#feel free to use too for whatever if you want

[uncle-fruity]

I love the new year! It's my favorite holiday, and people who say that nothing changes or resolutions don't work or that everything is bad so there's no point in celebrating miss the point, imo. It's about getting through another year! It's about progressing and surviving and setting intentions for the new year. But too many people think of resolutions and new beginnings as things that have to be Big and Challenging for them to be meaningful, but that's really not how change works.

For the last several years, I've done what I call Resolution Bingo. I think of 24 things that range from Easily Doable to A Challenge and write them out on a bingo sheet. (Free space is always just Stay Alive.) The idea isn't to do all 24, but rather to try to get one or more bingos throughout the year.

I have never actually gotten a bingo (though I've come very close) but it doesn't matter. The point of Resolution Bingo is to put intention out there for the new year. I think of things I want to do or learn or get back into and I put them on my bingo sheet. Because of Resolution Bingo, I've gone to see more live shows than I used to. I've done more art projects & followed through with them. I've visited new places & had new adventures. I've learned new skills in cooking, needlework, and many other areas of interest. I have made both big and small positive steps for my life because of the resolutions I set at the beginning of the year.

So my advice is to think of resolutions as less of a major life change that you want to dive into -- take the stress off. You can make smaller resolutions that help with your bigger goals. I always tell people who decide they also want to do Resolution Bingo that they shouldn't put anything like, "Run daily/weekly," because as soon as you miss a day, it can demotivate you into stopping all together. Or, if you keep it going, you might feel guilty about marking it off on your bingo sheet at the end of the year, even if you still did a lot of work towards the goal. So, usually, I recommend setting realistic goals that get you going. Stuff like "run a 5k" or "run 3 different running trails" or you know... whatever is reasonable for you and has a tangible beginning & end. If you start working towards something fun or rewarding, you will still be doing the running you set out to do. Going for a daily run is good and all, but it's a slog if you don't know what you're working towards or if you don't allow yourself to rest on days that you really need rest.

My resolutions this year include things like getting a piercing, reading 50 academic papers, visiting all the libraries in my city, learning to place all the countries on a world map from memory, learning 3 new recipes, go somewhere new, complete 1 sewing project... Stuff that will take time and energy, but which will improve my life in ways I want to see it improve. If I don't set some goals -- even fun ones like going to a new museum -- I will just forget to do anything exciting or new & get lost in the depressing Grind of Life. And if you're lost in the depressing Grind of Life, remember to get outside and so anything at all that sounds appealing or productive or fun. It really helps to connect with the good things in life; makes you stronger and more stable in the long run.

I'm coming out as a new year's enjoyer. "Oh you will never stick to these goals" "nothing is really different between one day and the next" "why celebrate the bad years" because I want to!!! Because I love endings and beginnings and making lists!! I love the concept of starting the year by partying I love the drama of kissing someone at midnight I love the one time of the year when it is cold I love starting a new calendar and I love cheering for no reason

[dulcescorderitas]

𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 C.Kent

author's note: im going to start put warnings on my posts!

warnings: 18+, smut

the fortress of solitude felt colder than usual, though clark wasn’t sure if it was the endless arctic winds or the icy glares you’d been shooting his way since he brought you here. your normally warm, witty demeanor was gone, replaced by a biting edge that he didn’t recognize and definitely didn’t appreciate.

“this is the best you’ve got, boy scout?” you sneered, your arms crossed over your chest. “you fly me to your crystal igloo because what—your big alien brain couldn’t figure out how to handle this on your own?”

clark sighed, his patience wearing thin. “you’re not yourself,” he said, his voice measured but firm. “whatever infected you is messing with your emotions. i’m trying to help you, but you’re making it pretty damn difficult.”

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “you don’t like that i’m not worshipping you like the rest of metropolis? guess what, superman—you’re not as perfect as you think you are.”

the venom in your words stung, but clark kept his composure. he’d seen you infected before—by kryptonite, mind control, even magic—but this was different. you weren’t just angry. you were downright mean, and it was getting under his skin in a way that made him both frustrated and... unsettled.

his gaze flicked over your body, searching for any physical signs of the infection. your skin glowed faintly, a sheen of sweat catching the fortress’s cool light. the labored rise and fall of your chest was rhythmic but heavy, as if your body was fighting itself from the inside out.

“i need to run a scan,” clark said, his voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside him.

“oh, do you?” you snapped, stepping closer, your lips curling into a smirk. “go ahead, scan away, mr. perfect. maybe you’ll find out i’m too much woman for you to handle.”

his jaw tightened, but he forced himself to ignore your taunts. he guided you toward the kryptonian scanner, his large hands surprisingly gentle despite the tension. you didn’t resist, but you made it clear you weren’t going to make things easy.

“you know,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “maybe i don’t want to be cured. maybe i like feeling this free, this... wild. ever think of that, farm boy?”

clark stepped back, trying to ignore the way your tone sent an unexpected jolt through him. his fingers moved over the console as the scanner activated, its blue light bathing you in an otherworldly glow.

“there,” he muttered, his brow furrowing as the screen displayed the results. a foreign substance, glowing faintly red, was coursing through your bloodstream. it wasn’t kryptonite, but it was definitely kryptonian in origin.

“whatever it is, it’s amplifying your emotions,” clark said, his voice calm but firm. “we need to purge it from your system.”

“oh, yeah? and how exactly do you plan to do that?” you challenged, stepping closer, your breath brushing against his cheek. “gonna lecture it out of me? because that’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? being a self-righteous boy scout?”

his patience snapped, but instead of retreating, he leaned in, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “you want to know how i’m going to get it out of you?” his voice dropped, his usual warmth replaced by something darker, more commanding. “i’m going to use every bit of strength i have to break its hold on you. and when i’m done, you’re going to remember exactly who you are.”

your smirk faltered, but only for a moment. “big talk for someone who can’t handle a little attitude,” you shot back, though your voice wavered.

clark didn’t respond. instead, he closed the distance between you in an instant, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against one of the fortress’s crystalline walls. his touch was firm but not rough, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke.

“this isn’t you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “but if this is what it takes to bring you back, then so be it.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, your defiance faltering for the first time. before you could muster another snarky remark, his lips were on yours—hot, demanding, and relentless. he kissed you like he was trying to break the infection’s hold with sheer force, his tongue parting your lips to claim you completely.

you gasped into his mouth, the fiery anger in your veins starting to twist, morph, into something just as hot but far more desperate. his hands moved with purpose, sliding down your body to grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly against the wall.

“clark—” your voice wavered, caught between a plea and a growl.

“trust me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost commanding.

his hands slid between your thighs, spreading them wide as his fingers found the slick heat pooling there. he didn’t hesitate, his touch firm and deliberate, his fingers stroking over your clit with a precision that made your head fall back against the crystal wall.

your body betrayed you, hips bucking against his hand as his touch grew more insistent. his thumb circled your clit while his fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance before pushing inside with maddening skill.

“you’re fighting it,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers curled inside you, pressing against a spot that sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body. “don’t. let go.”

your hands clawed at his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric of his suit as he worked you with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. his fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, the rhythm of his movements building a pressure inside you that felt impossible to contain.

“clark, i—” your voice broke, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“let it out,” he commanded, his voice steady, unwavering. “all of it.”

and then it happened. the pressure inside you shattered, a blinding wave of release that ripped through your body, leaving you trembling in his arms. your vision blurred, your cries echoing through the fortress as your body convulsed, slick heat spilling onto his hand as he coaxed every last drop from you.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost soothing. his fingers slowed, drawing out your release until you were spent, your body sagging against him.

the red glow in your eyes faded, replaced by the warmth and softness he knew so well. as you came back to yourself, clark held you close, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“you’re okay,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “i’ve got you.”

you looked up at him, your cheeks flushed, your lips trembling. “clark... i—”

“don’t,” he interrupted, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “you’ve been through enough. just let me take care of you.”

and for once, you did.

[lanafofana]

lana, may i humbly request a teeny bit of rookanis please? with or without spite, up to you

Anything for you Doe! ‘In the hands of a master the simplest of weapons was transformed into an artist’s tool. When he moved, the blade acted as an extension of his very will. Light flickered off the edge like a dance echoed in the perfect choreography of an a—

“Rook.”

The quill made a wet inky smear across the page as it slipped from between Bellara’s startled fingers. Below her perch, the thunk of blade against cutting board seemed a tad more menacing when one realized Spite was on the other end of it.

“Spite. Hello.” Rook’s voice was warm and friendly as always. Privately Bellara marveled that her protagonist boss was so unflappable in the weirdest of situations. “Does Lucanis know that you’re…um. What are you doing?”

“Preparing. Food. Feed the.” Spite growled, low and guttural, as if slipping out of the range of his vocabulary and displeased by it.

“Are you making dinner for everyone?” Rook supplied, her voice slowly approaching as she drew closer to see what Spite had wrought of their provisions.

“Yes,” confirmed Spite.

“I see. That’s, well,” faltered Rook. “I think that’s potentially very nice. Well done trying to help Lucanis with meals. I do have one question though, just a thought. Feel free to not answer.”

“Ask. Question!”

“Do you have any idea what to feed, um, people?”

Spite was silent for a long moment. The sounds of a knife slicing through something and hitting the cutting board started up again, slowly at first and then gaining more speed. And then, finally, Spite said: “Cut into pieces, collect into pot, fire!”

