#assuming i get it or whatever Also its only seasonal but even so... And as far as retail goes its not the WORST ever

[doebt]

Guess who got a target iunterviewwwww.... MEEE ^_^ Tbh if the nursing home paid 15 an hr i wouldve stuck with it. Like thats GOOD money for this area with how cheap a lot of apartments here are...including mine

[puckinghischier]

Tattoos Together

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: based off of the song tattoos together by lauv

notes: this idea was way better in my head, but i still think it’s cute and turned out alright. i’m obsessed with this song and knew i just had to write a nico fic based off of it asap. also, i know the timeline is all over the place bc nico is captain in this, and holtzy and dawson are here, but it technically takes place after jack’s rookie season. the beauty of fiction is that literally nothing is real, so let’s just all pretend everything is normal and chronologically correct 😊. hope you enjoy!! :)

[2.7k]

~

Summer was your favorite season for a number of reasons. First of all, you loved the warm weather. Being able to sit outside and soak up the sunshine was something your body desperately craved during the bitter New Jersey winter. You also loved the overall happiness of the general population that seemed to radiate during the summer months. Your favorite reason, however, was the fact that your best friend was always available to do whatever you wanted him to, because hockey isn’t played in the summer.

You hated that the Devils didn’t make the playoffs this year. You were as devastated as they were during that last game of the season, but you can’t lie and say you weren’t also ecstatic. You knew, the moment they lost the game that eliminated them from any sort of play off position, you were going to get a summer full of sun and fun at the lake house.

You had decided to take the warm season off from any internships or courses, not wanting anything to come in-between you and nearly four, uninterrupted months with your boys at the lake. You had decided to transfer to a college in Jersey so you could spend more time with Jack, not so you could stay in a strange city while all of your friends go to your favorite place on earth.

This year was especially exciting, considering Jack had convinced a group of his teammates to join in on the summer antics. Your anticipation for the warmer weather to arrive was only heightened once you learned a certain hockey captain would also be in attendance at the lake house.

You had been drawn to Nico from the first moment you met him after Jack’s rookie debut. Jack was so eager to introduce the two of you. He had made quick friends with the Swiss player after his arrival in the garden state and he wanted nothing more than his oldest and newest friend to meet one another and hit it off. Nico gave short, but kind, responses when Jack called you over to speak to him outside of the locker room; you assumed he was just tired and wanted to get home, but once you had seen him leaning against the wall in a crowded bar a few hours later, you made it your mission to make a friend out of the quiet hockey player.

You found yourself enjoying his conversation a little too much, basically neglecting Jack on his big night. The two of you talked about anything and everything. Nico had been in the middle of a story about his siblings back home when you suddenly realized the danger you were in. You hadn’t even been around this man for more than a few hours, and you could feel yourself falling for him. His kind eyes, the deep dimples when he smiled, and the care and attention he showed every single person that came up to congratulate him on the win, while also never failing to listen to your stories and stay engaged in the conversation with you, was making you spiral in the best way.

You knew you couldn’t go there, though. He was a big shot hockey captain, and you were only here for school. With the team’s busy schedule, you didn’t know when you would see him again. As soon as the light feeling in your chest had appeared, you forced it to make its exit. You couldn’t fall for him. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for him.

Over the next few months, however, you found yourself in Nico’s presence more often than not. Any team event that Jack dragged you to, you always found your way to where Nico was, striking up innocent, friendly conversation. If you were attending a home game at the Prudential Center, you were always cheering for Nico anytime he made a particularly important or skillful play. When he would come over to yours and Jack’s shared apartment, you always had some excuse for needing to be in the kitchen when they were, or passing through the living room and then planting yourself on the couch between the two ‘out of boredom’.

Nico wasn’t making it easy for you, either. Anytime the captain would score on the ice, it was you he was pointing towards during his celebration (or sending a text to ask if you were watching as soon as he was in the locker room for intermission, if it was an away game). If he had plans with Jack he would always send you a message, inviting you to tag along. Nico had even memorized your class schedule and your coffee order, bringing you your caffeine fix on lecture mornings when he would pick Jack up for morning skate. You found yourself talking to Nico almost more than you spoke to Jack, finding it harder and harder to keep your promise to yourself.

Jack could sense the underlying feelings you had for his captain, being able to pick up on all of your tells from the many years of friendship. He saw the way your gaze would immediately start sweeping any room you entered until it settled on Nico. He pretended not to notice the way you would always come out of your room on the mornings Nico was coming by before practice, hair and make-up already done, sitting in the kitchen to ‘work on homework’ before your lectures. He noticed when you bought his captain’s jersey, alternating between the 13 and 86 jerseys every other game. He noticed the way you would instantly perk up at the mention of Nico’s name in any conversation.

Jack also noticed the way Nico tried, and failed, to hide the feelings he had for you, as well. He noticed the way Nico would skate out for warm-ups and look around the glass until he saw you, waiting a few minutes before he made his way over to the glass where you were standing, pretending to be surprised when he turned around and found you behind him. Jack noticed the way Nico suddenly wanted to always come over to his apartment instead of Jack going to what the team refers to as the ‘captain’s quarters’. He noticed the way Nico would always come back with your favorite cocktail in hand anytime you were with them on a night out.

The back and forth between you and Nico continued for months, neither one of you ever taking the next step to admit feelings for one another. Jack wished the two of you would just get it over with at this point, the inevitable apparent to everyone but yourselves. So, when Jack opened the lake house invitation to Nico, Alex, and Dawson this summer, he can’t lie and say he didn’t have some ulterior motives.

Now, as you and Nico walked ahead of everyone else, lost in your own little world, he knew he made the right decision.

You had just eaten dinner, Jack having made reservations at a local seafood place he was dying to take everyone to, when you announced you wanted ice cream. You had suggested the small ice cream shop a short walk from the restaurant, wanting to stay out in the small lake town a little bit longer. You had sat next to Nico at dinner, staying in your own conversation most of the meal, being brought into the larger conversation happening around you only if either of your names were mentioned. The conversation followed the two of you outside, talking about his upcoming trip home.

“So, when are you leaving this utopia?” You asked him, shoulders bumping as you walked on the sidewalk beside him, a car driving by, causing your sundress to ruffle and flow in the passing wind.

“Not until the end of the month. Why? Can’t wait to get rid of me?” he responds with a playful smile, putting his hand on your back, pushing you over to the inside of the sidewalk, placing himself closest to the active road beside of you.

“Not even close,” you link your pinky with his, a habit you’ve gotten into anytime you’re walking beside him. “Dreading the day, actually. This is your first summer here, and you don’t even get to experience the best part!”

“I thought the best part was that you were here?” he references the statement you made when trying to convince him to make the trip to Michigan for the summer.

“Well, the next best part,” you respond, waving off his words. “You’re going to miss the boat parade on the Fourth of July!”

“A…boat parade?” Nico questions.

“Yes! A boat parade! Everyone decorates their boats and then drives them around the lake. Everyone here goes crazy for it. People don’t spare a single expense when it comes to boat decorations. One family even paid those statue street performers to play Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty on their boat one year,” you explain, earning a laugh from Nico.

“Why do I have the feeling you would have done that if you thought of it first?” he asks in-between chuckles.

“Because I would’ve! I was so mad that I didn’t even think of it. The only year we haven’t won it. Well, other than the years we haven’t been able to make it up here,” you shrug, thinking of all the time you’ve missed out on in the past few years.

“Well, you’ll have to come up with something even crazier this year. To make up for all the lost time,” Nico squeezes your pinkies closer together, knowing how much you hate the summers you can’t come here. “Look, you could go get a tattoo of the American flag, or something. Decorate your body, not just your boat. Really commemorate the summer,” he points to the tattoo shop you’re walking past, laughing at the craziness of the idea.

Maybe it was the heat finally getting to you. Maybe it was all the lake water you had swallowed the past few weeks. Or maybe it was the build-up of the months worth of feelings you’ve had for the man in front of you, but something in you made you say “Let’s go do it.”

“What?” Nico stopped in his tracks, looking over at you like you had three heads.

“I said let’s do it,” you said again, a serious look on your face.

“As in let’s go let you get a tattoo of the American Flag?” he asked again, confirming the idea forming in your brain.

“Yes. Well, I mean no. But yes,” you start, letting go of his pinky you were still holding on to. “I mean, let’s go get tattoos to commemorate the summer, like you said.”

“Like…right now?”

“Yes, right now. Why not? It’ll be fun. At the very least it’ll be a story to tell one day,” you try to convince him, acting as if this isn’t the most out of character thing you could suggest.

“I mean, what would we even get?” Nico asks, the word ‘no’ never coming out of his mouth.

“I don’t know, whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Or anywhere where everyone will see it. It can just be something we know we have, y’know?” you continue to try to convince him.

“Hey! Why’d you two stop? The ice cream shop is another block down.” Jack asks as the rest of the group approaches the two of you.

“Y/N is trying to convince me to go get a tattoo with her right now,” Nico tells everyone, earning a collection of shocked faces.

“You two? Getting matching tattoos?” Dawson asks, looking between the two of you.

“They don’t have to be completely matching. Just something to make us think of this moment. This summer,” you explain. “We could all get one, actually. As a group!”

“You’re out of your mind if you think any of us are getting tattoos right now,” Jack speaks up, not scared to call you out on your stupid ideas.

“I don’t think it’s that crazy of an idea. It could be fun,” Nico surprises everyone.

“Cap, are you serious? You’re thinking about going and getting a tattoo right now?” Alex questions.

“I’ve been thinking about getting another one for awhile now, so why not right now? Like she said, it’s a good summer memory, Holtzy” Nico shrugs, sounding like he’s made up his mind.

“Of course you would agree to get a matching tattoo with her. You guys are practically attached at the hip anyways,” Dawson says, causing both you and Nico to flush a light shade of pink. “You guys go have your fun, get matching tattoos, but we’ll be eating ice cream, loving the taste of no regrets,” Dawson gives up the fight.

“Just…don’t get each other’s names on your foreheads,” Jack says, shaking his head as he walks away.

Dawson and Alex follow Jack, grumbling about how they can’t believe you’re actually going to do this. Alex slides in a “at least ask her on a date first, cap” as he walks away, Nico praying you didn’t hear the comment.

You turn towards Nico, holding your hand out. “You ready?”

He takes your hand, letting you pull him into the tattoo shop’s open door. “Let’s go get tattoos together.”

An hour later, you and Nico walked out with two fresh wounds on your ankles.

Both of your tattoos were so small you truly had to look for them to notice them. You had ended up getting tattoos that were technically matching, but could have meaning on their own, too. The artist had laid out a bunch of stencils she had ready to go, letting you pick from the pile which ones you wanted. You had found a small heart with devil horns, pointing it out to Nico and jokingly suggested he get it to show his Devils heritage. At almost the exact same time, his eyes landed on a small heart with a halo over it, his eyes lighting up.

