#hopefully this is mostly coherent

[crimeronan]

Would love so so much for you to elaborate on the happiest looks for the oc quartet and what took you by surprise about them and what you think each of them conveys/implies. Sol I'm seeing longer hair and more comfortable less exposing clothing, etc, but can you talk a little about what each of their happiest option looks means and how it took you by surprise and how it contrasts with the reality and why it would be them at their best? thank you!! if you do

oh this is so sweet 🥺 thank u for permission to infodump about my guys.....

reference images here!

i often joke that devin and i have the same gender feelings in opposite directions, which basically boil down to, "i know i'd be a lot happier with my body on prescription hormones, but i am Way too sick right now to give a fuck."

so like. a happier devin is one who's been on E for years and grown her hair out for just as long. i was taken by surprise by Just How Femme she was (...similar to me having some weird masc revelations doing the same exercise for my idealized self).

also was mildly surprised that her clothing remained exactly the same as in the main verse. i played around with all the other clothing options, but a black tank top + ratty pants + bare feet are all Quintessential Devin Items.

the very visible scarring is bc she's never cared if people see that her body is fucked up & i want that to be true in the happy timeline too.

ruby's surprised me in that i didn't have to change much at all to get her Idealized External Self. she's already pretty true to what brings her joy. in professional environments, her clothes are much more muted, but everything she's wearing could come out of her non-work wardrobe.

her hair is worn fluffy instead of in box braids because she would Love to dye her natural hair like this. however she does Not love the need to carve out time and motivation to maintain it every damn day for the rest of fucking eternity, so. box braids it is!

also important is that ruby isn't wearing anything practical. those sandals aren't safe for difficult hikes/on-your-feet labor. that skirt is a massive mound of fabric. that jewelry gets in the way, that shirt has no armoring or support, she hasn't prioritized pockets or a practical bag or hidden defense weapons or anything. this ruby is free of basically all of the responsibility and weight dragging her main timeline self down

sol's long hair surprised me -- she had long hair when she was much younger & she has not wanted to grow it out again for trauma reasons. but she likes it better long. so a long-haired sol is one who's overcome at least some of her trauma. her hair has been silver since birth but the white streaks signify that she's aging gracefully & older than she ever expected to become

as for her clothes, it's comfy athletic wear that she's wearing for the sake of mobility and comfort. (with the red-and-black shoes to sneak in a little of her murder aesthetic.) in the main timeline, she'd SAY that she dresses for herself, but the amount of sharp & tailored & restrictive clothing she wears is.... Definitely for other people. or at least, it's for preserving her own image toward other people.

and then transmasc butch nova. LMAO. GOD.

main timeline nova puts an insane amount of effort into "i'm a pretty barbie girl <333" and has sunk So Much of her self-worth into being blonde and blue-eyed and glowing and gorgeous. she also has watercolor sleeve tattoos, but when i did her full-body picrew tats, black ink felt..... more correct. like. what would your tats look like if you weren't a Rainbow Goddess of Light

and then the rest of it is also very. what would you be if you weren't a Rainbow Goddess of Light. if you take away all the Rainbow Goddess of Light features, nova is.... desperately unhappy. and desperately compensating for something. and i think having top surgery and working as a butch car mechanic somewhere would fix her.

as for the pink shoes and hot topic jewelry, that's just bc i think nova would find it fun to do gnc nonsense. nova-without-divinity isn't A Man or fully married to doing Man Things... i feel like it would be wrong for her to just go as gung-ho for performative masculinity as her main timeline self does for performative femininity. nova-without-divinity is wearing whatever she wants and looking however she wants and being hilarious and delightful while she does it <3 god bless.

[raayllum]

Moving forward, what do you think is going to be Claudia's motivating Drive?

Viren, at least, was always able to tell himself that he was working for the sake of the Greater Good, but that's not something Claudia has ever cared all that much about-- her first, last, and only real concern has always been her Family. With that pillar removed (not that I think Viren is about to disappear completely, but he's definitely not going to be directly involved with her in quite the same way), what does she have left to fight for?

I mean, obviously Revenge can be a powerful driving motivator-- the whole series kicked off with revenge-induced assassinations, so we know that's not exactly nothing, and I can definitely see it being something pushing Claudia further down her current path.