“I see you’ve been paying attention to Lucanis’ cooking,” Rook’s voice noted, amused. “Perhaps I can answer any questions you might have on what types of things you should be cutting into pieces.”

“Types,” grunted Spite.

“Types of food,” said Rook. “Cheese. Bread. Fresh things, you know like, uh, fruits and vegetables. Fish, venison, pork…that mystery jerkey Solas left behind in the back.”

“Mystery…” Spite’s knife paused on the cutting board. “This? Not. Food?”

“No,” said Rook, sounding relieved their impromptu lesson on digestible ingredients had taken root. “No. That’s not food.”

“Start. Over?” Spite demanded, sounding torn between anger and, just detectable in the lilt of his pout, frustration.

“That’s alright. You learned a new thing anyway,” said Rook. “Tell you what, I’ll take care of dinner tonight and next time I’ll teach you something easy you can make everyone. All by yourself if you really want.”

Spite growled.

“Or we can make it a group effort. See if Manfred wants to learn a new recipe besides tea and those little sandwiches.”

“Curiosity doesn’t? Know recipe?”

“I haven’t taught them anything in the kitchen so I don’t really know. Probably not.”

“Rook teach Spite,” declared Spite suddenly. “Not Curiosity!”

“How will Curiosity, I mean Manfred, learn something new then?”

Spite nearly shouted in his excitement. “Spite! Teach! Curiosity!” Spite laughed, a hoarse dry cackle that raised the hairs on the back of Bellara’s neck.

“If you like,” said Rook gamely. “For now, if you grab me some onions from the back I can show you a couple other ways to cut up vegetables.”

The sound of the knife clattering to the table was followed by the retreat of footsteps as Spite retrieved the onions. Bellara leaned out of her hiding spot and could just barely see Rook’s profile as she cleared whatever Spite had been diligently dicing into the garbage bin.

“Rook?” Lucanis, having just emerged from the pantry, blinked sleepily as he looked from the onions in his hands to Rook, confusion bleeding into dismay.

“Spite thought you could use a break from cooking,” Rook said, taking the onions from him and returning to the kitchen. “Might have a point too, you look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“Lucanis.”

The assassin set his jaw. “I’m fine.”

Rook’s grip on the onions tightened before her shoulders drooped and she sighed. “None of us are fine, Lucanis.” The sound of a knife slicing through onion started up and the crinkle of paper onion skin being discarded followed. “It’s alright to depend on us as much as we depend on you.”

“Are you giving me one of your famous pep talks?”

“Only if it’s working.”

“Hmm,” Lucanis joined Rook in the kitchen. His arms folded while he watched her knife work. “You should take your own advice some time.”

Rook looked at him from the corner of her eye. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t always have to be the one to pick up the slack. Let someone else cook, you’ve been going at full speed ever since—”

“I’m fine.”

“Ah,” said the assassin with a smile Bellara didn’t have to see to know was gracing the curve of his lips. “Of course.”

Rook’s hands stilled and she shot Lucanis an annoyed look. “Point taken, Dellamorte.” She hesitated, head dipping down, and then sighed as if very gently releasing a hidden pressure valve in her chest. “Sometimes I think if I stand in one place too long, my secret will be out.”

Lucanis tilted his head to one side, “And what secret is that?”

A hollow, self deprecating laugh shook loose in the silence. “What an utter fraud I am.”

“Nobody who has seen you do the things you have could think you’re a fraud.”

Rooks hair moved as she shook her head. “I wasn’t meant for this. Leadership? Me? I don’t know what I’m doing and any minute it feels like someone’s going to call my bluff.”

“Nobody questions your leadership,” said Lucanis, still staring at Rook’s face as if waiting for it to crack open and reveal the secrets hidden within.

“Maybe they should,” she retorted.

“Rook.”

“Lucanis,” she parroted.

“Are all Lords of Fortune as insufferable as you are?”

“No,” Rook laughed. “I’m one of a kind.”

“I was already aware of that.” Bellara felt her heart swell to burst and clamped her mouth shut on a squeal before it could escape.

Rook sucked in a breath and finally tilted her head to meet the assassin’s eyes. “Now who’s giving the pep talk?”

“I told you, did I not?” Lucanis closed the distance between them and nuzzled his face into her hair, hands on her hips. “When you doubted yourself, I would be here to remind you how magnificent you are.”

“Magnificent is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Lucanis was adamant. “Magnificent,” he murmured into her hair. “Magnificent,” he said against the warm freckled skin of her neck. With a deft touch he removed the knife from her hand and placed it with the onions. Tugging on her hands Lucanis drew her away from the kitchen and into a soft embrace. “Magnificent,” he promised.

“Sap,” Rook scoffed through a smile. “What are we going to do about dinner?”

Lucanis grinned. “Bellara volunteered.”

From her perch Bellara’s heart stuttered.

“She did?” Rook asked as Lucanis led her away towards the main door.

“She did,” confirmed Lucanis.

From her corner Bellara peered around the edge of her hiding spot and locked eyes with the crow. He winked before ushering Rook out of the building.

[later, in another part of the lighthouse] Emmrich: where the devil are my gloves Manfred: *innocent hiss*

[gothamite-rambler]

Why Poison Ivy likes Dick Grayson out of the other Robins

Robin!Dick (chipper): Hi, Ivy!

Poison Ivy (wary, crossing her arms): Hey, kid. Wow, you really decided that babysitting and being a 'hero' was the best idea.

Ivy shot an annoyed glare at Batman, who remained stoically silent. Robin!Dick gazed at a giant rose flytrap, already inching closer to poke it.

Ivy (warningly): Stand away from the giant rose!

Robin!Dick stepped back, his eyes wide with fascination.

Robin!Dick: Can I—

Batman (pointing firmly to another part of the botanical area): I will take you home.

Robin!Dick pouted, shoulders slumping as he walked away, mumbling.

Ivy (smirking): He’s adorable. If I didn’t hate people, I’d keep him. Okay, let’s start. You want me to stop my mission to protect Mother Earth, and you think that's wrong. Please, continue being wrong.

Ivy gracefully took a seat on her flower chair, crossing her legs with a smug smile.

Batman (sternly): I shouldn’t have to explain how your mission to save the Earth doesn’t benefit people. It’s destructive.

Ivy (raising an eyebrow): Why? Because some people might die? A few dead bodies are worth it to save the planet.

Robin!Dick (mid-stop from touching a different dangerous plant): What?! You’re killing people to do this?

Ivy (matter-of-factly): Yes… A few dead bodies are worth—why does his face look sad?

Robin!Dick (trying not to cry, voice wavering): That’s so mean.

Batman (glaring at Ivy): You’ve upset him. Shame on you.

Ivy (indignant, standing tall): Last I checked, the Earth is dying, and I’m just being honest with the kid! If you actually used critical thinking, you’d realize I’m not destroying the Earth—big corporations are! They’re pumping out microplastics, pouring random crap into lakes—Bliss… JUST BLISS—are destroying the freaking planet! They’re screwing her like she’s a two-dollar hooker! I stopped eating chocolate bars from Bliss's company after the founder said water shouldn’t be given to everybody!

Robin!Dick (astonished, eyes wide): Did he actually say that?

Ivy (explaining passionately): He implied water shouldn’t have free access to the public because Bliss is the biggest proprietor of bottled water. That’s unforgivable! So whatever you’re about to say, Batman, I don’t want to hear it! They’re destroying ecosystems, hunting endangered species, killing crops—

Robin!Dick (interrupting, stepping closer): Hold up, that’s all she’s trying to fix?

Robin!Dick glanced at Batman expectantly, waiting for his response.

Batman (turning to Robin, tone serious): She’s not doing it in a logical way.

Robin!Dick (defiantly): She’s a green woman who can control plants! Does she look like she wants to use our logic? No offense, Ivy.

Ivy (grinning): You’re fine. I love my body.

Robin!Dick (glancing between them, confused): She can talk to plants, too! She must feel pain when they feel pain. Are you just going to ignore that?

Batman (frustrated): I never said I was.

Ivy (smirking): Sure feels like it every time we talk.

Robin!Dick (enthusiastically): Why don’t we help her, Batman? Has she asked for your help?

Batman (sheepish, avoiding eye contact): Um… it’s been brought up in the past.

Robin!Dick (jumping up and down, angry): Then why haven’t you helped her?

Ivy (pleasantly surprised): Yeah, Batman, that’s so mean.

Batman (defending his stance): She's a criminal and will let people die for the cause.

Robin!Dick (shrugging): Well, if it's that Bliss guy, I don’t… I don’t necessarily blame her if he dies.

Ivy (smiling): Huh... thank you.

Robin!Dick (sincere): You’re welcome.

Batman (frustrated): All right, you’re young, so you don’t understand this is a complex situation.

Robin!Dick (bringing up a correct point): Yeah, so is being a vigilante over a cop, but that’s what you do! I’ve seen you beat the ever-loving shit out of a lot of bad guys committing actual crimes.

Batman (scolding): Language.

Robin!Dick: The context needed the word! I love you, Batman, I do, but let’s be real—you steal police information and beat up thugs. You haven’t paid the Commissioner back for the fire hydrant incident. You break a lot of laws! You say you’re doing it to save lives; so is she! Most are plant lives, but I get it. We’d be arrested too, but we’re lucky; she’s not… it’s not right.

Ivy (sincere, smiling warmly): Thanks again, kid.

Robin!Dick (sweetly): You’re welcome again.

Batman (confused at how he's being criticized): What the… what the heck is happening?

