#cal is talking

[juryofno]

hey I'm back with my awful mystreet hcs

so zane. right. I have an overall hc for him that he's blind in one eye, mostly if not entirely, maybe what little light or shapes he can see in that eye actually throw off the depth perception in the other and that's why he covers it.

the forever potions from s4 have a lot of specific eye stuff, so I hc that while zane was under the influence of his, it... fixed his eye. he could see out of both of them, for the first time since he was a kid. it went away when the potion was reversed, but it still happened, and for days afterwards he was stumbling and struggling with his depth perception until he got used to it again. he doesn't know why it happened, and lucinda might but he never asked. he never told anyone.

sometimes he wakes up at night so sure that if he moves his hair away from his eye he'll be able to see perfectly, that he's under again. he has to stare at himself in the mirror his full, distorted field of vision for a long time before he can go back to sleep.

[treasure-goblin]

Ok, here we go.

If this post gets 5k notes, I'll actually start sending the resources I've been saving on autism/adhd to my parents and ask about going back to therapy.

Edit: ok, 5k for sending resources, 10k for therapy because 1) yall are too fast, and 2) I'm terrified of asking.

[callieisto]

This is Kali’s fault. @killakalx

Minors Dni- includes. Slight dirty talk? But? Loving?, marking, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, cumming inside, kind of sappy pillow talk, dom!Clark, fem!reader

Clark Kent is strong enough to pick you up and use you like a fleshlight. He doesn’t, usually, because that’s mean and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you or anything.

But there are rare occasions, when he’s had enough of being Superman, when he’s had enough of being Clark Kent, where he lets himself tap into those desires to just… use you.

He’s got you pinned to the wall of his apartment, feet not even scraping the floor, his tongue so deep in your mouth you swear he’s trying to make you choke on it. (Doesn’t help that his is a little bit longer than a normal person’s, and his sharp little fangs don’t help much either.) He’s holding you up by your waist, his grip bruising, and when he pulls back he’s out of breath.

“I need you,” he whispers, and it’s the last semblance of a boyfriend who’s gentle or careful with you that you’re going to get for a few hours. His glasses are askew, his hair is ruffled, his shirt has already been halfway unbuttoned thanks to your wandering hands. “Please.”

When you say “okay”, he’s on you faster than he’s ever been on anything in his life. Ripping your shirt down the middle- your bra, too- he’s setting you down on unsteady feet before basically attacking your chest, biting and sucking his way down your body, coming to where the hem of your pants hugs your waist before he stops. He looks up at you, blue eyes nearly eclipsed by his pupil, blown wide with arousal.

They flash gold when they catch the light.

Clark looks like a proper predator, and suddenly you understand why villains get all prickly when they’re dealing with Superman. He’s scary. Your sweet, loving boyfriend, who has never once even raised his voice at you, is downright terrifying.

“I can smell you,” he chokes out, and his voice is dark. Your pants are gone before you can even register his movements, and your underwear are also the unfortunate victims of his super strength. “Can hear your heart beating,” he breathes, a little laugh escaping him as he presses his mouth against the soft skin of your stomach. “Your blood, I can… fuck…”

Aaaaand you’re suddenly on the couch, Clark is between your legs, and he’s eating you out like he’s never had a meal before in his life. Usually he’s careful, controlled, wants to make you feel good before anything else. But right now, he’s just hungry, and he’s getting more enjoyment out of your desperate attempts to squirm away from him and the noises you’re making more than anything else. He makes you cum three times while he mutters about how you’re ‘such a good girl’, and then he’s cradling your face in his hands, cooing at you while you come back down to earth.

“You prepped? Y’ready to take my dick, sweet girl?”

(His southern accent is thick; he looks and sounds drunk on you, chin covered in your slick, big blue eyes meeting yours.)

He doesn’t let you answer, mostly because he knows you can’t. And he knows his dick is huge- he goes slow, usually, but tonight he just needs to feel you cum on his cock otherwise he’ll go insane, he’ll go crazy.

Clark feels properly awful about how you’re already squirming and whining when he presses his tip at your entrance. He wants to do something, but then the tip slips in, and he’s gone.

He pushes in the rest of the way with a wet shlck, curling his body over yours so he can see the way your pussy looks speared on his cock. “Fuck.” He rumbles. “Look at you, taking me so deep. God, it’s like you’re made for it, made for me…”

He thrusts into you, keeping his forearm above your head to brace himself- when your hands curl around his bicep and squeeze all desperate, he blacks out for a second. When he wakes up again, you’re squealing, and he’s rubbing circles against your clit with his free hand, and you have some bite marks that are stark against your skin.

