shaft to pump into you so he was rubbing your g-spot. You immediately swooned, a slurry of mewls and moans dripping from your wet lips.

Miguel couldn’t help it. He looked down.

Right in front of Mig he looked down at you, bound and helpless beneath, brainlessly taking that monstrous cock right into your guts.

His lips parted, flashing just an inch of fang. His own lips were wet at this point.

‘F-Fuck’ he grunted.

He could see it pulsing in and out. He could see the glistening slick coating his abdominal fur, thick and sticky and hanging in strings. He could see the way your cunt stretched to swallow every inch of Mig’s shaft. How could you let out those soft, needy moans when you were impaled like that?

‘Fffuuuccck’ he repeated in a low whine.

‘Mine.’

Mig hissed that word with dangerous intent, right in Miguel’s face. He continued to pant on him as he pumped, and Miguel continued to watch you get fucked. His hand was shaking at this point.

‘Sweet arañita, who do you belong to?’ Mig panted.

You felt his cock slipping right up against your velvety little cunt and abruptly clenched, involuntarily squirting slick all over his soft fur. It clung to his fur in pearly strings, and he gave an approving grunt as he felt it.  

‘Arañita, mi amor, your body is too kind, but I need your words’ he whispered. He was unnervingly calm as he rocked inside you.

‘I-I’m yours’ you dumbly panted. You were rewarded with another toe-curling insertion, that perfectly timed grind which pushed his fat girth into your spot. A flood of aching pleasure forced you to squirt again.

‘MMF- Mmm, Mig!’

‘That’s it, good arañita. You’re all mine’ Mig praised a second time.

Miguel couldn’t stop watching. It was maddening.

Instinctively his hand began to creep downward, his fingers shaking as they drifted to your swollen clit. He wanted to feel how wet it was, how warm, but the moment he drifted over your lips he was forced back by Mig.

The larger spider hissed violently, his pale green venom pooling and dribbling from his mouth. A little bit hit Miguel’s cheek as he fell onto his backside.

‘Mine’ he repeated. ‘I’ll let you look, but you don’t touch.’

The embarrassment was unbearable. Miguel scowled, torn between a desire to leave and a desire to fight. Those urges he’d desperately tried to avoid were ruining his brain.

Seeing Miguel’s obvious distress, Mig decided to make it so much worse. He wasn’t done humiliating his other half, not yet.

‘Unless, they want you to’ he panted. Mig pulled back and gently tilted your body so you’d catch Miguel’s eye, all while maintaining his wet probing of your cunt.

‘Do you want him, arañita? Or do you want me?’

At this point you’d been fucked dumb, and you were barely coherent. You were drooling onto the silk, your thighs saturated in slick and sweat, your legs trembling from overstimulation as he continued to fill you like a toy.

‘You’ you whined with zero hesitation, ‘you, I want—you, please, Mig, more—’

You didn’t see the overt disappointment in Miguel’s face, the bruising of his ego. You didn’t see the jealousy in his face as Mig groaned.

‘You sure?’ Mig purred. His gratification was fuelling his over-confidence, as was the sweet release of feeling wanted after years of neglect. ‘You wouldn’t want some extra?’

‘Mm—want—you, p-please—f-fuck its so good, so—big— you’re amazing, Mig.’ Your words were slurring each time he pumped his cock, but he heard you loud and clear.

‘Even though I’m a- filthy, half-way spider?’ he coaxed. ‘Even though I’m- a monster?’

‘Yes- f-fuck, you’re my spider’ you whined.

His whining got louder, his moans turning to pathetic whimpers. He seemed more aroused by that than anything else.

‘Ah- you want me to mate with you?’ he pleaded.

‘Yes, yes—please.’

‘You want my babies, arañita? You want me to impregnate that pretty little body? Get you nice and full?’

‘Yes, yes, fuck—’

Those soft words tipped you over the edge as you orgasmed for the third time, your desperate moans echoed out into the wider forest. Mig savoured them with a look of pure ecstasy on his face. ‘F-fuck, you’re- so tight—good arañita, so good, well done’ he breathlessly praised.

Miguel wanted nothing more than to break his counterparts chiselled face. He could feel his claws extending, his heart pounding. He was itching for a fight. But, if he fought him, he’d have to stop watching. Those soft sounds were addictive as they floated through his mind, lulling him like a siren call.

