#because then their relationship would make so much more sense

[saebs-index]

⚡︎ astrology observations

⟡ sags have the biggest egos out of anyone i’ve ever seen. everyone always talks about leo’s but underdeveloped sags are much worse. they will get so defensive if u even disagree with them once. evolved sags are really smart though and some of the kindest most optimistic people

⟡ people with strong neptunian energy have a major star-like quality to them and tend to be multi-talented especially in the arts. they naturally attract lots of attention toward themself and admiration from people but sometimes it can be in a dangerous way. many of these people attract stalkers. i hear people say plutonian people do as well which i agree with but neptunian people attract the scariest stalkers i’ve ever seen. much more calculated ones

⟡ eighth house venus’ genuinely love the toxicity of relationships. they say they don’t but then they’re the type that can’t fall in love with someone who’s a good person or that treats them well and just repeatedly goes back to someone that treats them awful

⟡ i’ve been iffy about whether i find tropical or vedic astrology to be more accurate but recently i was thinking about how certain things make more sense in sidereal astrology than they do in tropical. like how tropical scorpios and geminis are the most hated signs but in sidereal they would be libra and taurus ruled by venus which is associated with jealousy. aphrodite (venus) was always hated on quite a bit because she was known as the most beautiful goddess in mythology which naturally inspired jealous and envy in others so it makes sense

⟡ i’ve noticed that most commonly the people i have a crush on have placements that conjunct or oppose my venus and the people that have a crush on me have placements that conjunct or oppose my mars. i’m not sure why (i’m a boy btw. idk if gender has anything to do with it but i never agreed with the gender astrology stuff)

⟡ i’ve always found relationships to be better when you’re dating your fifth house sign rather than your seventh house sign, but i think people are definitely more drawn to their seventh house energy. honestly when it comes to both romance and friendship

⟡ i’ve heard people say the fifth house is fling type energy but i disagree. the third house is definitely more so associated with flings/hookups than any other house. any kind of short term relationship in general honestly. short term friendships too

⟡ virgo men have the sass of a literal teenage girl when they’re unevolved and they complain about everything. they always are extremely controlling over weird stuff that just doesn’t matter

⟡ i would argue that the house of your placements are more impactful than the signs. both are crucial but i resonate the most with the houses my planets are in. i also resonate a lot with the degrees. sometimes even more than the sign, but that could just be me idk

i’m a realist and extremely honest, sorry not sorry.

[peanutalergy]

Mr. Winston - SR x reader

The BAU doesn't really need your help with the case. Spencer does. tags: post prison! spencer, fem! child psychologist! reader. cm type violence (blood, murder, etc), traumatized child. pre-relationship yearning MAYBE ? maybe fluff also sorry i still don't know how to classify these things. the synopsis doesn't really make any sense because this is kinda spencer's pov but idk guys sorry im really tired. w/c: 1.5k (this was originally 5.4k words but then i reread it and found that i actually hated every single one of them so...) a/n: okay so wow... i had so much fun writing this (let's ignore most of my posts from the past two weeks) THE THING IS i sorta already had a pt2 to this but then i thought well we can't have that without the beginning so i did kinda write this in a rush im really sorry that it's so short and shitty. . . ALSO i really love this reader & i'd love to write more of her but if you don't like it then i don't like it either and i'll never write again if you tell me not to. i do not think this is good by any means. i do hate it but if i stared at the google docs page for any longer i'd go insane.

Spencer doesn’t treat her like she’s made of porcelain because she’d be easily broken (though, she would, but neither of you say that since you can tell how hard she tried to look strong before coming to the precinct). He treats her like she’s fragile because he can’t remember the last time he didn’t break something like this — wide-eyed and shaking, holding onto something soft like it’s the only real thing around.

He was the one who convinced the team to ask for your help when the kid got involved — he always is. They insisted it wasn’t needed, you can deal with her yourself, you’ve always been good with children, or whatever, but your office got a call from him anyway.

No one knows why he sticks around. Maybe it’s the way you hold her; the gentle hand that runs through her hair, much warmer than the tiny fingers with chewed off nails and blood stains. Maybe he’s trying to memorize the tone of your voice — soft and sweeter than the apple juice she didn’t open, rambling about the silliest things you can think of — to imitate it next time he finds himself having to question kids. Maybe it’s the teacup in your other hand (the one he made you) and the way you so casually sip from it. As if this delicacy came to you as easily as taking a breath, while he struggled even with breathing.

Either way, despite his hesitance, he’s always sure to be around if you’re working on a case with them. Watching from the corner in a way that might have seemed creepy if only you didn’t smile so often back at him.

Amelia Murphy, 6 years old.

She sits at the end of the couch, legs tucked up to her chest like she’s trying to make herself as small as a crumb on the untouched sandwich going stale by her side. Spencer stands at the edge of the room, a smile threatening to peek through as he listens to your stories about the stuffed animals on your bed.

“You can’t tell any of his buddies, okay?” she nods, small but enough for you, “Mr. Winston is my favorite teddy out of all the ones I have.”

“Why?” You and the agent have to hide a surprised expression at the sound of her quiet voice, ragged and hoarse, coming out for the first time tonight. 

“Because he’s been with me since I was very, very young.” You chuckle lightly, “I must’ve been around your age when my grandma gifted him to me.”

“How do you know my age?”

You look at Spencer. He takes that as an ask for help (it really wasn't) and moves before you can speak again, still as careful as possible as he sits on the armchair next to the couch and joins in on the conversation like you suggested to him so often. “We don’t, actually.” She doesn’t flinch like he feared she would, so he continues with a soft smile, “I’m sure my friend was just trying to say she was young, like you are.”

Amelia tilts her head, small brows furrowed as softly as she mutters, “Really?”

“Yeah.” He nods, “We don’t really know how old you are.”

“I’m… six.” Her fingers, miniature sized when compared to Spencer’s, struggle for a second before arranging into a six, “This much.”

You smile and pretend to write it down on your clipboard, “That’s a lot.”

He laughs in half disbelief, half joy when she asks, “Well, how old are you?”

“Do you want to guess?”

“Uhm…” Tiny hand scratching her chin, she examines him like she knows what she’s doing. He looks to you in pure confusion during the seconds she stays quiet. “A hundred?”

He holds back a snort, “Not quite, no. Do you wanna try again?”

During most of the time he talks to her, you stay quiet. He often looks to you, hesitating, asking for some sort of reassurance that he’s doing this right — you always give it to him with a barely there nod and a big smile.

Always, except for the moment he started talking about his job in almost too much detail when she prompted what are you?. Though, that time, he didn’t need your confirmation or denial to figure it out. All it took was a different knit to her eyebrows for him to go back into smaller than regular talking tone, from the bordering robotical lecturing mode.

“I wanna be a model when I grow up.”

“Oh, yeah?” you giggle breathily. Thankfully, she doesn’t take it as an offense like both of you thought she would. She just nods back at you with a proud smile. 

“And do you know what models do at their job?” Spencer inquires.

“They sit pretty in their pretty clothes for the people to watch,” the girl shrugs, speaking in the same way one would say the sky is blue. “Like her.”

He laughs when she points at you. “Being pretty isn’t all she does, though, Amelia. She’s not really a model.”

“She should be,” she whispers and you pretend you don’t hear it.

“Yeah, she should.”

He’s still careful even in the way he looks at her. Like she’d feel his cold hands if he said something too loud, too much. Every time she shows any sort of reluctance, he goes even softer — like he’d learned from uncountable hours of watching you do this over the years.

The very first time you met — interrogating an unsub’s daughter, before all of it happened. Before Mexico and Maeve and Gideon and Dilaudid and Emily. Before his jaw was screwed permanently clenched and his brain painted foggy. When he didn’t think of himself as a ticking time bomb and wasn’t scared of what he saw in the mirror.

Even when he didn’t feel this way about children as well as every other aspect of his life, he admired your work and yourself. So, it only makes sense (to him) that, when he sees himself as some sort of monster, you look like you’ve hung the moon and the stars even though the only thing you’ve ever been is yourself.

“And, uh, Amelia…” he mutters, pointing to the stuffed bunny in her hands, all love stains and frayed stitches, “Your friend over there. Does he have a name?”

She shakes her head, then spins it around to show the bow hidden on the back of its head, “She’s a girl.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m so sorry,” he laughs awkwardly.

“She doesn’t have a name.”

“Is there a reason for that, sweetie?” you ask as soon as there’s a pause from both of them.

He just watches with a grin while you work with her to find names for her teddy.

The markers were Spencer’s idea. He didn’t mean for it to be anything more than a way for her to express herself — you’d both been drawing animals and trees and numbers. Though, when her page became full of red scribbles and what seemed to be portraits of her parents, you realized she might have more to say.

“Who are those people, Amelia?”, he places a hand on her shoulder. She’s so focused on her tiny fingers wrapped around the marker, that she barely shows any reaction to him. When her bottom lip goes wobbly and her hands impossibly shakier, he takes away the paper with a “Okay, that’s enough.”

She fell asleep on his shoulder after half an hour of sobbing while telling what she remembered of the story.

He can’t help the warm feeling that floods his chest when you tell him, “You did a good job.” after getting as much as one can out of a kid who just witnessed her parents’ murder. His expression and words go against it, though. With a small shrug, he mumbles, “Oh, it was nothin–”

“No, don’t do that,” you cut him off, “You did really well.”

“You would’ve gotten her to say a lot more in a lot less time. It takes you an average of five minutes and for–”

“Shut up,” a giggle.

“Would you please stop cutting me off?”

“Not until you admit that you are actually still amazing with kids.”

He sighs. “How’s Mr. Winston?”

“No, no!” you slap his arm playfully, “You don’t get to change the subject by mocking me for my friends.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Spencer raises his arms in defense, a smile brightening his face. “I’m trying to get to know you and your friends better. I can’t do that anymore?”

“Not if you’re mean about it,” arms crossed over your chest and a half fake pout on your lips, you mutter.

“When was I mean?” he cocks his head to the side.

“I can tell from your tone of voice. It gets higher and weirder when you lie. You’re not the only one who knows about psychology here, buddy.”

He just shakes his head with a laugh. “I’m being serious. How are they doing?”

“Well, if you must know, they’re doing amazing.”

“I’m glad.”

It takes 43 (he counted) chimes of the clock on the wall for anyone to say something again. It’s him, in a whisper, “Do you really think she liked me?”

00:09 doctor reid genius guy

Amelia’s aunt just picked her up. She said her bunny was now named Mrs. Winston.

[teaboot]

in WHAT universe is rising of the shield hero less of a dissapointment than spy x family? ppl glaze sxf a bit too much but theres few anime worse than Incel Isekai 20472.

anyway. if you want something actually good, frieren, odd taxi, and my roommate is a cat. havent watched ascendance of a bookworm yet but i hear incredible things.

Oh yeah no ROTSH felt like ABSOLUTE dogshit episodes 1-5ish, I have no idea why I kept watching cause the MC was so cringe but I’m enjoying it quite a lot now! (I was actually checking my inbox before catching the next ep, lol)

I’m actually really happy with how they showed the MC’s immaturity and flaws and all the stupid and confusing common isekai tropes in a realistic light- And I’m kinda sorry you didn’t keep watching too ‘cause it absolutely lays bare all that stupid “chosen one” crap about halfway through s1. You stop cringing at the awful stupid incel asshole shit E3 or so and start GENUINELY LIKING him, which is wild!

It’s not perfect media obviously- I kinda REALLY don’t like some of it- but it focuses a lot on personal responsibility and thoughtfulness and working within the context of your environment, learning to heal relationships, and the importance of diplomacy and communication.

What I REALLY like is the central theme that being a hero doesn’t mean everything you do is correct- but that people WANT TO BELIEVE everything you do is correct, so being a symbol isn’t so much a ritzy ride as it is a HUGE responsibility that one shouldn’t be eager for.

Also, I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I’m at a point now where they’re starting to touch on the idea that there’s a difference between fighting for an idea and fighting for PEOPLE, and I’ve never really seen that done well before so between that and the twist here that’s being foreshadowed I’m genuinely SUPER EXCITED to see where they’re going with it.

Also- even WITH all the “pretty girls love the hero” trope- if you watch long enough you’ll notice how they PLAY with the trope without investing in it. There’s genuine respect between the characters, and several times the MC makes it clear he sees some of them as family, that he’s not into kids and it’s creepy when others are, and there’s no fanservice panty shots or surprise “oops I’m naked” shit. It really does show by example how a REAL good-hearted protagonist should- or would hopefully- realistically act in the circumstances of an unrealistic isekai type series. There’s been pretty much zero actual romance or any interest in romance shown by the character after episode 1-2. (At least as of s2e1)

And I love that! It’s incredibly character-driven. It feels like the MC genuinely might fuck up, that there are real stakes, that the correct path is unclear, and I want to see if what I’m hoping for will happen. The MC is selfish and closed-off and heartless sometimes and TOTALLY has a cruel and pragmatic streak, and the narrative takes full advantage of that to force him to confront those issues. Some of his vices are even advantageous, as they would be in real life!