But (IMHO) the story has also been moving somewhat further away from Cycles of Revenge, and I just can't see that being a strong enough motivator for Claudia when counterbalanced against everything our Heroes are fighting for. (Especially with Soren still holding out hope for her and being a weak chink in her armor.)

What's the piece I'm missing?

In a lot of ways, perpetuating the Cycle has always, indeed, been about seeking Revenge for the loss of loved ones.

Rayla: When I first came here, I was on a quest for revenge. But the minute I saw that egg, everything changed. Now, this is a journey of redemption. / I became so obsessed with revenge that I risked losing the best thing I ever had: you. Ezran: I'm sorry about what happened to your father, and what happened to mine. But we don't have to avenge them. We don't have to strike back. We can't choose peace. Callum: Then it's a cycle. You hurt me, someone will get revenge against the elves. It won't end.

This is also one of the key things that, at first, set Soren and Claudia apart from the bulk of the main cast. At first, Harrow and Viren weren't seeking revenge (the Magma Titan) but then they both succumbed to it (killing Thunder) and it continued to snowball from there. In spite of losing their families, Callum, Rayla, and Ezran chose to shed the cycles of revenge their parents (Harrow and Runaan) had partaken in to try and break it instead.

Conversely, Soren and particularly Claudia have been largely removed from the Cycle of Revenge... until 3x09 and firmly in 5x09. Soren and Claudia lost a family member, but their mother is alive and chose to leave. While they've experienced forms of loss, they've never had to literally grieve a death. Although Soren has complicated feelings about his dad, he's ultimately more relieved than anything else regarding his dad's death ("Dad is dead, Claudia. You don't have to do what he wants anymore"—4x07) and angry/despairing when it's reversed (yelling no in show / Soren snarled. “Why couldn’t you just stay dead?”—TDP Reflections: Strangers).

Aaravos dangled Viren over Claudia's nose like a carrot dangling from a stick, and she followed. He didn't offer her revenge, but a way to save her father. But the same trick won't work twice on her. Claudia isn't going to try to bring Viren back again — it'd be a repeat and wouldn't progress her character any further — but she also can't walk away from Aaravos, because she's our sole primary antagonist outside the mirror and still might have a role in freeing him. And if she walks away from Aaravos, she's also going to be walking out of the plot, and we can't have that. Thus, I think power — and subsequent revenge — is about the only thing Aaravos would have left to offer her.

It gives her an incentive to 1) go after the prison and/or 2) generally do Aaravos' bidding, and if she couldn't defeat the trio without his help the first time, allying herself with him is the biggest way she can level up as a threat in terms of just like, power scaling.

There are also still a few bits of information that Aaravos knows but Claudia doesn't (that Rayla was responsible for Viren's death, and that Viren lied in 3x03; although for the latter, that's more something she couldn't or wasn't willing to accept) that could spur her further into well, going wonderfully apeshit.

Revenge is more of a fine motivator for her in 4x09 (tricking Rayla, although Terry gets her to turn around) and in S5 with the dragon (smirking and smiling about having the upper hand, making it scared of her) and in her altercations with the trio.

So yeah, my vote is on revenge — for better or definitely worse!

Obligatory fanon s6 fic plug in because of Claudia's revenge arc getting underway

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

ok so I actually completed SotO's new story chapters on day 1, but I've taken a little while to put my thoughts together on it. some of it's good, some not, but I did my best to be fair and direct on it.

so anyway here we go, major spoilers under the cut!

The Good

I like the map, I like the writing direction, I like the lore. I liked most of what we got, honestly. dungeon fixes, customizable character screen backgrounds, bugfixing the new 'green circles' mechanic, and adding a mount ley-line toggle are also all huge things that people have been wanting, and I'm very very glad they listened.

Peitha is shaping into an absolutely fascinating character too, and it's getting a lot more obvious why she connected to the Wayfinder so quickly... they feel very much cut from the same cloth, two strong leaders fighting to make their worlds better. and yet they're also burdened by the weight of that choice, and the sacrifices that must be made for their vision to be made into reality.

moments like this hit me like a bag of bricks; there's so much going on in the Kryptis homeworld. it's fascinating starting from the perspective of the Ward, seeing them all as just these vicious invaders... to now finding out they have names, ambitions, homes, maybe even families. we're told time and time again that their motivation is fear. the Wanderer, Irja, the little grunts we kill en masse to power the beacons, even Heitor herself.

