#atiya thinks

[slutsareteacherstoo]

I just finished watching Brother (2022) and I’m a wreck 😩😫 but a motivated one.

Idk what the fuck Todor Kobakov did on them fucking strings but my goodness. Lamar was acting his ass off!!!! And Aaron too!!

[slutsareteacherstoo]

Nah cuz why I wanna make this a reality like…my fellow classmate OR school mate or my advisor or neither…like ik yall see it

“Say it plainly” “Speak up” “Eyes forward when you speak” …..

“I thought I told your ass to go to sleep. Why are you still up?”

Deferring to y/n questions posed to the pair about the group project so they can talk they shit

No because if this makes me write more and motivates me to finish this app. Chile, let me lock in on some manifesting shit cuz school is stressful and imma need some relief😮‍💨 🙈 nah i see the vision!

Yeah 🙂‍↕️😏 DONT GET EXCITED THOUGH!!!!!

Wait nooo im elaborating. Grad school dom can work!!!

Walk with me! The way my ADHD is set up. Teasing me to complete assignments and To do my readings. While practicing my presentations to get through it all way amidst distractions.

Rewards and punishments for (im)properly explaining concepts and vocab words. For explaining concepts in layman’s terms.

Forcing me to relax when i go i bit too hard on x games mode and wont break out of hyper focus when it comes to working, esp to my detriment.

The rounds that will be had after midterms and finals>>>>

This is a story waiting to be written!!! In the real world and on the page honestly. Like my nerdy ass would pick the book up EXPEDITIOUSLY

[atiyasnake]

Yall, I gotta ask, exactly just how normal is it for you for stories to be on your mind 24/7?

Like for me, it what I think about always. I'm thinking about this fic, that fic, and a possible new fic. I'm thinking about a prompt or rough outline I created a doc for almost 2 years ago or 2 weeks ago.

I'm thinking about what the next chapter is about or how I want the plot to progress. Or that one moment I've been gnawing on like a dog with a bone.

I drive to work and while making sure it's safe to switch lanes, I think about how X character will deal with the next situation I'll put them in.

In-between work phone calls and tasks, I'm itching to open my doc and write a few lines. Reread my outline, maybe rewrite a draft. Even though I only have access to them on my phone and I can't type on that, cause it honest to God has caused me pain in my hands and -like I said- I'm at work.

Even right now, I'm at work. It's an hour until we close and I'm the only one working the front desk hoping no one calls cause I've having a good time daydreaming about how I want one of my stories to go.

In my jumbled up mess inside my head, I'm twisting and turning around all the components of a story. What POV will it be, how the dialogue will go, and what is the next thing I need to write? I'm switching bullet points and little snippets of notes I've written on a sticky note or typed on my phone.

I'm trying to piece it all together into something I can and want to write. It's all I think about.

It's not just fanfiction either. I have my own original stuff. Stories I'd love to write, would love to read.

I think about rewriting short stories I've written in writing club in my notebook or typed up on my computer. I imagine scenarios to put characters I haven't even created in.

I don't know their names or the color of their eyes, but I know they'll fight with a smile and blood staining their teeth. I'll know that their friend will run their fingers through their hair. I'll know that they don't like it when people yell and are bad at cooking.

When I go to sleep, I would basically tell myself a story. It used to just be scenarios with some unknown character, but now it is filled with my brainstorming, wondering how things could go in my stories.

Especially my fics, since those are stories I know people actually read. It's crazy to think about.

There's a person, more than one, who read something I wrote. Who decided they liked it and would like to continue reading. It's absolutely mind boggling to even think of one, nevermind a dozen, a hundred, a thousand people have read something I wrote.

I think about them.

I wonder what they think of the words I strung together. What image comes into their head when they read them? I wonder what my words have made them feel.

I honestly can't describe just how much stories mean to me. I think about them all the time. From the moment I wake up till the moment I go to bed.

They're all I ever think about.

I don't know how someone can talk to me about stories without feeling as if their chest was about to burst. As if they're scrambling to find the proper words and could only yell and shake their hands with how it makes them feel.

How can you not want to scream, laugh, and cry when you think about stories and all that they are, all that they could be?

How can I just go on about my day knowing I have access to thousands of stories, am sharing a few of my own, but also will never know thousands of other ones that have yet to be created?

I honestly think I live for stories. Whether it was to read them, write them, or just think about them. I think they might be one of the reasons I'm still alive today.

Which funnily enough, is a story of its own.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Another Clone Danny x batfam au, Danny was also full dead before he's shoved into a clone body, but it's not really relevant in this part.

[Pt2: here]

Danny isn't a hundred percent sure how he got here. Last thing he remembered was running away from the GIW and his parents. They got a lucky shot on him, and he was losing ectoplasum fast. He's pretty sure he was about to fully End. He remembers being mildly amused over his parents' inventions killing him twice, before it all goes dark.

He woke up as a baby. A clone baby by the looks of his environment, an underground lab(?). His creator(?) is staring at him as if he's a miracle, and given the fancy sci-fi screen thingy (a tablet? Or ipad? He's not sure how he knows these terms) in front of the cloning tank say "attempt 99", he probably is this guy's miracle.

Danny doesn't see anyone else around, and this guy, a teenager about Jazz's age (?), seems happy on a personal level to see Danny wiggling in the tank. So it's not likely he was forced to do this. Whatever this is..

"I did it...? Holy shit! I did it!" The teen cheers before freezing, "I'm a parent now.. I did not think this through... welp, I'm a parent now."

The guy checks his vitals before draining the tank. Danny is handled as if he's the most precious, yet breakable thing in the world to this kid.

"Hello, I'm Tim, your dad, I guess." The kid, Tim, introduces himself, and Danny giggles at him because if Danny was a normal baby, he'd have no idea what he was saying. "You're the clone of my dead best friend. He was half kryptonian. I promise to do my best to help you learn your powers and culture. I'll break into Clark's ice fortress if I have to to do it."

Danny has no idea what any of that means, but Tim seems determined, so Danny isn't too worried. He's more worried about the power thing. Are they going to be completely different from his old ones? Does he still have access to his ghost powers?