Miguel took another look at your glassy eyes and wet lips, your body shimmering with sweat as you moaned. He felt himself throb. It was, in a way, easing his rut, by vicariously experiencing this primal breeding.

It was mortifying, but he stayed. He stayed back and watched as Mig continued to mate you.  

‘Mm- fuck they’re so tight’ Mig moaned, now directly addressing Miguel. ‘So- soft, so- tight—so small. Can’t, wait to fill them—’

‘You’re disgusting’ Miguel spat.

Mig didn’t even seem to hear. His eyes were half closed, his lips parted as he felt your sweet cunt squeeze the life out of him.

‘Mm—mm—mi arañita—mine’ he repeated, over and over with each thrust. Miguel buried his face in his knees.

The clap of his fluffy abdomen on your bare ass filled the nest as he started to get rougher. He looked high, his eyes almost pink in the dim light. Every part of him was shaking.

‘Ah—I’m inside them—I’m inside them—’

 You squeaked as Mig started to push your ankles back, curling your spine so he could get deeper. He’d involuntarily covered the floor in webbing from his sheer excitement. He was like a man in rapturous prayer.

‘I’m inside them-- they’re mine—’

Each wet thrust was now splashing slick as Mig began to verbally pant. He was spanking your body with each insertion, releasing the most obscenely lewd noises.

‘Okay, I’m close- I’m close, fuck—stay still for me arañita, that’s it—’

With a guttural groan Mig aggressively ejaculated inside you, his abdomen jerking and grinding to get each spurt as deep into your cunt as possible. You welcomed the thick warmth as it soothed your stretched out muscles.

Miguel had no choice. His pride wouldn’t let him leave, so he watched Mig cum inside you.

He fixated on your face as it happened, his sharp eyes watching the drool pooling from your open lips as your eyes rolled. He sneered, trying to disguise his jealousy with disgust. He could have done that easily, he told himself, he could have filled you just as well.

‘Ah…. Fuck, are you okay arañita?’

As Mig gently rocked to a halt he bent to check your face, tenderly nestling your cheek. You could only moan in response.

‘I’m- so, good—so, so good…’

Mig let out a soft sigh of relief. Somehow, the tenderness of his aftercare seemed to disgust Miguel more than anything else he’d seen. He was scowling openly as Mig gently slid himself out and admired his work.

‘Pretty little spider… Do you want to see?’

Miguel was taken aback as Mig addressed him directly. The larger man had his hand on your suspended hips, his eyes glowering in the candlelight.

The two narrowed their eyes almost in unison. Miguel knew he should leave, but he was too far gone at this point to stop. It was over. He was a beaten dog of a man, so why not indulge once more? He silently walked across the room to admire your quivering body.

‘Is that okay, arañita?’ Mig whispered to you. You nodded, and with a grunt Mig lifted your hips for Miguel to see.

You were utterly soiled at this point. Mig put his huge hand on your rear and tilted you gently, showing off the thick white seed oozing down your thighs. He made a point to push some back inside you with his finger, only for even more to squish out. You were stuffed.

Miguel shamefully relished the sight. It was strangely soothing, like he was tricking his brain into thinking he’d finished himself and could therefore ease the rut he was in.

‘This is mine’ Mig purred, his claw squeezing your right cheek until it left a red imprint. ‘This beautiful little creature, is mine. Understood?’

As Mig quietly addressed Miguel again he made a point of sealing your entrance shut with his web, excreting a thick and sticky plug right over your cunt. You oomphed as he did.

‘Yes’ Miguel hissed through gritted teeth.

‘And you won’t stop me enjoying them’ Mig added coldly. ‘I… I, deserve this. I’m not a threat. I’m not like, you.’

Mig felt you proudly shuffle your hips into his palm.

‘I’m not a threat’ he repeated. ‘And you can hound us all you want. I’m done with you now. I have… I have them.’

As you rolled and moaned on the floor Miguel felt his nose involuntarily wrinkling. He was still a mess of anger, resentment, and arousal, all of which were fighting each other in a gut-churning mess. All he knew is, he couldn’t stay here another minute.

‘You’re both animals. You deserve each other’ he grunted.

Miguel stormed towards the nest’s entrance as Mig began to cut you free. ‘I’ll finish my watch outside’ he called over his shoulder, and when Mig’s only response was to chuckle he snarled.