“Cum for me.” He begs, and his voice doesn’t even sound like his own. “Cum for me right now, I know y’can do it, I want you t’do it, you’ve been so good f’me, so fucking good, the best, taking me so deep and hard like it’s what you were made for- please give it t’me, darlin, please.”

When you sob all high and pretty and spasm on his dick, he feels like he’s seeing stars. Actually, it’s better than stars, because he’s just looking at you, at the tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, at the red marks you leave when you dig your nails into his skin. Clark sees everything.

And then he cums, pushing deep inside, a choked gasp of your name dropping from his lips. He screws his eyes shut, his nose wrinkling in that cute way it does when he’s thinking. He moans low and just for you.

… when he comes back to his senses, you’re softly squirming under his weight, grumbling about how heavy he is. He pulls back- and out- watching with amazement as a bit of cum starts to trickle out. He barely resists the urge to follow it with his tongue, because he thinks you’d kill him.

“My sweet girl.” He croons instead, pressing soft kisses to your face. “So good, so pretty. Took me so amazingly.”

“You almost killed me,” you complain, pouting at him. “Women on this planet are not built to handle seven orgasms, Clark.”

He tilts his head. “I only remember four.” He says, raising an eyebrow. “… but I can make it seven, if you want. Really test the limits of the human body, y’know-”

You hit him in the side of the head with a throw pillow. He relents.

[th1nblogs]

things to do instead of eating 🌞~

work on your appearance (shave, wash your face, etc)

stare at your body in a mirror 😬

do something creative

go for a walk

play with/train/groom your pet

redecorate your living space

internet deep dive

sleep :3

read a book

write down all of the reasons you want to ⭐️ve

stretch / yoga

play a game

online shop for skeeny clothes

download random apps

research the benefits of fast1ng

collect low c4l recipes

go get a piercing or tattoo

deep clean something you don’t clean often (fridge air filters and dryer lint vents are a good place to start and you can save on your electric bill!)

clean out your car

hang out with friends

study/do home work (if you’re in school ofc)

bake / cook for someone else

watch a movie

research future hair/nail/eyelash (etc) ideas to get as a WL reward

try a new hair style

daydream 🤤

do your makeup or nails

remember why you’re doing this!!🩷

[rayhalloffame]

!NSFW! Minors DNI***

Older boyfriend art picking you up from the bar when you’re drunk mhm mhm

He’s watching you stumble toward the parking lot, head tucked into your phone in what looks like following directions to where his phone is pinging his location. Normally he’d scold you for not being aware of your surroundings, but he’s got his eye on you and is amused, so he’ll let it slide.

He’s leaning against the hood of his truck, arms crossed over his chest and mouth tilted in a grin. When you can see the proximity on your screen you look up, about to scan your surroundings but he’s right in front of you. Your face breaks out into a large smile and art is helpless but to reciprocate.

You shuffle the rest of the distance, falling against him when his arms unfold and come around you. “Hi, baby,” you greet, looking up at him through your heavy lids. You pucker your lips up at him, humming against his mouth when he leans down to meet you.

He moves a hand to push your hair back from your face. “Hi, angel. Did you have fun?” He chuckles when you ignore him, leaning up on your tippy toes insisting he give you more kisses. He indulges you, as he always does, until you’re pushing your hips against him. He halts your movements with a squeeze to your waist. “Behave,” he chides, inches from your face. It makes you want to challenge him but he’s already steering you towards the passenger door.

He buckles your seat belt when you’re in the car, kissing the side of your neck when he leans. His hand is on your thigh the minute he has himself buckled into the driver’s seat and shifts into gear. The warmness of his palm on your bare thigh makes you squeeze your legs together.

You gaze over at him while he drives, the perfect angles of his face, the tightness of the gray sweatshirt over his chest, the veins protruding from his hand gripping the wheel. You become overwhelmed. “You’re so beautiful,” you say dreamily. You reach out to trace across his jaw with your fingers.

It makes the corner of his mouth twitch. He moves his hand from your thigh to grasp yours, pulls your intwined fingers to his lips and presses a soft kiss. “Thank you, baby,” he says, words drawn out and saccharine sweet. The rest of the ride home you’re squirming in your seat, the effects of the alcohol making it almost impossible to keep your hands to yourself. Your hand is so close to his mouth, you have to stop yourself from sticking your fingers inside to rest against his tongue.