His little baby body can't handle his big emotions, and he starts crying. Tim panics, checking for mess, before realizing he doesn't have baby supplies. He clearly didn't think his cloning attempt would work with how unprepared he is. And that's valid if Danny really is his 99th attempt.

Tim bundles Danny up and rushes them to the nearest store that has baby supplies. Danny is clothed and fed promptly and given a wolf plushy. Danny isn't sure about the wolf thing, but the stuffie does sooth his baby instincts, so he rolls with it.

"Alright, baby. I... I didn't think of a name for you. I originally was trying to make a clone closer to Kon's age and figured they could name themselves, like Kon did." Tim sighs, slightly rocking Danny in his arms. "Man, I must seem insane talking to a baby. A baby I made because I couldn't deal with one more person in my life being dead or gone."

Danny notes the interesting wording.

"Okay. Can you understand me at all? I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to a year old's level, but that doesn't mean your baby brain absorbed any of the info."

Ooooh, that explains why he knows things that didn't exist where he's from.

Danny blows spit bubbles and attempts to nod. It's a bit hard, his baby muscles not developed enough for the action. Tim understands, though.

"Okay, okay." Tim looking both scared and relieved. "How about you pat me once for yes and twice for no? At least for now. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Danny lightly smacks a hand to Tim's face. They both giggle over it.

"Alright, so I'm going to list off names, and you can tell me yes or no, okay?" One pat. "Okay, let's see."

Danny wonders if he can get a new name that can still let him have Danny as a nickname.

"Jasper" No

"Darin" No

"Dugu" No??

"Presh?" No! Tim? Where are you getting these names??

"Ratan" No

"Cicil" No

"Matthew" No

"Theo?" No

"Alihan" No

"Atiya" Nope

"Tesher" No

"Senai" No

"Uuum... Habwat?" No

"Geoffrey" No

"Amari?" Nope

"Jordan" ... huh, technically could get Danny from that, but still. No.

"Riley?" No

"Drew?" Nope

"Nova" Oooo so tempting, but no

"Esteban" Nope

"Izar" No

"Aedan?" You know what, good enough. That's Danny's new name.

Tim looks misty eyed when Danny finally agrees to a name.

"Alright, welcome to the world, Aedan Drake." Danny blows bubbles at him. "We'll visit adding Kent and getting you a proper kryptonian name when you can actually speak and understand what those names mean. Kon's human name was Conner Kent, and his kryptonian name was Kon-El. It translates to abomination of the house of El. He was a clone of Kal-El and wasn't treated well for it. I won't let the Els treat you as they treated him."

Tim looks pissed on his friend's behalf and cradles Danny protectively.

"The Els don't matter anyways. You will always be a Drake. And Drakes protect what they claim with viciousness." He kisses Danny's forehead. He then moves to the fanciest computer Danny has ever seen, and with the hand not supporting Danny's body, starts designing what appears to be a bulletproof and stabproof baby carrier. "I should have waited til after I finish hunting for clues to get Bruce, he's my adoptive father, out of the timestream. My siblings think I'm crazy, which creating a clone isn't helping my case over, but I know he's alive. I found evidence, just not enough to prove it to them."

Danny starts nodding off. Tim's ramblings are soothing and his hold gentle, Danny's tiny baby body doesn't stand a chance at staying awake. He's sad he's missing out on all the dad lore because of it.

Once the carrier is ready, Tim starts going out and taking Danny with him. Danny is actually pretty safe on these outings. The carrier is bulletproof, stabproof, has tinted bulletproof glass so Danny can get sun without people seeing him, it's temperature controlled, well ventilated, and has plenty of cushion. Seriously, Danny is sure the whole thing is like 60 pounds with him in it, but Tim gives zero fucks. He's determined to keep Danny safe.

It's super touching. And Danny swears to one day return the favour. The day is closer than he thinks when a creepy old fucker crawls out of the woodworks. Danny hates him instantly. Tim explaining the creep's relation to Tim's family doesn't change Danny's mind. In fact, it probably makes his opinion on this Ra's Al Gul even worse. And once he sees how that pedo looks at his sweet new dad, he plans to be an absolute menace.

[slutsareteacherstoo]

Don’t know why I woke up to BOOM BAP by Doechii playing in my head specifically the parts where she sings “Get Top on phone”

Idk why that was my mental alarm clock when its so fucking early.

Also yall im sick af rn so part 4 gon be delayed……😩🫣

Hope people have been enjoying the holiday season 🫶🏿

[slutsareteacherstoo]

THIS WAS A PHOTO FINISH ALRIGHT 🤭🤭🤭

Ooh this was decadent and sweet from beginning to end. Love me a fated romance cuz from beginning to the present they knew!

On my knees, begging God to hear my prayers with this hashtag. They are truly a love for the ages that IS possible to experience in this lifetime. I loved the reflections from Terry’s youth and Treece’s connection with her students.

And aint no baby gon stop Patrice from getting hers 🤭 IKDR🙂‍↕️

Mine

Summary: Happy Valentine's Day!

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Flurries of Valentine's candy grams and foil balloons filled Patrice's 3rd-period senior AP English classroom as she ran through a reflection question on August Wilson's Fences. While February was set aside for love, it was also the one time Mrs. Richmond was allowed to discuss Black literature in the school year without pushback from administration and parents alike. 

Just as pencils hit the paper to answer why Friday nights were significant for the play's central characters, a short beep and static filled the intercom system in the classroom. 

"Ms. Ellis -"

"It's Richmond," the class sang in chorus, earning a smile from Patrice. 

The voice on the other end chuckled before course-correcting. "Mrs. Richmond, we have a delivery in the front office for you. Do you want to come get it or send a student?" 

"Uh, I'll send someone down," Patrice answered. She pointed at her most responsible senior and silently directed him to grab the hall pass. "Can you say what it is? I didn't order anything." 

"Sorry. We're under strict instructions not to spoil the surprise." 

Terry. She didn't need additional explanation to figure out who'd taken time from their day to send a gift and request silence from strangers. He was cool as a cucumber when he left for work in the morning, but the uncharacteristic lilt in his voice on the way to a place he frequently expressed disdain towards was a dead giveaway he'd be dropping their promise to skip gifts and enjoy a quiet evening. 