Spy X Family didn’t do anything for me. It appeared to be what it said on the tin. I never got any real sense of stakes or depth or personal development, or of reoccurring thematic elements or symbolism or overlying message, or any kind of statement that was poignant or meaningful. It came off as a fun story, but not anything exceptional or different.

I couldn’t bring myself to care much because it was pretty clear that the good guys were right and they were gonna pull something off and have a happy ending and live a cute little family life with a mom and a dad and a daughter and a dog. It was never surprising or curious and I never felt emotionally intrigued or invested or attached.

They’re both enjoyable, but I like Rise of the Shield Hero more because it’s been proving me wrong in exciting ways and making me think about why I feel the way I do, and I like that in a series.

Spy X Family is fine, I don’t think it’s BAD, it just didn’t scratch the itch for me personally.

If you watched like 15 eps and hated it the whole time that’s fair but if you stopped at e2 I’d super recommend giving it another shot!

[lsunstreakerl]

Rico/Max first heat? Any verse is fine, but I would love FMF or canon

whoops! called you anon in the last post, sorry- goes to show my incredible ability to keep my ask box straight! anyways, this has somehow ended up longer than the first one. part two of omegaverse fmf, (part one) first with rico's POV, and ending with max's. 3.4k, explicit.

parings: rico verhoeven/max verstappen

relevant heads up: omegaverse, continuation of the dubious consent, max's incredible ability to misunderstand his relationship with rico, and criminal levels of down bad from rico.

Rico is frozen as his omega bites down. The snap of his scent gland between his teeth, and the rush of endorphins inside of him— Max is still snarling at him even with his teeth sunk into his neck, like a hound dog who'd snuck into the kitchens and stolen a chunk of meat.

His rut bears down around him, but it's controlled, a byproduct of Rico spending his entire life learning to weaponize it. It doesn't make him mindless, just sharpens his senses in a more animalistic way. He slowly lowers himself down onto Max, so that his psychotic little omega doesn't have to strain his neck as he gets Rico's blood smeared across his mouth.

He's rumbling again, because it's the only thing that's seemed to get through Max's heat brain. He hadn't wanted to tie him up, but he'd realized that Max had woven rope— and when he'd had the time to do that Rico has no idea— and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

He's not particularly interested in getting kneed in the balls again, even if Max is pretty enough to get away with it. His omega had fought viciously, really forced Rico to work for it. He's never participated in a mating run until now, and although he's watched friends go through the motions, he can't remember anyone mentioning their mates seemingly wanting them genuinely dead.

Max had been difficult to track. Once Rico had figured out he was using the river it hadn't been so bad, but finding the entrance and exit points had been a struggle, and then the cliff face—

Max's slick scent had slammed him in the face like brick. He'd momentarily lost control over his rut, and that had been just enough time for Max to slip away.

He noses at Max's scent gland as he feels the teeth in his neck loosen. His omega is whip smart and fast, and a much better grappler, even in heat, than Rico had been prepared for.

They'll have strong pups, eventually.

He scrapes his teeth gently, more a warning than anything as he gets a hand down between Max's thighs, fingers dragging through slick. There's so much of it, a sweet scent that Rico would happily down himself in.

He gets one finger into Max, who's so loose and wet that he wonders for a moment if he's even noticed. The second one goes easily, and Max twitches underneath him, pupils blown wide, blood across his mouth.

Rico pushes his scent further, almost oppressively thick in the air around them as he gets a third finger inside, licking over Max's neck. His omega seems to appreciate that, if the way he falls into submission is any indication. His head tips back, jaw exposed as Rico feels him clench around his fingers, a soft whine escaping him.

He rumbles again, slowly working his fingers as he gets Max used to his mouth on his neck. Mating bites can be pleasurable— although Rico's is giving him a dull throb, either from the force of the bite or the unmatched bond.

It's fine. He doesn't mind being patient, if it means that Max feels secure. If biting Rico first is what he needed, Rico doesn't mind. He's only knotting Max here on the ground once.

He hadn't wanted to do it in the forest at all, but Karim had made a big fuss about tradition, and Rico doesn't particularly want to get into an argument with the head of House Verstappen. The man makes him uneasy.

He spreads his fingers wide, crooning lowly as Max twitches, blinking up at him. There's barely a sliver of blue ringing around his pupils, and he seems confused, like he'd expected more of a reaction for biting.

Rico really doesn't mind— he's had worse bites from the strays around the castle. His omega is far gone, tied up in the woods in heat, and Rico doesn't want this to take any longer then it has to, but he doesn't want to go too fast and hurt Max either.

There's the bare bones of a nest waiting for them back home, and all the materials Max could want. Martijn is supposed to be gathering scented materials from his own delegate to take back with them.

He mouths at Max's neck again, privately smug when his omega simply shivers, head tilting back to exposure his neck further. It's much better than the angry snarls or the terrified whining of before, and Rico's careful as he fucks him slowly with his fingers, slipping in his pinky as well.

He's not small by any means, and he doesn't want Max to be uncomfortable on his knot, which means he's checking that he's ready, even in heat.

Max whimpers softly, hips twitching. He's got his jaw clamped shut tight, a small act of defiance, but Rico doesn't mind. If he does his job right, Max will crack open underneath him anyways, cresting with pleasure through his heat. It's just another test.

Despite his self control, there's a tightness at the base of his skull, his rut hot in his veins. The thrill of the hunt had been deeply satisfying, but now he wants to take.

He shoves it back down.

Max's breathing is getting ragged, scent sweetening and spiraling as Rico finally gets his cock out, heavy and hot in his hand. He keeps his mouth on Max's neck, over his scent gland— he's going to bite when he knots him, to blur the line between the pain and the pleasure, make it as easy for his omega as possible.

He lets his teeth scrape over his neck, pushing his scent and rumbling at the same time, enough that Max instinctively relaxes as Rico slides inside of him. He'd debated going slowly or not, but with an omega in heat, he didn't want to take too long and risk Max hurting himself trying to get more.

Max yelps as Rico pushes halfway in one smooth motion, wiggling underneath him. He croons softly, sucking at Max's neck to distract him, deeply satisfied at the moan he gets for his efforts. Omegas are built for this kind of thing— they want to be submissive, even a volatile, slightly psychotic omega like Max. He's been lashing out because he's scared, and he thinks Rico is going to hurt him.

Rico just has to prove him wrong. All he has to do is bite him and knot him, and then they can head home, but Max is too far gone to explain that properly, which means all Rico can do is show him.

He rolls his hips, lips pressing against Max's neck. There's a soft gasp near his ear, his omega's scent curling around him. There's more pleasure to it now than fear, even if he's still bound underneath him.

Max's scent is all he can smell, all he can taste on his tongue, face buried into his neck like a man starved as he nips gently, pushing a few more inches in. His omega is taking him well, small little moans escaping him. He's forgetting to keep his mouth shut, slowly falling further as Rico fucks into him, and Rico can't smother the pleased notes in his own scent.

Max responds to it well, moaning loudly when Rico gets flush to his hips, whispering soft praise into his throat, pressing kisses to the thin skin below his ear.

"Alpha—"

Rico rumbles loudly, free hand mapping out Max's body underneath him, skimming his waist, his hip and his thigh. His other hand is still braced behind Max's head, and it hadn't budged even when Max had reared up and bit him.

His King's Guard likes to call him paranoid, but he has no interest in going to all this effort just for his lovely, batshit insane omega to accidentally smash his head into a rock.

Max is perfect underneath him, relaxed under his hands and on his cock, scent mellowing out slightly. It'll even out more when he's on a knot, and Rico can check him for injuries then. He wouldn't put it past him to have somehow collected an assortment in the process of the hunt.

He can feel his knot starting to form, catching at Max with each thrust. He's starting to squirm underneath him, eyes desperate as his scent goes rich with need, mouth dropping open in a low moan.

Rico rumbles, fitting his teeth lightly over his omega's scent gland as he keeps the same pace. It's doing it for Max, so he's not going to adjust it any, not when Max is finally pliant underneath him, pleased noises being worked out of him.

His knot swells, and he croons lowly at Max as he thrusts in one more time, and Max cries out, tipping his chin back, exposing the pale lines of his throat, the smattering of freckles.

"Alpha, alpha need it—"

Rico knows.

His teeth sink in as Max is flush to his hips, scent gland snapping under his mouth, and he can feel his omega convulse underneath him, moaning high and long. The bond is a physical feeling tugging him closer to Max's chest, kissing softly at his neck as they both come down from the high.

The rut is less oppressive in his head, enough for him to feel bad that Max is still bound. He works one hand around to deftly untie the knots, carefully sitting them upright. He's cautious to make sure he doesn't tug at Max at all, arranging him in his lap.

Max makes a soft noise, nose tucking into Rico's neck. His bite mark is still throbbing, but he knows now that's just from his omega's teeth— the mating bond feels solid between them.

There's exhaustion, the tiniest threads of anxiety, but they're fading by the minute, overshadowed by a deep contentment that must be from himself, and a fuzzy haze that must belong to Max.

He runs his hands slowly across his omega— his mate— searing for any nicks or cuts. There's not many besides the few scrapes across his face, and he relaxes.

By the time his knot starts to go down, in what could have been minutes or hours later, Rico has decided he would die for him.

Max had, at some point, started softly purring against his chest, and it had made him feel a starburst of emotions, too much for him to handle at once. It was the kind of feeling he would go to war over, if it meant getting to experience it again, and he'd contented himself with pressing soft kisses across his omega's hairline, down the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks.

Max had hazily blinked at him before dozing back off.

Now, he gingerly pulls out, fingers reaching for the scattered components of Max's leather armor as he begins to strap it back on. He's hoping he's remembering it all correctly. The mating bond has done wonders for his rut— it feels less wild inside of him, now that he has a focus on getting Max back home to their den. It's sharper, more targeted.

Max is still foggy with it, although Rico can feel the soft snares of awareness threading lightly through the bond. Max could snap to alertness if he needed to, but his instincts are soothed by the presence of Rico carrying him.

Rico presses another light kiss to his forehead as he checks that they're both as put back together as they can be, keeping Max close to his chest as he stands. He can smell the fires not too far away— it had been difficult to tell before, but now with his rut sharpened to a fine point, focused on taking care of his mate, they're clear as day.

Max is purring in his arms as they walk. He'd squirmed tiredly in Rico's arms before pressing his nose into his neck, hair brushing against his jaw.

The campfires finally come into view. Rico hadn't realized he was still tense until he relaxes, smelling his pack waiting for them. Max's people are nearby, and the smaller alpha— the one who'd given him a murderous glare when he'd initially sniffed Max to catch his scent— curls his lip in a snarl.

Rico bristles, his own lip lifting, showcasing a flash of fang, and something must alert Max through the bond— he rapidly blinks his eyes, struggling to fight back to awareness. Rico immediately forgets the smaller alpha, crooning lowly at his omega.

"Sorry, that was— it's dumb. We're fine, sweetheart. It's okay."

He can smell his pack on one side, cautiously approaching. They're wary of his protective instincts, even if they don't need to be. Rico trusts them with his life, and Max eventually will as well. The older alpha approaching, however...

He widens his stance, trying not to let any negative feelings push through the bond, even though he doesn't like the other man.

"I'm not coming any closer, Your Highness. He's yours now. I just wanted to ensure he didn't cause you too much trouble?"

Rico's jaw tightens. Max caused him plenty of trouble— that was what had made it wonderful. He's clearly not doing a good job of keeping his temper in check, because Martijn sidles up beside him, smiling pleasantly.

"Rico's got a tough gourd. No issues, really— or we would've heard him complaining the whole way back."

Normally Rico's willing to laugh at himself a bit, but he can't even bring himself to break eye contract with Jos, staring down the smaller alpha.

He lifts his hands, stepping back as he dips his head.

"Pleasure doing business, Your Highness."

Max catches a hint of Jos' scent in the wind, and Rico can feel a thread of anxiety ratchet up in his chest through the bond. It's more than enough to snap his already thin patience.

"You're dismissed."

He realizes a moment later that Martijn is projecting his neutral scent, keeping him less agitated. He waits until the northern delegate has set off before leaning into the beta gratefully.

"Thank you."

Martijn hums, tilting his head to get a better look at Max, curious.

"He gave you a good fight, huh? You look beat up."

Rico makes a face.

"Those thighs are not decoration— he's got a mean kick."

Karim snorts off to his left, and Rico tosses him a halfhearted glare as they pack their things.

"Did you get items for his nest?"

Martijn grins, patting a pack on the back of his horse.

"Yup! Nothing from his dad— the little alpha, Mick, said that wasn't a good idea— but some stuff from the rest of his pack."

He pauses, lips turning downwards as he looks at Max again.

"It's not much."

Rico can feel the pack bond in his chest trying to curl into the mating bond, the curiosity of his most trusted people. They love Rico, it only makes sense they'll love his mate, but they understand it might be slow going.

He nods, keeping Max close as Karim drapes a cloak over him in Rico's arms. Dennis is waiting next to Rico's horse, peering quietly at his omega, and then at the bite mark on his neck, snorting softly.