He had agreed to get the devil one only if you got the matching angel one. So, twenty minutes later, the stencils were placed and you both sat on the table as two different artists tattooed you simultaneously.

The rest of your small group teased the two of you about it for the rest of the summer. After Nico left at the end of that month, the conversation shifted from teasing about the tattoos, to teasing about when the two of you were finally going to admit your feelings to each other. You waved off their words, sticking to your explanation of you two being just friends, but they didn’t let you forget that, in their words, you ‘basically branded’ their captain.

When Nico arrived home, Nina immediately clocked the small tattoo on her brother’s leg, questioning him about it. He told her it was just a last-minute decision, something to do after the season was over, not wanting to hear any nagging about how irresponsible it was that he let a girl he was even dating talk him into getting a matching tattoo. But, when Nina saw your Instagram post at the end of the summer, the very last picture showcasing a small, familiar looking angel tattoo, she barged into Nico’s bedroom, demanding answers.

“Nico, you better explain to me what the hell is going on here, because last time we spoke you hadn’t even told her you have feelings for her yet,” Nina interrogated Nico in their native language.

“Yeah…well that hasn’t really changed. Just…haven’t found the chance yet,” he avoids talking about the tattoo, choosing to talk about the other half of her question.

“Well after this, what the hell are you waiting for?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she moves back home after she graduates next year and just leaves me behind?” Nico voices his fears to his older sister.

“Nico, she asked you to get matching tattoos. There’s no way she doesn’t feel the same way as you. I haven’t even fully met the girl, only having talked to her on your facetime calls, and I can see that she’s head over heels for you,” Nina encourages Nico, causing a warm feeling in his chest at his sister’s words.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Nico trails off, thinking about the events of this summer in full. “You know what, you’re right. As soon as I get home, I’m telling her. What’s the harm? And if she doesn’t have feelings for me, well, at least we’ll always have tattoos together.”

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Here's the thing that really broke me about the goyische left's response to the Hamas massacre: once again, the uncritical, antisemitic double standard for Israel and Jews versus literally anyone else has now expanded to assume that Jews do not deserve human rights or have lost them by virtue of being Israeli.

Let's say, for a moment, that you have been radicalized to really believe that the Hamas attack on civilians was a liberatory action, perhaps unfortunate that it targeted unarmed civilians, but what else were they supposed to do? Besides, Israel has visited similar and worse attacks on Palestine for years, so turnabout is fair play, especially in service of the struggle of liberation of a brutally oppressed group. [To be clear: I take issue with this and find it morally repugnant. But for the moment, let's accept arguendo this belief as a baseline.]

Do you really include rape, torture, killing children at all but especially in front of their parents, or killing parents in front of their children and taking hostages of the survivors, beheading infants, trapping and burning families hidden together alive, stripping and parading hostages naked through the street, mutilating and displaying the bodies of the dead proudly and celebrating their deaths, and doing all of this on a holy day where Jewish people the world over are supposed to be celebrating the end of the holiday season and the beginning of a new cycle of Torah learning. On a day that people will be resting, with their families, unarmed and in their holy spaces, and are explicitly commanded to be happy.

.......amongst the "unfortunate-but-necessary violent struggle?"

Like even if you believe in your heart of hearts that all Israelis should die or at least are acceptable casualties in the struggle, do you really believe that there is any excuse for the above atrocities? If you do, I need you to ask yourself some things:

Do you think there is any justification for the manner and cruelty of the deaths?

Do you really think that there is anything a person could do in order to deserve any of these actions as a sentence?

Was the cruel nature of this, designed to inflict the greatest amount of trauma on the survivors and the Jewish people at large, actually necessary to accomplishing the goal of liberation?

Would you accept any of these actions being done to any other group?

If you are a white American, do you think you personally deserve this yourself for everything the United States has done to the native population (never mind anyone else)?

Do you think that civilians can be held 100% accountable for their government's actions? Is that a standard you yourself would like to be judged by?

If context is important, how is the last 2000 years of brutal antisemitism from virtually every part of the world not also relevant context? How is the Holocaust not relevant? The Farhud?

Do you think refugees fleeing genocide should be able to live wherever they can and that other countries and peoples have a duty to step up and take them in? If so, would you call refugees of genocide colonists and settlers?

Do you think that children should have to answer for the crimes of adults? That it is ever okay to kill them in cold blood?

Do you think that non-combatant deaths should ever be celebrated?

Theoretically, if the only way Hamas could accomplish its goal (which we will assume arguendo is Palestinian liberation, despite the mounds of evidence against that) is to kill whatever Israelis they could get their hands on, don't you think that a valid liberation force would just kill people as efficiently as possible rather than take the time to brutalize and humiliate them first? Wouldn't that be the more morally understandable thing to do?

Do you think it's ever okay to mock or talk down to people grieving their dead, no matter who they were, especially if they were random citizens rather than, say, high-profile politicians?

These questions to me are unanswerable and the fact that they are even in question at all unjustifiable. The left has either actively participated in this or remained silent in the face of it. And too many friends who I thought were allies have failed to reach out to even ask if we're okay, let alone made even the weakest of condemnations of the brutality my people have experienced this week.

This tells me that you think my humanity, as a Jew, is conditional. That my right not to experience war crimes is up for debate.

How am I supposed to trust you ever again? Feel safe in your presence? Collaborate with you on other issues? Why should I?

For the people who are posting about the situation yet failed to condemn the torture and brutality against my people, please know that I will likely never fully believe you that you are for restorative justice, against the death penalty, against cruel and unusual punishment, against sexual violence, for children's rights and against the murder of children, against terrorism, against civilian casualties, for the rights and protection of refugees, for freedom of movement, support indigenous groups, and certainly certainly anyone claiming to be against antisemitism. There will forever and always be an asterisk next to your statements in favor of universal human rights which reads: *except Jews.

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

omg hihihi!!! im obsessed with the fic you wrote for niki and james and i was wondering if you could write one for ayrton senna? maybe with the reader being his teammate and its their first season and just him falling in love with her? idk tbh. its criminal that theres so little fics of him im obsessed with him currently xx

old money — AS27 x reader

cw: car crash

note: fr there are no fics about him and he’s one of the most handsome men i’ve ever seen. also i love old f1 vibes

masterlist

When you first met him, you immediately noticed how oddly he was looking at you. You couldn’t get whatever he was thinking, so you just assumed he didn’t like you. For a time. Then one day something changed.

You crashed in Imola. You got out of the car without even a scratch, but the faces of the people when you returned to the paddock with the ambulance made you guess it mustn’t have looked good from the screens.

And there he was. Despite the very few words you exchanged since you knew each other, rushing towards you, none other than the best driver on the grid, your rival and teammate Ayrton Senna.

Brown eyes filled with worry and hair still soaked in sweat, he called your name and took your arms in his hands. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I– I think I’m okay. I just got scared.” You didn’t know why you were telling your feelings to him, you just didn’t think much about it.

“Me too.” For a moment you thought he was gonna pull you in a hug, but he didn’t. He just softly put a hand on you cheek and then let go of you. “Glad to know you’re well, pequena.”

You found Ayrton standing in front of his Porsche Cabriolet at the end of the day. It was getting dark, few people were still in the paddock to celebrate his victory.

You hurried to reach him before he left. “Ayrton.” He turned around, but you know he was already looking at you from afar. He clearly had a shower because he smelled fresh and the red overalls had given way to a white elegant shirt. “I wanted to congratulate. Also, thank you for worrying about me earlier, you kind of reassured me.”

“No need to thank me.” He made a pause. You wondered if it was time for you to go. “You know, I was going to dinner with a friend but he won’t be able to come. Would you like to join? I have a reservation for two.”

You stared at him, surprised by the invitation, then looked down at your own jeans and blouse outfit. “I don’t know if I’m suited for the situation.”

“You are.” He opened the front seat door for you. “Let’s go.”

The restaurant was a villa in the Emilian countryside. You had never seen such a beautiful place in your entire life.

The dinner went very well. You ate pasta on a table in the garden. There were warm lights that made the location very cozy. Ayrton was so sweet, very different from the fierce man everybody saw on track. You talked about the race, but not only. You learned more about his personal life and viceversa. He asked if you were seeing someone, you shook your head. “And you?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

You thought of the gorgeous girls he was often photographed with. You didn’t believe yourself to be that pretty.

“I’m sorry if I’m not very talkative between one race and the other, I’m just trying to stay professional.” His freckles were as glaring as ever in that light. After his words, you realized you may have misinterpreted his detachment. “But when you crashed today… I don’t know, it seemed dangerous from my point of view. The thought of not seeing you next to me anymore scared me a lot.”

Spelling those words, Ayrton was playing with the glass of water in his hand, his eyes shyly looking downwards. “So I wondered if you’d like to hang out. Outside of work, I mean.”

In his own words, that was a declaration.

“I–“ That was what you wanted since you saw him introducing himself in that conference room, however you knew how risky the situation you were putting yourself into was. But right there, looking up at you with those eyes full of hope, surrounded by that magical place, he was so handsome. “I’d love to.”