'There's a version of this world where she joined us.'

like... just thinking about that. man. a version where Heitor hadn't lost hope so completely that by the time we come along, Peitha informs us that she wanted to die-- if only because she knew that at least we'd make it quick. it's horrifying to think about on its own, but the reality that it didn't have to be that way makes it so much worse.

it's... such a clear illustration of why their world has to change. they're fighting and dying to preserve the status quo not because it brings them comfort or privilege, but because they've been living in hell for so long that they don't believe an alternative exists. for as alien as the Kryptis seem to us, we're every bit as alien to them.

it feels like there's a really solid direction here, and I hope that it continues being solid through to the end. I could talk WAY more about my feelings on the story, but I'd better keep going.

I also like the Convergences; they're fun and I hope they survive. having public vs private instanced content seems to cause issues with publics staying populated long-term though, which... concerns me. I STRONGLY prefer publics just because you can bring Jade Bot protocols in, which makes it easier to travel freely and keep boons.

and now that I've dug into all that, uh... let's get to the less fun stuff.

The Bad

there's a lot of things to like about this release, but there's also a lot to... Not. the main 'drop' for Convergences outside of raw essences are Concealed Unstable Kryptis Essence Coffers... lootboxes which can only be opened with an Unstable Kryptis Motivation, which at the moment costs... upwards of 10 Gold per pop if you buy them off the TP. the only other way to get them is grinding tier 2 and 3 rifts, and good luck getting one because they're RARE.

I do not like this direction, for a LOT of reasons. the biggest one should be pretty obvious: it's making a portion of the victory rewards inaccessible to players who can't shell out the gold or the rift farm time to get the keys OUTSIDE the Convergence. the other is that the rewards aren't even worth 11 Gold anyway, so the coffers are dropping rapidly in price while the keys stay high. at this point it's arguably better to just sell the keys on the TP than to ever actually use them. the market on these is gonna get wacky I'm sure.

I don't want to see that become a trend. just.......... no.

the other main gripe I have is that... there's no portal of entry in and out of Inner Nayos. no, really. you can't get in and out at all without porting one way or another. it's right next to the Wizard's Tower but there is no entry point connecting these two maps. I thought I was going insane at first so I turned on the story again while in the Wizard's Tower to see if it'd point me towards a door. nope! it just sticks the story star icon on the Inner Nayos map and calls it a day.

aside from making travel in and out unnecessarily irritating and costly, this also means that you can't easily get alts into the dang map without a TP to friend. otherwise you have to do the story on them, whether you're ready and willing to or not.

I don't like that shift either, and really hope they remedy it when the 'under construction' gate opens in the future. that said, that should have been made available as soon as you finish the story.

and now the final segment, you know where this is going.

The Ugly

it's... short. really, really short. like, no, really. I finished all the story chapters in an hour and a half tops. now at maybe three, four days in I already have enough mastery points to top off the last mastery in the new line. I've map completed the new zone twice. both of the new Vault tasks are done. everything went so so so so fast.

and for reference: this cycle is going to last even longer than the last, based on the Vault reset time period.

additionally, the weaponmaster training underwent a stealth change: the new weapons can no longer be equipped on characters under level 80. this was not listed in the update notes. while that didn't affect me, it does seem kind of cheap to pull the rug on that when a lot of players were using that to level their characters since, well... a lot of core weapons just aren't that great. I can't really blame anyone who would rather use weapons that don't hit like a wet paper towel.

there have also been some... interesting bugs on release, of which the biggest one was unlimited hero's chests per day from the Inner Nayos meta. some people got a month's worth of chests in one day before they turned the chest drops off entirely to fix it.

they're back now, but that was still... something to behold.

I've also heard rumors that the new Legendary Kit from the Vault may be bugged; some players are reporting opening the kit and getting nothing out of it. I can't confirm how frequent that issue is, but... yeah that's a little concerning. I'll hold onto mine for now, just to be safe.