"He took a chunk out of you, kid."

Rico grins, preening.

"He really did— I wasn't expecting it either, I'd thought he was submitting."

Dennis grins, rumbling lowly.

"Good. About time you met your match."

The older alpha claps him on the shoulder gently, and he helps Rico saddle up, careful not to jostle Max too much. The sharp thread of anxiety from Jos' presence has faded, and Max is back to breathing into Rico's neck, soft puffs of air tickling his skin.

Rico feels settled with his mate in his arms, surrounded by his pack. They'd had to leave a few people to watch the castle, but his heart of hearts— they're all here. It's not entirely safe, not yet, not until Rico can get Max settled into his nest, coax him apart between the stalwart stone walls of his den.

Soon.

------

Max remembers bits and pieces. He remembers a mad dash through the woods, the icy cold of a river, remembers the spiced scent of rut— but he doesn't remember any pain.

He remembers being laid out in the dirt, and there's an embarrassing flash of memory he hopes isn't real of him begging.

None of that matters at the moment, because his heat breaks inside unfamiliar walls, panting as he comes down from an orgasm he barely remembers. His thighs are shaking, ankles hooked together behind a large neck, and he's sore, but there's large hands running soothingly across his legs, and despite everything that should be scaring him right now—

The fear just isn't there.

He swallows, legs twitching as he tries to close them. He expects the alpha between his legs to refuse, but he's surprised to find easy acceptance.

There's a solid weight in his chest that he doesn't recognize. It feels... nice. There's a certain warmth to it, and he realizes as the alpha shifts back up the bed that it seems connected, somehow.

His jaw cracks as he yawns, trying to put things together. He feels more settled in his own skin than he's felt in years, and he's—

He's in a nest.

The alpha watching him patiently is the King.

The realizations hit him at once, anxiety flooding his body, and before he can work himself into a proper panic, the weight in his chest settles. There's a pleasant scent in a room, a low noise by Max's ear, and he's having a hard time remembering why he would want to freak out about anything.

"Easy, Max. You wake up fast."

Max looks over at King Verhoeven, face flushing a vibrant red as he spots the bite mark deep into his neck. It's absolutely going to scar, and he's mildly afraid that he's about to be killed for it—

"Max."

It's not quite a command, but there's a low note of heavy suggestion, yanking Max from him thoughts as he instinctively bares his neck for his mate.

His eyebrows furrow, everything screeching to a halt. The woods, the river grass ropes, the bite, the knot.

He touches his fingers gingerly to his own neck, tracing the scabbed edges over his own scent gland.

"I thought— you mated me."

His voice comes out more incredulous than he'd like, and King Verhoeven tilts his head curiously, eyes sparkling.

"I did, yes. You gave a thrilling hunt, Max. And you've got some sharp teeth."

Max doesn't understand.

"But I'm a concubine."

The shock that rips through his chest isn't his own, and he struggles with it for a moment, grappling to get it under control before he realizes it belongs to Rico.

When did he think of him as Rico? Max can feel it through what must be the bond, the same way Rico must be able to have felt Max's heat break.

He scoots closer to Max, wrist pressing against his neck as he's scented thoroughly. The shock has turned to confusion, which has turned to a quiet anger.

"Who told you that?"

Max bristles.

"I didn't need to be told, that's just— that's how it works."

Rico leans forward slowly, pressing their foreheads together in a gesture that leaves Max feeling cracked open and raw.

"No, Max. You're not a concubine. I don't have any other omegas, I only— I only wanted one. A mate."

Max can feel that he means it. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, tipping his head down to nose at the mating bite.

"I, ah,"

He feels a bit embarrassed about it now, knowing there were no other omegas.

"Sorry for biting you so hard."

Rico rumbles lowly, and Max is surprised to find that the bond simply seems pleased.

"I wasn't expecting it, but... it's fitting. I like it for us, although I have to wonder, if you thought you were a concubine— why'd you bite me?"

Max flushes, deliberately looking away.

"I wanted to have something none of the others could get."

He keeps his voice soft, but his words ring true. Rico croons at him, affection dripping from his scent.

"There are no others, sweetheart. Just you, and you made your mark so thoroughly it would be impossible to miss."

Max still feels embarrassed about it. He startles slightly when Rico's palm rests between his shoulders, but he finds a pleased purr rising in his chest.

There's too much information he needs to digest, next steps to take, people to meet— but for now, he's content to curl in the nest with his alpha.

His mate.

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

What do you think of Bryan Q. Miller’s characterisation of Stephanie Brown?

Mixed feelings!! On one hand, I have a huge soft spot for Batgirl 2009 and Steph’s narrative of perseverance and dragging yourself up and to bigger and better things after what should have been total destruction is just so so important to me. It’s great for that, and for giving Steph’s character a proper spotlight and ‘redemption’ when she very well could have been relegated to the sidelines, forever haunted by her brutal fridging. And I understand why BQM might not have wanted to dredge up War Games- Batgirl 2009 is a chance for Steph’s character to move past the shitty sexist torture porn story she was killed off in. But on the other hand, the almost total absence of it to the story feels conspicuous and strange, and I really wish we could’ve gotten a characterization of Steph that felt a little more grounded in it. If that makes sense?

She’s sort of at an all time low before Batgirl 2009. Not only has she survived the brutality of War Games, the fake death retcon returns her in uncertain graces with the other characters. Her life is uprooted, the future of her character is unsteady, and to top it off she ends Robin 1993 portrayed as disgraced and foolish, as having proven Yet Again, that Steph is proven absolutely not good enough to be a vigilante.

But none of that emotion fully carries over into Batgirl 2009? Steph seems fine enough, and while I can (and do!) read that as a repression fake-it-till-you-make-it thing, a more explicit thing might’ve been nice?

I have a few small, line by line nitpicks, for example the whole ‘forgetting Steph sews’ thing rly bothers me because it’s just such a consistent trait and to me it’s so so essential that Steph makes her own OG costume - it really communicates her self-starter ‘I’ll do it myself’ personality and how it works with her vigilantism.

Also, for a comic where Crystal has so many appearances and so much potential power in the story, I feel like we missed out on a lot of Steph and hers relationship, I don’t know if I love how Steph is characterized in relation to Crystal and would have loved something a little more attached to her history with her mom.

Just generally, I find it unfortunate that much like a lot of Tim’s characterization in the early post-Flashpoint was heavily influenced by his portrayal in Red Robin, Steph’s more blatant bubbly-ness of Batgirl 2009 became sort of her baseline post new 52. Of course, Steph’s character has always been a little silly, and she’s always told her jokes, but a lot of her other (really important!!!) traits like her anger, and her grit, and her angst, and her pessimism have been much less prominent. But I rly don’t blame Batgirl 2009 for that so much. Just an unfortunate side effect of the reboot that has unfortunately really stuck around.

So I guess, overall my biggest thing is I wouldve prefer if BQMs characterization of Steph was just more grounded in her history.

Would love to hear others thoughts on this bc I fear I probably have my biases and preferences interfering here to a degree. Thank you for the ask!! 💜

[humpster35]

|You can’t buy love|

Bf!Chris x fan!reader

Divider from pinterest

|contains: angst, fluff, slight yelling, crying and established relationship

“Chris you don’t have to keep getting me things.” Y/n held the cartier watch in her hand. This was another gift Chris had gotten her since they decided to date. She couldn’t even count how many items she had by him.

Chris sat on the couch and sighed. He knew that if he didn’t spoil her, in his mind, then she would just leave and post about how bad of a boyfriend he was. It was almost like an act he put up.

They met at the Surprise Party Tour. Y/n was allowed V.I.P after Nick liked her energy in the crowd. Or so she was told. It sounds cheesy but, that same morning Y/n just knew her life was about to be changed. It was the same gut feeling she had when she looked into Chris’s eyes.

She didn’t wanna seem like those delusional fans who always thought the triplets wanted them, but there had been signs.

The first time she entered the building, Y/n watched as all the fans screamed looking at her. Or more so, behind her. When she turned around she realized that standing there was Chris Sturniolo, I guess he had been late coming in.

In his hands he held a bag and some equipment. Y/n smiled at the stuff knowing that Nick most likely scolded Chris for being forgetful about bringing it. She moved out of his way and did a simple nod in his direction. Chris walked two steps then stopped and looked back at her.

“Hey, are you gonna be submitting an anonymous confession?”

Y/n shook her head no and laughed.

“No im definitely not gonna embarrass myself like that.”

Chris laughed with her and then scratched his head. He started walking away again and the fans, who were recording the whole moment, starting flocking to her to ask questions.

Once she had found her seat, the left side behind a girl and her sister, she then waited until it started. Y/n’s eyes lit when she saw the countdown end and Nick, Matt and Chris appeared on screen, making their way to the main stage.

The show was amazing. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at seeing their dynamic and arguments in person. The times Chris would glance at the crowd, only to spot her, he held his gaze. The intense beating of Y/n’s heartbeat was drowned out by screaming of excited fans.

During the meet and greet section of tour, Y/n was pulled into a hug by Nick. He seemed really happy to meet her, Y/n didn’t know it, but Chris had told Nick about his interest in her. So with a sly smirk and two second hugs from Matt and Nick—Chris gently pulled Y/n in and held her.

The photographer accidentally snapped a picture of the two together, this caused Matt and Nick to laugh. Y/n smiled at Chris. Their faces were so close now, she could feel the heat emitting from his body, the way his cologne smelled, she saw his freckles on his face and the way his eyes were much more striking.

With a blush appearing on her face, Y/n posed for the picture.

After three months of texting Chris asked Y/n out on an actual date. This led to them dating and she didn’t notice how much he would spend because he would always make sure to throw the tags away—but she knew that it would expensive because of the quality.

This leads to the conversation in the beginning—Y/n is angry at Chris for thinking that he can get her something and it’ll make her stay.

“Why Chris? Why can’t you just talk to me more like a regular person—I don’t need gifts.”

Chris glanced in Y/n’s direction—his eyes scanning her expression. He knew that what she was saying made sense, but he also wanted to show that he could physically care for her.

“You don’t get it you’re not famous.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and laughed dryly. The tears starting to form in her eyes—wiped away by the swipe of her hand.

“Oh yea Chris i’m not famous—I forgot i’m your little fan girl.”

“Oh cut the bullshit Y/n.”

Y/n furrowed her brows and threw the watch down. The sound of glass breaking echoed—Chris flinched at the sudden noise but stood his ground.

“No you cut the bullshit Chris. I love you—do you know how hard it is to be with someone who everyone wants? It’s hard waking up to death threats almost everyday, because some twelve year old thinks I don’t deserve to be with you.”

Y/n’s voice is hoarse—full of pain as she rants to Chris. He watches her hiccup, placing a hand on her chest to help ease her hyperventilation.

“Then I have to come here—visiting you, I just wanna be with my boyfriend. Chris you get me gifts as a way to shut me up. I wanna talk to you—you can’t buy love.”

Chris didn’t speak—he let his feet carry him to the girl standing before him. As she stood there crying, her face all flushed—breathing heavy, Chris’s heart broke. He never even considered how she felt.

He knew he was famous, but he didn’t even think of different things would be for his partner rather than him. Y/n had taken all the heat and internet hate off of him. Chris pulled Y/n in—his hands caressed her hair. He could feel her hands shaking from the overwhelming pressure of expelling her feelings—it was the same feeling Matt got.

“Shh shh—I’m sorry, i’m so sorry Y/n.”

Y/n reached around Chris’s waist and held him. She held him as if she let go—then she would lose him forever. Y/n didn’t wanna be alone again, not when she could have someone like Chris in her life. It wasnt her intention to lash out on him, things had been building and building—Chris gently lifted her face up by holding her chin.

“You’re not a fan girl. I want you to understand that.”

Y/n looked into Chris’s starry eyes—his eyes could drown a thousand wounds. She nodded wanting to hear what he had to say.

“I will always always love you. There is no amount of jewelry —fuckin shoes I could that would ever express and explain how fucking fast my heart beats when looking at you.”

Chris traced Y/n’s jawline, his finger slowly reached her eyes—wiping away the tiny tears.

“The truth is, in my own head—I felt that if I didn’t get you those things,then you would leave.”

Y/n shook her head, as she gently kissed Chris’s chest—her nerves started to calm.

“I’d never leave you Chris. I love you way too much—I don’t think…” Y/n looked away for a second, her mind clearing processing her emotions.

“I don’t think I can breathe without you.”

Chris let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. His whole world stood between his arms—she was unconditionally, completely certain of the love she too shared for him.

“I love you, my Moon—stars, my skin.”

Y/n laughed a bit at the last part. Her demeanor was slowly going back to how it usually was around Chris—calm, happy and flirty.

“Why skin?”

Chris kisses her lips with passion. He pulled back—his hands cupping her face. Her beautiful face in them.

“Because you’re always gonna be with me—on my body. You’re my skin because even when times get rough or dirty, you stay.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and playfully hit his side.

“You’re so corny Christopher.”