[generalsdiary]

Ratio and Aventurine are Sherlock and Watson coded but not in the way you think. Where one might assume Ratio would be Sherlock because of his intellect and analytic approach to life and the comments he makes, allow me to switch the perspective. Aventurine is an addict. To what? To feeling like shit and endorsing it, to having low self-esteem, to rejecting everyone in a way so no one gets too close and realizes how vulnerable he is, how much he yearns for love. He hid it away so well that he himself isn’t aware anymore of how much he wants it. to be loved, appreciated, and seen as more than just his luck- much like Ratio wants to be seen for more than just his achievements (poor man ain’t aware of how much he wants it either). Aventurine plays this perfect little role of a charismatic, lucky, fun-to-be-around persona. And that’s all it is, a play, a stage act.

let us switch gears back to Sherlock and John. Sherlock is also an addict, depending on at which point in the timeline, it is nicotine, drugs, crime cases, and similar. Here is where the point lies. Who is the one that pulls Sherlock out of that shit, out of the drug den, to hide his cigarettes away? John. We think Sherlock functions fine… before John, sure. After John, after Mary dies; oh no, Sherlock is not well without him. He can barely function, (yes, Mary’s death comes also in account here, but I won’t get sidetracked), living in a mess, doing drugs again, smoking, treating himself like shit and like he is worthless. So, who reminds Sherlock of his worth, of his genius, of the fact that he is human and not just a performance act that he puts on of deducting others? John. Both Sherlock and Aventurine throw these spectacles, these performances, these acts of a grand image, they play it and they dance to the song that others sing, moving to the melody that strangers decide; playing into whatever image that is painted of them no matter how untrue it is, ex. Aventurine will play a gambling alcoholic as much as you wish although he is more than that, and Sherlock will play the killer, the crazy ‘psychopath’ that kidnapped those kids and poisoned them, and he is also more than that. The difference is that Sherlock performs his knowledge and analytic skills, unlike Aventurine who keeps those cards close to his chest- that is how he survives, that is how he survived, his instinct, his trauma making him aware of a lot of things in his surroundings and aware of everyone else; carefully analyzing everyone to ensure his safety. Aventurine is better with his tongue, knowing what to say and when to say it, with much better people skills- that is what got him this far after all; so, he performs with flashy promises, with fun games- gambling with his own life because what is it worth to him anyway anymore? it circles back to his ‘the only survivor trauma’. Sherlock was ready to gamble his own life (S1E1) and who stopped him? John. Well, more like who saved him. The drug addiction that Sherlock has is a bit downplayed and it always ends fast within the episodes, but in its own way, it is also his gamble, him not valuing his life as much as he should.

yes, in a way Ratio and Aventurine can both be Sherlock. But it is not about Sherlock, as much as it is about Watson. And exactly what Watson brings to the table, to their relationship. In the case of Johnlock, Ratio is very much Watson. The one to tell Aventurine his life matters, the one to go along with his plan of deceiving Sunday- because Aventurine had this great plan, a huge gamble. sound familiar? The usual thing about Sherlock with big plans, ex. exposing Mary after getting shot, going to Magnussen’s to sell Mycroft’s PC. And who follows along even when they don’t agree? John.

to take into account Johnlock in the later episodes/at least the second season, when they are closer- we are brought up to speed on where Aventio are. it is a well known fact that Aventio knew each other before the first scene in the hotel of them interacting. So, they have a history, and their period of getting familiar is over. They know each other. we only see John openly criticizing Sherlock later in the series, be it insulting him or calling him out on his bullshit. The same thing happens with Aventio, where Ratio is the one to openly state his thoughts and criticize. While yes, one may argue that that is in Ratio’s character to behave as such, if we recall the scene between Ratio and the MC, he doesn’t behave that way if unprovoked. And Aventurine wasn’t provoking him, hence the conclusion. As much as Ratio seems like the black sheep here, the odd one out (which he is don’t get me wrong), in this perspective it is Aventurine who is that. and yes, Ratio walks on eggshells around him, apologizing for his harsh words. these two aren’t the perfect puzzle pieces for Johnlock, they do differ in the way they walk in public and who leads the way, and of course the point of this isn’t to make them overlap, but to draw parallels. And while writing this, truly a lot of opposing things came to mind, where both couples differ in such vast ways, all four being complex, rich characters- it pained me that Aventurine and Veritas would be compared to Sherlock and John only in the way that the “genius” matched the “genius”. smh.

Now the way Ratio is Sherlock is very simple, he doesn’t consider himself human- more like, doesn’t allow himself to be human, to feel, to connect, to breathe; when he is too much of a human – and the main reason he wasn’t accepted into the genius society. Poor Ratio, cursed because he wants to help and spread knowledge, what a mean fate struck upon the burned out gifted autistic asexual kid. To switch to Sherlock (also very autistic asexual coded), he is the most human out of them all, (I believe Eurus calls him that but I don’t recall the exact quote, also pointed out by Mrs. Hudson, John, and Mycroft), trying to be this analytical machine when his caring bleeds through his skin, evaporating through his pores, his love for John and so many others making him pull himself apart and do anything to protect them, ex. killing Magnussen, giving himself to Smith to a guaranteed death, faking his own suicide to protect Lestrade, John, and Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock who, much like Ratio, wishes to be strict in his way of life, but cannot help wanting to explain and help others, and Ratio here differs by wanting to help everyone improve while Sherlock is willing to help only after the person has shown some amount of will, intelligence, proved themselves in some way (Irene Adler) or he so rarely happened to like them (ex. the kid that was at Mary’s wedding). Although, their shared way of calling others around them idiots is neat. I’d say this is their main connection and outside of it they are extremely different characters, which is why further comparison is pointless and shallow if you just want to compare characters because they are quote on quote the clever one.

Case in point, Aventurine is Sherlock because Ratio is John, and the one that saves him. The one that grounds him, and Aventurine NEEDS him. He needs Veritas. And Sherlock needs John. Therefore, Aventurine isn’t Sherlock without Ratio, much like there is no Sherlock (be it books, movies, or the show) without John. It is more about the relationships between them than the actual characters, and that, honestly, makes it even more beautiful.

[totallynotokguys]

Lego Monkie Kid Rewatch: Special

Embrace You're Destiny Part 1/3

I like to imagine LBD didn't just put on eye shadow here. She's covered her entire face concealer, foundation, and make up. Employing every trick of the cometic trade to try and make herself look older.

Also, look at our Not-the-Mayor. He so blissfully happy. I kinda want to show it to my non-lmk-fan friends to see what vibe they pick up from these two.

I forgot how wonderfully condescending this villain was with Wukong. Usually Wukong is the one that gets under people's skins. Its kinda fun to see the tables reversed.

I need a stress toy that looks like that frog. Not so I can squeeze it.

No. Rather so I can pat it lovingly and set it calmly on a lily pad within a tranquil pod where it can gaze up into the endless sky as if questioning the meaning of life.

These faces.

I shall cherish these faces.

"You are the second most annoying person I know!"

Friendship status achieved!

"Its an inter dimensional weapon with a destructive power to burn through the very fabric of reality."

Inter dimensional? I didn't grasp the first time how outlandish and freaking scary that statement is. First, how does Red Son know this? Second, how did a little baby demon get born with a power from outside of their universe?

And does this mean it came from outside of Nuwa's order, that the Samadhi Fire is from or a part of chaos? Was it created by or snuck in like illegal contraband by the Nine-Headed Demon? What if the Samadhi Fire originally made/brought in by 9-guy to try and eat away the cycle so he could be free. But something about that plan back fired or failed and 9-Heads repurposed it in this later plan to help get the noodle gang and MK up to snuff defeating LBD for the future defeat of suped up Azure Lion. Was it them who put the fire in Red Son or was this an accident that got away from them which 9-snake-head found a way to work in their favour?

Love that Mei gives the same big glossy eyes of admiration for adorable puppies and over the top displays of power.

She has a unique sense of whats cute in her book.

I love that when Mei is opening up to Red Son and expressing her fear of losing control and hurting everyone, he has a flashback of himself losing control, not being enough, hurting others.

And then he tells her that that won't happen to her, because she and MK are protectors.

I love this so much, you don't understand. Red Son recognises that he failed. He lost control and hurt others. But Mei didn't. Not because she is more powerful than him or because he is just too weak himself. No, because when he had the fire, he laughed and reveled in the consuming destruction, even as it hurt him. But when Mei got the fire, she despaired. She screamed her anger over those who had hurt her friends, and then cried because she understood how the fire was hurting those she cared about. There was no joy, just anguish.

Mei is a protector, and that is what makes all the difference.

Red Son: 'Oh no! I was just emotionally vulnerable! Quick, act natural!'

Starts lecturing.

Wukong just brute forcing his way through her fancy protective spell work.

No finesse. Just powerhouse.

Wait…. is that?

I channeled my inner Macaque art skills for this one.

"I've known Sun Wukong a long time. He's not the loner he pretends to be."

What truth! How many centuries did he sit in his cave with that mural of his pilgrim brothers staring down at him?

"He seems important to you, so I can only assume you're equally as important to him. If there is anyone who he needs right now, its you."

How long has Nezha known this kid? And yet he is able to give the kid one of the most heartfelt and genuine pep talks I've heard all season. This is kinda what a good therapist is able to do. An outside perspective who knows just how to reach you in whatever mental state you are in from just a few interactions. They hear your fears, they see you're stress, and they equip you with the words and tools you need to keep fighting.

I know Most-Likely-Not-the-Mayor asked Wukong to dance, but it really feels like LDB and Not-Actually-Any-Kind-of-Mayor are the ones waltzing and Wukong is just the floor beneath their slippers. How expertly they move in time with one another! Probably-Jobless-and-Not-a-Mayor keeps Wukong busy then when his lady is ready, he just bats Wukong right into her waiting arms.

He ducked.

This floor is slippery.

Makeup gone! Wukong scared the eye shadow right off of her.

You can talk all you want lady. I know you're not as sure of yourself as you say.

"What about this guy! Is he in you're future!

"As a matter of fact. No."

Ouch. this is why I love her. She does not care. Also, her makeup is back. Guess she's back to being cool and collected.

I know, Ne Zha. I know. I too would have left him in the hole.

But MK is a different breed who wants to save everyone so don't you dare try and squash that kind heart of his. What a gem.

Although, knowing his original purpose was to sacrifice himself for the sake of all beings… then is this Mk being MK or is this him feeding into his ~Destiny~

I sense a lot more mental conflict in season 6 as MK wrestles with the question of what parts of his behaviour and actions is really him choosing his own path and what is him followoing the pre-writen coding Nuwa jammed in to make him the perfect sacrifice?

Another reminder that MK is not Wukong.

MK took the time out of his mission to protected Probably-Doesn't-have-an-ID-or-Birth-Certificate-So-No-Way-Could-He-have-Ever-been-the-Mayor while Wukong is willing to sacrifice the life of this innocent girl to stop Lady Bone Demon.

This scene of Wukong getting possessed shows up in so many AMVs and art that I forgot about the creepy manic laughter that was going on in the background. Suddenly, a shot I'd seen over and over with epic music and rising vocals, became different.

Thank you Victoria Grace for your chilling performance. You haunt the scene even when your not in focus.

New that bird was sus

Its weird that Macaque has such a strong connection to MK this season. Like… first season MK was just a means to an end. Macaque didn't care one way about the kid. But this season… He's constantly trying to protect MK in his own messed up way. From trying to teach him a lesson because he thinks MK is too much like Wukong to goading MK into fighting back so if he can have an excuse for why he never brought the kid to LBD.

And now hanging around to pull him back in the nick of time. What changed? Why is Macaque putting his neck out there for MK when he is so quick to throw everyone else under the bus to protect himself?

I go back to season 5, when Macaque challenges Wukong about why chose MK as his successor, and Wukong says he was just drawn to the kid, that there was something in the kid that just felt right. Does Macaque feel that too?

Froggie!

You're okay!