Overall Impression

despite the many sore points mentioned, overall I'm... okay with it. I like what we got, but I wish there was more there to like. from the much smaller Vault selection, to the shorter story, to the single-waypoint but otherwise very cool map that feels like it could have more going on in certain areas... I dunno.

but on the other hand... if my biggest complaint is that I like it enough to want more of it, that's an alright problem to have when we know we're going to get more. I'd be more worried if what we got was a miserable slog and I didn't even want to return to the maps-- and in fact, the opposite is true! I want to return to the map frequently and I want more to do in it-- and mostly I want easier access to it.

my hope is that the slowdown is an indication of resources being put into other backend work, such as the dungeon fixes, the character select screen, and so on. because, realistically, if they can fix up the core more, that would streamline their workflow a LOT and make it easier and quicker to work on things in the future.

I guess in short, my impression is... tentatively optimistic.

that's all I've got on it for now, maybe I'll talk about story more in-depth in the future though because boy I do have a lot of thoughts on that-- which... is part of why I had to redo this post like 6 times. it kept getting way too long and rambly over story. (oops)

[ourceliumnetwork]

apparently we're not out of the woods on holiday trauma responses just yet - i'm hoping we're on the tail end of it but like. good lord.

[lemontongues]

btw if i normally talk to you on a regular basis and im not lately its bc im floating in The Haze ♡

[alybur635]

I see neji being like possessive of others in ships x reader whatever do you think he would be possessive of naruto cause i honestly do not see it really same for the jealousy on what the other anon said on a different ask can't see it

Ooo I had to think about this one for a bit, I'll be honest. And while I think Neji wouldn't be the type to be overly possessive in a toxic manner (esp. not in a way that causes him to take it out on his s/o), I can see him having bare hint of such.

So for him that lil possessive streak is more inline to like how cats may act. Like how they kinda glance at other new cats or kittens their owner might like? Yea that seems a bit like a Neji thing to me.

He's the kind of dude to walk up to his partner and link an arm around his and either stand there or immediately offer to take Naruto somewherehe knows the blonde would like (as a way to stake a claim and to sort of reassure himself) if he saw someone making a serious pass at Naruto for whatever reason. Realistically tho, most of the time Neji would be side-eyeing because you cannot tell me bro wouldn't give the biggest side eye to anyone flirting with his partner.

But again, it isn't done in a manner that makes it overly-possessive behavior. It's more of Neji acting on the fact ppl having the audacity to flirt with his partner in front of him. I mean Naruto would probably also find something funny all of this because of the fact it's coming from NEJI of all people.

BUT but I sort of lean to the side of believing this to be sort of like a newer or mid-relationship sort of deal. Esp. around the point Neji is learning to let himself be a bit more open emotionally and not shut everyone away from him. By the time the two of em are later along in their relationship, I can't see Neji acting on that lil feeling anymore; by now he's been beyond self assured that nothin gonna happen.

[seasaltandcopper]

For the character questions, for A'mahl! 1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy? 23. How do they respond to difficult social moments? What makes them consider a social situation difficult? 41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why?

Aaa thanks for the ask! Very excited to get to ramble a little. Sorry this took so long I am so so sleepy today xD

1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

A'mahl is, in a word, adhd, and his two modes tend to be "high" and "off". When he's in motion he can be a bit of a whirlwind, and he gravitates towards physical, high-adrenaline outlets.

In general, Mahl carries himself with an easygoing, but relatively energetic confidence. He's light and fast on his feet, and his (canon) training as a Monk blends fantastically with his natural agility and inclination for acrobatics. Best quality: his wiggles.

Even when he's 'relaxing' and engaging with less strenuous pastimes (usually tinkering with some kind of magitek whatsit or doodad), Mahl struggles to really sit still. He fidgets. Taps his fingers or feet. Chews on things. Combs his hands through his hair, or strokes his tail. Climbs the bookshelf because he just couldn't focus while sitting in the chair. He often mumbles or hums to himself while he works, too.

(And when he's in "off" mode, Mahl just likes to sleep. He is a Miqo'te, after all, and he's very fond of his naps. Yes, he will drag friends and family down with him too—what are you going to do, move while there's an adorable, sleepy catboy on your lap? No one's that heartless.)