Robin!Dick (swaying back and forth): I'm just saying, in any other city, we’d be going to prison. Well, you would be; I’d be tossed into an orphanage, and that… that’s not fun.

Ivy (nodding): A lot of kids in the system have been abused. He’s got a point.

Batman (annoyed, running a hand through his hair): Why are you arguing with me, Robin?

Robin!Dick (leaning in, determined): Because dang it, she might have a point! We can help her to a degree… In fact, isn’t the building we’re in the one being sued for what they did to a lake? All those ducks died.

Ivy (adding, voice low): Nothing can grow there for decades.

Robin!Dick: Yeah, the ecosystem is destroyed there.

Ivy (pridefully): That’s why I picked this building to invade first. It’s not being used for anything productive. I’m thinking of making it a plant sanctuary.

Robin!Dick (looking around, nodding enthusiastically): Yeah… yeah… that sounds like a good idea.

Ivy (smirking at Batman): You must’ve gotten this level of kindness and understanding from someone else. I like you. Batman, keep him around; he's adorable and smart.

Robin!Dick (cupping his cheeks, blushing): Aww, thank you.

Batman (raising his voice, annoyed): Stop trying to turn him to the dark side! And why are you ganging up on me?

Robin and Ivy (in unison): Because you know it’s wrong and are being stubborn!

Batman (sighing, rubbing his temples): Okay, she’s not my child, but you are. Don’t yell at me.

Robin!Dick (serious): Hm… okay, I'm sorry, but you told me you became Batman because the system is flawed and sometimes matters need to be taken into your hands? Where the law and our governments can’t fix the issue, it takes a civilian to step in and make things right. How is she different?

Ivy (smirking, folding her arms): Yeah, yeah, how am I different? Is it because I’m green? Racist!

Batman (exasperated): That doesn’t make any sense; you’re white!

Robin!Dick (pointing his index finger for emphasis): She’s green now.

Ivy (leaning forward, playful): Robin, was it? Here, take a rose.

Ivy used her powers to hand the young hero a rose.

Robin (smiling widely and taking the rose): Aww, thank you.

Batman groaned, then picked up Robin like a bag and started walking away. Robin giggled as he was being carried.

Batman (growling): Give me a minute; I have to talk to him in private!

Ivy (calling out, amused): Go easy on him, and let that kid be a free thinker. He's smart; he knows what he’s talking about.

Robin!Dick (waving): Thank you, Ivy.

Ten minutes after the two argued, Batman came to a compromise with his son and Ivy. He understood that Dick would absolutely not mind sabotaging factories or causing a fire with a supervillain to protect the planet. All he needed was a good reason.

Batman (driving them home in the Batmobile, voice calm): Could you not defend the actions of the bad guy in front of me next time?

Robin!Dick (munching on McDonald's fries): Don’t take me to one who has a point, and you can’t be mad at me. I did a good thing.

Batman (with a resigned sigh): I hate that you’re technically right. Give me a fry at least.

Robin!Dick passed his father a French fry while finishing off the ones he already had, an infectious smile plastered across his face.

Inspired by this post

[sslovqm]

YOU DON'T BELONG TO ANYONE ELSE

WARNING: Contains extreme jealousy, possessiveness, manipulation, and toxic relationship dynamics.

THE warm afternoon breeze brushed against your face as you waited for Rafe Cameron on the dock by his house. You had rehearsed this moment over and over, going through the words in your head, trying to find the best way to tell him that whatever this was between you two needed to end. But now that you were here, with your stomach tied in knots, it seemed like no words were enough.

When you heard the roar of his motorcycle engine cut off, your heart skipped a beat. You watched him approach with his usual confidence, hands in his pockets, an expression of curiosity mixed with that arrogance that always seemed to follow him.

“Why so serious?” he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We need to talk, Rafe.”

His smile vanished instantly, replaced by a dark look you knew all too well.

“About what?” he asked, though it seemed like he already knew the answer.

You took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage that seemed to waver with every step he took closer to you.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do us anymore, Rafe.”

His reaction was immediate. His brows furrowed, and he stepped closer so fast that you instinctively stepped back.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m saying this doesn’t work. You don’t work, Rafe. You’re… you’re jealous, controlling, and you don’t even have the guts to tell anyone we’re together.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, devoid of any humor.

“That’s what this is about? That I won’t make it public? Really?”

You looked at him firmly, even though you were shaking inside.

“It’s not just that. It’s everything. You don’t let me breathe, Rafe. You’re always asking where I am, who I’m with. You treat me like I’m your property, and I’m not anyone’s.”

That seemed to ignite something in him, something dangerous.

“Oh, really?” he shot back, his voice low and chilling—sending shivers down your spine. “Because you seemed pretty comfortable being mine up until now.”

“I wasn’t. I was scared of you.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and the truth in them seemed to hit him like a slap. For a moment, the fury in his eyes wavered, but only for a second.

“This is about him, isn’t it?” he spat, his voice rising a notch. “About those damn Pogues. Is it Maybank? Of course, it’s him. That bastard always looks at you like he wants to rip your clothes off.”

“This has nothing to do with JJ!” you shouted, desperate to make him understand. “This is about you. About what you make me feel.”

Rafe stayed silent, but his jaw was clenched, and his fists were tight at his sides. Then he stepped closer, his face just inches from yours.

“You’re not leaving, Y/N. I’m not letting you go.”

“You don’t have the right to decide that, Rafe.”

“You’re mine,” he insisted, his voice filled with a fervor that sent a chill down your spine. “And if you think I’m going to sit back while you run into that Pogue’s arms, you’re dead wrong.”

You stepped back, trying to put some distance between you, but he wouldn’t let you. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly and forcing you to look at him.

“Let me go, Rafe.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but don’t push me.”

Your heart pounded as you tried to free your hand, but his grip was unrelenting. Finally, you managed to pull away, stepping back a few feet as you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“This isn’t love, Rafe. And no matter how hard you try to hold on, I’m not staying.”

His gaze darkened even further, and for a second, you feared what he might do. But then, he just stood there, watching you as you turned around and walked away, feeling his stare burning into your back.

You knew this wasn’t the end, that Rafe Cameron wasn’t the type to let go of what he thought was his. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d reclaimed a little bit of your freedom.

[magical-reid]

Braids and Confessions

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1K

Prompt: 29 “I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want.”

Summary: After a dangerous encounter, Steve offers to help you with your hair, leading to an unexpected moment of vulnerability and closeness between the two of you. As he braids your hair, Steve confesses his deeper feelings, and the two of you share a life-changing kiss.

The rain outside pelted softly against the windows, the rhythmic drumming muted by the thick tension in the room. Steve leaned against the edge of his kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching you from a distance. You were seated on his couch, legs curled up beneath you, trying—and failing—to tie your hair back into something remotely manageable.

“I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about this,” Steve finally said, his voice edging on exasperation but laced with concern.

Your arms ached from the earlier scuffle with whatever the hell that thing was. A vine had lashed out, wrapping tightly around your wrist, and though Steve had managed to cut you free, the bruising was vivid and unforgiving.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your shaky hands betrayed you as another hair tie snapped under the pressure.

Steve sighed and pushed off the counter, walking toward you. His sneakers scuffed against the hardwood floor before he stopped, towering just slightly over where you sat.

“You’re not fine. You’re stubborn.” His tone softened as he knelt down in front of you, resting his arms on his knees. “Let me help.”

You snorted, dropping your hands to your lap. “What, you’re gonna fight a Demogorgon and be my hairstylist now?”

Steve flushed but didn’t back down. “I mean… yeah. If that’s what you need.” He cleared his throat, his eyes darting away before he added in a quieter voice, “I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, surprised by the offer. It wasn’t like Steve to be so gentle, not when his typical armor consisted of sarcasm and bad jokes.

“You… know how to braid?” you asked, suspicious.

“I have a sister,” he said with a shrug, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Used to braid her hair all the time when we were kids. Pretty sure I still got the muscle memory.”

For a moment, you hesitated, your heart stuttering at the thought of Steve’s hands in your hair. But the truth was, you needed the help, and the look on his face—earnest and patient—was impossible to resist.

“Alright,” you relented, your voice soft. “But if you pull too hard, I’m throwing a pillow at you.”

Steve grinned, his whole face lighting up with the kind of boyish charm that made your stomach flip. “Deal.”

He climbed onto the couch behind you, settling in close enough that you could feel the warmth of his knees brushing your back. You handed him the brush, and he gently began to detangle the mess, working from the ends up.

“You’re quiet,” he said after a few moments. “You good?”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured, though the truth was far more complicated. Steve’s fingers were deft but careful, the occasional accidental brush against your neck sending shivers down your spine. The closeness was almost too much, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

As he worked, the room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft scrape of the brush and the hum of the rain outside. When Steve finally started braiding, his voice broke the quiet.

“You scared me today, you know.”

Your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his tone. “Steve—”

“No, I mean it.” He paused for a beat, his hands stilling for a moment in your hair. “When I saw that thing grab you… I thought—” He exhaled shakily. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

The weight of his words hung heavy between you, and you struggled to find a response. “I’m okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, but what if you hadn’t been?” His fingers resumed their work, but his voice remained tense. “I don’t think I can do this without you.”

Your chest tightened, and you turned slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. “Steve—”

His hands dropped from your hair, the braid unfinished, as his brown eyes met yours. “I’m serious. I—” He shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot, but I care about you. A lot. More than a friend should.”