Random blurb I had started working on two days ago—just now finishing it up as I work on the actual fics and smuts that have been requested.

tag list💌

@mattsweethart @salaciousxsturniolo @seeing-stars-today @stvni0l0 @sturniolofruitloop @sturnispider @sturnzsblog @sturnstarsblog @mattspillowprincess @hannahsturniolo @passionfruitchris @riggysworld @regulaho @grace-sturnz @eeyoresturnz @eyesonmattyb

[spcherryygirl]

𝓜𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝓐𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 — 𝓙. 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒅

𝓢 YNOPSIS : : you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i love, love, love you.

𝓒ONTENTS : : yearner!jason todd. yearner!reader. female!reader. injuries( his scars. not detailed, the fic is sfw ). mentions of the lazarus pit. povs are separated ( still in second person. jason's first, then reader's ). ooc(?) jason feeling underserving woah woah woah. fluff. angst (?). mentions of sex. some parts are inspired by lyrics. ( new ) established relationship. no beta read, we die like bruce's parents. wc : 2.4k

BOOKS — DC BOOK

REQUESTED ; SUGGESTED : : @yeoniverseee && @laufeysgoddess

ᨦ𓏲 ، ݃♟❜ : : this is kind of,, a remake of this,,, if u squint.. layout slightly inspired by @laufeysgoddess ' carrd mwah mwah.,, ig it can be gn!reader, ithinkitjinkiithink also. i made hannie & ellie pick a fic to remake & they picked this !! & i was feeling very most ardently these days lolzsk. i am a STRONG believer that jay cried the first time he has sex with someone he really, really loves. like my "my love, mine all mine" fic,, JAY DED CRIED THERE SHUT UP. okay, now im really just recycling the pictures and layouts hehehehe. also,, 800???? YOU GUYS?????? ARE???? 800??? EIGHT HUNDRED ?????? EIGHT FUCKING HUNDRED ???? IM MAKING BABIES W U ALL. some parts here are actually what i said to @fromdove 😋( this is also dedicated to her btw. all of my works r prolly dedicated to her, hannie & ellie ) i love her ( including my cherries ) as much as i love jay, btw !! i tried to be poetic, guys. i really did🥀. idk if i hate this or love THEM. also... @yintous jinxed the crying part........ yin, you freak. this took me a whole week gng #writersblockslanderer. probably not ur taste in fics bc it's more focused on how they love

every time. every single time he finds himself staring at you too long, he hears it in his head like a fucking prayer. not that he's still into that kind of thing, but anyway. there's something sacred about the way you smile at him. something that gives him the sense that he has god's favorite secret beside him on the couch, his hoodie wrapped around your with her hair tied up in a bun and your toes against his thigh.

he thinks you're unreal. and maybe a little unfair. because you're soft with him. too soft. you're gentle in ways he doesn't think he deserves, like you were made to prove him wrong just by existing in his space. just by existing on this planet, actually.

it's a new relationship. not new in the way that it's uncomfortable or awkward. just new enough that he still feels the flutter in his belly when you kiss him first. just new enough that anything little you do still surprises him.

like how you touch his scars.

not with pity. not with horror. and obviously, not even with that unattached interest people sometimes get. no. you touch them like they're part of a map you're memorizing. like your fingers are tracing out every inch of what made him and you don't want to miss a single marker.

"this one," you said once, tracing over the raised scar near his ribs, "looks like a half moon."

and he looked at you like you'd said something ridiculous. because who the hell gazes at a scar━━a remnant of a knife that nearly killed him( not really )━━and thinks of the fucking moon?

you do. apparently.

he wants to write that down somewhere. with a permanent marker. place it into the back of his head so he'll never forget the way you looked at him that way. like you saw something lovely in all the spaces he thought were destroyed. maybe a tattoo would do.

sleeping beside you is its own kind of pain. he doesn't sleep much, usually. his body doesn't find stillness comfortable. but when you're in his arms, curled into his chest, breathing slow and steady and trusting him with your entire heart, he sleeps like the dead. it's dangerous. it's silly( not to you ). it's addictive. he wakes with his arm around your waist and his nose pressed to the back of your neck and wonders if perhaps this is what peace feels like.

god, not once in his life. even when bruce wayne took him in, thought he'd get to feel that.

and when you kiss him━━god, when you kiss him━━it's like you can feel what he wants before he can. you kiss him slow. careful. sometimes sloppy, sometimes quick. but always as if he belongs to you. as if there is another place in the entire world you'd rather be. and he breaks down. melt. dissolves for it every time. he leans into it with his entire body, as if the only thing holding him to reality is your lips on his.

having sex with you isn't forgetting. not with him. not anymore.

it's not an escape. or temporary. it's a return. a coming home. it's permanent.

you're kind to him. not only in kisses. but in the way you look at him when he undresses in front of you. in the way you stroke his back like it's holy. in the way you whisper his name like it's fragile.

he recalls the first time you had sex. the day he first cried while having sex with you. recalls how he attempted to hide it. bury his face in your shoulder and try to convince himself that it was merely sweat. but you were aware. of course, you were aware. and you kissed his temple and whispered, "i've got you," as if he wasn't shattering in your hands.

you make him believe that he is worth the gentleness. worth, this.

and perhaps he is. perhaps, with you, he is.

because you stay. even when he's not speaking. even when he's being grumpy or distant or two steps away from breaking. you stay. you wrap yourself around him and fetch him tea and refuse to ask him questions he doesn't want to respond to. and somehow, that gets him to speak. not everything. but enough. enough for you to understand.

he spoke to you about the pit. once. and only once. you didn't flinch. just gripped his hand. and said he was here. now. with you.

he trusts you.

and that shit scares him.

love was never simple for him. even before the pit. it was always rough. always a distance. but with you, it is. still. not in the boring sense. in the safe sense. in the "i can finally breathe again" sense. it's rough. but no longer a distance.

sometimes you're singing in the kitchen. poorly. on purpose. or not. and he leans in the doorframe and listens to you spin around in your socks, spatula clutched like a microphone, and he thinks, i could die right now and it would be enough.

he doesn't say anything. not yet. but he thinks about it all the time.

and he loves you. most ardently. passionately. in every possible way that a person can love.

in the way he remembers your coffee order and has a hair tie wrapped around his wrist for you.

in the way he allows you to see him when he's at his worst.

in the way he handles you like you're fragile. like you're not. like you're his.

in the way he sleeps more soundly when you're breathing next to him.

in the way he wishes to believe again in the future.

he loves you. hurtfully. shamelessly. completely. perfectly.

and if he could cut that into the sky, he would.

he loves you in the "let's run barefoot across the universe together" sort of way.

to saturn and back and then beyond.

to the spaces between stars where time loses track of how to move.

and jason todd━━jason peter fucking todd━━doesn't want to be rescued anymore. the child. the second robin. red hood. jason todd.

they all just want to stay.

with you.

he has no idea what he looks like when he is in love. but you do.

you've committed it to memory. tattooed it( at least, in your mind you did ) near your heart. the gentle droop of his eyelids when he gazes at you as if you're a dream. the slight opening of his lips, as if there is something he would like to say but can't. how his hand lingers in mid air before it settles on the small of your back, as if requesting permission still, even now, despite all that has happened.

he stares at you as if you're the last sacred thing in a world of tombs.

and you feel it. every ounce of the burden he bears. not because he loads it onto you, but because he never does. he bears it all as though he was meant to endure it alone, and you have to press yourself into the crack just to make him remember that he doesn't have to. not anymore.

you love him like breathing. all the time, without thinking, with no effort at all. it's just there. like his name on your tongue. like his shirts in your drawer. like the way your heart slows when you hear the front door open and it's him. again. and god, you never felt more real.

you remember the first time he told you about the pit. how his voice sounded like it was scraping the edge of something sharp. how he didn’t look at you, didn’t blink, just stared at the floor like it held the truth and the punishment and the apology all at once.

he said it like it was a confession. like it would be the thing that finally pushed you away. that will make you want to not stay.

it didn't.

you simply leaned over, wrapped your fingers around his, and told him, "you're here now."

he blinked then. just once. as if he was trying to process your words. as if he had no idea that something so simple could mean so much.

sometimes, you wonder if jason todd doesn't know that he's still alive.

not just breathing. but alive.

in the way his eyebrow creases when you laugh too loudly. in the way he rolls his eyes when you steal fries from his plate but pushes the rest up towards you anyway. in the way he allows you to sit on his lap with a book in your hand, not saying a word, just,, existing.

his scars don't frighten you. they never have.

he showed them to you as if he was getting ready to be turned down. again. god. it's like he expects you to just vanish. as if he was showing you the remains of a city he didn't think anyone would want to live in.

you touched them all. one by one. kissed the one under his rib. trailed your fingers over the one that curves into his shoulder. learned the mosaics of him with devotion. patience.

"you're not broken," you told him. "you're written."

he didn't say a word for a long time afterward. just gazed at you like you'd reached into your pocket and pulled out the sun and given it to him.

he tries━━no━━he does his best. every day. every time.

that's what bothers you the most. the way he's doing so hard. not to be good. not to be complete. but to be gentle with you. to be with you. even when it hurts. even when he's afraid.

you notice it the way he cradles your face like you'll disappear. the way he asks you "this okay?" even when it's just your limbs knotted up on the couch. the way he wears your keys around his neck( just to make sure he won't lose it, he told you once. ) like they're where they're supposed to be.

you recall the first time you had sex.

how he touched you like prayer. how his lips shook against yours. how his voice cracked when he said your name.

you knew. immediately. when his breath caught and his chest faltered and he tried to hide his face in your neck, you knew.

and so you cradled him. gently and slowly. allowed him to rest in your arms as if he were something fragile. kissed his temple and said, "i've got you," repeatedly until he accepted it. until he relaxed.

you don't realize that no one's ever made him feel little before. like that. little as in the safe kind.

he clung to you as if he thought he'd lose you if he relaxed his hold.

he didn't have anything to say then. just sat there. still. for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

he looks at you as if you're cut out of finer stuff. but you look at him and observe someone who has been to hell and is still willing to be kind. still tries. still wakes up every morning and makes coffee and leans his head on your chest as if he's found home.

you'd adore him in all the iterations of this life. even the ones in which you never get to hold him.

but you do. and that's the part that takes your breath away.

when he kisses you, it's all. everything. like he's famished and you're the only thing that ever satisfied him. he kisses you like nothing else exists. like if he died the instant after, it'd be alright. because he got to have this.

when you kiss him back, you kiss him with the same desperation. the same longing.

he once held your face in his hands, he didn't say it. i don't think he needed to. you don't either. the words, "you feel like home." was a line the author made solely for him. to recite it to you, the love interest. his love interest.

and you smiled as though your heart was breaking.

because that's what he is. to you. every hurting bit of him. every bruise and sigh and quiet stare and kisses. he is home. he is the place you come back to. the one you'd wait for lifetimes. the one you'd fall in love with all over again.

he can't say it in words, so he says it in everything else.

he gives you flowers wrapped up in yesterday's newspaper. leaves you little notes in your pockets. sits with you through thunderstorms just because you hate the sound.

he stays.

even when he's exhausted. even when he thinks he shouldn't.

and you do, too.

you stay when he's quiet. when he's distant. when he's hurting and doesn't talk until you're kissing his bruised knuckles.

you stay when he's laughing and when he's too far gone to remember why and how.

you stay because there's not a piece of him you'd want to leave.

you love him in the gentlest ways. in the harshest ones. in all the ways he doesn't believe he's worthy of being loved.

you love him when he's in your bed, breath warm against you, arms wrapped around your waist like a lifeline.

you love him when he's disappeared for hours and returns with your favorite pastry because he "just happened to pass by."

you love him when he refuses to say he's hurting but lays his head in your lap like a silent surrender.

you love him because you do.

because something in you saw something in him and chose him anyway.

and you think━━no, you know━━that he is the great love of your life.

he doesn't think in miracles. but you do.

and you think he could be one.

because somehow, some way, despite it all, despite the blood and the grave and the fucked up environment, he's here.

with you.

and if you could have him write that in the stars, you would.

because you love him in the way the sky turns soft pink when the sun forgets how to hide, disappear, go down.

because you love him in the pauses between words, in the spaces between stars, in every what if, could be, maybe, probably, really, statistically speaking, almost, & someday.

he has bewitched you. body and soul.

and you never want it to shatter.

© spcherryygirl

[caffeinated-chicken]

I know you focus more on Nuzi by itself, but what's your opinion on NVUzi?