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — TREVOR ZEGRAS x f!reader (established); JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader; MASON MCTAVISH x reader; trevor x jamie x mason wc — 2.2k synopsis — what better gift on your friends to bestow than the gift that keeps on giving?

note — happy valentine's day, my lovelies!! as my gift to you, i've decided to release whatever the hell this is from the archive <3 i randomly dropped this on patreon post-ficmas '24 because, per usual, i was possessed by the ghost of perpetual horniness! we know it'll happen again, so just know i am totally down to write a follow-up if there's any interest teehee! oh, and to the anons who requested some jd + tz content after the trade (rip), i hope this satisfies the craving!! (and you don't mind masey being thrown in the mix)

and with that... i’ll see myself out 🚶‍♀️

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — everyone’s a lil bi because why not, trevor is boyfriend of the year, mason and jamie bickering over whose turn it is to munch, tz + reader are switchy and mason + jamie are bratty and subby, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), accidental edging, trevor being a cocky menace and stirring the pot, and a wee bit of a cliff-hanger bc i'm incapable of controlling myself :-) oh, and the current pet name fixation of the week! + trevor calling himself daddy (once) while being condescending to all parties lolz

“—stop getting in my way.”

"or what?"

silence.

then, an exasperated groan.

“i wouldn’t need to be in the way if you were doing it right.”

the long, drawn-out sigh you hear sounds far away, like an echo from somewhere out in the distance, but you know it's coming from behind you—directly behind you.

your boyfriend abandons the soft curves of your chest, which you vehemently protest with a petulant mewl, to massage the tension building between his eyes; if he’d known this would turn into such a headache, he never would’ve suggested this.

“clock’s running, boys. if you wanna waste your very limited time between my girl’s pretty legs bickering with each other, be my guest.”

jamie and mason exchange a glare, united in their distaste for their friend’s tone and attitude in spite of their sudden animosity toward one another.

a pretty girl could do that to a friend group.

only, you haven’t come between the trio in the way one might assume. you might’ve been the catalyst in jamie and mason’s current strife, sure, but that's where your meddling begins and ends. no, you’ve come between them in more of a physical sense, at the behest of your boyfriend and their best friend.

trevor zegras veered toward possessive—territorial, even—most days, but, tonight, he’s feeling strangely generous. it is the season of giving, after all. however, his kindness hardly felt like a gift anymore. the gesture lost its luster soon after the silky ribbon was untied and discarded... and the bitching began. charity work would be a more apt descriptor, in his humble opinion.

he’s expecting an edible arrangement from the ladies of orange county in the near future.

but if anyone deserves some compensation, it's most definitely you, and trevor has just the shiny something in mind. what was originally intended to be the crown jewel of your holiday gifts will now function as a “thank you letting my friends use you as a practice dummy” token of appreciation.

“guess we also need to teach you to share,” you huff, exhausted from the accidental edging and frustrated by trevor's shifted attention.

the worst part is that you don’t think they’re perceptive enough (or have enough experience with a woman’s body, even) to see the agony, the by-product of their inadvertent torture, smeared plainly across your dazed and dewy face. your boyfriend's best friends have unintentionally dragged you to the brink of insanity, and you're reluctantly hanging on by a fragile thread.

said boyfriend's lips caress your temple. “can’t say i blame them. with you freshly unwrapped—just out of the box—and all... i wouldn't know how to share you, either.”

eager is a nice way of putting the boys' behavior thus far, but selfish is a more befitting adjective for their uncoordinated fervor.

two interesting things to note since you were spread wide—presented—to your boyfriend’s closest friends and collegues. the first being that while jamie is enthralled by the way you clench around his lithe fingers, mason favors his mouth; and second, trevor’s harder than a rock from showering his friends with the same domineering aura usually reserved for you in the privacy of your shared bedroom.

(or, the backseat of his car. the abandoned lifeguard tower beside the pier and, on occasion, the recently refurbished dressing room.)

mason also enjoys spitting on your sensitive bits more than he’s comfortable with, the apprehension bright in his eyes. but, watching the run-off of his saliva and your syrupy arousal drip onto jamie’s fingers before both are shoved into your heat is too distracting to pay any mind to the internal chaos of unearthing a new and unforeseen kink.

what jamie lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. for all his bashfulness, jamie drysdale is not shy about finger-fucking.

momentarily sat on his haunches, mason watches with feverish intent as his friend curls your toes with the simple curl of his marriage and middle, his pinky and pointer fingers splayed wide to keep his eye on the prize, sight unimpeded by plush, silky distractions.

no bells and whistles, just diligence.

soon, watching ceases to satiate the burly man and mason slips his own thumb into the mix. with his lips or his tongue—or his fingers, it now seems—mason mctavish is obsessed with your clit.

trevor shoots him a knowing wink; that's his favorite part, too. never do you make prettier sounds than when you’re having that special, highly-responsive bundle tended to. fingers, tongue, trevor's thigh... it doesn't matter, you fall apart all the same.

mason nudges jamie to one side and, much to your surprise, he goes without a fight this time, still stroking you closer and closer to the summit.

with his greater access, mason leans down. his nose splits duties with his thumb as he places wet, open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs, mons pubis, and, finally, the coveted pearl throbbing for affection. his mouth wraps around the little bud before pausing. he looks up for approval.

from trevor.

with the dip of his chin and a peck to your balmy cheek, your boyfriend encourages his best friend to suck on his girlfriend's clit.

mason needs no further coaxing. he alternates between suction and kitten-licks; his tongue was beginning to feel left out. all the while, jamie’s devoted fingers keep you pleasantly teetering on the end.

it's amazing the difference time and a little scolding can make.

“i think you’re enjoying this a little too much, bunny.”

“—m’sorry,” you whimper.

his warm, familiar chuckle fills your ear as he strokes your cheek. “i’m only teasing. you know how much i love watching you get all worked up. and, this way, i get to sit back and enjoy the view while they do all the dirty work.”

your eyes roll back, and his amusement grows louder.

“maybe, we’ll do this again? i wonder how fast they could get you off when they already know how the tricks.”

a raw, guttural sound claws past your lips.

trevor growls into your neck between love-bites. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, greedy girl? is my mouth not enough for you—y’need my friends’ too? such a slutty little bunny i have..."

"no—only want y-you."

it comes out in a few, demure hiccups, the clarity of your protest impeded by those and the frantic shaking of your head.

your boyfriend can't help but twist your mind when you're like this, too weak and preoccupied by pleasure to give him any lip. his brat's gone sweet, fully subdued. and now he can have a little fun.

“—i know, i know. no need to get all worked up over nothing, silly girl. but it wouldn't matter much if you did, though, right?" the hand cradling your chin moves your head in agreement; he knows you're too far gone—too fucked out, to function. "no, it wouldn't because daddy doesn't share his toys. he needs you all to himself."

in this moment, you aren't sure if trevor loves or loathes you.

“lost your voice, bunny? you’re strangely quiet for a slut i know is close. i can hear it, and i know you can too. we all know you're fucking soaked. go on, don't be shy. i think their good behavior has earned them some praise, hm? doin' so good at following my directions—almost as obedient as you are, pretty thing. be sweet, then you can cum all you want."

his words, coupled with the overstimulation between your bent and parted knees, send your brain down a cloudy, all-consuming spiral. too overwhelmed by the boys kneeling at your altar, you can hardly string together cohesive thoughts, let alone speak adequate praise for their efforts.

...as if trevor expected anything out of your mouth other than garbled, pathetic mumbling anyway.

not to mention, jamie found the spot that makes you see stars on the ceiling as his best friend was busy whispering filth into your ear, and he's been bullying it with his deft fingers—three of them now, buried down to the knuckle. he gives it a short, purposeful rub just to show off his treasure.

you shriek and buck your hips into mason's waiting mouth. as his head dips back down to nestle against you, the angle of jamie's fingers changes and your vision blurs just a tad.

trevor's amusement thunders in your ears as he keeps you from shying away from the new sensation, an arm looped around your waist keeping you tight to his bare chest. and good thing, too, seeing as mason's tongue slips in between jamie's fingers not a second later.

they're right and truly pleasuring you now, and you can't wait a second more.

you surrender.

and, as promised, you show them what real moans sound like from a woman—not that fake shit they subject you and trevor to through the walls on a semi-regular basis.

the sounds of you ripping at the seams spur them on, and it's starting to get difficult to discern who's to blame for the puddle beneath you. this are sloppier and more obscene than ever, and you're loving every single second of it, you almost feel like this is your gift and not theirs.

—which is why you nearly write it off as a trick of a pleasure-drunk mind.

you feel it against your sopping, swollen folds before they notice it themselves; in electing to run their tongues up and down the same path at the same time, their mouths mingled along the way—and continue to do so. the delicious, foreign sensation of their mouths tangled in a clandestine dance buys your silence. and easily.

sooner or later, they’d realize and your fun would mostly likely cease—they've never given any indication of feeling either way—and you weren’t about to speed the process along, especially not when you have the pearly gates in sight.

trevor's won't call attention to it either because he's enjoying it as much as you are. maybe more. he's twitching like crazy against the small of your back, and each time jamie and mason convene between your knees, his hips shamelessly rut into you softness like a feral dog.

he nudges you, warm lips against your cheek. "look."

giving your head a downward tilt, his firm hand directs your attention to the object of his—your boyfriend isn't the only one seeking respite by way of aimless grinding.

mason and jamie have their hips flush to your bed, their burning, sweat-stained cheeks glued to your inner thighs, one slightly scratchier than the other—the best of both worlds. their eyes are nearly black with lust. their frantic movements are more pleasure-seeking than precise, driving into the wrinkled sheets with just one thing in mind.

you've never seen anything quite like it before, and your body reacts in kind.

naturally, trevor sees the signs before anyone. he knows your body best, something he takes great pride in. you'd wager he knows more about what makes you tick than even you do. he's put in enough hours, that's for sure.

trevor doesn't bother disgusting the desire weighing on his voice, "beg."

your lips part as if on cue. your boyfriend (selfishly) indulges your pitiful little whines and repetitive pleas—he'll never pass up an opportunity to rub his handiwork in envious faces—but, eventually, he cuts you off before you get too far into the bit.

"—not you, silly bunny. them."

aghast, mason rips his mouth away and you whine at the sudden loss. jamie strokes your walls sympathetically.

"you're joking."