Pregnancy and all its financial planning meant no money in reserves. No honeymoon, no big trips, and nothing extravagant for holidays. An unfortunate byproduct of looming parenthood on a modest income, but Patrice had made her peace with it all. They'd get the time back when Baby Richmond was old enough to spend a few days with their parents.

Anticipation collided with excitement as a bouquet of snowdrops and roses eclipsing her student's head was wheeled around the corner. Only her husband would commit seasonal flowers to memory from an offhanded conversation about rotating seeds in her garden for the spring. Whoever he'd paid to expertly arrange her winter staples into such a stunning display deserved their fair share of coins and then some. 

'Treece, Will you be mine?' scribbled in Terry's signature handwriting sat above a QR code on a small white card, eager for Patrice's attention once she got her hands around the ornate vase. 

"Mrs. Richmond got a valentiiine," one student teased to draw laughter from everyone in the room. 

That she did. It was her first in years and the one she'd longed for the whole time. She couldn't hide her smile when she took the final few minutes of reflection time to scan the code and watch her phone screen light up with another message after eagerly tapping the 'yes' option. 

"Merci, mon amour. I still owe you a honeymoon. I hope tonight will keep you excited until we get to touch Paris with our own two feet. See you soon. Je t'aime."

A goofy grin pressed past the neutral facade Patrice tried to maintain while butterflies fluttered inside her belly. Light jeering from students awaiting instruction and any piece of their favorite teacher's business she was willing to pass down only pushed her growing smile further across her face. 

Patrice read the message one more time for the road and clasped her hands together. "Alright! If we have some thought-provoking responses today, everybody gets their lowest grade dropped. Deal?" 

Long after his wife had made agreements with a cohort of 17 and 18-year-olds, Terry stood in their quaint kitchen, carefully placing beignets in the oven to keep warm. For all his exhaustive research into easy Parisian dishes to replicate at home, he knew his limits and how to circumnavigate the one thing Patrice specifically desired to taste in Paris. He searched high and low for the perfect dupe, drove nearly an hour away, almost fell behind in the cooking process, and still didn't regret going out of his way for the perfectly golden French donuts.

Steak awaiting its introduction to a sizzling pan rested near wrapped cowboy butter from Terry's father and a bowl of cut fries floating in ice-cold water. Oil popped as it reached its target cooking temperature. A bottle of non-alcoholic wine sat in a bucket flanked by the good dishes Patrice reserved for special occasions and another seasonal bouquet. In the living room, Marvin Gaye's 'I Want You' spun 'round and 'round on Patrice's old vinyl player, filling the house with some of Terry's favorite tracks. Candles lit strategically cast shadows on the walls for an added level of romance. The live stream of the Eiffel Tower taking over their wall-mounted TV looked out of place, but Terry wasn't willing to part with the silly addition meant to add realism to the night. 

Terry's humming kept his mind on track in a whirlwind of pans and dwindling time. The night had to be perfect. After years of wasted time and missed opportunities, he owed Patrice his best effort in their inaugural celebration. 

A car door slamming shut just as piping hot homemade frites were freed from the frying process made Terry's eyes flicker up to the wall clock to check the time. Finally, she was home. Work and responsibilities had already sucked up too much of her time. He planned to take up what was left with his undivided attention. 

After dusting his hands on a dish towel, Terry stepped out of the kitchen to meet the love of his life at the living room's threshold. 

Her grin, full of mirth and crafted solely for his pleasure, made his stomach turn a flip. He leaned against the wooden frame, watching her hang her coat on the hoot. "Hé, ma belle." 

"Wow. He's fine as all hell and speaks French? I'm a lucky girl." Patrice's compliment came with arms outstretched to wrap around Terry's neck. Strong hands pulled her close until his nose was pressed to pulse at her neck. She giggled into his ear. "Hi, Pooh Bear. Happy Valentine's Day. Thank you for my gift." 

Terry murmured into Patrice's neck. "Of course. Happy Valentine's Day, baby." He squeezed her sides before pulling back to kiss her forehead. "You like your flowers?" 

"I did. They're beautiful. Who taught you about snowdrops and QR codes, old man?" Her lighthearted jab came with long, slender fingers gently stroking his chest overtop his fresh black t-shirt. 

"The QR code came from the annoying ass Wyatt. Felt like I should get something out of always having to hear him talk shit about the Panthers." Terry took hold of Patrice's hand to drop kisses on her knuckles. "The flower knowledge came from this really pretty girl I know from way back. You think she'd be cool with havin' dinner with me tonight?"

Patrice felt herself returning to the shy girl of her youth. "She'd love to. Can she have a minute to clean up?" 

"Take all the time you need. Dinner will be ready when you come out." 

Two lingering kisses on her lips and a two-hand squeeze on her backside sent Patrice squealing around the corner and into the bedroom while Terry set off to finish preparing the night's meal. 

Wafts of Terry's cologne intertwined with Patrice's perfume in the bathroom's humidity, caught in a tango while she stood in front of the mirror trying to tame bags beneath tired eyes with concealer. Excitement coursed through her veins like her first date with the man of her dreams was on the other side of another light layer of perfectly pink blush. She couldn't fix her hair, dab lip gloss on her full lips, or slide on the floor-length lounge dress she purchased fast enough. Every second spent outside of Terry's presence felt like torture until she was sauntering into the kitchen to find him awaiting her arrival at the kitchen table. 

A low whistle passed through slightly pursed lips. "Sometimes I still can't believe you chose me," Terry started, his hand outstretched for Patrice to grab hold. "Come here. Let me see you up close." 

Patrice took slow steps forward to revel in Terry's attention, loving the way he seemed to see nothing else in the room but her. No flaws, no rising insecurities – only the most perfect version of the girl he fell in love with before love truly had meaning. 

"If you spend all night looking at me, we're gonna waste your baby letting me keep food down all week. I need those beignets in the oven," she joked as soon as she was close enough for him to grab.