I love the fan content for it, it’s very popular and I can totally see why. Personally though, I honestly can’t see N and V working like that anymore. (This is all my personal analysis of her) V very purposefully separated herself from N in the time that he was digitally lobotomized. I can only speculate what kind of things happened between them in their time as genocidal angels of death, but whatever it was like, it ended up with V not being by N’s “side” anymore. She cares about him a lot, and I think she wishes they worked out like that, but a lot happened to her since she was taken apart and she’s not the same drone who was happy to believe that things would be ok if they just stuck together. I think I saw another tumblr post once that pointed out this writing foil between V and Uzi: when N confronted V during the prom episode, he said that whatever it was, they could figure it out together. He had faith in their relationship, but her response (in a bit of regret) was to decapitate him and leave him to figure it out after she was done. I can’t blame her for that either, (he hasn’t had his memories in forever, there’s no point in trying with cyn as their admin), but it encompasses how she feels abt him. She wants to protect him but she’s not gonna hold his hand and tell him it’s ok (maybe partially because no one was there to do that for her when she was figuring it all out) But later in the series with Uzi, N tries comforting her and this time asks, “we can figure it out, together?”. He’s not so sure she’s gonna meet him on this anymore after he tried with V, but she does. Uzi is more than happy to meet him halfway, she needs his hand as much as he needs hers. They’re both by each other’s side and clinging tighter to each other the worse things get. Their hand holding and constant touching and grabbing each other is a reach out for support that gets a response back every single time. They have this mutual agreement to be there for each other because they understand each other, they’re both outcasts and although they seem very different in nature they just make sense to each other. After making a connection like that with someone who understands and needs you so much I doubt N would want to ever think about going back to romantic delusions towards someone deliberately babying him in such a cold fashion. And I don’t think V would want to revisit those feelings either because it’s a dead end now. She did that on purpose because she knew she needed to change to survive and at least protect N. There’s still a love between them but I can’t see it as romantic, it’s more of a growing respect I think. I realize I wrote a lot wow I’ve been thinking about this dynamic for a long time haha

[chevelleneech]

My initial and current thoughts of Stack x Mary after multiple viewings, is that it was more about infatuation and childhood first love. I don’t think they’d have lived happily ever after even without vampires, because Mary seemed so much more preoccupied with wanting a life amongst Black people than she wanted to be with Stack forever. Yes, she loved him and chose him over husband, but she also didn’t know any other life. Whiteness and her need to assimilate into it socially came in adulthood. It makes sense she pushed so hard against it.

As such, that’s why I think Smoke didn’t care for her. I do believe Stack saying both twins would kill for Mary, and that’s because they respect each other. They care about each other above everyone else in their lives (we saw it with Smoke almost letting Stack persuade him twice), thus Smoke would definitely have killed or attempted to kill anyone coming at Mary crazy. But he would’ve done it with a, “Yo ass still need to leave.” comment afterward.

So my interpretation of their relationship, was that Smoke saw the inevitable downfall. He knew someday Stack would be left heartbroken once Mary decided to either commit to her marriage or find another Black man who wouldn’t fight as hard against her risking her own safety. (I’m not saying I think she’d have happily left Stack, but that they were still rather young and stuck in their own bubble. Growing up and meeting new people could have brought new feelings.) That, or they (if not only Stack) would have died just as young as they ended up dying, at the hands of racists.

Smoke didn’t want her around, because she was a liability to him, to Stack, to everyone visibly Black whom she loved. He didn’t think it was worth it, because in the end, it truly wasn’t. In their world, Mary could’ve found someone, anyone else to live life with. She could have remained single forever, but choosing to play both sides was too risky. Staying in Clarksdale and showing up at the juke? Their fate could’ve easily ended with non-vampire white people burning the place down because one white woman was inside.

I’m surprised nobody has brought up the way Smoke hates Mary’s guts lol. Like really despises that woman and I wanna know why.

Stack loved Annie but there was some jealous with him too. I know twins can be territorial over the other but I would love more background about that.

Any theories?

[magicaloneandmystery]

random rockstar!Bucky headcanons I have

pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

warnings: mdni. smut, fingering, unprotected piv [be safe out there, folks], d/s relationship, pet names (baby, slut, whore, princess), oral (f and m receiving), choking, dacryphilia, public sex, aftercare

a/n: the PG-13 part can be found here. this is pure filth. seriously. with a little bit of softness mixed in it. enjoy!

my rockstar!Bucky obsession continues. I was so disappointed to find there are not enough fics for this ship but if you have ANY recommendations, thoughts, or ideas, do send them my way!

Bucky was on top of the world. sold out tour, booked for interviews and red carpet appearances for months in advance, trending on the internet every time he so much so as breathes in public. needless to say, he was an arrogant man.

it didn't help that he was a god in bed. fucking almost any one he found attractive - because who would say no to Bucky Barnes? - he had a ton of experience in all kinds of things. fucking? fingering? giving head? all of it.

basically, he was a mean dom. he knew what he was doing, and that fuelled his escapades to get a little... arrogant. and rough.

the ladies loved it, he realised after some time.

you absolutely worshipped it.

the first time you hooked up was in his dressing room post concert, when he had saved you from his security. how could he let his guards throw out such a pretty little thing?

you were star struck and when he started flirting with you, roaming his hands all over your waist, back, and thighs, you were ready to jump his bones.

"you want me to fuck you, baby?" he cooed.

you whined, nodding and tugging him closer by his tank top. you looked up at his eyes, darker than you thought they'd be, intensely staring down at your body.

"yeah? is that why you had to break in? to get a good rail, like the little slut you are?" his filthy words sent heat down your core, your thighs clenching. he noticed. "get on the couch, let's see how wet you are for me."

Bucky loves to make you cum. he would use his tongue to taste you, groaning against your pussy about how tasty you are. the vibrations would send you closer to the edge every time.

then, he would use his fingers. he would be on you, one of his hands fucking you while the other wrapped around your throat. he would mutter filthy words in your ear, his fingers tightening around your throat.

"yeah, you like that? sluts like you just need to be filled up, don't you? your pussy is so tight around me, you think my cock will fit?"

he has a sixth sense about your impending orgasm. right before the coil in your stomach would snap, he would really tighten his hold, cutting off the airflow from your lungs. it only served to make you scream in pleasure louder.

he wouldn't go easy on you even when you had cum more than a couple of times. he loved to see you cry, especially around his cock.

the tears were streaming down your face, the hard thrusts of Bucky's cock in and out of your mouth making you gag and choke on his cock.

"take it, whore. you know you love it," he groaned from above you, hands in your hair, using them to move your face however he wanted. "you want my cum? beg for it." he released you.

you gasped, wiping some of the tears from your cheeks. "please, James, give me your cum. I want it, I need it. I'll not let a single drop go to waste."

he let out a grunt, slapping your face with his cock. "since you asked so nicely, slut..." and he would resume his thrusts, fucking your face and getting off on your gags.

and when he was inside you?

that feeling never got old.

Bucky wasn't a man of patience, so he would rarely let you accommodate his length and girth. apart from the first time, when he slowly inched inside you, letting you feel all of him, he has rarely ever been slow with you.

he loved those positions where he could see your face, look into your eyes, and see the pleasure he was giving to you contort your face.

occasionally, he also loved doggystyle, slapping your ass constantly and scratching your back whenever he wanted.

over the course of your relationship though, going from fuck buddies to something more, something deeper, he has also developed a liking for holding your hands while he's fucking into you.

he would grip your wrists, pulling your hands above your bodies so you couldn't touch him, at first.

now, he would take your hand, lace your fingers together while his cock thrusted deep in you, rubbing your g spot every time.

he realised after a few months that he loved the feel of your hands roaming all over him. so, he broke one of his rules, and let you scratch and bite him wherever you wanted.

usually, he would tie or hold back the hands of the girls he would fuck, not letting them touch his skin. not with you.

(that should probably have been the first clue that you were not just any girl, but he was an idiot and needed another year to come to that conclusion.)

his band mates, PR team, and even tour crew are tired of catching the two of you fucking anywhere and everywhere.

dressing rooms, vanity vans, car backseats, bar alleys, even alleys near red carpets, the two of you just can't seem to keep your hands off each other. or mouths and pussy and dick.

even the paparazzi has gotten a few shots of his hands up your shirt and yours down his hands in a public pool.

yeah, his PR team is very much done with him.

it's a good thing he pays them well.

finally, he's the king of aftercare.

as rough and mean he is during sex, he's just as soft afterwards.

both of you let out soft moans as he pulled out of you. he kissed your forehead, brushing away some of the hair sticking to your face.

"you okay, princess?" he asked, slowly getting up to clean himself with a washcloth. "it was to too much, was it?"

"no, Bucky, it was perfect," you snuggled deeper into his blankets, the hotel sheets smelling like liquid detergent and Bucky's cologne. you wondered if tonight was one of the nights he would let you stay with him. those were increasing in frequency lately.

he came back from the washroom with another damp cloth, gently cleaning you up.

"what do you wanna do, baby?" he massaged your thighs once he was done,‌ pulling a content sigh out of you.

"first, I wanna pee," you said, missing the warmth of his body. "how about a movie? you choose."

"you finally letting me choose something to watch?" he smirked.

"I better not regret it, Barnes."

"I wouldn't dare to disappoint my princess."

well. that was that. what did you think? I would love to hear from all of you! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

[sirfrogsworth]

Clinging to sanity

Summary of this post...

My brain is broken. My A/C is broken. My phone is broken. My computer is broken. My support system is broken. My financial stability is broken. My family is broken.

And the big finale...

Please give Froggie a Yelp review to repair his relationship with his estranged uncles.

Seriously, I need a whole bunch of you to say nice things about me in a convoluted plan to get back the money my brother stole from my dying father.

If you don't feel like reading all of my broken stuff and just want to read about giving me a good review as a person, you can skip to the bullet point list at the end.

Alright, here we go...

I sometimes get in these states where I feel like my sanity is compromised. My mental defenses are minimal and I lose the filter on my brain that tells me "this is a good idea" or "this is a bad idea."

This causes me to say embarrassing things. I overshare with strangers. I keep myself from falling asleep because I have some amazing idea. But when I wake up in the morning I can't believe I lost all of that sleep for such a ridiculous idea. I write weird posts that no one likes. Or I post about controversial subjects like A.I. and trans people and RFK Jr. that I *know* will result in contentious feedback.

And my insane brain says, "You can handle it! Besides, you are so factually correct about this, no one will dare question your meticulous research. IT'S ALL GOOD! SEND IT, YOLO!"

I have a rule. If I am not emotionally or mentally prepared to defend my point of view on a controversial subject, I should wait until I am ready to publish.

Insane Froggie Brain ignores this rule.

After I "send it" and the negative feedback starts to flow in (even though I was assured by my brain it wouldn't), I become afraid to look at messages and replies and reblogs. And a lot of times I need that sense of community. I need to talk to my cool little community so I don't feel lonely. But Insane Froggie Brain cuts me off from that. I give myself all of this anxiety that could have been avoided by just posting another time.

And because I have no emotional defenses, that anxiety is amplified. Mean comments hurt much more. I obsess over them and my OCD causes thought feedback loops where I cannot get something out of my brain. I once couldn't sleep for a weekend because someone said I was wrong about how light reflects off the moon. They were right and I was also right but they said I was "misleading." And that just lived in my brain for days. I kept trying to think of new ways to better explain my point of view. I used up energy I didn't really have to take pictures of a baseball in a dark closet.

It was silly. It didn't matter. It was just a small disagreement. But OCD doesn't do small. OCD makes everything BIG.

What I'm trying to say is...

People need their emotional defenses.

People need their filters.

It's weird because I still have full access to my logical brain. So sane thoughts get all mixed in with the less sane ones. Sometimes I am self aware and can shut down the less sane ideas. Other times I am oblivious. And I *hate* losing control of my brain in any way. It's one of the reasons I've never touched alcohol. Which is why I get very disturbed when this happens.

I remember one time I was positive I was going to move to Florida and start a pet photography business. I had an entire business plan worked out where I trained people how to take the photos so the business could run itself if I got sick. I made an entire PowerPoint presentation to show Katrina so she would be my business partner. I was looking up rent prices for office space. I was making equipment lists for camera gear. She was going on a trip so she told me I could talk to her about it when she returned. And I am so lucky she wasn't available at the time.

Maybe if I had a normal person's energy, I could make something like that work. But once I returned to sanity, I realized it was orders of magnitude more complicated than anything I was actually capable of doing. I am still planning to do pet photography, but I have to come up with a more reasonable plan that does not involve Insane Froggie Brain.

I think it is just my ambitious mind trying to escape. Chronic illness is often heartbreaking because you have to temper all of your ambitions. And it is especially devastating when you are a very ambitious person, as I am.

I want to have all of these big ideas. But I have to filter them through reality. And when that filter is broken, I just unleash big ideas on all my friends. I once even held an official video chat meeting and we took notes and made plans. And I feel so guilty I wasted 4 people's time like that. None of those ideas happened. They had no chance of happening with my energy levels. But my friends and collaborators still did the meeting and nodded along like everything was fine. I appreciate them humoring me.

I also overshare. I overshare normally, but when I get like this I OVER SHARE. You are probably going to witness it in this very post. But I tell everyone everything about what is going on. I tell strangers. I tell a dog walking by.

"Hey doggie, my testosterone is returning and I'm struggling with having a libido again. I know most people would not complain, but it is very disruptive to my day! I have other things I want to do!"

Right now I am just not confident in anything I think or do. I wrote a post about social constructs yesterday. That literally took me all day to write. I was endlessly tweaking it and I thought it was going to be viral and helpful and win the trans debate for everyone.

It currently has 49 notes.

I'm afraid I did not fix trans rights.