 23. How do they respond to difficult social moments? What makes them consider a social situation difficult?

Social situations are not Mahl's strong suit, period. Even here, as a WoL, his natural charisma is...lacking. As is his tact. Even when he tries, the combination of poor impulse control, rampant sarcasm, and lack of internal filter frequently gets him into trouble. If he's lucky, this can come off as a sort of roguish or 'backwater' charm, and if he's unlucky he just reads as crass, rude, or openly antagonistic.

Mahl considers anything where he has to be tactful a difficult social situation. He loathes politics and diplomacy, to the point he can be something of a liability in extremely delicate situations where a light hand is needed more than a sharp tongue.

With close friends and loved ones, Mahl still tends to be blunt, he doesn't sugar coat things just to coddle. He tries to be earnest without the intent to hurt feelings. It still happens sometimes, but if he's in the wrong, he'll own up and apologize or try to make amends.

41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why?

Fire. Anger. Sex. The color red. Passion. Smiling, and baring bloodstained teeth. Adrenaline. Sarcasm. Zest for life. The lingering smell of smoke, sweat, and dust. A bit of an asshole, but one with a good heart underneath it all.

A survivor.

“What doesn’t kill me better run.”

(honestly this was the hardest to answer bc I could write pages about Mahl’s imagery and symbolism but my brain is kind of soup today so I feel like what I have here is pretty self explanatory lol)

[voidsumbrella]

imo hbomberguy's original video was an excellent rundown of the broader plagiarism issue, but todd in the shadows' fact check vid is really the reason im pissed at this specific guy, and gives me a bit less sympathy for people who fell for his shit tbh.

like missing the plagiarism and less like... relevant misinformation is one thing- im actually pretty sure i saw a post about the disney gay day thing go around a while back and went "huh neat" and moved on without checking, because why would i check that sort of thing, i don't care about the history of disney. and while we can collectively raise our eyebrows at people not picking up on the celluloid closet-tier theft, if you don't have any interest in more in-depth queer theory or history i does kinda track that you wouldn't know these books exist. i watch random essays as mildly informative background noise all the time; i'm not going to be able to cite any of the organic chemistry sources referenced, no matter how common knowledge it is in-field.

but holy SHIT so much of the facts he very confidently stated were such blatantly biased horseshit that they really should have pinged more radars than they did. i cannot fucking imagine listening to someone tell me that american soldiers primarily enlisted in wwii because the nazis were just so sexy and not thinking something was up there. claiming that subtlety in western movies wasn't invented until the 1960s while gushing over the homosexual subtext in disney cartoons is insulting to your audience's knowledge of their own pop culture, and also their grasp on linear time. if you thought his dig at western theater being entirely tell-don't-show held any water i have to assume you flunked english from 8th grade on, and have never seen a production in your life.

i have not watched his videos, and im not planning to, but frankly there is no amount of contextual padding that will make his commentary on asian media and culture in general less xenophobic and/or infantilizing. the kabuki/noh mixup and disregard for even reading the wikipedia article before discussing how their narratives work aside, the whole thing about the big scary chinese government padding their action movie box office numbers as propaganda exclusively designed to intimidate western audiences is 1) stupid as hell, and 2) yet another offshoot of the right-of-center sinophobia that's been circulating for the last couple five years and i really don't know why people are so willing to defend themselves by saying it isn't their fault that they uncritically swallowed his racist bullshit or accepted it as confirmation of their own biases.

i think that's actually what bothers me the most here. his entire platform was built on stealing other people's ideas and reframing them to tell his audience what they wanted to hear. and i get it! everyone wants to think they're smart and cool and know the real history behind everything, everyone wants to hear that they can continue to like the stuff they like that other people are pushing back against- attack on titan isn't really facist, disney has always been progressive, china's just as awful as you think it is- it's really easy to get suckered into that!! it sucks to hear someone you trusted is a liar, and it's embarrassing to get called out for believing something false, but some of this stuff crumbles so quickly under any measure of critical thinking that defending taking it as gospel is more of a self-own than anything else.

hopefully the current teardown has reminded everyone that people on the internet are frequently full of shit and passed out a few more tips on how to be smarter going forwards.