With her hand in his, Terry helped Patrice spin in a slow circle, drinking in every inch of her body before stopping to pull her into his lap. "I can't hide anything from your mommy. You gave her a super nose." His words came in a soft, silly voice he almost couldn't control as he rubbed the slight pudge of Patrice's belly. "This dinner is very special, champ. Let us enjoy tonight, okay?" 

"All of it, you hear? Your daddy brought Paris to us, and I will eat this steak whether you like it. Well done and all!" 

Baby Richmond had no objections to well-done steak and crispy frites, even fighting for more of their father's rare cooking as conversation meandered between the day's happenings and the type of mushy romantic back and forth that sounded almost too cheesy to be true. Terry and Patrice ate, drank, and traveled down memory lane until their stomachs ached and their eyes were misty from laughter.

Things I Love About Terry. Terry smiled as he scrolled through the digital scrapbook Patrice crafted to get around their gifting rule. Reason #8 was his favorite: I love when we kiss, and he doesn't want to pull away. It reminds me of our first one every time. 

He chuckled. "That's cute that you still remember that. It's also cute that you think this doesn't count as a gift."

"No! We had a no paid gift rule. I didn't spend money on it. Which you broke first, by the way." 

"Flowers are not a gift. They come with the service." Terry listened to Patrice regard his Boondocks callback with a mumbled 'whatever' and smiled before locking his phone. "But, since free gifts don't count, I have something for you." 

Patrice danced in her seat, preparing for another sweet treat to satisfy her cravings. "Is it a turnover? I hope it's a turnover." 

"You're pushing it, Treece. Don't make me tell your business at the next appointment." 

"Snitch." 

Terry shook his head at her mumbled insult while he dug behind containers of protein powder in the one cupboard she had never opened for the gift he'd been holding since the day things bloomed, burned, and resurrected between them.

If not for his mother's antsy mind getting the better of her earlier in the week, Terry would've never uncovered the gem hidden in his childhood bedroom's closet. The weathered outer cover had long been scrubbed free of any identifiable marker of its contents, but page after page of dated ramblings reminded him of all the lofty goals he'd written as a teen. Dreams of a booming NFL career and a utopian society concocted from a naive mind littered each page. 

He flipped and laughed for several minutes until he reached the entry coincidentally dated for his 16th birthday. Imagine you've jumped 10 years into the future and are writing a letter to your current self. What might your life look like? Talk about your career, family, and any additional details you desire. 

The "love letter," as his father called the two-page plan for his next decade of life. Terry had gone to great lengths to hide it after Marvin's teasing, guarding the speckled notebook with his life and tossing it into his closet once the schoolyear ended to rid himself of the embarrassment. He never expected to live out much of the wishful thinking penned on the withering, yellow pages of yesteryear, much less share them with the subject of his affection then and now. 

Patrice watched Terry slide the open notebook across the table with a quizzical look, glancing down at half-legible chicken scratch and then back up at her husband. "What's this?" 

"It's history," he answered plainly with a secretive smile. He slid into his seat and pointed at the notebook. "Can you read that to me?" 

More questions bounced behind Patrice's eyes, but she saved them all to fulfil Terry's wish with no pushback. Blinking the blur from old contact lenses, she started from the top. 

"Hey Past Terry. It's you from the future. I know you have a bunch of questions, but I'm only going to answer the important ones. You'll just have to figure out the rest on your own. It wouldn't be as fun if I gave you all the answers. To start, your life is completely different. You haven't won a championship yet, but you're close. You'll get there soon, and when you do, it'll be the biggest story on ESPN. You'll get to watch all the talk in your big house in California that overlooks the beach. It's nice. You get to go down there every day during the offseason." Patrice smiled and looked up at Terry. "We both owe Young Terry at least a weekend at the beach." 

Terry's half smile grew wider. "We'll do Hilton Head before the baby comes. Keep readin’.” 

"Damn, the cure to cancer must be in here," Patrice joked before continuing. 

"California is a great place to raise a family. You don't have any kids yet, but you and your wife are thinking about it. I don't want to spoil who it is, but at some point, you'll try to get her to stop working…again. It doesn't matter how much you try to convince her, she still wants to work because she's good at her job. She's good at everything. So, give up and let her do what she wants." 

Patrice still hadn't connected the dots as she looked back up at Terry and smirked. "Well, sorry to whoever that lady is. Maybe in another lifetime."

"Yeah," he laughed before Patrice moved to the next paragraph. "Maybe."

"Not to get too mushy, but we really love her. It's not like the silly, made-up love in movies. It's the love mom and dad have. The kind where you laugh and joke all the time. She's still stubborn, but you know how to talk to her better, so you argue a lot less. At least about the serious stuff. That's the cool part about marrying your best friend. You know each other for a long time and things just make sense because they always have when she's around." 

Patrice wished she could blame the catch in her throat and the sting of tears at her waterline on pregnancy hormones and not the rush of sudden realization once she looked up at Terry. "Oh, Terrence. That's me." she sniffled, trying to catch stray droplets before they hit the page and distorted the next lines. 

"When you win on Sunday and Monday nights, she's always on the sidelines to tell you that you played a good game, except when you don't. Then she gets all sassy like she used to in school. She still doesn't like football all that much, but she shows up anyway in your jersey. It's dope."

"Some of that held up," Terry chimed in, half-joking as he reached across the table for Patrice's free hand. "You still don't like football, and don't hold back if I'm fucking up." 

She laughed and shrugged. "At least I'm consistent." 

Consistent, his greatest support system, the most complete love he'd ever known – Terry could go down the list rattling off Patrice's best attributes and contributions but preferred to let her read the most intense thoughts his limited teenaged mind could concoct in a 15-minute journal entry.

"I'm probably not supposed to tell you the truth, but I don't know if all of this will come true. I'm not asking you to do all that, even though having all that money would be super cool! Just make sure you're happy. Be happy and marry your best friend as soon as you think she'll say yes. I'll be pretty mad if you don't do that. Hopefully, you'll be writing a letter to me soon. I wanna know if it all panned out."