"does it sound like i'm joking, mctavish? you're lucky i'm even letting you see her like this, let alone touch what's mine, and it's a fucking privilege to watch her cum. convince me that you've earned it."

you weren't expecting to find it so erotic, the power trevor wields over them. you're no stranger to his persuasive prowess; his commands alone were enough to get you off some nights. but this is different, and markedly so.

watching him command his best friends—his friends, reducing them to docile creatures eager to eat from the palm of his hand with words alone, is what tips you over the edge.

their persistent chorus of compliance is swallowed entirely by your wanton cunt, but that was by design.

trevor always knows what you need.

when the dam in your abdomen fractures alongside your voice, he holds your wrists tight to his bare thighs, preventing you from grounding yourself in either of his friends' messy mops or finding purchase anywhere on his body. he can't have you distracted. he needs you to enjoy every second of it. your full, undivided attention must be on the pampering you're receiving, and the tender care with which his friends provide it.

it's okay if you're too weak—of mind, body or both—to make that happen for yourself. your boyfriend is more than willing to pin you down as you ride out your first high of the night. happy to, really.

on the come down, jamie rubs light, lazy circles over your sore, swollen clit almost apologetically. mason laps up your release because it'd be a crime to waste a drop—trevor made that abundantly clear earlier in the night. once he's drunk you dry, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"i think i could, um, use a bit more practice?" he announces bashfully—as if he didn't just make you squirt into his mouth.

jamie perks up at his side, fingers and lips still shiny. he's savoring the fruit of their labors like a precious delicacy, knowing it could be the last time he gets a taste. dark lashes shy and fluttering, his puppy-dog eyes blink up at you. "me too."

a wicked smirk forms on trevor's face; they see it, you hear it.

"gentlemen, how's your stroke game?"

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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[dodorimo]

to even the odds

The sight of her half-naked body, already flushed with arousal, awakened a torrent of emotions within him. Desire was one of them. Bitterness was another.

His mouse stole his treasures, leaving bereft of pride and hope. A light at the end of the tunnel comes in the form of his incubus and the new body they have added to their repertoire. Raphael/Named F!Dark Urge, Explicit, 2.2k

Tags: possessive behaviour, yandere, vaginal sex, knotting, he's disgusting but would you have him in any other way?

AO3 link

The moment the words left his lips, he felt a sense of uneasy nagging at the pit of his stomach. Stage fright, he reassured himself, afflicts even the most seasoned of performers.

“Change into her.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Haarlep did not ask for clarification. Didn’t need to. The incubus knew as well as he did who he was referring to.

A brief moment elapsed. Beyond the silken  curtains, the ever-present audience held their breath.

There was a sound like a soft whoosh of air as Haarlep assumed her form, the long mane of her white-blonde hair cascading down their back. The sight of her half-naked body, already flushed with arousal, awakened a torrent of emotions within him. Desire was one of them. Bitterness was another. If breaking into his house and sleeping with his incubus wasn’t enough, the mouse decided to rid him of his much prized possessions in one fell swoop.

The sheer gall of her. He remembered finding a piece of parchment with a lipstick mark on it where her contract should have been. Still warm.

He kept it as a souvenir. Pile up your evidence, as he likes to say.

Oh, he will love to pry her forgiveness from her rouge-tinged lips. Make her beg. All in due time. For now, he would stay his hand and enjoy whatever prizes were left so kindly to him.

“Lie down on the bed,” he said. “And don't even think about touching yourself until I say so.”

A poor consolation prize, he added, as he watched Haarlep crawl into his bed, a decidedly not mouse-like grin on their face. But it’ll have to do.

Once Haarlep settled among the pillows, he climbed on top of them and kneeled between their legs, his own clothes magicked away in his—shameful, he admitted—haste. His greedy eyes ran down her body: her outspread legs, the generous curve of her breast, her alluring pout. Every inch a love letter, excessive in its beauty.

There would be plenty of time to gawk later. This was an act of chastisement, and he would do well to remember.

Slowly, he took a finger down her collarbone towards the valley of her breasts, savoring the little goosebumps that rose on her flesh. The poor excuse for undergarments that still covered her body, no more than a few lace-trimmed straps, melted like sand in an hourglass.

Haarlep wasn’t used to having their lover taking their time in bed, much less tending to their needs. The anticipation was getting to them. They pressed their thighs together and bit their lip until blood welled to the surface, eyes closed.

“Fuck me, master. Make me your whore,” the incubus finally gave in, hoping the blatant vulgarity would be enough to stir his loins.

Raphael’s fingers found the bridge of his nose and pinched, as if he heard a particular keening sound in an otherwise flawless composition. “Sweeter, much sweeter,” he instructed. “Remember, there is release in the act of giving in, but there is also shame.”

A look of fleeting confusion flashed through the incubus' eyes. The meaning of his words was lost on them. Haarlep knew only the invigoration that accompanied the sins of the flesh, and hardly anything else. The act was as new to them as it was to him.

Regardless of their personal judgment, it wasn’t in the incubus’ nature to shy away from a challenge, especially when the promise was such a sweet reward. They closed their eyes, as if reliving the time spent together joined at the hips with his mouse.

Raphael straightened his back, jaw clenched. That the wretch would know her so intimately when he had to contend with a facsimile. The idea alone was grounds for the harshest of punishments, and yet, there he stood with his pants around his knees and flaccid cock in hand. What a pitiful sight he must be.

There was a hint of trepidation in their voice when Haarlep finally spoke. “Take me, please…” they said, spreading their legs—her legs—for his perusal. “I long for you. Raphael.”

It was the low whisper of his name that did it for him, that sent a primal shiver coursing through his body. He could almost picture his little mouse beneath him, pretty lips open and hair fanned out on his silk pillows.

“Better, somehow...” He sighed and wrapped a hand around his cock—almost fully erect now—and pumped once, then twice, to take the edge off. To his immeasurable disappointment, it did very little to help him with that.

Raphael turned his attention to her body instead, fingers reaching out to test her smoothness, giving special care to the nub above her nether lips. Pink and glistening with her honey. Just as he imagined.

He rubbed at her with just the tip of his fingers, more to satisfy his curiosity than to offer any real pleasure. The incubus’ eagerness was evident in the way they writhed and moaned softly under him, clutching at the pillows. When he pulled back, she bucked her hips toward him, chasing his touch.

“So impatient. One might think you were looking forward to this.” He laughed, dipping his wet fingers into his mouth. “Tell me, dearest, have you thought about me? Late at night?”

"I… you've been on my mind more than once."

Ah, an impressive show of restraint. He ought to give Haarlep his compliments later.

“Here, mouse. Be a dear then and return the favour.”

He placed her hand—so small and delicate even in comparison to his glamoured body—around his cock. It reminded him he could assume a different form; a larger, more imposing form. But it’s not his wish to scare her just yet.

The feeling of her hand, stroking his length, thumb shyly grazing the head, was nothing less than divine. Only to be rivaled, he wagered, by the feeling of her pretty lips around his cock. But that delight he would save for another day.

“To think I could have been spared the trouble of trying to woo you.” He guided her hand up and down his cock, harder now, letting his anger dictate his words as well as the cadence of his movements. “No, wooing is for ladies and well-behaved girls. Not backstabbing little whores.”

Her curious hand strayed lower, then lower still, seeking entrance between his thighs. He stopped its descent before it could reach its desired destination.

He was many things. Kind, forgiving, charitable. Patient he was not.

Her velvety walls are what he desired. He wrapped one hand around her thigh to keep her open, the other finding purchase on the pillow beside her head.

As soon as he bottomed inside her, he let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, capturing a nipple into his mouth, drawing soothing circles on her skin.

“She feels you, master. Your possession.”

“She better,” he gritted out.

“And she loves it,” the incubus continued as if he hadn’t heard him, all too pleased to relay her thoughts to him. “She loves it more than she’s willing to admit.”

Of course she does, you thrice-damned wretch, he wanted to say. Why else would she have fooled around with his doppelgänger for? If her claws were as sharp as rumoured, she would’ve made short work of a lesser fiend the likes of Haarlep. And he knew how much those bhaalspawn craved their fill of blood. No, the mouse had no need to get on her back for measly morsels of information: her choice was one born out of lust. The memory of phantom fingers still burned hot on his skin.

The little vixen. Bane of his life. She could’ve come to him. She should’ve come to him.

“That’s a pity.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, each word punctuated with a hard thrust. “She isn’t supposed to.”

Oh, how exquisitely her moans resounded within the gilded walls of his boudoir! The last shiny piece of an already perfect image.

He’s not immune to her siren call—he leaned his head, tasting her lips and tongue, welcoming the coppery tang of blood as it entered his mouth.

The task distracted him enough that he didn’t realize he shed his human skin until later, as the fiendish side of him took over.

There she lay, small, helpless, her body jolting with each motion of his hips, breasts swaying. She may take the little vampling to bed in the morning, but she would open her legs for him every night. 

“Who owns you?” He struggled to get the words out, taking deep breaths to rein himself in.

“You, you godsdamned bastard. I belong to you…”

Raphael hummed in clear approval. His incubus knew he didn’t desire a meek caricature of his beloved mouse. Subdued, yes. Penitent, most definitely. But never meek.

He wasn’t going to last long. Not when she clenched around him like a fist, her lithe legs wrapped around his waist, pulling her to him. The finishing touch, then, before the round of applause.

The sudden swelling of his cock inside her had her squirming and arching her back off the bed. Rarely did he get in the mood to knot a partner, too much of a bother for him to consider. In his experience, he found the troubles far outweighed the benefits, but for her, he would make an exception.

Haarlep’s little mewls and pained gasps weren't all just for show. They never had him in this manner before.

“What is the matter, dear?” He relished in her pain, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s just more of me to love.”

Her walls grew tighter. Her body welcomed him.

“I’m going to spill my seed.” She couldn’t hear him but she could feel him. “Right inside you.” Those last words were whispered in her ear, as if confessing a deed of love.

She chose that moment to look at him, pretty blue eyes lined with tears and, for an instant, he saw himself reflected in those crystalline depths: strong, awe-inspiring, kingly. It was enough to tear his control to shreds, filling her to the brink with his molten essence.

“Eirin,” he faltered, peppering kisses along the column of her neck. “Beautiful. Mine.”

As he rode his high, the incubus feasted on his pleasure at will. Recklessly so. Drinking more than they were used to. He felt his strength seeping out of him just as another jolt ripped through his body.

Raphael let them be. He would not dare break the spell with the sound of his voice. Not now. Not when he felt so connected to her.

He held her close as another wave of his release swept over him. He felt her then. Clenching around him impossibly tight, head thrown back in pleasure. He knew at that moment that it wasn’t the incubus’ release he was witnessing, but rather the mouse’s, as it manifested through the bond between them. 

Unexpected, but intriguing all the same.

He flicked his finger against her pearl to aid her in her fall. Never let it be said that he was nothing but a diligent lover.

As she came down from her peak, Raphael gently stroked her stomach to help her take every last drop of him. Divine blood may run in her veins but it made no difference. Her fragile human physiology was not made to bear his passion. If she were to be his new plaything, and she will be, additional measures would have to be put into place. Not to mention, his heat would render any human contraceptive obsolete.