Your breath hitched. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer now, almost shy. “I have for a while. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

A warmth spread through your chest, so intense it almost hurt. “Steve, I—” You swallowed hard, your next words trembling but sure. “I feel the same way.”

His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face, genuine and breathtaking.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

“Yeah,” you said, unable to stop the smile spreading across your own lips.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with something electric and undeniable. Then, with an awkward laugh, Steve cleared his throat. “So… should I finish the braid or—”

You laughed, reaching up to take his hand. “Forget the braid, Harrington.”

Before he could respond, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. It was soft and tentative at first, but as he kissed you back, his hands cradling your face like you were something precious, it deepened into something that felt like home.

When you finally pulled back, Steve rested his forehead against yours, a grin playing at his lips. “Best hairstyling gig I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “Guess you’re hired full-time, then.”

“Deal,” he said softly, his voice filled with affection. And as he pulled you into another kiss, the rain outside continued to fall, but inside, everything felt warm and bright.

[skibasyndrome]

Hi Simon!

How about "Hate me" for the short but impactful phrases?👀 Feel free to make this as angsty or not angsty as you want!!💜

Thank you so much for the ask, Annika! 💜

Simon knows it's a bad idea, Wille has always been a bad idea, maybe one of the worst ideas Simon has ever had. But Simon now is no smarter man than the boy he used to be. It's too easy to follow Wille out onto the balcony, to flee from all the party noise and pounding music. The implications tie Simon's insides into knots. He doesn't know what he was expecting, if he was expecting anything at all. But he's still surprised to find Wille perched over the railing, body heaving and a lit cigarette clutched between his cramped fingers. The panicking isn't new, the smoking is. But it's not like Simon has been following the tabloid coverage of the crown prince to find out. Some smart part of him feels an immediate pull, an urge to make it better, to do what he's always been good at doing, but Simon stops himself halfway towards Wille. This isn't the boy he used to know, this is a stranger. Simon is a goddamn idiot. But it's too late, Wille has heard him, is whipping his head around with a panicked expression on his face that cuts right to Simon's core. Wille coughs once, then sniffles, quickly straightens up again. His cordial nod is unsteady and Simon takes a sick sort of enjoyment in that. It's good to know that he's not the only one barely keeping it together. "Hi," he says, not fully trusting his voice quite yet, but needing something to cut through their tense silence. He's relieved when Wille averts his eyes from Simon. Simon has never stood a chance against those. Wille nods again, looking out into the darkness now, takes a drag of the cigarette he seems to only remember now. Something about the whole picture makes Simon unreasonably angry. Entirely way too fucking angry for someone who promised himself that he was long over the pain and the grief and the what-if's. It's the silence, the fucking silence. The one thing Wille's always been great at, keeping everything to himself. It's the anger that pushes Simon forward, that loosens his tongue. "You never even-," he's immediately interrupted. "Hate me," Wille says, like it's the simplest thing in the universe. Simon is stunned by the nonchalance, the self-evidence, the fucking calmness. "You're right to," Wille continues, not looking up at Simon as he stubs out the last of his cigarette on the metal railing. "I know you do, and you're fucking right to." Simon feels sick to his core at the way the corners of Wille's lips curl upwards as he stares unseeingly ahead. He wanted anger, he wanted to scream at Wille, to make him see, to make him feel, he didn't want whatever this is. Simon isn't prepared for Wille to turn to him again. His hair is longer again these days, hanging into his face in strands that feel too familiar to Simon. He isn't prepared for any of this, he realizes. But it's too late. "You do, don't you?" Wille asks, and Simon is almost relieved to find his voice wavering, his lip trembling. Even with everything inside of him screaming to turn around and leave, Simon stays. Stays and nods. Wille closes his eyes and mirrors the movement, smiling almost wistfully. And for the sliver of a second, a tiny moment, barely long enough for Simon to believe it's real, there's something youthful to his face, something that chases away the angry wrinkles in his forehead, the dark rings under his eyes. "That's okay." Wille's voice sounds too small for his body. "I do, too," he continues and Simon thinks he's going to be sick. He doesn't want to be having this conversation, he doesn't want to know this, he doesn't want to care, he doesn't want to feel like he needs to reach out and make it better. "I fucked up the one good thing I had in life." Simon doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't want to care so goddamn much, still, after all this fucking time. He balls his fists, digs his nails into his palms to make himself wake up from this trance, to get his body to move. "I hurt the one person I've ever really loved." Simon now is no smarter man than the boy he used to be.

idk why I'm in such an angsty mood dskghdjkfgh but you said this was okay. rip tho.

Send me one of these prompts for a short lil story 💜

[evecolourshock]

Fic somewhat inspired by this beautiful image ♡

Beck stretches, trying to ignore the way User fabric presses against his hips and rubs against his legs. It's... unpleasant, and unfamiliar, but here in the User world he needs to keep it on so he can blend in. He's pushing it by refusing to wear the shirt, but that was genuinely too tight and made him panicky with the restriction.

His shoulder aches a little from catching Tron before what was left of his friend was lost forever. His chest hurts from seeing Tron so lost and unresponsive. His hands shake from staring down an army knowing he was the last and only line of defence between his worst nightmare and his User.

Jethro is somewhere with his Creator, with Alan_One, trying to keep their discussion about how to free Tron from his cage called Rinzler quiet enough so Beck isn't worried further.

Beck can still hear them, but the consideration is nice.

He glances over at Tron, curled up tight on a bench. Were it not for one hand slowly running up and down the strange material - wood, Jethro had called it, when Beck asked - Tron could be dormant. Even that grating purr-scream is gone, lost to whatever had jarred Tron loose enough to make a suicide run knocking Clu off-course.

Beck sits near Tron's head, rubbing his mentor's shoulder soothingly. "I'm here." He whispers, when that blank helmet tilts up to look at him. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

That shaking hand moves from the bench to the inside of Beck's elbow, shaking but stubbornly tracing the three thin circuits spanning the length of his upper arm. "Mine." Tron chokes out, voice rough and raspy and so, so pained.

"Yeah." Beck tells him, gently lifting Tron's torso so he can slip in and rest the other Program's head on his lap. "Just like yours." He lifts Tron's other hand so he can rest his head against it. "Didn't want to forget you."

"Others." Tron murmurs, his gridsuit struggling to lighten - a glimmer of white in those overhot amber circuits. His hands find the beginning of those broad angled strokes framing Beck's lower back, where they wrap around onto his chest. "More?"

Beck rumbles at him happily, that pleased mechanical hum low in his chest reminiscent of times spent waiting out storms in his and Tron's hideout, huddled together and telling the kind of tales that only get coaxed out in the dark. The honest kind, all the more fragile for it. "More. All over, where it was feasible to show them."

Tron chirps back, rusty and sparse in his happiness. That's okay - Beck has joy to spare.

Jethro peers around the door, making sure it's okay to come in before he does. Tron tenses, muscles locking in a learned response to be still and small and submissive, but Beck rubs more circles in Tron's shoulder and sits up straighter. Tall and defensive, drawing attention. The Renegade is first and foremost a shield, and Tron needs one the most right now.

"Figured we'd head home. Get some sleep, sort things out in the morning." Jethro tells him, glancing at Tron. He's a little wary still, but Beck's already thoroughly scolded his User for blaming Tron for things done when not fully in control of himself and it's clearly sunk in that that wasn't who Tron is.

"Sleep..." Beck muses, sliding his hand up the back of Tron's neck to at least try to scritch at the hairs under his helmet - finds a tiny clasp with his fingers, and starts plotting. Tron's unlikely to be sleeping anyway, Beck will be keeping him company, and maybe between them they can figure out how to get the helmet off without damaging him.

"Okay." Tron rasps out, barely louder than a whisper.

"The best of us has spoken." Beck grins, feels Tron swat at him for his cheek. "Lead on."

he kept some of Tron’s circuits, even after all this time

[agbpaints]

How To Paint: Lense Gemming

In the Heat Sink tutorial I mentioned that glow effects are really common in 40k paint schemes but see less use in Battletech so let's look at something that I frequently see go the other way- flat painted gem effects for lenses. These work well for Battletech energy weapons, but they can also be used for sensor clusters, glass eyepieces on things like a space marine helmet, or jewels on a more fantasy inspired mini. There's a variety of ways to do these- gem or contrast paints over a metallic base coat, gloss varnish, or just splashing the area with a little color all work just fine- but today I'm going to go over my basic recipe for a green reflective glass effect.

Paints I Used:

For as much of a love/hate relationship as I have with GW citadel paints their color system is remarkably good at getting proper highlight colors for things like this- I'm largely cribbing my color choices here from the old Duncan Rhodes videos and you can feel free to sub out for whatever colors work best for your particular project.

Citadel Caliban Green (dark green)

Citadel Warpstone Glow (green)

Citadel Moot Green (light green)

Army Painter Matt White (titanium white)

Method

Once you've completed the area around whatever you want to gem, start by painting this with your darkest color. Here we'll be using our dark Caliban Green, focusing on the Starslayer's two large lasers. If a little gets on the rim around the lense at this step that's fine.

Once your dark green is dry, take a very small brush and thin down your mid-tone green. Choose one of the bottom 'corners' of the lense and start carefully applying paint there. Ideally, we want to paint a 'crescent moon' shape centered on that corner, with a fatter middle section and thinner tips, leaving the darker green visible in the lense center and one of the upper corners. If the detail proves to small or your hand-eye coordination is too unwieldy for this, sketching a 'C' shape or simply putting a diagonal line thru the lense and coloring the lower half with your light color will also work at this scale.