Sorry about that.

And my rant about Christopher Nolan using IMAX is doing pretty well. I nerded out about film grain for like 2 paragraphs and it is getting way more notes than a philosophical perspective on constructs.

I just have no idea what people are going to like and I used to be pretty good at judging that. It's like I'm throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks but instead of a wall I'm throwing it into the void. The spaghetti just disappears into infinite darkness.

I'm clearly still recovering from the big house clean with Katrina. And I am more tired than normal. But I am also very stressed about losing the house. I'm trying to figure it out, but I may only have until the end of June before I have to make some scary decisions.

And also, my air conditioner is not working. It has a leaky evaporator. Last year, I had it recharged and that lasted the entire summer. If the leak is leaking at the same rate, I could just do that again. It would be expensive, but replacing the evaporator is so costly, I'd be better off getting a heat pump installed. I'm a good candidate, it could save me money in the long run, but I am nowhere near in a position to make that happen.

Also, my phone is falling apart.

Literally. The only thing keeping it together is the phone case.

And this laptop, which I love, was not meant to be my main computer. I bought it when my dad was sick and I needed something upstairs to manage his prescriptions and bills and appointments. It wasn't meant to be an image editing machine. And, to their credit, Apple has made a crazy powerful little computer. I admit it, I love an Apple product. It can handle way more than expected. But my photo restorations can sometimes end up with 5 gigabyte files. I can't even save them as PSDs. I have to use this weird "PSB" format. It stands for "Photoshop Big." When I fill up the RAM, my computer uses the main SSD. And when I fill that up, I think I can hear the laptop crying and saying, "I wasn't meant for this! Please use fewer layers!"

But I need to finish restoring these photos because I have delayed their completion by about 5 months (got sick before I could finish). And also because I need to pay for the A/C recharge.

You might be thinking, "Didn't you fundraise to get the big fancy powerful computer of your dreams a few years ago? Why don't you use that?"

My big fancy computer has been broken almost since I got it.

It was right before my mom got really sick and there is a major hardware problem. I worked with tech support for over a month and we could not figure out what the issue was. The computer is mostly unusable. Like, "can't even web browse" unusable.

It honestly has caused me so much depression. Like deep, deep, crying-myself-to-sleep-for-weeks depression. I still cry about it. I know it is just a thing, but I am genuinely heartbroken about it.

Why haven't I fixed it? I'm a good computer fixer, right?

Once I had to take care of my parents, I just did not have any extra energy to deal with it. After a month of back-and-forth emails from the manufacturer, I finally told them, "I'm sorry, my parents are sick. I will email you when I have the energy to revisit this."

If you know my story and how I took care of my parents all alone because I have a neglectful brother, then you can probably guess that energy never came.

I am good at tech support. I have been an expert in computers since I was a teenager. I have taken apart and built computers more times than I can count. I have never had a problem this frustrating before. It works fine for a few hours, and then it just progressively slows down to being unusable. I narrowed the issue to either the SSD, the CPU, or the motherboard. All things that are not easy to replace. (The SSD is behind the damn GPU.)

In the 30s, the Royal Air Force used to have issues with their planes that baffled them. This is where the term "gremlin" came from. No matter what they did, no matter how many parts they replaced, they could not get the "gremlin" out of the plane. These were professional mechanics who just could not fix something and it drove them nuts.

I have a computer gremlin. I've never experienced anything like it in all of my years of fixing computers. I was working with professional tech support people. I was on reddit forums. And the only thing left to do was start swapping out parts. I'd work on it maybe an hour each day with whatever energy I had and it eventually was too much. I just could not deal with it. They told me to send it back, but I could not take care of my parents without any access to a computer. So I just rebooted it every time I used it.

At that point, my parents were requiring 24/7 care and I was so overwhelmed that I said, "fuck it" and ordered this laptop. I figured I'd fix the computer when I had time or energy. But that time and energy never came. And I certainly didn't have the energy to haul a 60 pound computer upstairs, box it up, and then take it to UPS. So I just kept putting it off and putting it off.

And I let the warranty expire.

When I realized I did that, I cried myself to sleep for another few weeks. This material object has caused me legitimate emotional trauma.

Any part replacements are now on me. And there isn't really any way of knowing which part is faulty. I figured I'd buy a cheap SSD and start there.

I feel so fucking guilty because people donated money for me to have that machine. I feel like I let them all down by not getting it fixed. When I finish my recovery, I'm hoping I can sort it out. But that could be many months from now.

Recovery has been such a dark, lonely place. Trying to restore my health a millimeter at a time is a grueling marathon of misery. I have been struggling to keep Insane Froggie Brain at bay this entire time.

I felt like I was stuck in a hole.

And like a superhero with the power of friendship and puns, Katrina pulled me out of the giant hole I was in. My house turned into a biohazard. She flew from Florida to essentially clean and organize everything. How do you even begin to thank someone for that?

But also, she shouldn't have had to do that. I have a perfectly functional brother. But he hasn't spoken to me for nearly a year now.

I have other family in town. But I missed so many family gatherings over the years, they don't really know me. None of them have called. I'd have to rebuild those relationships if I want them to be a part of my life again.

And I haven't talked about this yet because it has been too painful.

But... my support system fell apart.

My aunt had to move away to take care of her father-in-law. A year before my mom passed she took care of my grandma as her end-of-life caregiver. And people should only have to do that once. But she has to do it again, and unfortunately, we haven't been able to speak much.

We were very good at keeping in touch in real life. But she is of an older generation and has trouble maintaining relationships on a smartphone. I mean, I get it. Some people are just better at meatspace than cyberspace. That was actually one of the things I liked about our bond. Almost all of my friendships are online. Having someone who liked to visit me and talk to me in person was special.

But, for the time being, I lost that. And it feels a bit like temporarily losing another parent.

I am struggling to even start writing the words for this next part.

I had two best friends. Katrina and I are great. Our friendship is probably better than it has ever been.

But my other best friend of nearly 15 years ghosted me without explanation.

I haven't talked about it because it has been too hard. Any time I try to think about it I get upset. My eyes are filling up with tears as I type this.

I have been pretending like it isn't happening.

Which is not working great.

I've been trying to hire a therapist.

They all have months-long waiting lists.

My friend just stopped talking to me and I don't know why.

They went from driving across the country and holding my hand at my dad's funeral to just not being a part of my life.

I'm so scared I said something terrible or did something terrible. I keep going through all of my memories trying to figure out what I could have done. But we had the kind of friendship where we'd talk about that stuff. If I screw up, they would tell me. We'd work it out.

This person who was in my life nearly every week for over a decade is just not there anymore. I keep losing people and I can't make it stop. And I am really worried that I am leaning on Katrina too much. She went from being part of a multifaceted support system to my entire support system. That isn't fair to her.

She has been very understanding. And she knows I am going to rebuild a support system as soon as I am able. But I don't want to overwhelm her and lose her too.

Weaning off this medication and living with no testosterone has been so miserable and she has been the only one helping me through it.

I'm doing so well with my recovery. I think I can be off the meds in 3 months and hopefully my testosterone will be fully back in range. I'm already more productive than I have been in nearly 8 months.

But I have 1 month of financial runway left and I am not going to get well enough before then.

Everything happens all at once. Every single time. And usually terrible things happen in my life at the same time terrible things happen in Katrina's life. She had terrible mold that destroyed her health for months. Thankfully it did not turn her transphobic, but it sure fucked her health for a while. She made all of this progress getting fit and healthy and BAM, the universe says, "You are doing too well, you need a challenge!"

So, what is my plan?

I am a problem solver and I have some doozies to solve.

Right now I am going to appeal to the family patriarchs on my dad's side. On his literal deathbed, my dad asked his brothers to "take care of me" and I am going to attempt to call in that favor.

I am going to ask them to talk to my brother and hopefully mediate a solution regarding the stolen inheritance. I want them to convince my brother to do the right thing and return the money he took from my dad.

Sorry, the money he "legally inherited" due to his wife "reinterpreting my dad's wishes" in the will.

Before you ask, I have no options to fight this in court. A verbal promise is not enough to overturn a written will. And the cost of fighting would be more than the inheritance. Please don't suggest any legal advice. I've talked to good lawyers. And unless I want to sue for emotional distress, there aren't any legal options available.

The best option is to appeal to my brother personally and ask him to keep his promise to my dad.

The only reason I am in this mess is because my brother repeatedly promised to give me the money. He said he didn't want it on multiple occasions. So all of my plans involved the expectation of this money. I was going to fix up the basement apartment and seek a roommate.

But it took over a year to just get it out of probate. A year I could have used to come up with other solutions. But he waited until the last minute and made his lawyer tell me he was screwing me.

I'm sure my brother will argue my dad knew what he was signing. But I know that is impossible. Before my dad passed, we were in the hospital and I saw the will for the first time. I asked him if it reflected his wishes. And I asked him if he meant to include my brother's wife in the will.

His response was, "Are you fucking kidding me???"

Readers, does that sound like a man that knew what was in his will?

Dad was so upset that he was about to have them cut off his leg just so he could live a few more weeks and fix the will.

You have to give my dad credit, he goes pretty hardcore when it comes to protecting his family.

I couldn't let him go through an amputation to protect me from my brother's shenanigans.

But I am pretty screwed now.

That said, my uncles are pretty hardcore too. One is *very* intimidating. So I feel like my uncles talking to my brother might carry some weight.

But I have one problem...

I mean, aside from the myriad problems already described.

How about... I have one additional problem...

My uncles don't like me very much.

They think I am a basement-dwelling loser who is faking his illness and was taking advantage of his parents for two decades.

One uncle even accused me of stealing from my dad.

They are protective of their brother. They loved my dad. Which is a good thing! As long as I can convince them that their assumptions about me are invalid, I think their love for my dad will compel them to help me.

They just don't have the context. They don't know me. They live in far-off lands. And due to some unfortunate timing, one uncle saw me at one of the lowest points of my life. This was maybe 8 years ago? He didn't realize I was thrown into the deep end and very recently took on the role as full-time caregiver for two very sick people.

My awful strategy at the time was "if I don't take care of myself, I'll have more energy to take care of my parents." If you are a caregiver, this is a bad strategy. It seems obvious you have to do some self care to give care to others, but when you are just starting out, that seems impossible.

My uncle showed up unannounced and I wasn't showered, I hadn't brushed my teeth in a week, and my room had a fun layer of trash on the floor. The trash can was overflowing and I literally did not have the spare energy to change the bag.

To make matters worse, my mom's medications and constant pain had broken the filter in her brain that prevents her from saying mean things. She was on this crazy chemo-like infusion that was basically using poison to fight her psoriatic arthritis. Her aggressive, blunt remarks were not her fault. That wasn't who she was. But she could not stop herself from saying hurtful things.

The kindest woman alive was suddenly Don Rickles without the "just kidding" subtext. And my uncle didn't know this and I got into an argument with my mom.

I probably looked like a pampered brat loser who just lies in bed and plays video games all day while arguing with his saint of a mother.

I don't blame him. Without context, that's exactly what it looked like.

So I am writing my uncles a letter.

It is essentially a memoir of the caregiving I gave to my parents. I hope to publish it publicly at some point, but right now it is just a letter to them. If it were a typical hardcover book, it would be about 70 pages long.

I am telling them everything.

If nothing else, I just need them to know my dad's story. I need them to know he was well taken care of. That I did everything humanly possible to make his last year as comfortable as I could. I need them to know he was *never* alone.

Sadly, because they probably think I am an unreliable narrator, I am my own worst witness. So I am asking 3 people in my current support system to write testimony to verify everything in my memoir is accurate. I even have a doctor's note!

It is probably insane to put this much effort into convincing my uncles to like me. But I'm pretty sure Sane Froggie Brain is behind the wheel of this endeavor. Sometimes the craziest, most desperate idea is the only option left.

Basically I am using my writing skills to try and save my Froggie butt.

I don't mean to be braggadocious, but people perusing my prose persistently pontificate that I am proficient at penning pleasing passages.

People say I write good sometimes.

And I think this memoir letter thingie is the best thing I've ever written. So I am hopeful I will deflate these dubious assumptions and tug on my uncles' heartstrings.

But there is something you all can do to help me.

A friend on tumblr is helping me edit this memoir monstrosity. And she gave me her testimonial to add to my 3 witnesses.

"I have been following The Frogman for well over a decade on his website. It was years before I learned his name was Benjamin! We all just call him Froggy. He was (and still is) one of the funniest internet guys out there. He is incredibly skilled at putting together humorous GIFs and photo sets, and his comedic writing is second to none. He regularly goes viral. Along with that, he was open and vulnerable about the toll CFS takes on him. I can attest to many folks over the years telling him that he has helped them as they dealt with their own health issues. He is so knowledgeable about so much--his posts are famous for being long, detailed, and wildly informative. And most of all, entertaining. They are a joy to read. We also followed along on his heartbreaking journey with his parents. He shared so much of them with us over the years that they felt like people we knew. It was so clear, from his long absences, how much he was doing for them. Our hearts broke when he told us his parents were no longer with us. Froggy has fans, and so did his parents. Otis, too. We love and support him and will always wish him the best."