There's an allure to the idea, he can’t deny. He could easily leave her with child and she would be none the wiser.

Eirin, Eirin, Eirin.

Her father would place a tiara of rubies upon her head, a princess in all but name. Raphael liked to think she deserved something more.

He basked in her scent, ignoring the hint of sulphur, rubbing his cheek against hers like a lovesick paramour. He would build the greatest of cages for her soul. An opulent, lavish cage that would dwarf even his best work. Failure was out of the question.

She would come to accept him, in time. Come to love him, even. Hope fared just fine.

Love.

When it came to the matters of the heart, he was a fierce admirer. But the very notion was dangerous. Like taking a wrong turn in a dark alleyway. Too many eyes and many ears, behind every door. Nothing good could come out of this affair, not for him and definitely not for her. His kind did not tolerate weaknesses, whatever form it took. And what need did he have for her love? All he needed was her submission. He required nothing else. Wished for nothing else.

But must the curtains fall in the end, and he could feel himself beginning to soften inside her.

It always ended the same way. The euphoria, the fervour and the feeling of walking among clouds. Gone too soon.

He pulled back an inch, just enough to balance his weight on his hand. A mistake, he quickly realized, as he was greeted with the sight of her cunt dripping with his seed. His incubus pleaded for him still, deep in the throes of their own passion.

So easily stirred, the appetites of men.

The play needed not end now, after all.

The raptured crowd begged for an encore. And he was ever so eager to abide.

[communistkenobi]

the individual intentions of the writers feels kind of secondary when talking about how reactionary the mandalorian has become, but if you wanted to be extremely generous about what’s going on, I think that the very simple and boring answer is that there is no financial incentive to care about what happens in the show anymore. Disney lost over a billion dollars on Disney+ last year, despite the wild success of the mandalorian and other D+ shows. I’m assuming the primary way they make money is off of mando and baby yoda merchandise - this would explain why the showrunners reunited both of them before the first episode of the third season even aired. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that the mandalorian now exists primarily to sell the mandalorian merchandise. it has become an advertisement for itself.

and this would explain a lot! It explains why virtually all of the narrative threads from the previous two seasons have either been dropped or quickly resolved. It explains the exponential increase in nauseating Star Wars references like “Han shot first” “it’s a trap” yoda doing backflips etc. It explains why Din has become something of a zombie, going through the motions without any particular motivation beyond whatever deranged escapade he and Bo-Katan get up to on a given week. There’s no point to caring because the only real pressure is getting eyes on the screen and selling more baby yoda stickers. This is why we went from an Ahsoka cameo in season 2 (an obvious ploy to launch another show but still somewhat reasonable for the story) to having Lizzo and Jack Black in season 3 (literally no narrative reason at all). Those celebrities are really popular and their inclusion in the show produces media headlines that combine their names with the mandalorian, optimising search engine results and presenting the opportunity to sell merchandise to Jack Black and Lizzo fans, even if they aren’t Star Wars fans.

but the shape of this not-caring takes on a particular political form in the show - its lack of care for politics doesn’t equally produce progressive and reactionary political conflict, it’s only reactionary. And one of the reasons for this is because I think a lot of pre-existing Star Wars canon, which this show is leaning more and more heavily on, is so politically fraught that using it without thinking about it produces reactionary narratives. I think this is a large reason why 3x03 was so deeply disturbing politically, because it was all set-up for the arrival of the First Order in the Sequel Trilogy. The show doesn’t seem to take any specific perspective on this aside from telling the audience that its all very ominous, but it’s only ominous because the First Order are established as the villains of the Sequels, not because the rise of fascism in a fictional world is a specific horror that Favreau wants to explore, and the reasons for its rise are extremely lazy, boiling down to “the government is too wrapped up in bureaucratic processes to care and too forgiving of the empire to notice.”

and two I think that in general, positioning your story in opposition to politics - not a specific set of political beliefs, just “politics” as a whole - also produces de facto reactionary narratives. the show is not espousing any positive beliefs about what an ideal world may look like, nor is it precise in its criticisms about what it believes to be the flaws that currently exist in the present day world. It’s just against bureaucracy in general, democracy in general, technology in general. and the show abdicates responsibility for taking a position on why it thinks any of these things are bad. Din dismissively scoffs “politics” in 3x06, perhaps the laziest possible admission that the show is not interested in exploring anything it considers political, and aims to position the characters as being outside of politics. but that itself is a reactionary position, to assume that presenting a “direct democracy” as an overly-decadent, hyper-tolerant society who is too scared to give cops guns but will arm citizens if their cultural “feelings” allow them to carry firearms as “not political.” Again to be way too overly generous, perhaps Favreau is attempting to wave in the general direction of current society and say wow doesn’t this suck! too much democracy produced trump, too much technology produced ipad babies, too much bureaucracy produced complicated tax forms. That’s still stupid and wrong but it’s at least not an openly fascist position. but when you don’t confront those things as political and just say “they suck” in a way that you believe to be outside of politics, the perspective you take is that of a reactionary. a refusal to confront what you consider political is itself a political position, one where you intentionally shrink your imagination of politics to, like, government employees who work at the government building, and everything outside of it is just “natural” society - or, in this case, deeply unnatural, perverted by politics. the only apparent solution for the political conflicts in the show is to scale back “the politics” that are preventing natural society from flourishing. That’s fucking reactionary! and like sorry to pull this card but the whole “I’m above politics” schtick has a pretty extensive history of appearing in fascist slogans, from Mussolini to fucking Alex Jones, a rallying cry that these people eternally get behind - “We’re above the Left-Right divide.” positioning yourself as above politics is itself a political act, one that has a lot of baggage that, by virtue of positioning yourself as being too good for politics, you will not engage with.

so like I don’t know if Favreau is “really” a reactionary. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter because his current cultural output is deeply reactionary. but I don’t think any of this is done with intentional malice. I think when you turn art into a purely financial instrument you produce art that is fascist by default, because its only goal is to concentrate financial and political power for the ruling class by appealing to “common man” interests like. fucking Star Wars!!!!!!

[em-harlsnow]

i firmly believe there’s a time when Mickey goes back to school. probably around season 3, because the courts tell him a condition of his release and probation is to go back to school. he barely turns up, only enough so his PO isn’t on his ass.

obviously, he doesn’t want to be there. so one day he’s sort of sitting in the back of some class - something like english that he doesn’t care about at all - and just goes to sleep because it’s boring. the teacher comes over, tells him off, and he just does something like flips her off and rolls his eyes, to which he obviously gets detention.

he usually wouldn’t go to detention, but he thinks he may as well because he doesn’t rlly wanna go home.

now, ian also gets detention that day, which is unusual for him. maybe he had a very public argument with Lip, calling him some names and a teacher who really hates swearing threw him in detention.

when ian walks in, mickey’s already there, leaning back on his chair. he almost falls off when he sees ian. ian will smirk and sit on the seat in front of him, not next to him. and because mickey is like a three year old with a crush half the time, he spends his time kicking the back of ian’s chair.

there’s another boy in detention, i imagine it to be a sort of American-jock type. all arrogance and self importance. he goes up to mickey and acts like their friends or some shit just because mickey dealt at a few of his parties.

“hey bro, how’ve you been?”

now mickey doesn’t really remember him, so he just sort of scowls.

“….good”

“that’s so good, bro, so, do you have anything on you i could buy?”

mickey doesn’t, actually, because he doesn’t make a habit of bringing copious amounts of drugs into a place where he could easily get caught.

“nah.”

and then it’s over and Chad or whatever goes back to his own seat. it’s then that he sees ian, and chad has some homophobic bullshit built up in his head. also, mickey’s there and he sort of wants to impress the bad boy drug dealer who won’t give him the time of day. at this point, mandy and lip are banging, so a lot of people know ian’s gay.

he goes up to ian, assuming while mickey kicks his chair and laughs when ian turns around pissed off it’s because of the same stuff he has in mind.

he calls ian something homophobic, and ian just rolls his eyes and tells him to fuck off. Chad gets mad at the indifference and slams a hand down on the desk.

“you wanna fuckin’ quit it with that?” mickey pipes up from his seat.

“you don’t got a problem with the gays, mick?” chad says and mickey instantly looks a little lost.

ian sighs and says shit like “just fuck off, Chad, I don’t have time for your bullshit.” because he doesn’t really need or expect mickey to fight his battles for him.

chad gets mad at ian again but he’s a pussy, so doesn’t outright attack him. just slams his hand down a few more times, starts yellling. ian just can’t be bothered to give a shit, is more annoyed he got in detention in the first place.

mickey stands up, because chads getting annoyed at ian’s lack of reaction and gets in chad’s face.

he says some excuse like ‘he’s friends with my sister’ but at the end of the day he shoves chad back and away.

chad tries to make some stupid joke, like ‘we were just playing’ and mickey’s having none of it.

“go sit your ass down over there you fucking pussy and leave him alone” and chad walks away with his tail between his legs.

ian sort of beams, sort of grumbles at mickey. like he smiles, but also mutters to him that he can fight his own battles, but thanks.

mickey just shrugs even though he’s blushing a bit because that sort of shows he cares, doesn’t it? but then he goes back to kicking ian’s chair and ian goes back to getting annoyed while he tries to do some homework.

they leave together and chad leaves thoroughly dejected. they go to the dugouts and ian keeps grinning at mickey and mickey keeps rolling his eyes at him and its just a bit sweet.

[watching-sam-and-dean-again]

Watching a reactor on YouTube who just got to Season 4: Lazarus Rising, and I’m so annoyed by the amount of comments with people saying things like, "this is when the series REALLY starts" and "Seasons 1-3 were the prologue, now The Story begins" and "I’ve been waiting for you to meet my favorite character!"

First, I will never be able to understand Castiel being someone's legitimate favorite character. I just don’t get it. He starts off as a massive dick, becomes an ally, uses and betrays both brothers a number of times, rarely takes full responsibility for his actions, and ends up as a totally different and neutered version of himself. But this guy is your favorite!? The only reason I think a large number of fans who love him do is because he comes in the gate treating Sam like crap and he becomes a simp for Dean (or they are shippers). Also, if someone is a more casual fan, I can see enjoying Cass because he’s quirky and he mostly stands up for the Winchesters, but if someone is a big fan of the brothers, Cass makes their lives harder a lot of the time. Also, I’m coming to really hate the fact that the dude is always in a trench coat. How am I supposed to take a character seriously who is essentially like an unchanging cartoon character come to life? Anyway, despite how it might sound from my ranting, I actually do think people are allowed to love whatever character they want, but it just doesn’t compute for me personally that it’s Cass as he is on screen (not in someone’s head).