You do, however, follow those impulses the minute you’re through the front door. Art is surprised to have the pads of two of your fingers exploring the inside of his mouth, but he allows it, licks and sucks.

You draw in a drunken breath, whisper almost so quiet that he strains to hear. “Need your tongue.” He pulls your wrist so your fingers pop out of his mouth and he seeks for your lips. He has a hand on your ass pressing you against him. You’re kissing him so sloppily he has to chase your tongue that seems to run outside the boundaries of his lips. A hand at the back of your skull keeps you where he wants you.

He guides you back until the backs of your knees brush the couch, falling into a sit. Art gets on his knees in front of you, pulls your heels off and kisses each ankle. He kisses a path up your calves, knees, inner thighs. He licks the flat of his hot tongue up your sopping center, right over your thong.

“Naughty,” he says, pressing a thumb to your clothed clit and you whine. “Your skirt is so short I bet everyone in that bar was trying to get a look at you under here.” He pulls your panties to the side, strokes his thumb between your folds. You whimper about wanting him, needing him, and he dives in.

His large hands are holding your thighs apart while he eats you. His tongue circles your clit, fucks into your opening right where you need him. He adds a finger and then two, pumping into your cunt rapidly. You’re keening, rambling, making no sense. He flicks his tongue rapidly against you, looking up at the way your eyes scrunch with the focus of reaching your release.

It takes him a second to hear you begging to kiss him. You’re so loud now, you could be blubbering. He keeps pace with his fingers but he does come to a tall kneel in front of you. Your mascara has started to run. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he beckons. You push yourself toward him, hunching forward so you can lick into his mouth in desperation.

You hold your foreheads together when focusing on the coordination of your tongue becomes too tedious. You have a grip on the back of his neck. You’re grunting into his face with the rhythm of his fingers. He’s pumping one, two, three more times before you let go. Art talks your through it, all “yeah, give it to me” and “gone all dumb on my fingers”. He kisses your slack mouth, then pulls himself from your grasp to dip down and taste you. He smirks in satisfaction when you hiss at the overstimulation.

Then he’s standing, sitting next to you and unbuckling his pants. He’s going to have you ride him until your legs grow exhausted, already weak from dancing and cumming on his fingers. And then he’s going to make you cum again.

[calnoc]

hey, maybe forcibly feminizing pro athletes on the internet will make you feel better

[sealsystar]

how it feels to be older than 14 in tcc

[stealingpotatoes]

i accidentally created the best possible pfp + status combo

[trcelyneart]

Relaxing for a few minutes in Geoponics

[phoenixyfriend]

STAR WARS PREQUELS BALLET AU

Anakin does ballet, and Aayla is the prima, they end up as leads most of the time.

Obi-Wan is a teacher, obviously, but still dresses like a close to a philosophy professor as possible.

Padme is primarily ballroom, both competitive and teaching, but she's at the same studio as the rest of them. It's a shared space they trade off in schedules, so she runs into Anakin sometimes and they hit it off.

Ahsoka does swing. She and Rex are on a competition circuit, but they also take hip-hop and breaking classes with Aayla, who recently went from senior student under Quinlan to an actual teacher herself.

Mostly though, I'm imagining Anakin and Aayla at barre, gossiping as they stretch and wait for their classmates. Ridiculous Dancer Warm-Up Fashion included.

Alas, it's very much an AU that's suited to art rather than fic.

Obi-Wan teaching a youth class with 11yo Reva and 13yo Kanan and Cal...

(Also I keep imagining 37yo Obi-Wan having a cane here. Lots of injuries a dancer could have, I'm thinking ACL.)

[apt502-if]

IM CRYYING 😭😭 MC and Cal are canonically the "I wish I had met you first" trope

Cal panicked and had to divert the situation ASAP the thought 100% kept them up the entire night 😭

[juryofno]

tonight, thinking about the fact that in mystreet both zane and garroth got mind controlled, and on different occasions were both forced to watch their brother become someone unrecognisable, someone who wanted them dead.

[treasure-goblin]

Links parents spelling his name like Leighinck

[neuvifuri]

tighnari to kaveh at alhaitham’s birthday dinner

[th1nblogs]

reasons to ⭐️ve

self control

smaller boobs

thigh gap

compliments

cute outfits

to feel proud of myself

to be dainty

easy to pick up and carry

make my boyfriend feel proud to be with me

make others jealous

to feel cool and fragile instead of fat and sweaty

to get revenge

to be beautiful.

[rayhalloffame]

when art said serve he meant face