Next, take your light green color and thin it with your smallest brush. Very carefully apply a thin line of this color along the outer edge of the area you painted with your green midtone.

Finally, apply a small dot of pure white to the upper corner of the lense that remains dark green.

And the gemming is done! Once you get the basic idea down you'll find that this is a pretty versatile technique (I use a variation of it for canopy glass as well). Definitely worth giving a try, and if you aren't a fan then like I said there's plent of other things to do to achieve similar results.

[lolitastories]

Ours

Rafe Cameron

Description: This will be a short story on how two people who love each other find their way back to one another. They have a child together and have to focus on giving her the best version of themselves.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

No matter the reason why Rafe and I weren’t officially together could ever make me deny him seeing his daughter. Rafe and I were two young to know what life would bring us after we met 4 years ago. At 19 I needed a change after graduating high school, so I moved to the outer banks. My friends came over to visit and when our pre campfire on the beach was rudely interrupted by a drunk girl, Rafe was there to watch as his friend Topper stopped the girl from starting a fight with one of my friends. My friend was more confident than me and invited them to stay and enjoy the sunset, since then Rafe and I spent most of our free days together. 3 years later I found out we were pregnant. Now I won’t admit I was scared because I wasn’t. Yet per my mother, my actions would tell you otherwise. When I found out I couldn’t block Rafe out of my life for even a day before he started sending constant messages and calling. I definitely couldn't ignore when he would personally go out of his way to come and find me. I was running out of places to hide so I had decided to move back home for a bit. I couldn’t stay too long because it would make my family suspicious, so thankfully being in my first trimester gave me the advantage to knock that reason out of the way. But soon I had to go back and face the decision I had made. The time back home had given me 3 weeks to think how and when I was going to tell Rafe about our future child. Since I was young, I knew I always wanted to be a mother, not this young but truthfully, I was jumping on clouds. The one thing I wanted to make sure before getting pregnant was choosing the right father for my children. He needed to be kind, loving, protective, but most of all understanding. Rafe was all of that and more. Not only did he have all those traits he also made me feel comfortable around him. He was the first man in my life that took care of the little girl who was scared to show herself. He brought out the pain and made it disappear. So, as I walked over to his property in Tanny hill I was determined to settle with whatever he chose to do with the information, that was until I saw him and another girl in his kitchen sharing a drink. I shouldn’t have gone into conclusion, but I was pregnant, and all my emotions were everywhere. I trusted him and when he found out I was back on the island he came to find me. He told me who she was and how he loved me. If it was me alone, I would jump on his arms and take him back, but it wasn’t. I needed to think of the little creature growing inside of me now, so after telling him I was pregnant I also told him I needed time to think about us. I wasn’t testing him, but this little person has become my world, and I needed to prepare to give them my all before welcoming it to the real world.

“We don’t like it here.” I hear the low and grumpy tone coming from behind me. As I turn, I let out a chuckle seeing Rafe and our daughter sharing the same expression. He had her hooked up to his chest as we were making our way to yet another antique store.

“I can understand it from her, but you need to stop acting like a baby.” I shut the tailgate of his trunk and started walking. I heard another groan but soon enough his heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer until he was walking alongside me.

“Promise me you won’t be like your mommy?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. I knew where this sentence was going. “Well,” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to walk towards the entrance of the store. “Maybe the good parts but when it comes to shopping, I hope you will drain my bank account at decent stores.” I grab the door hand and pull it open. Rafe walks in giving me a teasing look. I don’t respond knowing it would only lead to a longer conversation down a hole I don’t like. I walk over to grab a cart and walk over to where Rafe is waiting for me. “Every time you come into an antique store you buy nothing. Why do you always bring a cart?”

“Habit.” I shrug as I begin to look around. My mother, siblings and I would enjoy a Saturday in thrift stores and antique shops. We would later get food and rush home with a smile on our faces, it didn’t matter if we were carrying 12 bags or nothing, we were happy.

“Habits do die hard.” He says in a lower tone. I straightened up looking over to him as he played with our daughter's hands. I walk closer, placing my hands over his.

“And I am very proud of you Rafe,” As I looked into his eyes, I felt words choking to get out, but I held them down.

“What a beautiful baby.” Our heads turn looking over to a mid-thirties lady? as she smiled towards us. “Oh, look at her tiny shoes!” She squealed coming over to touch her small shoes. “I remembered my kid's feet being this small, almost making me want another little one.” We laugh alongside her. “Are you two planning to have more?” That question made my smile fade really quick. I looked over to Rafe who had a similar expression. “Either way you two are still young. Enjoy her this little and as much as possible because time goes by fast. You spend your time on things other than family and when you decide to give it priority it's too late.” Her words were like a knife stabbing me right in the heart.

“How many kids do you have?” I could hear their conversation faintly. My fingers began to tighten along the cart's handle. My body began to heat up while my head was spinning.

“Well, it was nice to talk to you two, but I have to find my two devils running around here somewhere.” I was functioning enough to give her a smile before she walked away.

“You, okay?” Rafe moves closer looking over my face. I nod slowly before shaking the uneasiness away and smiling up at him again.

“Yeah. We need to hurry if we want to catch the other stores before they close.” Rafe groans, throwing his head back.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” I raised my hand to playfully shove him but then I remembered he was holding our daughter. “Did you see that?” he exaggerated as he turned to look down. “Mommy was trying to hurt daddy.” I roll my eyes and turn around to continue walking. My heart was melting when I heard our baby giggling at his fake studded words. “See, she agrees with me.”

“She does because she is such a daddy’s girl.” I turn my head to see Rafe smiling proudly as our baby looks up to him in admiration. “Just wait until she starts dating,” I bite my lips holding back a laugh to how fast his smile fell. “She will put you second,” I teasingly whispers.

“No, she would not! I will make sure of it because she won’t date until I am dead” I come to a halt and turn around to face him.

“I am %110 percent sure she would choose him and fight against you to keep the boy around.”

“Nothing backs up your statement.” He keeps his head high.

“She is a girl.” I simply state. “She will be smart but at the end of the day she is a girl. And as a girl myself I know it will happen because I happened to me,” He looks down with confusion on his face.

“What?” He questioned.

“I argued with my father because of a boy, till this day he still doesn’t like him. but I would do it again.” I don’t regret getting into an argument because of him. I choose the right choice to protect the boy's name, because he keeps on defying everything my father said he was going to do and be. “But don’t worry too much, you two will be okay.”

“Are you and your dad, okay?” I shake my head. I haven’t even told them I had a child. I know my father loved me but until I had Rafe, and I figured out, he would never accept it. I also am not in a hurry because it's my life and I am very happy.

“We will be.” I let out a sigh seeing how even our daughter was keeping quiet. “Let go because I am already hungry.” I smile, turning around to focus back on the shelves. I picked up a small book that read Collection Shakespeare: Hamlet. Before I opened it the book was taken from my hand. Rafe’s face comes to sit right beside my ear. His hot breath fanned down my neck and I could feel his smile radiate against my skin.

“Well until that happens, I can be your daddy,” He slowly whispers. His warm breath moves closer, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes when he places a kiss on the crook of my neck. It had been so long since I felt his lips on such a little intimate spot. When I regained my conscious back, he had already parted. I turned around to him, opening the small yellow book. “I will start by reading my two girls a book” I opened my mouth to speak but he held up his fingers to shush me. I watch our daughter enticed by his voice as he reads Hamlet. His eyes following along the words and looking over to me, when he sees a smile placed on my lips he continues his interpretation of the book. I lean against the cart and watch as he continues to be and grow into the father I prayed for my children.

[wandixx]

You know what? I'm on my "M’gann and Danny should be friends/lovers" kick again and I have thoughts about them in general.

I think both deserve to have some level of gender fuckery.

And here, bear with me because I'm as cis as they make us, so I may spew some absolute bullshit. Feel free to yell at me if I do, I'll try my best to do better.

I've seen a lot of genderqueer ideas about Danny, and these are all beautiful, valid takes. I love them.

But I think M'gann needs some, too. She comes from society that, if it does gender, has a really different way of handling it, of expressing and all that (I know it's not canon but also look me in the eyes, look at the species of shapeshifters, who can become whoever they want, not even looking like someone they saw or something, look me in the eyes again and tell me they can't shapeshift genitals, rendering this way of separating genders even more baseless than it is to humans and tell me they'd still have same or similar gender norms as Western culture circle on Earth). She escaped this society, and in efforts to fit in a new environment, she became almost stereotypically feminine and found comfort in it. It could be in part just because he found people who accepted her no matter what, and her form was tied to her comfort character because she wanted to feel like all of her problems could be solved in just 20 minutes too, but idk. I just feel like even if feminity was just part of her mask, just another way to cut Megan Morse on Earth from M’gann M'orzz on Mars, I want to see her kinda finding... well, part of herself in being a girl.

I have no clue if it makes any sense, I just kinda want to see M’gann as transfem with her asigned at birth gender as alien something.

Also, I kinda want to see girls from the Team or Danny's friends teaching her how to do make-up or how to style her hair or other "girly" stuff even though she could just shapeshift it on, and M’gann enjoying it, maybe even finds it soothing. I kinda want to see them both learning what it means to be whatever gender they're going for at the same time. Maybe have M’gann trying out Danny's pre-transition outfits (from photos, most likely) because she thought they looked cute and Danny having whatever reaction would be appropriate.