Next, the idea of people calling the first three seasons "The Prologue" to supernatural is offensive to me personally (well, not offensive but it’s dumb as hell). A prologue is used to give some important background that should be known for you to better understand the main story, but it happened before, or doesn’t quite fit into, the main narrative. I’m sorry, but the first three seasons of Supernatural are the foundation that everything builds off of, and maybe I’m splitting hairs here, but it’s not just the set up to the Real Story. The Real Story of Supernatural has always been and will always be "the epic love story of Sam and Dean," not the angel crap. Calling the basis of the whole show the prologue has an implied message that it’s not as important as, or connected to the rest of the story. Again, people are allowed to have their own opinions about what they enjoy in media, but this idea that what came before Season 4 wasn’t as important as the rest of the show is actually bad media literacy, especially when you consider how much retconning and inconsistency later seasons have (*cough* John Winchester, for exapmle). The early seasons are Supernatural at its most pure, and if you don’t like or care about Sam and Dean's story, what are you doing here?

I was going to go on by listing all of the important things that we learn about Sam and Dean's characters and relationship in the first three seasons, but honesty, I’m tired. If you’re reading my post, I’m sure you already know. True fans of the show, even if seasons 1 to 3 aren’t their favorite, know how important these seasons are. Frankly, if someone claims that they don’t matter as much as the later season, then I’m going to assume that they are probably a heller (and I’m probably right), thus their opinions on the show don’t matter.

Speaking of Hellers, they are the Jehovah’s Witnesses of fandom. They descend on your doorstep (YouTube video, blog post, etc), uninvited and unwelcome, to make you uncomfortable by forcing their literature (head-canons and subtext) on you in a vain attempt to make you convert to their twisted version of a cult religion (Destiel). Some get indoctrinated into their cult, others consider them a joke, and yet others are driven to madness by the constant hounding of the hellers. I wish they would just stay in their lane and let people come to their own conclusions about the show and the characters, but they try to gatekeep the fandom experience by jumping on anyone new and telling them how they are the "most popular ship" and that supernatural queerbaits, but Dean and Cass are still totes husbands, and there is some other guy there, too but Sam is just some jerk who isn’t as important as Wuwu Dean and their Little Meow Meow Cass. If somone actually sees and enjoys Destiel on their own, great, good for them; they’ll find the blogs and groups who love it too. Hellers don’t need to try actively recruiting people. It’s all just a numbers gone to them. We have the most fanfic (um, yes, because the show doesn’t deliver what you want), we are the most popular ship (sure, because the other main ship is brothers which squicks some people out, and because you crucify anyone who admits to being a Wincest shipper), and they tell the stupidest lies (the show shifts away from being about the brothers, and focusses more on Dean and Cass' "relationship," and Sam isn’t as important to the story later). I wish they would just stay in their own sandbox and not come pee in everyone else's. Cult like behavior in action.

Okay, deep breaths. I’m grad I got that one off of my chest, but my blog is getting very ranty. I’m going to try make sure my next post is a positive one.

Happy weekend everyone!

[elisaintime]

Woah, I must have missed something, why are people jumping down your throat?

From what I can gather at this point, it seems like they feel like anyone who likes Anne Rice herself and the books better than the show=automatically racist. Even if they ALSO enjoy the show and support the race change of the characters and all the racial conversation the show incorporated into its adaptation.

Personally, I think it does a disservice to the fandom to assume that the only reason one could like the books over the show is because of racist reasons. Anne's books speak to so many people in so many ways, especially those who have ever felt like outcasts or apart from mainstream society, and many fans have extremely personal connections to the books for a huge variety of reasons.

Like I said in my videos, I was excited and intrigued to see this AU version of the story (I love AUs!) but my complaints with the writing of the episodes mostly came back to when the show was trying to stick TOO MUCH to the books.... Because the show was really making its own thing with its own versions of the characters and all these new ideas, but then suddenly it would shove in a scene/dialogue straight out of the books which would contradict or make no sense with everything else the show had already worked to set up with the new direction it was taking itself.

Critiquing sloppy/weak writing does not mean I or any other fan who feels the same is doing it for racist reasons. Much of my criticism was about how the scripts changed Lestat's character to make him so much worse than he was in the books (which would be fine, it's their story, whatever--except the show runners told us over and over again that the whole reason Louis was doing a second interview was so that this time we could see the real version of Lestat and how Louis felt about him instead of the mean, insulting version he gave in the first interview). There was a lot promised by the showrunners about what their adaptation would be like that was not delivered ("closer to the books than the 1994 movie," "true to the spirit of Anne Rice" etc). The entire reason I made my videos was to evaluate how well the show measured up to those promises.

Worse than making Lestat so irredeemable, the way the first season ended in a way that made so many fans believe that Louis might have been lying about everything didn't sit well with me at all--it's a harmful stereotype to make the black man a liar, especially when it comes to abuse. I know the "the DV didn't actually happen and black Louis was lying or mind controlled by his evil non-white boyfriend" became a running fan theory, but I personally don't believe it one bit. But I can see why so many fans do--again, sloppy/weak writing on the show's part.

Like I said in my video, the only thing Louis actually lied about in ep7 (and he was lying to himself, not deliberately lying to Daniel) was the depth of his love for Lestat at the end. And that's entirely canon for Louis to deceive himself about--admitting how much he truly loves Lestat always came hard for him. I personally don't think it's going to turn out that anything Louis told us in season 1 was a lie. I think the show would have revealed that at the end of the season, not waited another season (or two or three) to reveal that. And the theme of season 2's promotional material has all been about memory, not honesty. I don't think Louis could mistakenly remember getting dropped from a mile in the sky and the months/years of recovery afterward, so I personally think all those memories were real.

The first three episodes of season 1 made Louis's struggle with race its primary focus, and the series description began with how Louis was chafing at society as a black man. But then from episode 4 on, the focus of the show shifted entirely. Obviously racism still existed in Louis's world, but the show pushed it all entirely to the background with little things, like segregation on the bus, and we saw the characters quietly taking in stride, not making any plot out of it. Suddenly all of Louis's character-driving moments weren't about that anymore and we were in a whole new story, when his battle against racism had been the entire theme of the first three episodes. This was something I noticed and pointed out in my videos--I didn't say it was a bad thing (after all, seeing people be racist to Louis on screen, while "realistic," isn't exactly fun for anyone, and we'd already seen plenty), but I did think the sudden dramatic shift in story focus weakened the show's themes and throughline.

Again this comes down to writing, and the premise/script was written by white people. I think they could have done much better with much more non-white involvement on the writing level. I think the show could have been stronger with some more care taken to create consistency and smoother transitions between episodes (like when they take Claudia out to feed in episode 4, suddenly all the race riots are gone, when everything was on fire 2 hours ago). It's common for shows to have each episode written by a different person, even though they all collaborate in a writer's room, but to me it felt like the show lacked efficient script supervision to make sure all the scripts flowed into each other without any contradictions or inconsistency.

When I talked about these things in my videos, when I said I would have liked the show to do better with the way it missed the mark sometimes in handling racial aspects (even though other parts I commended as being great), and the way I critiqued the inconsistencies and contradictions, some people took that to mean I hated the show entirely. The point of my videos was to see how well the show measured up to Rolin Jones's promises that it was so faithful and respectful to the spirit of the books and that all he wanted to do was honor Anne's work. I know the books back and forth, enjoy having a ND hyperfixation that gives me near-encyclopedic knowledge of the texts and Anne as an author. So people ask me questions about them all the time, especially in comparison to the adaptations. Who better to make videos evaluating how well the show measured up to RJ's promises and claims of faithfulness? But some people took me comparing the show to the books to mean I thought it was a bad thing that they weren't the same, and I hated the show entirely for not being the same as Anne wrote it, and therefore that meant I (and anyone else who loves the books) was racist 🤷

[yuamusuzuran]

Since I re-watched Helluva with my friend on Saturday (she watched it for the first time), she pointed out something about Stolitz that made me really sad

For context, I dunno if anyone talked about this before so pardon me if I'm repeating someone else's thoughts

ANYWAY

Notice how, when we are shown how Stolitz got into an arrangement in "Circus".... they never actually talked about their own kinks and likes, now did they?

Blitz just assumed Stolas liked to be railed and he liked rough sex, which led to that bite and their subsequential BDSM flavored meetings. I'm sure Stolas did like it all because it was Blitz doing it, but we are also shown hints during both seasons that Stolas was okay even if they didn't have sex, he just wanted to spend time with Blitz. Blitz just assumed that's the only thing Stolas wants, which in his mind, justified his own "dislike" for Stolas, because "he's just a royal who likes to be railed and its a thrill for him"

Which now brings me to Stolas. I don't really think dirty talk and BDSM is his primary kink, but he did go along with it all because 1.it did give him a lot of thrill for once in his life 2.he assumed Blitz liked it that way only and went along with it because, again, he wanted to spend time with him

Now, don't get me wrong, neither I nor my friend are presuming that either Stolas or Blitz were forced into their arrangement.

I think its the opposite: they both WANT to spend time with each other, but because they DON'T COMMUNICATE and only assume/presume other's true desires, they never really talked about what their true feelings were and are just going along with whatever when with each other because they don't know anything else and are scared to talk (Blitz because of his fear and self-sabotaging, Stolas because he's used to fulfilling everyone else's desires before his own)

So, in a nutshell, while I do believe these two are still hella kinky and their sex drive is high when with each other, I think that once they start talking and communicating their desires properly, they may become even fluffier and cuter than FizzOzzie.

In the end, it all just them not really talking to each other 😭

[forrestdabeevee]

Hello!

If it's alright could I request (both sfw and nsfw) relationship headcannos with a male Lopunny?

Thank you and Happy Easter! -🌑

Male Lopunny headcanons

sfw

Male Lopunny's are usually much more docile and casual than their female counterparts since they don't have as much physical energy to expel in comparison to their female counterparts. This means they can enjoy relaxing at home or outside with you.

They also don't mind getting wet or swimming, so if you have a pool with your house or nearby, feel free to bring them along as they may join you in it or just relax in the sun. Just expect to have them play with you in the water and have to dry them off.

They often expect you to do a lot of things for them. So be ready to wake them up often, make food for them, help them clean, etc. However if they do have excess energy to do stuff around the place expect them to do all of it by themselves, attempting to help them will just result in them picking you up and laying you down on either your bed or couch. 

They do often enjoy going on walks or runs outside with you, they prefer doing it with you but don't mind carrying you if you're unable to keep up with them physically. This is one of the two main ways they use their energy.

Male Lopunny's are heavy cuddlers in bed, to the point that if you want to leave bed you'll have to find a way to wiggle out, pry their arms away from you, or convince them to either let you go. Failure to do so may result in their grip on you becoming more tight to the point you may have to force them away.