Miguel pushed open the door and jumped to the ground, his feet thumping as he hit the cold forest floor.

As he moved into position to watch he could hear you giggling above him in the nest. He couldn’t make out what you were saying but you sounded happy. Mig sounded happy too, with his soft words and his gleeful chuckles.

Miguel breathed out, hard, his breath turning to vapor in the air. The forest was a sea of black and white, with no illumination spare the pale, draining light of the moon.

He stood, rigid, as he listened to you and Mig laughing upstairs.

And then he palmed his crotch. He rubbed himself hard, his calloused fingers feeling each inch of his own fat girth.

His breath came a little faster. His blood was pumping in the cold air, his body steaming. With a desperately muffled moan he phased his suit away at the groin and began to stroke his cock.

‘Fuck…. Fuck, fuck—’

He was dripping pre-cum in mere seconds as he strained in his own fist. In his mind, he indulged. It made him sick to his stomach but he indulged regardless. He thought about your pleading, your doe eyes as you blinked away those overstimulated tears. The sounds of pleasure. The sounds of being wanted.

It was easy to blank out Mig’s lower body. It was easy to see that as him, to put himself there like a mirror, and to pretend he was receiving your praise, that he was inside you. It was him, after all. His face, his eyes.

No one-night stands. No desperate, animal fucking to placate his brain. He could pretend for one moment he was experiencing something real. Those soft words, that need for more. I’m yours, you’d said. He replayed it in his mind.

So wet. So tight. Squirming on his cock, begging for more. Begging for him. Pulsing, filling, breeding. Being so wanted that you’d let him get you pregnant.

Oh god. Being wanted.

He vicariously put himself in his counterpart’s place, and with his free hand over his mouth he orgasmed onto the ground below. It was hard enough to make his body shudder and his knees weak. He coated the grass in his seed, the strings glistening slightly in the pale moonlight, before slowly phasing his suit back on.

The post-orgasm clarity hit him like a bus. Now satiated all he had was rage. Rage at himself that he couldn’t accept, and so just as he’d vicariously lived through his variant, he shifted all the blame to Mig.

He was going to ruin his counterpart’s life, whether it killed him or not.

But, first, he’d live through him. Link to next part

[violetasteracademic]

What does it take for regifted jewelry to be romantic?

Rambling crap post that will literally only make sense of you have seen the movie The Family Stone but let's do it.

Sometimes I genuinely try to understand other ships. I actually really mean that, in a deeply authentic and non sarcastic way. If this shipwar wasn't so nasty, I'd engage with other people the way I do with my real, human, offline friends- some of whom are E/lucien's and G/wynriels. They are genuinely wonderful people who are not chronically online like we are (and we are, there's no point throwing that around as an insult) and they don't actually care that much. They are just going off vibes - but would be absolutely disgusted to see the violent misogyny and bullying that takes place here. We enjoy talking to each other about the ships, even when we don't agree.

Typically, when I am trying to understand something, I seek out more of it. I've asked my friends for fated mate book recommendations that match E/Lucien's story (meeting your mate, then genuinely falling for another person that is absolutely right for you in every way except for the fact that he is not your mate, and somehow the plot leads to falling in love with your mate that you don't like anyways because fate is always right and never makes mistakes, even if everyone is questioning it because you have feelings for someone else) and I haven't been able to find anything. The closest I can get is meeting your mate when you are possibly already in love/engaged/what have you to someone else and then you find out that person you are already with is actually the worst (aka Graysen) and then you wind up falling in love naturally and authentically with your mate. This is what makes it work. The person who isn't your mate showing his true colors and realizing you were wrong about them.

I think this is why Azriel's character has been rewritten to create a moment of the male Elain is actually into showing his true colors. Otherwise, her moving on to her mate that she isn't interested in just because the guy she likes rejected her literally doesn't make any sense. It can't be political machinations and the threat of violence and exterior motives and interference keeping Azriel and Elain apart. It has to be Azriel's personality and personhood, or the fated mates typical structure that I assume everyone is basing their thought process on falls apart.

I've actually been wracking my brain for years to find a piece of art or story that represents a piece of jewelry being regifted symbolizing the transference of a relationship and I FINALLY realized- my favorite holiday movie- The Family Stone! My God, the movie is literally named for the piece of jewelry, his mother's ring.