It made me cry.

But it also felt like getting a Yelp review on... my entire deal.

And it gave me an idea.

What if I had a bunch of these as optional testimony for my uncles?

I'm not going to force them to read what a bunch of internet strangers have to say. But it could be a compelling way to prove my website antics were a serious attempt to build a livelihood for myself. My uncles were successful businessmen and respect a strong work ethic and trying to make your own way.

I was too early for monetization options like Patreon, TikTok, YouTube, and Twitch, but I ran a very successful comedy blog. If I had my 2013 success in the 2020s, I probably would've been able to retire and live off that for the rest of my life. I have several original GIFs that were downloaded tens of millions of times. Google said one of them was searched for over 100,000,000 times.

My blog was silly, but I took it seriously and I had sponsors and merch and an Otis plush.

They think what I did was like when you are at the family Christmas gathering and you ask your weird cousin what he's been up to and he says, "I run a blog about corgis from my parents' basement."

How do I relate the impact I had? They don't know what "Know Your Meme" is. They don't know what being on the front page of Reddit means. They don't know the amazing community I built. They don't know that I created one of the largest and most generous online support systems one could possibly have. I'm still alive and trying to make a life for myself because all of you continue to love and support me.

I was successful and I worked hard despite my disability.

I just had bad timing with the financial aspect of that success.

So, if you want to leave a Yelp review of The Frogman for my uncles, I'd appreciate it.

I came up with a list of things I need to prove to them. I'm just going to copy/paste the entire thing here. I'll strikethrough the ones you all probably can't speak to.

I am not a basement dwelling loser.

My website was more than a silly hobby.

I did not mooch off my parents for 20+ years.

I did not steal from my parents.

I am not the crazed, awkward mess [my uncle] witnessed.

I am disabled.

I cannot get a job.

I am a good person.

I am a likable person.

I was a good son.

I took good care of my parents.

My parents would not have been better off in a nursing home.

My parents would not have been better off moving closer to my brother.

My brother and his wife neglected and emotionally abused Mom & Dad.

My brother and his wife changed the will to benefit them against my mom & dad’s wishes.

My brother promised repeatedly the will was a mistake and I would receive the full amount.

I did not take care of my parents to “retain the house” or get money.

So, if you want to attempt to convince two elderly conservative Catholic men that my cat memes were lit, I would appreciate the help.

If you’ve been part of this community, and you’ve ever felt like I made you laugh, cry, or feel understood, a short 'review' of me as a person could mean the world.

Just remember your audience is...

Uncle #1: A stoic, but brilliant 80 year old who writes text messages like they are business emails. Complete with "Dear Ben" and "Regards, Your Uncle". He is still very sharp-minded and lucid. He thinks success is a high paying job, a house, and a family (my brother). He does not like weakness and consistently thought I should "be an adult and get a job." He is very loyal and respected my dad very much.

Uncle #2: A 60-something retired grandpa who thinks his constant dad jokes are genuinely funny. He is empathetic, but secretly judgmental. He will act like your best friend even if he doesn't care for you. He is an amazing grandpa. Very involved with his kids and their kids. He keeps every video of them getting a goal in sportsball on his phone. He will help you if you think you deserve to be helped. He is very close with Uncle #1.

So... kinda running the gamut there.

You can reblog this post or leave a reply or send a private message or email me at frogman54@gmail.com

I will be anonymizing your names for obvious reasons.

I fear my uncles might not understand why Tumblr user "PokemonAssBlaster69" is saying nice things about me.

Explaining "The Frogman" is hard enough.

Anyway, thank you in advance.

[dallina17]

Neither like nor dislike: Attraction

A JinMao LN1 analysis

So I was supposed to write this after reading the apothecary diaries light novel 1 but life happened and I already finished the second one. Still, I wanted to write this. I have seen plenty of fight over if MaoMao likes Jinshi or not. I kinda understand where they both are coming from. Because yes, MaoMao doesn't like whenever Jinshi gets too close to her in many instances, both the light novel and the anime.

—The apothecary diaries, Season 1 Episode 1

Gaoshun politely fetched any medicines that were in drawers too high for Maomao to reach. His superior, meanwhile, did nothing. Maomao maintained a neutral expression but privately wished that if he wasn’t going to make himself useful, he would go away.

—The apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 8, Love Potion.

—The apothecary diaries, Season 1 Episode 2

After Consort Lishu had withdrawn, Maomao sensed an almost viscous atmosphere behind her, and finally felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned a cold look on the hand’s owner; it would have been better had she looked at him the way she might look at an earthworm.

“I am but base, and wish you would not touch me.” In less elegant words: Screw off.

—The Apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 19, After the Festivities

-The apothecary diaries, Season 1 Episode 6

That’s right... I forgot he’s one of those types. She tried giving him a crushing look, as if he were a small, brown rat, but it was having the opposite of the effect she wanted.

—The Apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 27, Honey (Part Two)

—The apothecary diaries, Season 1 Episode 3

While MaoMao is an unreliable narrator (girl what do you mean you feel no love when you are one of the sweetest girls I have ever seen), here her reactions are not limited to thoughts of "I do not wish to be near him. I would rather not have any relationship with him" which could be a greater indicator of unreliable narration, instead, her thoughts are backed up with actions and, most importantly, physical reactions, which are harder to pretend, specially the later. The way she gets chills because of him touching her? Well, this can have a couple reasons worth exploring on it's own analysis but we can say she is not comfortable with him getting too close.

Yet, she is not indifferent to him. Chapter after chapter, we see Maomao describing Jinshi in an unique, beautiful way, which she only does when describing Jinshi. Neither of the characters she describes the way she does with Jinshi.

Lets see how she describes Jinshi when she meets him for the first time.

This had to be the immensely beautiful eunuch of whom she had heard so much. He had hair as fine as silk, an almost liquid presence, almond-shaped eyes, and eyebrows that evoked willow branches. A heavenly nymph on a picture scroll could not have competed with him for loveliness.

—The Apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 4, The Nymph's Smile

She uses a lot of metaphors which yes, Maomao is someone that loves describing with metaphors, but she is super descriptive of Jinshi in this part. Her description vivid and ends stating that something from Heaven itself is not match for Jinshi's beauty.

Now lets see how she describes Lihaku, which is the only other man aside from Jinshi and Gaoshun she gets to know.

Maomao looked up to discover a virile-looking man giving her an ingratiating smile. He was still young, and had no beard. He looked manly enough as far as it went.

—The Apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 18, The Garden Party (Part Three).

There is no metaphors, no vivid descriptions, no comparisons or saying how beautiful he is. Just plain, straight facts.

Now, we could argue that Jinshi is canonically more attractive than Lihaku and that's why Jinshi's description is more vivid, which totally, but for me there is also something deliberate in the way Maomao describes Jinshi versus when she describes Lihaku.

She goes to every part of Jinshi's face. She plays attention to his hair, his eyebrows, his eyes, his presence. Jinshi has her attention and that's why she analyzes him in this detailed way.

While Lihaku, one brief look, a few comments and she is over with the matter. Of course, he doesn't have her attention, Lihaku is just some guy more.

There is no attention. No interest.

No attraction.

I think that if for Maomao stating Jinshi's beauty was just a "matter of fact", her descriptions would be something like Lihaku's, straight facts, just like she is with everyone else. But not only the way she describes Jinshi is different from everyone else, almost everytime (if not always) she sees Jinshi, she has a unique way to describe him.

Here are some of my favs.

Smile as sweet as ambrosia (chapter 4)

His gorgeous smile suggested he wouldn’t hurt a flea (chapter 5)

Maomao met the man’s smile, lovely as a peony blossom, with studious indifference (chapter 10) (by far my favorite)

The sparkle that lit in Maomao’s eyes at that word wasn’t lost on Jinshi. A naughty bit of satisfaction entered his lovely smile (chapter 10)

His voice was as sweet as a fruit liqueur (chapter 10) (my second favorite)

What terrible news,” Consort Gyokuyou said, her face darkening. Standing before her, Jinshi’s heavenly countenance was likewise troubled (chapter 25)

The needling comment came from an all-too-familiar, heavenly voice (chapter 26)

Come evening, that loveliest of eunuchs appeared, as ever (chapter 27)

Everytime she sees Jinshi she can't help but say how gorgeous-lovely-heavenly the man is. And she works in the palace for ten months, one could expect to get used to Jinshi's beauty and stop describing him but... she doesn't, time after time, Maomao says how beautiful he is.

And other people? They don't have her interest at all. She doesn't give them a second thought. This are the inner thoughts of Maomao, hard to show in the anime, but obvious in the light novel. She doesn't like Jinshi, but there is something in him that attracts Maomao a lot, or she wouldn't describe him the way she does.

Attraction doesn't necessarily mean you like someone. For me liking means you want to try something with that person, get to know them more, see where the relationship go, there is a closer level of intimacy. And I won't debate you, at this moment Maomao absolutely doesn't like Jinshi, she is not interested in having something with him at all.

But saying she dislikes him is also not true, for there is something that catches her interest.

Attraction is that there is something about the person that you are interested in and gets your attention. Have you ever watched someone walk on the street and say "wow, they are beautiful" and then you continue walking? That is attraction, even for a brief moment. But most of the time we don't go, ask for that person's number, get to know them and try something with them, which would be liking. Attraction can lead to a dance, a kiss, a night together, with not necessarily becoming something else.

And I don't think that attraction is something "objective". For there is something so personal that there has to be something about the other that you desire. If they don't have something that is appealing to you, they simply don't have it. Doesn't ever happened to you that everyone says that some person is so beautiful and you can't see it? Because that person doesn't have the qualities that catch your interest.

But Jinshi does have Maomao's interest.

She just is not going to do that anything with it.

For now.

[yesimwriting]

with these last few installments veering more firmly into romantic territory (laying in bed cuddling and kissing), what's your take on louis's perspective? does he not know or is he ok with that level of platonic intimacy between his bi husband and his friend? or is he more like "yes sure our complicated poly queerplatonic/romantic relationship 🥰". does he know about armand's feelings and would he be ok with them being together to any extent?

It's a little complicated, but I see Louis as being closer to the second option.

As far as awareness, Louis can tell that Armand feels something for bestie, but not for the reasons you might think. It's not so much what Armand does with bestie, as it is what he doesn't do to her. Armand's calculating, but he's not extremely tolerant. If he felt nothing towards bestie in any capacity, she wouldn't get away with doing half the things she says and does.

Also, I think Armand is just generally nicer when bestie's around so that he doesn't seem like a bad person/partner, which also has Louis raising an eyebrow.

Because of this, I don't think he's openly thinking 'yes our complex, multifaceted poly queer platonic/romantic relationship <3' as much as he is vaguely aware of the fact that he doesn't particularly mind that Armand seems to have some kind of crush on bestie.

However, Armand's a master manipulator and he only needs an inch to find a way to take a mile. Once he senses any kind of acceptance on Louis's end, he can start laying the ground work. I think that in the early stages, Armand would focus on using Louis's insecurities against him. There's a lot of casual conversation about the possibility of bestie being pulled towards a more traditional/human life if she were to find a human partner that she really loved so that Armand can set himself up as the 'preferred' option for bestie.

I think Louis's apprehensions towards the concept wouldn't be about worrying about traditional relationship structures or jealousy, but more about bestie's well being. Louis's perception of his relationship with Armand has been skewed, but I still think he'd be a little worried about his much more fragile and vulnerable, light of his life best friend being romantic/particularly close to Armand (which probably lowkey hurts Armand's feeling 😭).

I feel like they eventually have a private conversation about the situation in which they agree to let Armand pursue bestie. I think then there biggest problem would be communication. Bestie isn't going to just assume that Louis and his companion of 77 years decided to include her into their relationship, an they don't want to make things unfold unnaturally by directly telling her.

[hbheavensent]

Eve/Charlie

The long awaited and requested Eve and Charlie post is here! HEAVY TW on the Eve side of things for: Grooming, Postpartum Depression, The Whole Cain Thing, and suicide

So lets roll into it!

So we're actually gonna start with Charlie since she's on the lighter side of things lmao For her design, I mainly wanted to make her feel more like a main character when you look at her, add some interest to her look while still keeping it simple enough so The Viewer tm can project onto her and find her approachable. I also wanted her to look a lot more like a mix of her mother and father while mostly keeping the obvious "child of the devil" thing. I took away a lot of her red in favor of a bright yellow to make her stand out against most of the Pride Ring, and I added in the goat features with a heavier hand than the show does. She also distinctly has Eve's eyes with little hearts in each of them, because that's just. Cute as fuck. And as a bonus, her Eve-Like features down to her natural optimism and sweetness is HAUNTING for Adam. A huge reason why he's so aggressive with her is the only way he deals with his issues are to forget about them or get rid of them. (Apart of why Charlie has to deal with Adam at all is that Lucifer knows that it would upset the guy.)