Easter for a male Lopunny is one of its least favorite holidays due to all the nudges and jokes about it, so I highly recommend staying home and cuddling up with your Lopunny, it'll make them much happier and relaxed.

nsfw

When breeding season rolls around for a male Lopunny you better have some time off to spend at home because unless you want a Lopunny to hunt you down outside your better off preparing your body for whatever they plan to do to you for they will use your body until they run out of energy and pass out or until their heat calms down, usually when their seed has taken within you if your a female.

Speaking of which, if you have a working womb I'd highly recommend getting protection for your Lopunny or having a way to prevent insemination as Lopunny sperm are known for having a high rate of taking, even on humans with low fertility. You can expect at least more than one egg to be conceived. Especially if it's a Lopunny going through heat.

Having sex is the other main way Lopunny's use their energy throughout the day, so if you have a Lopunny that is casual or happy to have a sexual relationship with you, best be prepared to have a Lopunny ask, or if you have a particularly rough and dominant Lopunny force you, to have sex with them. Doesn't matter where, as long as they feel comfortable and safe where they are at they will go for it.

I'd highly recommend getting a reinforced bed frame, reinforced flooring, and soundproofing in your bedroom. Unless you have a basement, I'd highly recommend turning that room into essentially a sex dungeon for your Lopunny as then all you'll need is a reinforced bed frame and soundproofing. Believe me, even if you're quiet in bed you'll be howling and screaming in pleasure as Lopunny's are matched with Salazelle for best experience in bed.

Lopunny's are also matched with Gardevoir's for having the most amount of kink awareness and acceptance, as long as you talk about kinks or mention a certain kink your Lopunny will be intrigued and listen to you. If you talk about said kink in a positive way then you best be ready for your Lopunny to try it in bed later.

Lopunny's aren't very fond of sharing their mates with others, if they assume you are hitting or are sexually interested in someone else you better be able to convince them that you weren't as they will be extremely rough in bed or more distant and cold, it depends on what nature they have.

The only reason they would be fine with sharing you is if they know and trust the person or pokemon, just be ready to be double teamed or more with your Lopunny and whoever they trust.

Thankfully Lopunny's are tied with Lucario's for being able to tell when too much is too much for you, even if you don't want to tell them to stop whether that be out of worry or pleasure. So once they notice you needing a break or you tell them to stop they will and instantly fall into caring and doting on you. Helping you clean up and heal up from any bruises or marks on you.

The only exception to this sort of behavior is from alpha pokemon but thankfully, or I guess for some unfortunately, alpha pokemon don't seem to be a thing anymore so you shouldn't have to worry about a Lopunny using your body beyond what you can handle.

Oh and if you're wondering if mega Lopunny works differently they don't differ that much besides more flexibility and energy, just don't bed a mega Lopunny during its heat season. If you do good luck finding an explanation for all the shattered bones and bruised skin as well as the extremely strong scent of Lopunny cum on your body, trust me unless your an extreme masochist you don't want that.

[salisburyliam]

My WORST to BEST ranking for Heaven's Secret 2 LIs

Oh boy I finally did it!!!! never want to read this book ever again, lmao

NOTE 1: We all know that HS2 has its flaws —S1 feels like a fever dream— but personally one that really irks me is not being able to choose whether or NOT you want to marry your LI. I mention this because many LIs routes are (negatively) affected by this sudden marriage imo

NOTE 2: Winchesto you deserve so much better than Rebecca.

7. Dino - He's never been a character I've been particularly fond of, but at least in HS1 he had some narrative importance (the dynamic with Lucifer was a lot of fun too). His relevance in HS2 is, well, zero & I personally don't feel the chemistry between Vicky and him at all. That being said. Of all the LIs, the only one with whom the wedding makes absolute sense is with Dino - he's 100% husband material.

Being good should not be equivalent to being boring… but in Dino's case, it is. 4/10

6. War - His dynamic with Vicky is… okay-ish? I guess??? They are a hot couple (I personally love his design & his laugh is sexy af) but the connection is lacking & there is no emotional intimacy whatsoever. They keep saying they're in love but are theeey? You don't know each other. Also, if you decide not to k*ll him and don't romance him later in s2 he's literally just a background character. 

I don't think this man is ready to be a husband - he should get therapy first. 5/10

5. Hunger - If it were a matter of rating characters, Hunger would be in the top three. His first appearance is one of my favorite scenes in the book along with the board game moment, lmao. But if it comes to rating him as a LI… The relationship feels rushed, to say the least. Marrying a character who appears halfway through the second season makes no sense at all - their wedding scene is just weird.

You guys met like five episodes ago. How about we start by dating first? 6/10

his smile is unsettling lol 4. Malbonte - Replaying this book so many times has made me really appreciate Malbonte. A soldier who will do whatever it takes to win. I love how everyone assumes that he always, always, has a plan (he usually does). But as a LI? His main emotion is rage and pure indifference. As a husband for life, I don't understand how that could work: I can imagine Vicky asking him how his day was and Malbonte's only response being '….' 😐🙄 Go boy give us nothing!

Seriously though. I really love him as a character, but he needs to join War in that therapy thing. 7/10

3. Astaroth - The first interactions are awful & personally his sprite doesn't help either (he's literally a male M*ley Cyrus) but he has so much chemistry with Vicky, it surprised me. Their relationship feels organic as you progress, but just like the rest of the characters that appear in the second book, it all feels rushed. The wedding option should ONLY have been available for characters that appeared in the previous book - with new ones it just feels unearned.

Still, it had potential. 8/10

2. Mimi - The only female LI (how's that legal) and one of my favorites. tbh I think she's TOO good for Vicky??? lmao. A character who is impossible not to adore (even judgy Rebecca gives her approval), in-laws anyone would love to have, and a route that is equal parts endearing and passionate. I confess I kinda miss her sprite from the first book tho

The only reason she's not at the top of the list is the motherf*cker below. 9/10 

1. Lucifer - Simply put, they feel like soulmates - especially if you choose Angel's path (he was my LI in the first book so that also plays into it). I haaate his behavior in S1, but even with that rocky start the dynamic between Vicky and Lucifer is, and will always be, one of my favorites. They have everything: chemistry, banter, passion, vulnerability moments... I love the contrast of the Lucifer from HS1 with the Lucifer in the final episode. That's growth.

I sincerely hope the third book focuses on their married life and, hopefully, Lucifer being a girl dad 😍😍 10/10

CREDIT

[littleandless]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON 2 FINALE: MY THOUGHTS

i mean, wow.

tyland getting some screen time yay. also, i was glad to see the trend of dyed beards represented on screen FINALLY. game of thrones shied away from that.

aegon and larys running away together…doomed yaoi</3

honestly i’m glad they made aegon’s broken dick part of show canon. first of all, he deserves it, but also…it means he’s about to get perverted in a different way. maybe larys will introduce him to voyeurism.

jacaerys has gone full-on bratty failson, which is kind of pathetic and sexy of him tbh.

ulf went from harmless idiot to dangerously irreverent soooo quickly. i know he has a dragon or whatever but he should at least pretend to kiss ass for the moment. like hugh! he knows the value of appearances.

how the hell did gwayne even find out about alicent and criston fucking? am i meant to assume he extrapolated that from the intense sniffing of the handkerchief?

i love how nihilistic criston cole has become. no more shiny white veneer, just a bald-faced suicide mission. he doesn’t fear death. the only thing holding him back since that night when alicent found him was her. and now he sees the futility of it all. so yeah, let’s embrace death! yippee!

this episode added so much to helaena’s character. after we see her and daemon interact in his weirwood vision, it cuts to her in the next scene, in the same outfit with the same facial expression. we’ve had 2 seasons of helaena making prophetic statements, but they were always full of metaphors, and her dreamer status seemed more like something that happened to her rather than something she did. but this episode turns that assumption completely on its head.

the weirwood vision was INSANE! BLOODRAVEN! DAENERYS! THE WHITE WALKERS! it reminded me that we’re being told this story for a purpose. grrm didn’t write a spin-off just for the sake of making a few extra dollars. it’s all connected. we’ve been hearing about the dance since shireen baratheon taught davos seaworth about it in season 5 and joffrey spoiled the ending in season 3 of game of thrones. and when ser duncan and baby egg finally appear on screen in a knight of the seven kingdoms, witnessing the blackfyre rebellions amd interacting with brynden rivers, things will be recontextualized yet again. the impact of all of these characters reverberates for centuries. you see it everywhere in a song of ice and fire. even if you’re not much of a reader, i implore you to read them anyway. and i’m not just saying that. even if grrm never actually finishes the series, i will die swearing that it was totally worth the read. if you have any love for these characters at all, give it a shot.

back to helaena: her scene with aemond was fucking fantastic. away from the eyes of their mother, each of them is more themselves than ever. aemond isn’t just an incel a wounded aggressor and helaena isn’t just a wounded dove. they both have a clarity of purpose, and they are in direct opposition to the other’s. aemond “come with me, help me defend us and all we hold dear” and helaena “it won’t change anything, it’s over, you’re already dead” it had me on the absolute edge of my seat. i felt like a dog in need of a stuffed animal to annihilate with my teeth. THIS IS CINEMA.

back to daemon: from his first scene in the episode, we see a resignation that wasn’t there before. he accepts the maddening nature of harrenhal, he accepts alys hovering over him at night and leading him to the weirwood tree, and he doesn’t brush off her words. he embraces the power of this place as well as the finality of what it reveals to him. there will be no more yearning or grasping, at least not for his own purposes. he knows what he must do. he submits to rhaenyra as he submits to his impending death.

the scene between alyn and corlys was so powerful. idk maybe it’s because i have daddy issues too, but it moved me a lot. watching your father forsake you for his trueborn heirs while you toil ceaselessly for survival, and then witnessing the downfall of everything he holds dear, and then finally…finally he acknowledges your value. knowing that all your success as a ship captain is attributed to the man who didn’t or couldn’t give you shit else. trying to compensate for decades-old wounds. all of this and he can still barely stand to meet your eyes. GOD.

another illicit rhaenicent scene! so much sexual potential and they just keep squandering it!

but seriously, that scene was insane. alicent has completely given up. “here, have the castle. take king’s landing. i’ll open the door for you. fuck, take my son too, take it all.”

all of their relationship encapsulated in a single conversation! everything boiled down to its base essence: i clung to honor and tradition and resented you because you didn’t, and now i’ve done some of the same things i always judged you for and i’ve realized it doesn’t matter. i just want this all to end.

that’s it, guys! that’s their whole dynamic! hell, that’s the whole show basically! but it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late! it’s too late!

someone redesign the sigil of house targaryen as a dragon eating its own tail and wrap this shit up