[haootia]

goals for june are to reread/watch media that makes me Feel Something and hopefully by july i will be able to synthesize that into meaningful artistic output

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Miscalculation

AN: I don't write nearly enough for Felix. Luckily, that SKZCode lab episode planted this idea in my head, and it's taken a viciously hold on me. Also, just to be super clear, despite Reader being a year old experiment, she's very much an adult. She came into the world that way. Also also, I edited this while sleepy so, hopefully it's coherent lol.

Synopsis: Your first heat hits you unexpectedly and violently one day. Thankfully, your favourite person pays you a visit in an attempt to comfort you through it. However, you both severely underestimate just how much your heat affects you. Especially around him.

General tags and warnings: Lee Felix x Fem! Reader, Scientist! Felix, Cat hybrid! Reader, lots of unethical research, Reader is an experiment, Felix tries his best to humanise Reader, doesn't really apply here but, since Reader is an experiment and Felix is a scientist there is the potential for a power imbalance, Reader is in heat, Reader is manipulative and maybe in love with Felix and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: heavy dubcon, mentions of masturbation and exploration of sexuality, virgin! Reader, kind of sort of fingering (f. receiving), humping/grinding, over the clothes touching, scent kink of sorts, clothes being ripped, nipple play (m. receiving), Reader takes charge a lot throughout this, little to no foreplay for Reader and a very unrealistic first time, piv sex without a condom, marking and clawing (m. receiving), biting (m. receiving), one mention of blood, possessiveness from Reader, dirty talk, praise and creampie.

Word count: 3.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Everything burns. 

Your blankets are a crumpled mess on your floor because you're certain you'll shred them into pieces with your claws if they so much as touch your overheated body right now. The persistent buzz of the air conditioner brings you no comfort. Sweat dots your forehead and you'd take off the oversized shirt that clings to your body within an instant if Doctor Bang, red faced and avoiding your frustrated gaze, hadn't insisted on some sense of propriety. Aren't these men supposed to be doctors? Trained medical professionals? Have they never seen a naked body before? He's lucky that he's the only one out of the three older men that you can somewhat stomach because if Doctor Lee or Doctor Seo had suggested you cover yourself, you would have hissed and clawed at them. 

A frustrated noise builds from the back of your throat when you can feel your sheets starting to grow damp underneath you. You've already had to change them five times in the past two days and, you feel like you're losing your mind. Actually, you just might be. Worse than the burning that emanates through your entire body and the non-stop sweat that clings to your skin no matter how many ice-cold showers you take, is the perpetual ache between your thighs. You're not stupid. This lab may be all that you've known for the entire year of your life but, you have basic instincts and common sense. Coupled with all of the sessions you're forced to sit through with Doctor Bang in an attempt to understand you and aid you in understanding yourself, you're more than aware you're aroused right now. Or ‘wet’ as Doctor Lee and Doctor Seo put it, much to the dismay of the older of the three. 

You just don't understand why. 

In the rare moments that you've wondered about your sexuality and sex in these sterile walls, it's rarely gone beyond a few curious pokes and prods at yourself. It's mostly been a neutral experience and you didn't derive much pleasure out of it. You're sure your limited knowledge and experience on the matter has hindered your ability to enjoy masturbation much but, it's not as though the four men will just give you the material or knowledge to help pleasure yourself. You're not even sure you care all that much.

Except for when you do. Thinking back to quiet nights where the silence and loneliness of the lab was too much for your mind to handle and masturbation crossed it as a hope for distraction. A brief escape from the life you've been forced to endure. So, you tried it. Flashes of a kind smile and blonde hair making your stomach twist in a way that wasn't unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Full lips and memories of a deep voice causing arousal to trickle onto your inexperienced fingers. You'd even managed to make yourself orgasm once. It was one of the few sincerely pleasant moments you've had. 

The rest centred around him too. 

“–she's deep in heat right now, Lix.” You recognise the voice as that of Doctor Bang. Your ears twitch atop your head in interest at the conversation he's having with the only doctor you've grown fond of. You're always grateful for your hearing abilities in moments like these. 

“We can't just keep her in the dark,” Felix argues and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Electricity zipping through you just at the sound of his voice and the knowledge that he's just beyond your bedroom door. The throbbing between your thighs worsens. 

“I know,” Doctor Bang sighs, “but, we won't be getting a shipment of suppressants until three days from now. We're just going to have to wait it out.” 