Thirty-plus-year-old Terry considered writing back to his younger self many times. Once, after basic training when the anguish of a newly broken heart and being ripped away from the comforts of home brought with it what he later came to know as a deep depression. Then again, on his 26th birthday, for continuity's sake. The third time, he'd typed his way through four pages of explanation, needing to level set with a past version of himself regarding all the ways he'd come up short but planned to make good on all his promises. He couldn't bring himself to continue when he reread three days worth of incoherent thoughts. Not without all the pieces to the puzzle. Now, though, with a rock on his best friend's ring finger and happiness permeating every layer of his being, he could think of more than a few things to write about. 

"A lot of my life was never part of the plan," Terry started once Patrice had read off the letter's final goodbye. "I wasn't supposed to be a Marine or still live in Fayetteville past my 18th birthday. I'm damn sure if that version of me were around, he'd be fuckin' pissed we haven't seen the ocean in over 20 years," he laughed along with Patrice as she pushed water droplets off her round cheeks. "But, baby, you have always been the goal. Even when I was stupid and far away. I need you to know that." 

Sure, Patrice understood the words from his lips and the fact that they were some of the sweetest sentiments she'd ever had directed in her favor. Grasping Terry's love, enduring for over a decade in all its staggering depth and complexity, was something totally different – something she'd spend lifetimes trying to unpack. 

Still, she allowed her legs to carry her and their unborn child around the table to sit in her second favorite seat, just to feel his warmth radiate across her skin. "I know." Soft lips connected for a sweet kiss their younger selves would blush at if they were present. Patrice cupped Terry's face in her hands. "Thank you for loving me the way you always have, babe. When you write back to that version of yourself, I hope you tell him how much I love being by your side. I loved you then, and I love you even more now. Make sure you tell him that, okay? Tell him he wasn't the only one excited about marrying their best friend one day." 

"I'll let him know." A partial truth. He'd eventually get around to trying out the journal his mother had gifted him years ago and unleashing years of updates onto lined pages. He owed 2009 Terry a rundown of what his life had become. 

But Terry couldn't tell such a young, impressionable mind about how they explored each other like professionals deep into the night. He couldn't share how her skin still felt like premium silk against his all these years later. Or how he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be inside her. One time wasn't enough. Twice couldn't come close. He needed her until he was a panting, weak mess. And even when he felt like he couldn't go anymore, hearing Patrice call his name for one last time energized him enough to push the thought of fatigue to the back of his mind. 

With her head hanging off the right edge of the bed and looking up at him expectantly, Terry leaned down to kiss her plump, swollen lips. "After this, we're getting ready for bed, okay?" 

"Yes, sir." Though sweet as pie, the glint in Patrice's dark eyes communicated the final decision was all hers. They were done when she was done. 

Her fingers danced up her torso, taking a short pitstop at nipples saluting their favorite person to twist and pull before taking hold of her prize for the night. Terry jerked forward as he watched her under heavy lids. He'd get to his end of the bargain in a few. Watching her slide his leaking tip across her pursed lips was the main attraction. She hummed to herself, satisfied with the small mess she'd made across her mouth, before welcoming him inside her throat. 

Terry caressed her cheek, using his thumb to clean up wayward saliva. "Two taps when you need a break. One when you want to stop."

Patrice took in the instructions and discarded them just as quickly. His care was endearing, but she didn't wait over a decade for their first Valentine's Day together to take a break. Breathing through her nose, she took him in inch by inch, stroking the back of his thighs lovingly while he hissed and moaned his way through shallow strokes. 

Modified 69 needed two to make the experience complete. Blinking back into the present, Terry reached across the comforter to grab the fully charged purple stimulator, waiting to jump into the fun. His rough palms rubbed a soothing path across her belly, stopping to appreciate the gentle slope on his way to the warmth between her thighs. 

"Keep 'em open for me, pretty," he murmured, more focused on the clear strings of arousal connecting his fingers to her clit. He pulled them back to savor her taste for the umpteenth time. A light smack against her pussy produced a needy moan that sounded like music to his ears. 

Rhythmic suction on both ends of the spectrum kept them loud enough to wake the neighborhood. The depths of Patrice's throat were always a welcomed home for him. Wet and sloppy head the way he liked it kept Terry grinding the vibrator against her clit to feel the vibration of her moans against him. As much as they wanted to go forever, this type of pleasure would ensure forever didn't last too long.

Saliva pooled at the corners of Patrice's lips. Glistening arousal from being edged over and over with her small but mighty little friend created a puddle on the towel beneath her behind. She cried for relief Terry wasn't willing to grant. He wanted a photo finish – something to make their first Valentine's fuck worth it. He pulled the toy away and slowly slid himself out of her mouth, earning a small mewl in disappointment. 

He grinned down at her before gripping her chin. "Tongue out for me, Piggy." Patrice did as she was told, receiving her favorite form of payment in return. Spit kept them tethered to each other in a lewd display of affection until she had all she could handle. "You ready?" 

"Mhmm," she hummed, nodding despite the ache in her neck. 

Casting the toy aside and bracing himself on the bed, Terry resolved to let himself go and give Patrice what she really wanted. Methodical strokes to elicit gags and gargles sexy enough to make any man combust filled the room while he fucked her face silly. A fantasy turned into a reality. She held herself steady by his thighs, pressing crescents into the flesh as the bed rocked beneath her. Time turned into an outdated, meaningless concept second to receiving and giving pleasure in her world.

"Fuck," Terry whispered to the ceiling with his eyes clamped shut. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm about to –" 

Patrice wanted to tell him he had nothing to be sorry for. He'd given her sweet gestures, affirming words, and absolute filth in equal measure. She felt like she should've been thanking him instead. Her only regret was being deprived of seeing the look on his face when he crossed the finish line and drained himself on her chin and throat with a shuddering moan he didn't have time to be embarrassed about. Terry's hands pumped at his shaft until he was spent and gasping for breath, leaving Patrice to run her hands up and down his hips for comfort. 

But one was not two, and she still deserved her happy ending. Terry's trembling fingers regained enough strength to grab the still buzzing helper and press it against Patrice's clit, not letting up as her hips jolted off the bed and her thighs tried to close. 

He held one leg against the mattress and pulled his lip beneath his top row of teeth to remain focus. 

She called his name for mercy, but the plea went unanswered. "Terrence!" Still nothing. Only the maniacal flash of lust in his eyes greeted her. "Oh my – ooooh! It's too much! It's too much."