Finally having a piece to work with and pick apart allowed me to understand what elements are required to really pull off "regifting" to show that the gift is symbolically landing where it needs to go in a moving and romantic way.

1: The jewelry must not have been picked out and purchased for a specific woman, with deep and thoughtful insights as to why the man saw this piece of jewelry and thought of the woman he loves. In The Family Stone, the ring is an heirloom. It is no one's ring but his mother's. And the journey of this stone landing on the hand of the woman that is right for Emmet is deep, complicated, and heart breaking.

This is not the case for Azriel, who saw the rose necklace (very widely agreed to symbolically represent Elain on all sides) and saw something that the full depth and color was revealed when held to the light, a thing of secret, lovely beauty. And he knew it was meant for Elain. My God. Jfc. That's poetry.

2: The original recipient of the gift must actively show displeasure or disappointment in the jewelry- further revealing that this is the wrong woman.

In The Family Stone, Meredith (Sarah Jessica Parker), the "first" and "wrong" woman sees the ring on her little sister Julie's finger (Claire Danes) and while there is some drama (the ring symbolically gets stuck on Julie's finger lolol) Meredith looks at the ring and hilariously goes- "That's it?" because the diamond is so small. She doesn't like it. She wouldn't want to wear it. Meanwhile Julie was stunned. She lost her breath over its beauty and was overwhelmed.

Elain was also stunned and breathless at how beautiful her gift was. She wants to wear it immediately, and she wants him to put it on her. The act of this beautiful, thoughtful gift emboldens Elain to do something she has never done before: Blatant, unrestricted touching. Even while the man she is supposed to be with, the man whose gifts do disappoint her, sleeps upstairs. So the classic holiday romance trope of one gift is right and one gift is wrong is already playing out. From Elain's perspective, the woman who will demand a say in who she chooses and is the only confirmed FMC, she's been getting disappointing gifts from her mate for years. When she finally sees a gift that steals the air from her lungs and lights up her eyes, a gift she wants to wear and use immediately after years of lukewarm responses to the man she is "meant" to be with, it's romantic as fuck. Unless you don't like her and don't want her with Azriel, in which case it isn't romantic to you personally. However, personal opinion on Elain doesn't actually change the fact that after years of many of us already assuming Az and Elain were into each other, they had an extremely classic holiday romance reveal.

4: The act of changing your mind about who will receive this gift, in order for it to be romantic, must be an act of hope. An act of joy and dreams and revelation. Realizing that there is more out there for you, and after years of playing it safe, of trying to make it work for the wrong reasons with the wrong woman, you are ready to be brave and break your character patterns to act on that dream of happiness.

Near the climax of The Family Stone, we discover that Emmet's mother, the keeper of this ring, has had her breast cancer return. It is already clear she is not going to make it this time.

We learn that Emmet has been acting out of trauma, grief, and loss. He cannot wrap his mind around the thought of getting married without his mother being there. In a heart breaking scene, Sybil finally gives Emmet the ring she has been refusing the entire movie and lets him know it is his decision. But she also frees him from the horrible pressure he has placed on himself to get married while she is still alive. She wishes passion, joy, and happiness for him. She helps him cope with the loss of her, helps him heal the wound and burdens he carries of trying to be the Perfect Son and do everything right. All she wants for him is happiness and love. But ultimately, the decision is his.

In a rush of hope and healing, Emmet asks Julie to try the ring on. He wants to see it on her. It is a culmination. It is powerful, emotional, and restorative. In this story of brothers and sisters coping with the loss of their mother and trying to find their personal happiness, they all wind up together in the end. Meredith winds up telling Emmet she can't marry him, before he even reveals he decided not to ask her, because they both knew it wasn't right. It was so clear that they weren't in love with each other, but just trying to fit this ideal picture for reasons that had nothing to do with love. Still, Meredith isn't a villain, and winds up falling in love with his brother. The next year, everyone but Sybil gathers as a family, the first Christmas without her. The grief is palpable, but so is the love. The image of Sybil smiling at her gathered family through last year's gifted photograph of her ends the movie.