I kinda want to see M’gann shapeshifting into Danny's transition goals and then him possessing her to get feel of his dream body/help him on really bad dysphoria days.

I don't think I'm a good person to write that, but if it's anything, do with it what you want

[sleepymccoy]

Oh my GOD

I hope this isn't uncomfortable for you, but this is so hot. I can't wait to get a chance to read through with the references too, this is amazing work

I mean, I hope you enjoy the rest of season three! I think you're gonna! Please feel free to deep dive into all your research! It's amazing!

The endothermic camel concept fits nicely with what I was starting to vibe with based on general consensus. There's good defence for both high and low body temp for Vulcans, and good canon rep of both. So I like the idea that he changes! And you found a strong example! Camels, I love it!

But of course, if people want to write Spock as too hot or too cold for a scene, do what you want, there's so much medical stuff you can reference lol xx

There's so much in your post I don't know what to talk about.

In response your question about Vulcans evolving on a desert planet: I have seen arguments that Vulcan isn't a desert planet, they just do all their cultural ceremonies in the desert so that's what the viewer sees. Also that it didn't use to be and has become a desert more recently, since their space travel, so they've got the tech to combat enough to live but it's not how they evolved.

Also per your tags, you can call McCoy whatever you want. I usually write his pov and Bones is something Jim only says, so I use McCoy in my fic which leaves me with the habit. But people call him Bones all the time, do your thing. There's no gatekeeping here ❤️

Okay, I'm all over the place with my physiological grasp of Vulcans. Are they hotter or colder than humans? Why? Does that make them feel the heat more or less than humans? Is their heartbeat faster or slower?

Also if you have a strong opinion or an explanation or anything to say please tell me! I wanna get a grasp on this one

[karmaajr]

HEYO Y'ALL!!!! I got bored and decided my last intro post was WAY too unorganised (even by my standards frfr 😔😔🙏) so i made a new one!!! hopefully this ones a bit better or else ima light somebody on fire 🥰🥰

anyways dms n asks r ALWAYS open and if ur new to my person-being-blog-whatevs and wanna get to know me or smth then FEEL FREE TO SLIDE IN GIRLYPOPS!!! I'M ALWAYS BORED SOO 😭😭🙏 (might take like, a billion years to reply tho mbmb >:3)

and thus again, without any further ado, MY INTRO POST 😍

🎶 try to strike a chord but it's probably A MINOR 🎶 -> ✨️im under 18✨️ idm nsfw convos tho bcuz theyre funny :D

sooo tbh you can call me whatever you want? like ppl call me different things (eg senka calls me kam, bea calls me keke/kekere bcuz shes 🎶a meanie, a big meanie🎶 my irl bestie westie pookie poo calls me jeena CUZ HES A LIL BITCH) but MHM!!! CALL ME WHATEVER U WANNA <33 (as long as it dont feel masc bcuz my dumbass got issues w feeling masc for some RANDOM STUPID REASON 💀) (like im literally a cis girl why do i got problems w this....... but YAAAA 😭) (she/her btw!!! if that wasnt obvious!! ^^)

✨️i am cringe but i am free✨️

I SOMETIMES USE GENDERED TERMS LIKE GIRLY/BRO/DUDE/ETC BUT I DON'T MEAN IT GENDERED SO IF YOU FEEL IFFY THEN DONT HESITATE TO HMU N TELL ME TO FIX UP MY SHIT

btw im a tad bit of train wreck but if u enjoy the chaos then we'll get along js fine i think pooks 😋😋

anyways it came to my shitty little attention span one day when i was just being a silly lil girly that some of yall think im white when i say im british....... CHAT NOOO IM BORN N RAISED IN THIS TEA RIDDEN COUNTRY BUT ETHNICITY WISE IM BANGLADESHI!??!?! YALL IM LITERALLY A BROWNIE OMFDS 🤧

also a lot of this blog is a bunch of reblogs of shit im interested in BUT I DO HAVE OG STUFFFFFF, THEY'RE JUST IN THEIR OWN TAGS U GET ME??? anyways some of the tags!!!

karmaajr rambles -> for everything i post besides answers to asks :3

karmaajr answers ig :D -> answers to asks ^^

important thing for me to tag bcuz yes -> random thing i really wanna save (also im bad at tagging so sometimes thing has an "s" or tag has an "s" lmfao, ITS A RLLY USELESS TAG TO TRY SCROLL THRU ICL.... RLLY DRY AS WELL)

karmas mum mentions :3 -> i like to think this one explains itself yall 😘

daddy's unhinged -> anything about my sweet ol' pops (who totes cares abt me yall) 🥰

my sister and I -> anything my sister is involved in that i actually remember to tag LMFAO

NOT MY ASS MENTIONING PANIK -> me wanting to save things that r to do w my gf ���

BTW HIS @ IS @panikbutt0n AND SHE'S MY MAPLE SYRUP CHUGGING 4LIFER AND LITERALLY THE BEST THING SINCE RIPPED BREAD AND I LOVE HER SO SO SO MUCH SO ACC HIT HER UP PLZ 🙏🙏🙏🙏

btw yall, ur homegirl aint no gatekeeper so the group matching pfp thingy is from @tuturthecarvroom 's blog (n they very skibidi sbg art btw so i do reccomend frfr) and mY HEADER IS OFF GOOGLE SEARCH 😍😍

ALSO I AM CURRENTLY MATCHING WITH THE SILLIEST GROUP EVER FRFR, GONNA TRY @ THEM ALL BUT IT'S HARDDD (my memory is the shittiest thing since That One Time my friend shit his trousers on call w me 💪💪💪)

@lee1504 -> BRAINROTTED KING 🙏🙏

@d011zk1ll -> both kind af and somewhat unhinged??? like both "do a good deed to make somebody else's life easier ☺️" AND "im gonna eat a bicycle :p"

@sketchingwithlyn -> JUST THE CHILLEST GUY EVERRRR!!!!

@rot-decay-erosion -> gramps 🧓🏻 (also known as the desendant of our king garfield 😙✨️)

@afrogwhocantdraw -> RESIDENT BENLOR POOKIE

@low-senka -> the brokest senior citezen youve ever met 💔💔💔💔 (yall need to donate to my guy 🥺🥺🥺)

(also the thing below had me stuck looking at it for literally AGES so hehehehehhehehe GET TRAPPED IDIOT!!!!!! >:3!!!!!)

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(dots r fun)

anyways i have no clue what else to write!!! which is weird bcuz im a yapper frfr :D

ANYWAYS LOVE Y'ALL ✨️✨️✨️

WAIT

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.......... ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ ⁠⁠

.................... ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ ⁠⁠

.............................. ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ ⁠⁠

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............................................................ ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

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THEY 👥 DONT🙅🏼‍♀️ LOVE 😘 YOU 🫵🏼 LIKE I 👀 LOVE 🥰 YOU 🫵🏼🫵🏼🫵🏼

[lillaydee]

Uncoupled - June

Roommate! Joel Miller / Reader

Two people leaving their marriages ended up going through the mandatory one year separation together before filing for divorce.

Nothing could possibly happen in a year, right?

WARNINGS: Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), No age gap, Roommate Joel, Teacher Joel, Handyman Joel, Insecure Joel, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning.

SERIES MASTER LIST

May

---

Joel sat in the waiting room, a very jittery Jen next to him. The results of the biopsy was in. He hadn’t wanted to be there for Jen, initially. There was a part of him that was convinced Jen was doing this to try to guilt him into staying. He didn’t want to chance it, he was finally happy. His life with you and Ellie had been perfect. He was not going to ruin this.

He was looking forward to the divorce, so much so he declined alimony, just so he didn’t have to be tied to her in any way. Since she was the ‘at fault’ party and made so much more than him, he could get it, but he had a feeling Jen would stretch the process and rather than go back and forth on this whole thing he just wanted out. She would get anything in her name, the house, the car, her money, and he would be free of her. That was all he wanted.

He told you he didn’t want to go. He told you he didn’t want to be involved. Whatever it was, he could support her from afar. There was no need for him to be there with her. Heck, even her own parents and siblings didn’t want to be there for her. Her success and ‘glow-up’ didn’t just isolate him, it extended to her family as well, effectively isolating herself from everyone who could’ve been there for her.

But you. You were too soft hearted, you talked him into being there for her. We got lucky, you told him, we found each other. She didn’t have anyone. Be there for her. She was the woman you loved for 15 years. Do this for her. He tried to tell you that Jen would stick to him like a leech if they found something malignant, guilt him into staying, but you told him that the two of you would cross that bridge then, if it came.

So he called her, went with her for the biopsy, held her hand through it all. Drove her home after, made sure she was alright and had everything she needed. He was actually starting to feel glad he could do things like that for her and not have it be an awkward situation. That they could sort of be friends.

And then she kissed him.

Jen just found out that she was all alone, Max declining to be involved at all despite their history, and she was desperate. The reality of her actions pushing the one man she now knew she could rely on was hitting her hard, and she was willing to do anything to win him back.

Jen saw immediately who Max was once they got together officially. He was a man who only thought of himself, his reputation, his comfort, his needs. He was slowly suggesting that a woman’s place was at home, not out in the world like she was, working side by side with men. He was threatened by her success, even if it was nothing compared to his. She saw now that you opening the bakery was the starting point for his unrelenting search for power; he was afraid you would be successful. More so than him. Max was not someone who could handle that. And the moment she made it clear that she was never giving her career up, their problems started.