It wasn't enough. Not until her body seized and heavy breathing turned into silent gasps. Patrice gripped him tight as she used all her strength to prop up on her elbows and take part in the water show unfolding beneath her. Two firsts in one night. 

"That's my girl," Terry praised without letting up. "That's my good girl. You see what you doin'?" 

"Yes!" Patrice shouted, unable to stop her body from reacting. 

Terry bent at the waist to kiss the top of her head. "Breathe, Treecey. Don't hold it in." 

In through your nose, out through your mouth. The words became muffled in Patrice's ears, only gaining clarity when the ringing ceased and her breathing evened. She leaned against Terry's chest to smile up at him, covered in his essence, finally satisfied. "I look insane, huh?"

Terry plucked at a stray lash extension and chuckled. "You look beautiful. My pretty baby." He kissed her forehead. "Always have been. Mean it." 

His. In sickness and in health. For rich or for poor. On Valentine's Day or a random Wednesday afternoon. Terry, in all his life's stages and every universe, Patrice Ellis Richmond was known to him as one word: mine.

—————-

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @ghostfacekill-monger @nyifly22

[commanderofthegrey]

zevran + andrastianism

(statue of Maferath) "This is Maferath, husband of Andraste and her betrayer. What? I went to the chantry as a child."

(statue of Hessarian) "Ah! Hessarian, magister and Archon of the Tevinter Imperium. It was he who ordered Andraste burned, if I remember."

(entering the urn room) "Mother of Mercy! It... it is real!"

(approaching the urn) "Nice vase, I should get one for my house."

Zevran: So are you a very religious man, Alistair? I am curious. I believe I heard you say you were raised in an abbey?

Alistair: I was raised in a castle. I was schooled in the abbey. As far as being religious... I don't know. Not especially. What about you? Not in your line of work, I expect.

Zevran: Why do you say that? I happen to be quite devoted, in my way, as most Antivans are.

Alistair: Truly? But you kill people. For money.

Zevran: And I ask forgiveness for my sins from the Maker every chance I get. What manner of monster do you think I am?

Alistair: But... you ask forgiveness and then you go right on with your sinning!

Zevran: The Maker has never objected. Why should you?

Alistair: I... have no idea.

Zevran: Well there you go. Perhaps you ought to think about asking for a little forgiveness yourself, hm?

———

Zevran: So what is it, exactly, that the sisters of the Chantry do for amusement?

Leliana: Do they not have sisters in Antiva, Zevran?

Zevran; Naturally. Yet we are... hesitant to speak to the sisters back home. They are "atiya nagrano"... how do you say it? Pure. Not to be spoiled.

Leliana: And you would spoil them just by speaking to them?

Zevran: You really have no idea, do you?

Leliana: I wasn't born in the Chantry, Zevran. Sisters... we had many ways to pass the time. Work, for instance. And prayer.

Zevran: No time for leisure at all?

Leliana: I was not there for idle pursuits and pleasure, Zevran. I was there to contemplate my relationship to the Maker.

Zevran: And that's it? Sounds bloody boring.

Leliana: What did you imagine your Antivan sisters did, exactly?

Zevran: Well, in Antiva the chantries make much of the wine, so I suppose I assumed they... drank it?

Leliana: I... doubt that very much.

Zevran: And there goes one childhood dream. To think I once longed to be a brother.

———

Zevran: How long were you in that cloister, my dear woman?

Leliana: Just over two years. Why do you ask?

Zevran: And... and all the brothers and sisters there, they had taken vows?

Leliana: Most of them, yes.

Zevran: For two years you had no contact with anyone but men and women who... who are promised to some uncaring god?

Leliana: What are you getting at?

Zevran: Didn't you... didn't you desire companionship, during those two years? Two years! The very thought makes me weak.

Leliana: My time in the cloister was a time of contemplation. I occupied myself with thoughts of the Maker, and other... worthy pursuits.

Leliana: But like I said, most of the brothers and sisters had taken vows. Not all of them. Some were just affirmed, like me.

Zevran: A-ha! That is not so bad then.

Leliana: Nothing happened, Zevran. It would not be right to engage in that behavior in a house devoted to the Maker.

Zevran: Why? The Maker made us who we are. He made our urges; He gave us these parts. You think He made them for looks?

[sugutoad]

matchup trade for @averagetoyakinnie ! 

HARRY POTTER FAMILY ANALYSIS 

Your Significant Other

I match you up with Sirius Black. I think I explained quite a few times and why this ship is almost perfect in the my eyes, so I’ll just leave the links of previous matchups with him for reference:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Atiya Black

Let’s begin with the kids shall we? Meet your oldest daughter — Atiya Black — the coolest sister to exist. She was actually born even before the wedding ever took place. She has the hope of a future marriage that will stay strong.  Two years older than Harry Potter, she was in her 3rd year when the boy who lived joined Hogwarts. To the joy of the Black family, Atiya was sorted into Gryfindorr and Sirius may or may not have been jumping up and down in happiness. He never really liked Slytherins as they reminded him too much of his family and he was always the black swan because of his House, but now his pride and joy is following his step. She is pretty and she knows it! You know who else knows it? Cedric Diggory. Despite being a year older than her, he was so quickly captivated by Sirius’s eldest daughter. I feel like she would be a part of the Quidditch team as a catcher and after Oliver left, he wanted Atiya to become the new captain, but she already had too many responsibilities and passed it to Harry Potter. 