Azriel's regifting of Elaine's necklace was not a culmination. It was not an act of hope, it was not Azriel releasing Elain because he realized his love for her was not genuine and there was real and true happiness to be found in G/wyn. He did not even care to give it to her directly. He gave it to Clotho, who absolutely read the vibes and noted his sadness. He didn't even care if it wound up with Gwyn or literally any other priestess. He needed to relieve himself of the necklace because of the pain of not being able to be with Elain, just like Cassian yeeted his first Solstice gift to Nesta into the Sidra after her rejection. Regifted or getting rid of gifts as an act of pain is not romance. It is not even symbolic of a change. It only reflects a man who is hurting because he has nowhere to channel his love and longing.

What I find odd is that most people do agree that Az regifting the necklace via Clotho is absolutely not romantic, thus Azriel incel fuckboy (which literally makes no sense) was born. For the necklace regift to hold the symbolism that G/wynriels want it to hold (a sort of passing of the torch of Azriel's affection and attention) they agree that this is icky and gross behavior but G/wyn will fix him and he'll stop being icky and gross. I'd ask for recommendations on romances like that to try to understand that thought process as well, but frankly I am not interested.

Azriel getting rid of the necklace was not an act of hope, it was an act of pain. It was lot an act of love, it was an act of loss.

A change in who a gift belongs to can be romantic, with the right elements. The great ACOSF bonus chapter necklacegate has none of them. And yet somehow, even though everyone agrees it wasn't romantic, people are still out here arguing that it clearly symbolizes a new romance.

I assure you, romance symbolizes romance. It shouldn't be tricky or leave you feeling icky or like the MMC is flaky and entitled. I cannot think of a single romance author who thinks it's a good idea to sit down and write toxic fuckbois as MMC's. Even if they were toxic fuckbois in the past, they IMMEDIATELY simp for their women. As of now, Azriel still hasn't noticed G/wyn, his supposed mate, and is hurting and heartbroken over another woman that he would kill for if asked to. He is not coping with it by raking about town and looking for a new girl to fall in love with since he was ordered away from the one he wanted. He's just training, not sleeping, and putting rocks in snowballs.

When trying to determine what is being foreshadowed as romance, if we have to stretch beyond asking the simple question what is romantic, I fear we have lost the plot.

[linkyu]

tell me about your defense contract pleage

Oh boy!

To be fair, it's nothing grandiose, like, it wasn't about "a new missile blueprint" or whatever, but, just thinking about what it could have become? yeesh.

So, let's go.

For context, this is taking place in the early 2010s, where I was working as a dev and manager for a company that mostly did space stuff, but they had some defence and security contracts too.

One day we got a new contract though, which was... a weird one. It was state-auctioned, meaning that this was basically a homeland contract, but the main sponsor was Philip Morris. Yeah. The American cigarette company.

Why? Because the contract was essentially a crackdown on "illegal cigarette sales", but it was sold as a more general "war on drugs" contract.

For those unaware (because chances are, like me, you are a non-smoker), cigarette contraband is very much a thing. At the time, ~15% of cigarettes were sold illegally here (read: they were smuggled in and sold on the street).

And Phillip Morris wanted to stop that. After all, they're only a small company worth uhhh... oh JFC. Just a paltry 150 billion dollars. They need those extra dollars, you understand?

Anyway. So they sponsored a contract to the state, promising that "the technology used for this can be used to stop drug deals too". Also that "the state would benefit from the cigarettes part as well because smaller black market means more official sales means a higher tax revenue" (that has actually been proven true during the 2020 quarantine).

Anyway, here was the plan:

Phase 1 was to train a neural network and plug it in directly to the city's video-surveillance system, in order to detect illegal transactions as soon as they occur. Big brother who?

Phase 2 was to then track the people involved in said transaction throughout the city, based on their appearance and gait. You ever seen the Plainsight sheep counting video? Imagine something like this but with people. That data would then be relayed to police officers in the area.

So yeah, an automated CCTV-based tracking system. Because that's not setting a scary precedent.

So what do you do when you're in that position? Let me tell you. If you're thrust unknowingly, or against your will, into a project like this,

Note. The following is not a legal advice. In fact it's not even good advice. Do not attempt any of this unless you know you can't get caught, or that even if you are caught, the consequences are acceptable. Above all else, always have a backup plan if and when it backfires. Also don't do anything that can get you sued. Be reasonable.

Let me introduce you to the world of Corporate Sabotage! It's a funny form of striking, very effective in office environments.