She began to miss Joel then. He was never threatened by her success. He even worked harder to try and contribute more, but in her egotistical mind, that was not enough. She regretted that now, but even she could see that she treated him horribly once she found success. And now he’s all happy with you, someone who, according to Max, was her opposite. Someone Joel could easily find happiness with. So she was determined to win him back.

But Joel was still level headed. He wasn’t surprised, he knew she would try something like this. Rather than pushing her off him, he gently turned his head and pulled himself off her, turning and leaving before she could say anything else.

He told you about it the moment he got home. He could see your face turn to anger, but you true to your form, you told him she was probably just an emotional mess right now and wasn’t thinking.

Joel was not happy about it, though. He made sure to physically distance himself from Jen, not meeting her unless necessary. She began sending him suggestive texts, all of which he ignored, and making appearances where she knew he would be, even going to his school to see him without your knowledge.

She even went to see you behind Joel’s back, telling you that if you had any decency at all, you would leave him, let him go back to her, she obviously needed him more right now. God only knew how long she would have left with him. She wasn’t shy to use such lines with him either, although he never took the bait, and neither did you.

But when she began suggesting for him to not go to get the results, he knew something was wrong. He knew she was being conniving, planning something. Hiding something. She even changed the appointment time, thinking he wouldn’t find out. Except the doctor’s office emailed him the new appointment time too, and the look on her face when she saw him at the hospital was a confirmation of his suspicion.

The result came back as benign. She would still need surgery to remove the mass, but it wasn’t cancerous. And the growth was small enough for her to have an outpatient surgery, no hospital stay required. Just a few hours of observation. She wouldn’t even need aftercare, so there was no need for Joel to be there for her for days after the surgery.

He did, though, agree to be with her on the day itself.

That should be enough.

**********

Max had kept trying. Calling and texting and visiting begging you to reconsider the divorce. Jen’s initial diagnosis made him scared. Not for her, but scared that should anything like that happen to him, he would have no one, just like her. He knew Jen was never going to support him, hold his hands through something like that. But you would. He knew that. He had always known that. That was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. It was you who shared a dingy room with him when the two of you first got married, sleeping on a used mattress and eating sparingly when money was tight.

When your bakery started making money, he became threatened, worried that you would start bossing him around, so he worked harder to be more successful, to make sure you would never outearn him. He got there, and somehow, began treating you the way he was worried you would him in the first place.

He wanted you to give up the bakery, make sure you would only be relying on him. That you would be lost without him. He needed that validation to feel like a man.

But you had a great support system. Eddie would die for you. Tess and Frank had the knowledge, the money, the resources to help you out. And you seemed unphased when he was treating you like garbage. So he did more. He found faults with you where he didn’t before. He wanted you to put you in a position where you would finally say fine, you’ll give up the bakery and stay at home, just so that he would treat you better. He didn’t know why, but he wanted you to beg, wanted you to curl into a foetal position and cry, tell him you couldn’t live without him.

Instead, you left him.

And the moment you did, he realized how alone he was in the world. His friends, at least the ones who would drop everything to rush to his aid had been your friends. His work friends were never going to do that for him, they were networking, not making loyal, lifelong connections with him. He had pushed his own family away in his mission to put you down; they had all been on your side, knowing how he had treated you.

He wanted you back. So badly. But you had found Joel. And he knew Joel was the anti-Max. Joel would never be threatened with your success. You might actually be happy with him. You were so adamant on the divorce you waived alimony, which if you didn’t, would erase all your money issues. But you didn’t want to be tied up to him anymore. You just wanted out.

It stung him, how badly you wanted to get away from him, when all he wanted was to win you back.

**********

It was a week before the legal separation was due to end. You were home early that day, Ellie told you her head hurt, and Joel was at the hospital with Jen for her surgery. You were looking at the contents in your fridge when someone knocked on the door.

Max.

He told you he was just there with some of your stuff, the ones you left at his house. True enough, there were boxes in his car. So you let him unload them into your living room. He looked… resigned, defeated, accepting. He stood in front of your door, hands in his pocket, asking you what it was that Joel had that he didn’t. He didn’t get it. He could give you much more than Joel could. Look at this house, look at the house you left, he told you. When you didn’t answer, he asked if Joel was more gifted than him, between the legs – Jen had never told him, but he had a suspicion he was right.

You rolled your eyes. Even after everything, Max was still so immature.

“The measure of a man is not how much money he has in his bank account, or what is hidden in his pants, Max. Joel is a man, through and through. He’s a good man. Honest, reliable, protective, kind, considerate, and above all, secure. He doesn’t need me to look a certain way or stay at home and wait on him hand and foot to know he’s a man.”

He looked at his feet. “I’m going to miss having you around. I already do.”

“No, Max, you miss what I did for you. You don’t miss me. You miss the person who folds the laundry and cooks and cleans. Even when I did do that for you, you chastised me and made me feel like shit for doing them in the first place, always putting me down, nothing was enough. I think you just miss having someone to be cruel to.”

His head snapped up, his eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry I treated you like that, Lil. Really. I don’t know what got over me. I know that now. Please Lil, give me another chance.”

“Once bitten, twice shy, Max. I’m not that dumb.”

He nodded, his tears falling to his cheeks. He quietly asked for a hug. Just to say goodbye. Please?

You stepped outside and let him hug you. He breathed you in, his nose in your hair, his eyes closed. He held you tight, and you let him. For a moment, you felt a bit emotional. This was the man you had thought you would spend the rest of your life with. Sure, it was your choice to leave, but it didn’t mean that you weren’t sad. He treated you badly for four years, but there were those 11 years before that, when you shared so many happy memories with him. Even in your impatience to get it all over and done with, you still had to admit; you were heartbroken that your marriage was coming to an end. You didn’t start it with the intent of it turning out this way. No one does. Everyone who married for love thought they would live happily ever after, but things happen. People change. Hearts change.

You pulled back from him, only for him to grab your face and kiss you in the mouth. Hard. Passionate. It took you by surprise, but you pulled back from him, immediately going inside and shutting the door to his face. He didn’t protest, leaving as soon as you did.

You knew you were going to tell Joel about it later, but somewhere in your heart you figured it was just Max’s way of saying goodbye.

**********

Joel sat by Jen’s bedside while she was still unconscious, although she did wake up every now and then, still groggy and very much under the influence of her anaesthesia. Surgery had gone well, scans were clean, she should be okay to go home in a few hours. She would need follow up scans and consultations for them to keep an eye on the site, but she was fine. Joel found himself a bit melancholic – he had loved this woman. In some ways, he still loved her. You don’t love someone for 15 years and stop in a second. Sure, she treated him like shit these last few years, but he had 11 happy years with her. He was so happy when she said yes to marrying him. To spending the rest of her life with him.

While he was looking forward to the divorce, he had to admit that he was mourning it as well. He was mourning the young man who was so in love, so hopeful about starting a new life with the woman he loved. He didn’t marry with the intent to leave when things got rough. But the last four years was so hard on him he could feel himself start to change – he was starting to be bitter, hateful, and that was not the person he wanted to be.

He looked at his soon to be ex wife’s face, the beautiful face she had paid for, and for a moment, he saw the plain young girl he fell in love with, completely unaware how much she could change. He wondered if somewhere in there, that young girl he had fallen for was still around.

She was awake for the first ten minutes she was wheeled back into the day care room they had provided for her, yammering on and on about how thankful she was for him to be there, how thankful she was that he was in her life, how much she loved him, what a good husband he was, that she’s the luckiest woman on earth to have him as her husband. But then she stopped, and Joel had the mind to ask her why she didn’t want him at the appointment for the results. She told him, quite honestly, that she was planning to lie to him about the results to guilt him into staying. She began sobbing, telling him how much she regretted what she did to him, that she was only trying to fill a well of needs that she knew would never be filled.

She pleaded with him to stay, telling him she knew he didn’t really want to leave. Because if he did, he wouldn’t have left something extremely valuable to him with her at the house. Please, Joel, come back to me. I’ll do better, she said, practically grabbing his arm to lay in bed with her, before losing consciousness again.

His thoughts and reminisces of their past life was suddenly interrupted by his phone dinging. Someone had texted him. An unknown number.

‘You sure your girlfriend doesn’t want her husband back, Miller?’

A picture quickly followed. Joel could feel his heart drop to the floor, the picture blurry from his immediate tears, his insides turned ice cold.

Another text. From you, this time.

‘Max just stopped by. Something happened. I’ll explain when you get back, okay?’

And whatever warmth that his body had left just escaped his form altogether.  

**********

You waited patiently for him to return home, you wanted to tell him what Max did. But you didn’t feel right telling him on the phone or via text. Plus, he was taking care of Jen. You shouldn’t be the pushy girlfriend, right? You had been together a little over a month. You hadn’t even said ‘I love you’ yet. And you were still married to your husband, and him to his wife. One week. And they would be served. It would finally be over, and you and Joel could move on.

What was taking him so long? The surgery was this morning, he should be home by now. His dinner was waiting. It’s past Ellie’s bedtime. You had tried calling, but your calls went straight to voicemail. Your texts undelivered.

You weren’t nervous to tell him about the kiss. You didn’t do anything wrong. But with your calls and texts not going through, you had to wonder what was going on, and to be frank, you were starting to feel a bit worried.

His truck finally drove in to the driveway. You shot up and opened the door.