James Black

Next on the list is James Black - the local emo. At first glance, he looks a bit intimidating to most. But can you blame them? He inherited the majority of the Black family’s appearance and height, alongside their scary aura. But behind that, he is actually a big sweetheart who spends the majority of his time reading in the library. Because of this habit, he almost knows everything and is fluent in multiple languages. He has an extreme thirst for knowledge — the main reason for the sorting hat to sort him into Ravenclaw just like one of his dads. His favourite class is definitely charms and he loathes astrology because it doesn’t make proper sense to him, where are the facts and rules? He has a little white cat that is usually coddled up in his lap, named Toru. He attends Hogwarts in the same year as Harry, though he tries to avoid the boy who lived most of the time and has a quiet life. He is currently going through his 5th girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass (much to Sirius’s disappointment)

Julia Black

Our preppy teenager, Julia Black! Is she normal? No. But compared to the rest of the Black family? She is extremely normal. She is almost always up in everyone’s business and shares gossip all the time. But she actually means good. She might me a bit mean at times but her dads raised her to be respectful towards others. Like one of her brothers, she wastes lots of her money on buying clothes for herself. She really wanted to be a seeker in the Slytherin quidditch team, but they didn’t accept female players. Julia was so mad when she heard that and even barged into Snape’s office, demanding that he change that rule. Unfortunately, that only got her in detention. She is extremely picky with her taste in men and it took her until she met Theodore Nott, who somehow made her heart skip a beat just by his gaze. Sirius was so upset when he learned that she got sorted into Slytherin. It just reminded him too much of his family, but he knows Julia’s heart is in the right place. She is a year younger than Harry.

Joshua Black

Joshua Black sometimes doesn’t feel like a Black. He is extremely anxious and introverted, especially compared to his family. While his family members tend to be reckless, he prefers to stay in the back and mind his own business. He doesn’t want to become a great wizard, professor or auror like his siblings. He wants to become a healer, to create potions and spells that can cure almost everything. In his later years at Hogwarts, he became Headboy and the prefect for Slytherin. But don’t take his timid and reserved personality too seriously because he is intelligent, secretly charming and extremely cunning. He is almost 3 steps ahead of everyone and knows exactly how to manipulate people with compliments and smiles. When Sirius looks at Joshua, he sees Regulus too much. He is literally Uncle Regulus’s and Aunt Anna’s favourite nephew. He is the same age as Julia because not only were both of them early babies, but their parents conceived him almost as soon as Julia was born. But because of this, his birthday is really late (December) while his sister was born in February. He isn’t with anyone as of now, but everyone wants to be with him.

Haruka Black 

Enter the twins! Haruka Black was the older one. She is so creative. Not only is she amazing at art, but she was taught how to play multiple instruments as a kid, blessed with an angelic voice and she is an extremely good actress. She has a photo genetic memory and has all of Shakespeare’s plays memorised by heart, quietly muttering scenes before falling asleep as routine. Another part of her sleep routine is eating from her secret collection of sweets — a huge perk for having her own room. And much to Jaxrel’s dismay, she eats those sweets before dinner despite not being allowed to. She has ADHD and autism, but she doesn’t let anyone hold that against her. Despite having a sweet face, her clothing style is heavily inspired by Lolita and Goth. She has the biggest crush on Cedric, the prefect of her house — Hufflepuff. He always used to help her with studies and she just fell for him. Unfortunately, he is way too old and is currently dating her older sister. She was actually so pissed when Julia told her that she caught Atiya and Cedric entering an empty classroom. Atiya was so confused when Haruka did not speak to her for the rest of the week. 

Theo Black

Enter the younger twin - Theo Black. Unlike his twin sister who excels in the art section of life, he dominates the sports section in his family. Theo and Haruka. Haruka and Theo. They may be so different, but they are never seen without one another. He loves to annoy his siblings, but he will literally get so mad if you ever hurt his siblings. He doesn’t really get physical, but rather he is verbally aggressive and will slander you so hard that you would want to bawl your eyes out.  He looks up to the Marauders A LOT. He remakes their pranks just to annoy the Head of his house, Gryffindor. He has a really pretty face, but he is always so angry and pissed about the smallest things that are ruined (kind of like Bakugou). He wakes up so early and gets bored easily, so he wakes up everyone else in the house. They literally hate when he does that. Only one who knows about Haruka’s crush and bullies the shit of her. But when he found her crying, he sat down with her, offered her ice cream and watched anime with her.

Muhammad Black

Rich boy Muhammad Black time! But seriously, he uses his father’s money a lot. Sometimes he even brings up his family name in situations even though he knows he shouldn't use his last name to help him. Don’t worry though. He can normally handle almost any situation himself. No one really knows how he does it, but they let the youngest boy of the house do whatever he wants. He is the third child in his family to get sorted into Slytherin and he knows of his father’s hate towards that house yet Muhammad holds that house precious to himself. Like most of his siblings, he can speak them more than one language — Arabic and English in his case. He has a slight Middle Eastern accent. He is excellent at Defense the Dark Arts. Originally, he wanted to go to Drumstrang,  but his parents refused to send him so far away in a place they barely know of.

Sakura Black

The baby of the house - Sakura Black. She is literally her dad and Atiya’s favourite child/sibling even when they insist they don’t have any. She is an identical copy to Jaxrel in everything. She is fluent in many languages, plays instruments, maintains her appearance and has a wide range of styles. She may be confident, but she is extremely sensitive and cries easily. She is easily the sassiest Hufflepuff to exist. She is a master of spells. Her spells leave everyone baffled, even her family because who even taught her all those skills? The secret is Samuel. Samuel is a creature created by dark shadows that has been around her ever since she was born. Samuel teaches her a lot of magic, though he keeps quiet and rarely talks. He would kill for her without a single thought unless she tells him not to. In that case, he would stay quiet and scare the person instead. No one is really sure how Samuel came to be, but some say that some curse was placed on her by Bellatrix or another death eater. She is currently low key in love with a muggle and tries everything to get her attention.

Raising a Child — before, during and after Sirius’s prisonment period 

Sirius was only present during the birth of Atiya and James actually. But when Atiya was 3 and with James at 1, Sirius was falsely accused and sent to azkaban for helping Voldemort

Before that, Sirius and Jaxrel would spoil their kids non stop. Want a horse? Sure. Want a castle that looks like the one in Barbie? We’ll see what we can do

Atiya was harder to raise than James. Even as infants, Atiya would always climb on things and eat things that don’t belong in her mouth. James on the other hand was definitely more quiet and it was pretty concerning. 