Then there's Charlie's Demonic Form, she adds a total of 2 inches to her height (lmao) and gets a more hellish color pallet. I wanted it to feel magical girl-esk which is something I'm drawing from her original transformation sequence in the show. Really heavily leaning into the demon thing with her horns getting longer and that streak in her hair desaturating along with her skin. I really disliked that Charlie's Big Fight outfit was so simple so I may have overcompensated but I enjoy the colors. The one arm not having armor is because I imagine her still using the shield as her main weapon. Also, a small detail is her hands are a bit bigger and more claw-like on purpose.

For her story/personality, I'm keeping her naive attitude and her nearly sickening optimism. A lot of that has to do with Lilith desperately keeping her happy as a means of distracting herself until she "disappears" and in part due to Lucifer heavily sheltering her. I've mentioned it before but it does not make sense for Charlie to be 200 years old so I'm knocking it down to 20 years. She's wildly bright eyed and bushy tailed. The reason she has the idea to redeem sinners at all is because she wants Lilith to be able to see Heaven, which because Lilith is dead missing, isn't going to happen.

But she doesn't know that! So it's fine!

She meets Vaggie much the same way, though Charlie is nice enough to know what Vaggie is- it's more of a secret to everyone else in the Hotel than herself. This is also how they come up with the idea to attack back, which Charlie is hesitant to do until it comes down to the wire. She's not a huge fan of violence, naturally.

Charlie's relationship to her father is.. strained, because the second she becomes a person- starts having her own opinions and all that, Lucifer is no longer interested. Lucifer is especially uninterested in the Hotel, he doesn't believe sinners should have the second chance even if they could have it. So Charlie's secondary motive is to prove to him that anyone can be redeemed and that they deserve it, which is something she'll have to reconsider as she gets to know her residents.

For Eve, who makes me so god damn sad, I wanted to show the light leaving her eyes Post Apple Incident. I really wanted to give her curly hair and make her just an adorable cutie patootie. In her Garden Version I gave her these sort of magical birthmarks to symbolize that she came from Adam's rib. I also gave her a tooth gap, because I think it's just plain adorable.

Then as she gains free-will and is banished to Earth she loses that bubbly personality and becomes more and more curt as she becomes a mother. The scar on her hand is from getting it caught in a thorn bush, which admittedly I don't think it looks like that but I'll go back to fix it later. I also kinda deflated the volume in her hair to make her look a touch more downtrodden.

THEN there's her Hell Version, I completely desaturated her besides the red and made her hair more sharp and contained in two short twin braids. I tried to allude to Roo's original design as much as I could by keeping her checkered shirt and the thorn motif- but I wanted to show that her and Adam have very similar tastes, with their leather and spike, punk-like outfits. I also gave her "apple bottom jeans" (they're actually bell bottoms but hush), and a moon pendant that she turned into a bracelet that she got from Lilith.

I imagine Eve has a lot of plant/thorn based powers and can meld into shadows- but I really haven't got all of that sorted.

For her story, and this is where it gets intense so this is your final warning, I wanted to really showcase how wrong Lucifer did her. Not only does she have trouble making Adam happy in the garden, which was hard with his first wife currently being lured in by The Literal Soon To Be Devil... But she also was currently being tempted. Any time her mood soured, Lucifer was there to tilt her chin up and tell her everything she wanted to hear. So of course she trusted him, he was nothing but nice! He always talked about how much he loved her, loved Lilith, loved Adam... So when she was offered The Apple, she took a bite grateful to be included. Adam was a little too late to stop anything, not that he could have but what's one more pound of salt in the wound.

In the same breath Lilith and Lucifer were cast out, Eve was to be dammed to Earth. Adam demanded to go with her, he didn't want to be alone. God, he couldn't do that. So, off they went. They quickly had a Horrible Time, but soon they had Cain. Cain was a sweet child originally, maybe a bit rough with animals and intense with his feelings but.. it really got bad when he was seven and Able was born. Able was a golden boy, no doubts about it.. And he wasn't Adams. Eve had met once again with her fallen friend, see she had just been miserable since being on Earth.. and there was one Angel she reluctantly missed. He always said the sweetest things, after all. Adam didn't notice or care, he loved his sons and was... frankly, too exhausted to notice. Eve after Able was becoming more and more withdrawn into herself, not really caring for ether kid as much as she probably should of. Falling into a deep depression and rarely even feeding herself, it was around this time that Lucifer stopped making his visits to Earth. Both due to Heaven being watchful of the new child and that he wouldn't want to "deal with all that" as he would put it.

When Cain killed Able due to his jealousy, Eve strangled her firstborn and proceeded to cry for the remaining hours of the day. Until Adam came to bury them, she didn't have the strength to do so herself and ate hemlock that same night.

She woke up in Hell, taking a lot of solace in Lilith and Lucifer's company for many years. Lilith naturally missed her and Lucifer was happy to have his "toy" back. (His words, we hate him.)

It took her awhile to adjust but as humans started flooding into hell (post Adam death and then post evolution) she found solace in taking advantage of others, it made her feel powerful. Something she never felt, in control. Yet, she still ended up visiting her favorite couple from time to time for quick kisses and any kind of social engagement. At some point she takes on the nickname of Roo (short for Root, short for Root of All Evil) and is a sort of legend among Sinners.

Later rather than sooner, one of these meeting with just Lucifer ended up with Lucifer wanting a child from her, he promised that she could try again as a mother. She agreed to have her, gave birth to her... but once she saw Charlie's face? She couldn't do it. She couldn't raise a child again even after thousands of years, so.. she left Charlie with Lilith, who never got the chance to have a child and got out of there. Lilith was happy to raise the kid, have any sort of distraction from Lucifer's gilded cage. So, Eve went into hiding in hell and is currently still avoiding Lucifer's eye. Eve only really started killing, gaining souls, and becoming prominent again after Lilith's disappearance. Enraged and ultimately scared for her situationship/best friend, thinking that Lucifer must have done something so she needs real power to question him.

Naturally since being in Hell for a long time she'd learned that he's Actually Not Good and was Just Lovebombing her, but it doesn't stop her from missing him from time to time. And her literal soulmate (Adam) is forever out of reach unless he's in Hell killing Sinners, and she's not so sure he wouldn't hurt her after years of memories distorting and emotions being built up.

Anyway that's... pretty much all I have to say. It's hard to summarize so I apologize if anything is unclear. I want to talk about Eve so much but I find myself just Making Noise instead of having comprehensive statements sometimes. There's also a lot I still have to figure out with Cain/Able and Adam so, we'll get there eventually.

Also here's the line up as per usual.

And a zoom-in on the Morningstar family (+ Eve)

[tiredofthehumanlife]

I too fall asleep after eating

Barbie dolls: vampire! rosekiller x gn!reader

word: 1k

summary: you tell your vampire bfs to feed on you while you guys are making out(?) it's strange you'll figure it out

warnings: blood, vampires feeding on a human (🫵), blood kink😁, what else um, I didn't write sex I just wrote a little kissy kissy, Evan says I'm sorry about seven times, finger sucking love me a good finger sucking, a little short 😁

You hated to say it but your boyfriends were kind of strange. You could never have cute outside dates. No picnics, no apple picking, nothing with the sun. The number of dates you had after sundown. They even set up a picnic outside in the dark lit with candles to make up for them not able to make it to the first one. They both would stare at you on your front doorstep until you asked if they wanted to come in. Which you thought was strange because why didn’t they just come in already? It’s not like you were strangers. Furthermore, they both had a garlic allergy. This was quite interesting because who on earth had a garlic garlic allergy and how did they find each other like that? 

Months went by and your relationship just got stronger. You eventually asked them if they ever thought of feeding on you. Barty made a large show of saying no but Evan on the other hand, stayed silent. You ignored Barty obviously overselling it and raised an eyebrow at Evan. He pressed his hand to his mouth, drawing your attention to his long sharp nails and you wondered how you hadn’t piece it together before. 

So when Barty and Evan both sat you down and told you they were vampires, you weren’t totally shocked. You obviously weren’t expecting it but it’s not like you were dropping your jaw in shock.

You said, “Yeah, makes sense.” They were more shocked by your not-shock than you were shocked by their vampirism. After they got over their surprise, they said you could leave if you wanted to. They understood if you were uncomfortable. You told them they were batshit insane if they thought you were going to leave. You also pointed out your awesome pun that they didn’t seem to enjoy as much as you did. 

You never asked them if they wanted to feed on you while you were sleeping together but that didn’t stop you from fantasizing about it. You could imagine the tingling in your head as you straddled Barty. You could imagine his blissed-out face from being full. You could imagine Evan with a small smile pinching at his lips because of his slipping hunger. Their bodies warm with your blood. 

“Once or twice, but two vamps on one poor soul like you would be a lot on your body. It’s not really a logical idea, however fantasy…” Evan let his sentence trail off.

A week later was the first time they fed on you. You actually quite liked it. Barty drank from your neck and Evan sank his fangs into your arm. You thought you would dislike the feeling, but it had a tingling sensation. You hummed and dropped back against the couch, breathing deeply. It’s almost like you could feel the blood traveling from your veins to their mouths. It reminded you of a hickey the way you could feel them sucking the skin around their fang punctures. When they were done it left you with a tingling buzz around your head that reminded you of Lily and Mary’s conjoined bachelorette party. You liked it and Evan and Barty liked it so it became a common occurrence. At least once a month you three settled on the couch. 

Then one night, you were kneeling on the bed with Evan behind you and Barty in front. Evan was kissing down your neck as Barty started sucking a hickey into your side. Barty’s hands were pressed to your ass, while Evan’s were trailing around your torso. You had your eyes shut from the feeling of their mouths and hands traveling around your body. It felt like when you hid under the warm covers in the dead of winter. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt a stinging pain in your neck where Evan’s mouth was. You sucked in a gasp, making Evan pull away. 

Evan started whispering apologies, making Barty pull away too. Your hand slowly traveled to your neck, dabbing the spot you felt the sting from. You pulled your hand back to see your fingertips wet with your blood. 

“You bit me.” You whispered. Barty tugged your wrist down, staring at your fingers. Evan shook his head, furiously wiping at your neck to get rid of the evidence but just smearing your blood around. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just- I could feel your pulse under my tongue. I shouldn’t have I know, I know but I just couldn’t help it. You taste so good, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Evan whispered, still wiping at your neck. You could feel the temperature difference between where the air was chilling the blood on your throat. You thought for a moment, trying to decide what you were going to say next. 

“Keep going.” 

“Hm?” Your eye twitched. You hated repeating yourself. 

“Feed on me.” You whispered, tilting your head back to look at Evan. Evan squinted at you with surprise. 

You leaned further back into Evan's chest, slipping arms over his shoulders. Barty kept his mouth on your hip, sucking hickeys into the skin there. You worried their mouths would get tired but as the blood drained from your body so did the logic. 

“You want us to feed on you while we’re fucking?” Barty asked. You looked down at him. He was sat on his heels. Instead of repeating your words, you slipped your blood-soaked fingers past Barty’s lips. Barty’s eyes fluttered as he accepted your fingers. He pushed his lips just past your first knuckle from the tips, swirling his tongue around your prints.

You tilted your head to the side as Evan’s mouth met your neck again. He wrapped his lips around the puncture and you could feel him sucking on your neck just like on the couch. Barty soon pulled away from your fingers, dropping his mouth to your hip. 

Eventually, they switched places. Evan started adding to a large array of hickies along your stomach and thighs while Barty licked at the bloody mess Evan left. Then he gently pulled your head to the other side digging his fangs into your neck. You’d rather not admit that you moaned at the feeling. 

Later when your head had a buzz to it and your boys had their satiated smiles on, you three flopped back into bed. You were too tired to gracefully fall. Barty and Evan were too full to give a damn. All things considered, you liked having vampire strange boyfriends. 

[erwinsvow]

!!!!! animal kingdom season 4 spoilers !!!!!

the scene with angela where they’re about to start hooking up and she stops him so she can close the door and then smurf is outside the door mad asf made me think about nympho!reader because clearly pope didn’t care who might hear or see. like they really match each others freak

im crying youre actually so real for this. nympho will sit on his lap and basically dry hump in front of anyone she does not care. and if pope cares he would tell her (like maybe let's not do that in front of my brothers) but then if she sits next to him instead of in his lap he'll just use a huge hand to scoop her into his lap and she's like ??? or like at those post job smurf parties. they're in their own little world on a beach chair together staring up at the stars or making out and no matter who says his name they cannot get his attention. i just love them being so down bad for each other all the time honestly it's what he deserves. nympho and smurf DO NOT get along so i think it'd be hilarious. she's fucking her man whenever and wherever she wants does not matter who might walk !! (in the least creepy way possible) just imagining smurf's reaction to them horizontal on the couch or her up on the kitchen counter making out sloppy style w pope. like smurf go away why are you still here creepy ahh. but i still stick by that nympho prefers things like car sex and forest sex (yay!) and removing pope from the environment because he's so much more relaxed and himself without his family nearby but. she also likes putting people in their place and doesn't like how the others think of pope or their relationship and so she likes showing them that whatever they think about her and andrew is wrong if that makes sense???? okay i love this i am neglecting studying so hard. love you for this.