That’s weird. Jen was in the truck with him. He got out and told her to wait for him, engine left idling. He walked past you, not saying anything, his face unreadable, leaving you confused in the entryway. Jen was looking at you with the smuggest look. She beckoned you to go to her. So you did, she was medicated, might as well, you thought.

She lowered the window, smirking at you like she’d won something.

“You know, I knew you would come to your senses. But let’s be honest for a second. Even if you didn’t, what made you think you would be good enough for him? What the fuck could you ever offer him that I couldn’t twofold? Look at you, look at me.”

You were so confused. But she wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise.

“Look, I’m sorry things turned out this way, but it’s for the best. I promise.”

Joel came back out, his suitcases in his hands. He placed both of them in the back of his truck.

You didn’t think Jen could be any smugger than she already was, but clearly, you were wrong. She sneered at you, lifted her left hand at you, her old engagement ring and wedding band back on.

“Toodles,” she said, waving them at you, before giving you the middle finger, the biggest shit-eating smile on her face.

Joel looked at your confused face, everything seemed unreal, blurry. He spoke to you, his face passive and emotionless. His voice sounded like he was underwater. He told you he would be back for his stuff. He got back in, shut the door and buckled up. He put the gear in reverse and backed out of your driveway, leaving you standing there clueless, your feet rooted down as if weighted down by the heaviest of anvils.

You went back inside, trying to make sense of what just happened. You picked up your phone and saw a text from Max, followed by a picture.

It was a picture of the two of you from earlier, passionately kissing.

‘Wonder what Boyfriend Dearest thought when he saw this picture. You sure you want to sign those papers?’

Fuck. Max had tricked you. He had planned this. He sent Joel the picture.

And then realisation hit. The passive face. The unread texts. Jen’s wedding ring. The suitcases.

He had left you. He had gone back to his wife.

---

The Beginning

[ang3lmoans]

Watching Garam lick his fingers was something Angel would never forget. The man continued to surprise him. we should've done this sooner. He couldn’t agree more. But instead Angel laughed softly as he placed another kiss to the top of the man’s head. Angel laid beside the man and smiled as he protested him taking a bath. He wouldn’t argue, Angel wanted nothing more than to keep Garam in his arms. And hearing the man say he was happy filled him with joy. That’s all he ever wanted for Garam. Was for him to be happy. And to know that he was the cause was the icing on the cake. What he was not expecting were the kisses that followed. And those kisses soon turning into bites. He couldn’t help but let out breathless moans as his arms tightened around his best friend. His bottom lip soon caught between his teeth as he tilted his neck to allow the man better access to it. Angel’s mind was completely blank. He could only focus on the kissing and bites to his neck that were driving him insane. But he kept himself calm, knowing this was it for the day. They had crossed many lines in one day and they both needed a break. No matter how horny they both seemed to be. He cared for Garam too much to allow urges to block their genuine feelings for each other. Or more importantly their friendship. When the smaller man seemed satisfied with his markings and let up Angel let out a breath, “You are going to be the death of me” he teased running his hands slowly down the man’s back. As Garam gave him his rule he smirked. Angel knew he could hold out but he wondered if his friend could. “Really only on your neck? What if I want to leave one here?” Angel asked as his fingers gazed over the man’s thigh. “Or maybe here? I think this would be a perfect spot” he continued to tease moving his fingers from his thigh to Garam’s ass. He left a little tap before grabbing it grinning, “Mm, I don’t mind waiting until they are gone. Do I get to make a rule?” Angel asked enjoying their banter. “For every day I have to wait. That’s how many times you cum” Angel was sure to press a kiss to the man’s cheeks as he spoke and moving to whisper in his ear. As they both pulled back Angel smiled being able to see the man clearly now. His eyes softened as Garam spoke taking in what he was saying. His tone seemed serious yet nervous. He used his free hand to brush some loose strands from his face. An eyebrow raised as the smaller man began to stumble over his words and his cheeks turned a shade of pink. As Garam hid his face away Angel let out a chuckle and nodded, “Okay baby I got it. I’ll keep that in mind.” He squeezed the man against him kissing the side of his head. As they laid there in silence for a moment Angel’s mind began to wander. He wasn’t ready for full intercourse. The idea of it scared him. He truly didn’t know how his body would react. Yes, when he was around Garam in the beginning he would flinch or stiffen whenever the man touched him. He wished he could make sense of it. Why his body reacted that way. But what he did feel is safe with Garam. And right now safety was everything for Angel. “Garam, I didn’t think I was ready or anything. Especially not for whatever the hell we just did. But you make me feel safe. And I’m happy it was with you”

his lips parted, thinking angel was going to finish in his mouth like he had so graciously done for garam but the man hadn't. garam flinched slightly as he felt warm liquid shoot onto his face and lips, which eventually dripped into his mouth. a hand lifted to wipe away what had spilled onto his cheeks, bringing it to his mouth to lick his fingers clean. he was left smiling once angel had fallen back to lay down, eagerly taking a hold of his fingers when the man reached out to him. "we should've done this sooner." the words that left his lips so carelessly probably should have remained in his head.

garam smiled after being pulled to lay against the other's chest, his hand balling up to rest just below angel's ribcage curled up underneath his own chin. it'd been so long since he was actually given the opportunity to cuddle with somebody. "it's okay," his voice was small as he tried to hide his excitement from something others might have seen as so insignificant. he was quick to start shaking his head when the other mentioned garam needing a bath, though with the position they were both laying in, he wasn't able to shake it very much. "i think i want to stay right here." he countered as he shifted to press his nose against angel's chest, inhaling deeply. his lips were pressed next, trailing soft kisses up the other's neck until his nose nudged against angel's earlobe. only a second later, garam was taking that same earlobe between his lips and tugging on it gently. "i'm really happy," he whispered before nuzzling his face into angel's neck. he didn't stop there, though. garam continued kissing the man's neck, those kisses quickly turned into sucking as he was determined to leave a mark on the other's skin. it was an act done out of pettiness, not something he thought through, as he wanted there to be something clear and visible left of their time spent together. a mark that he was sure darius would see, assuming the man would see angel again before the marks faded. he knew his intentions were in the wrong place, he knew angel would probably be upset if garam were to clue him in on why he was doing this. but he needed the third party to know that angel was off limits, there was zero chance garam would let anything happen between the two of them beyond the kiss they shared outside angel's apartment. "i haven't gotten to do this in a long time," he continued to whisper, alternating between kissing and sucking the skin of angel's neck. when he was satisfied with the work he'd done, garam pulled away to look down at the few little burgundy marks now on angel's neck and smiled. he brought his hand up to run his finger over the larger mark, one he'd intentionally made in the shape of a love heart. "this is the only place you're allowed to leave marks on me," he said, tapping the mark he'd left. "you can do anything you want to me as long as you follow this rule. and if you break the rule, you don't get to touch me until the mark you made is gone." garam probably wouldn't follow through with the last part of his request, it'd feel more like a punishment for himself rather than for angel. he pushed himself up a little bit, still resting the majority of his upper torso on angel but he wanted to actually get a good look at the man underneath him. "i know i talked about wanting someone to be gentle with me but you don't have to if you like it rough. i like that, too, but there are also going to be times where i want things to be nice a-and intimate and, you know, not just fucking. and i know you're not ready to actually do stuff like that but what we did, if it happens again—" he paused, feeling his cheeks heating up. garam hated that he felt embarrassed talking about stuff like this, especially since he was so open about it when he wasn't sober. "i liked that you let your, um—" he paused again, a bashful smile creeping over, "your urges take control. your hips, you—" his eyes closed as he let his face fall back down to the crook of angel's neck. "you can fuck my mouth whenever you want." garam whispered, unable to actually look at the other.

[elfieafterdark]

All right, 353 a.m. is the perfect time to talk about Commander fucking Wake. Embrace yourself for some stream of consciousness on the chaddest woman to ever live (/neg), the peak of toxic masculinity (this is just a joke)

First of all, can we all appreciate a woman who hates something so much that she becomes that thing, to kill the thing? Can we appreciate a woman who hates necromancers so much that she pilots around a necromancer's corpse, just for a chance to kill God 2.0?

Elaborating a little further, it's incredible that a bunch of 10,000-year-old virtually immortal assholes hold her in such high regard, considering that she's just a normal person. Wake doesn't have any special powers other than the power of her unyielding rage.

Woman literally too angry to die, guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree huh?

But really, she is the literal antithesis of motherhood. She didn't intend to get herself pregnant, she wanted to use some random eggs to create her baby bomb. When there were no other options, she dated herself, which I guess is admirable but damn. DAMN!

Ma'am, you don't have to slam the entire baby against the blood rune you know right? Just a little bit will do? Ma'am? Ma'am put down that baby.

Putting the jokes aside for a minute, she is so devoted to her cause that she is willing to murder her own daughter. And it's time for me to reverse my narrative here, because that's fucking horrifying.

Jesus h Christmas in a handbasket what the fuck? Girl must be immune to oxytocin, because that's the most unhinged shit imaginable.

And yet, there has to be just a little bit of humanity left in her. When she sees Harrowhark with her daughter's eyes, KNOWING that Gideon is inside her, she seems happy. Tasmyn even mentions as much in the narrative.

I don't have the answers for this character, and I seriously doubt we're going to get them. Which just makes her so fucking compelling to me, what the hell makes her tick?? I absolutely need to know.

If anyone else has any opinions or theories on Wake, feel free to reblog or comment or whatever 💖 I'm going to try to be more active again now that it's the new year. So expect more TLT nonsense.