Ok, don’t hate me, but I feel like the other kids would only be born in a happy au where Sirius never went to Azkaban. Especially if you want them in a similar generation as Harry. And after Azkaban, a part of Sirius would be to scared to have another kid because he is worried that he will leave them again

While he was away, Jaxrel tried everything to prevent her kids from forgetting memories of Sirius. He would place photos in their rooms and tell them memories 

Raising two kids was definitely hard. Both of her were different from one another and Jaxrel tried to make sure that both of her were always happy in their own way, but also educate them on certain aspects 

Sirius coming back was such a huge change. Both the kids and Jaxrel haven’t seen him in 12 years and all of a sudden he comes into their life? Well, they gladly accepted him with open arms. At that time, Atiya was 15 and James was 13

Include lots of tears and jokes ~

It felt awkward at first, Sirius almost felt like a guest at his house. But over time, things started moving along and he settled down again 

He would definitely sit with his kids and listen to them talk about what he missed. He was actually supportive of Atiya when he learned she had a boyfriend. She was old enough and could choose what she wants 

He plays quidditch with Atiya and jokes around with James

Overall, a really sweet family 

Reactions 

Black Family: Honestly, none of them really cared when Sirius announced both his marriage and the birth of his children. They were never really involved in his life before and I doubt that would change. In any case, they despise him even more for not settling with the bride they chose for him. Andromeda was the only one who came to his wedding and would come over once in a while. And at some point, Regulus would come over out of the blue to spoil the kids and stay for dinner. 

Marauders: They literally love all your kids. Each one of them is a godparent to at least 1 of the kids, in some cases, 2 kids. James would definitely teach all the kids his pranks. Lily is the wine aunt who is low key pissed out of everyone all the time and scolds James for guiding the kids on the ‘wrong’ path. Remus is so scared he is going to hurt the kids by accident. Whenever he would hold them when they were younger, his hands would literally be shaking. I feel like Peter always arrives with like 30 pounds of sweets for each kid (much to Haruka’s delight)

Family Dinner and Date Nights

Family dinners are so chaotic! At least 6 different dishes are always made each day because everyone has their own pick of foods. Occasionally, the younger kids would throw the food around.

Samuels presence makes everything worse. Imagine trying to eat as some sort of creature watches over all your movements? Luckily, the family is already used to it and barely react 

Everyone is speaking over one another about their day or gossiping in Julia’s case. Occasionally, Haruka and Theo would start stopping on one another’s foot and start complaining to Jaxrel

Family dinners actually happen often despite the size of the family and their different schedules. They try to figure out a time that they can sit down together 

Dater Nights are almost impossible to have with like 8 kids in the house. Usually, Regulus and Anna would come over and take care of the kids while Sirius and Jaxrel go out

But even during the night, a part of them is constantly thinking about their kids. It’s a bad habit they both developed ever since Atiya was born 

Date nights are often start at their favourite restaurant and they go on a small walk in the dark, hands intertwined, as they exchange jokes 

It is during those nights, where they can truly act like teenagers again and not like the stressed adult they are. 

[pyonzzz]

draw izumi again or i say mean things. i dont know what yet but i will. /lh

a fluffy lad. if you care. (izumi voice) tch.

[sauveteen]

good evening welcome to @shaw-nm pulling a fast one on @shawnjpeg and i and exposing us through memes

[slutsareteacherstoo]

Random thoughts before i get into reading. Im wearing a boubou/ muu muu/ house dress and i really wanna know the science behind why it’s this clothing that makes people feral versus like idk anything else

The other thing is like im surprised about the recoil i have 🤣 like im not a big booty babe, kinda flat BUT sometimes i be dancing and im like wait 🤔 it’s something back there huh🤣

I do also think this is part of second puberty though. As long as touches everything except my chest Ill be okay with that. But yeah ive noticed my thighs and hips have gotten bigger and it’s slowly getting to my butt😌

Anyways lemme go back to doing my hair and reading

[pyonzzz]

i'd say your IDs are fine for the most part! i think sm descriptors might be unnecessary, like (happy smile, since. that'd be a given if someone is smiling unless stated otherwise). i could give more advice but i think i could compile some resources on ID's if you would like!!

RESOURCES WPULD BE SO NICE.... tbh i tried to write descriptions how you do so your tips mean so much to me qwq

[natade-art]

atiya’s fiance was supposed to be finished but its been like a month since i started the drawing of them and i want to redesign them so... heres atiya and, first of all, atiyas Old page which has an outdated design and before i actually knew how i was gonna draw his face

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Coupons and Conversations

Coupons and Conversations by Atiya Blackcharm

"I have a coupon that'll expire soon for a cafe thing here. I was thinking we could go there."

"You want to go to a cafe with me? Are you asking me out on a date or something?" Shigaraki asked incredulously.

Izuku removed his head from the other's shoulder and looked at Shigaraki with a deadpan expression. "No, I'm not asking the person who threatened to kill me on a date. I'm tired and have this coupon and honestly, I was to pet some cats. So are you coming or not cause, either way, I'm going to that cafe."

At his response, Shigaraki just stared at him for a few seconds before saying, "Fine, I'll go."

tldr; Shigaraki's attempt of asking Izuku a question at the Kyashi Ward Shopping mall does not go as planned. The cat cafe is nice though.

Words: 2396, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko

Additional Tags: Crack, Izuku is tired, Cat Cafés, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko is So Done, Midoriya Izuku is a Little Shit, Conversations, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Shigaraki is confused, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko is a Dork, Midoriya Izuku is a Dork, Humor, Kyashi Ward shopping mall, what's a milkshake and cake between some enemies, are they even enemies, do they know, No they do not

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43084791

[atiyasnake]

Are you a programmer/coder? Are you on replit? Cuz that's a coding site I found Atiya-something something I dont remember on while trying to add my friend to my css repl who has the same name with a q and it kinda matched your username

Just a silly question

I love silly questions XD.

But alas, twas not me. The only coding I've done was some computer classes that I don't even think is exactly what you're thinking of. Anyways yeah, not me. I'm not on replit or any programming/coding forum.

Only thing related to that I know is just html for tumblr/ao3 formatting.

[slutsareteacherstoo]

Yall my job is😵‍💫😵‍💫 need me write the original Terry fic for me i planned. Girl im so exhausted.

Need a massage and a nice long hug😩

Working on pt 2 still of the first one i posted life is just beating my ass