Here's what I did:

First of all was the training data. We had extensive footage, but it needed to be marked manually for the training. Basically, just cropping the clips around the "transaction" and drawing some boxes on top of the "criminals". I was in charge of several batches of those. It helped that I was fast at it since I had video editing experience already. Well, let's just say that a good deal of those markings were... not very accurate.

Also, did you know that some video encodings are very slow to process by OpenCV, to the point of sometimes crashing? I'm sure the software is better at it nowadays though. So I did that to another portion of the data.

Unfortunately the training model itself was handled by a different company, so I couldn't do more about this.

Or could I?

I was the main person communicating with them, after all.

Enter: Miscommunication Master

In short (because this is already way too long), I became the most rigid person in the project. Like insisting on sharing the training data only on our own secure shared drive, which they didn't have access to yet. Or tracking down every single bug in the program and making weekly reports on those, which bogged down progress. Or asking for things to be done but without pointing at anyone in particular, so that no one actually did the thing. You know, classic manager incompetence. Except I couldn't be faulted, because after all, I was just "really serious about the security aspect of this project. And you don't want the state to learn that we've mishandled the data security of the project, do you, Jeff?"

A thousand little jabs like this, to slow down and delay the project.

At the end of it, after a full year on this project, we had.... a neural network full of false positives and a semi-working visualizer.

They said the project needed to be wrapped up in the next three months.

I said "damn, good luck with that! By the way my contract is up next month and I'm not renewing."

Last I heard, that city still doesn't have anything installed on their CCTV.

tl;dr: I used corporate sabotage to prevent automated surveillance to be implemented in a city--

hey hold on

wait

what

HEY ACTUALLY I DID SOME EXTRA RESEARCH TO SEE IF PHILLIP MORRIS TRIED THIS SHIT WITH ANOTHER COMPANY SINCE THEN AND WHAT THE FUCK

HUH??????

well what the fuck was all that even about then if they already own most of the black market???

[pl4smagh0st]

Okay so um I watched the trailer for season 12. Yeah. I don’t know what to fucking say 😭

First of all, a lot of people are saying Ramattra should’ve gotten the mythic, which I partially agree with. If Ramattra had gotten a mythic this season, it would’ve ruined the mythic pattern. There were two support mythics in a row, now there is two damage mythics in a row, then for the next two seasons they will be tanks. I think they should’ve saved the Egyptian theme for season 13, and in that season given the mythic to Ramattra. Season 12 should’ve been something different, and given the mythic to a damage hero (most likely Reaper).

Now the elephant in the room… VENTURE. WHY DID VENTURE NOT GET A SKIN!? BLIZZARD WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!? THIS SEASON COULDN’T HAVE BEEN MORE PERFECT TO GIVE VENTURE A LEGENDARY SKIN. And now we have ANOTHER KIRIKO skin that will cost us an arm, a leg and our entire bank account and omg… not one… BUT TWO FUCKING MERCY SKINS. BLIZZARD I WANT YOU TO LOOK ME DEAD IN THE EYE AND TELL ME THIS MAKES BLOODY SENSE. There was a Mercy mythic in season 10, pink mercy came back in season 11 (I suppose that can be accepted tho because it was for charity but they don’t have to make even more stuff for her afterwards), now she has two different skins in one season. What the fuck.

What surprises me the most is that Juno hasn’t seemed to have gotten a skin either?? Every new hero EXCEPT Juno and Venture have gotten at least one legendary skin the season of their release. Kiriko got Hinotori, Sojourn got Commander, Junker Queen got Beast Hunter (it was an epic but whatever IT WAS SOMETHING), Ramattra got Poseidon, Lifeweaver got Phi Ta Khon, Illari got Llama Pajamas, Mauga got Bonesplitter, and then Juno and Venture got nothing. Those were all Battle Pass skins as well. Yeah. I don’t understand Blizzard anymore like wtf!? Why is it so hard for them to make skins for venture??

My advice is don’t fucking buy the Mercy shop skin. Istg. Don’t buy the Kiriko one either. Stop giving them money of off this absolute horse shit because it’s ridiculous. It’s going to cost a fortune anyways it’s not worth it 😭 PLEASE DONT BUY THEM BRO. THEY DID THIS WITH THE LIFEGUARD KIRIKO SKIN TOO. I don’t care how much u like it you don’t need skins to play the game 💀💀😭 jfc I hate overwatch