“We?” Comes Felix's incredulous reply, “We're not the ones suffering right now. I went to visit her last night Chris,” your eyes widen at the confession, “She was burning up and covered in sweat and, she's only had to deal with two days of it. You know it's not fair to her.” 

“What do you want us to do, Felix?” The older man argues, his voice heavy with frustration. 

“Treat her like a fucking person,” the younger man argues just as frustrated, “Tell her what's going on. We know she's incredibly smart. Maybe she has some biological way to make herself feel better that we haven't thought about or explored.” 

Silence stretches between the two for a few, long moments. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” comes Doctor Bang's resigned reply, “Look Lix, I know that you care about her and the two of you have always been close. Too close for what could be considered appropriate,” you snort at that. Now he cares about ethics and what's appropriate? How funny. “But, Minho, Changbin and I care about her too. She's not just some experiment to us,” you find that hard to believe, “We just know when it's appropriate to step back and keep our distance. This is one of those times. We're going to try and help her through it as best as we can but, we're going to wait for the suppressants then feed them to her. That's it. End of discussion.” The sounds of footsteps echoing through the hallway are all that accompany his words. 

Well, at least you finally know what's wrong with you. You're in heat. Something they've apparently known you're capable of experiencing and have been suppressing since you gained consciousness. The fact that they're so blasé about letting you suffer in your room and wait days until you're able to find any kind of reprieve boils your blood in a way that has nothing to do with your biology. Yeah, so much for caring about you. You haven't even seen Doctor Seo and Doctor Lee since your symptoms first started. You don't even notice your claws prodding in your anger. You should have attempted to escape on those rare trips Felix had taken you outside of the lab. Consequences be damned. At least you'd have a shot at a normal life. You should have never let his warm eyes and compassion keep you coming back to this hellhole. 

Your furious, internal tirade is interrupted by your door sliding open. You don't have to turn around to know that it's Felix. His scent always betrays him before anything else. The familiar mix of bamboo and vanilla hit your senses. However, unlike the other times you'd bask in his scent, now it worsens the thundering of your heart and you notice the slick between your thighs increasing. 

“Hey,” he says gently, shutting the door behind him. All you can think to do is stare at your wall wide eyed as his scent grows closer with every step he takes towards your bed. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth just at the smell of him and the soft timber of his voice adds to the pit forming in your stomach. Your hands desperately grabbing at your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It's just Felix.  

“I just wanted to check up on you,” he adds when his greeting is met with silence. You have to fight extremely hard to not let your tail move wildly and to keep your claws retracted when he sits down on the edge of your bed. Fuck. He's so close now and his scent is overwhelming. The smell that used to bring you comfort now puts you on edge. A feeling that you've only felt sparks of now sets your entire body alight and the ache between your thighs starts to become unbearable. He needs to leave before your heat causes you to do something very, very stupid. 

“I know you've been struggling a lot lately,” the apologetic tone to his voice melts your heart and your impulses yell at you to crawl into his lap and nuzzle at him until he no longer sounds upset, “I'm sorry. We should have told you this when it started but, you're in heat. That's what's causing you to feel this way,” he explains, as though you hadn't overheard (more like intentionally listened in on) his conversation with Doctor Bang. 

“I know you're probably mad at us, at me,” you want to tell him no, you could never be mad at him but, you're afraid that if you speak now, you'll say something you can't take back, “I'm truly sorry. The suppressants will be here in a few days. Till then though, I'm here for you,” he says softly, laying a hand gently on your arm in what you assume is an act of comfort but, it has the complete opposite effect. 

Your blood turns molten in your veins and the fog that's been on the edges of your mind swallows it whole. All you can think about is getting your hands on him. Touching him. Feeling him. Mating with him. You've never felt more animal than human. 

One of the major perks of being a cat hybrid, you've come to learn, is your quick movements. Before Felix can process it, you're sitting up and pressed to his side within an instant. The confusion and concern on his handsome face is so endearing. He's so cute. You just want to devour him. 

“Felix,” your voice sounds near unrecognisable to even your own ears, “I want you to help me with my heat,” you practically purr into his shoulder. Grasping his arm and delighting in the pretty flush that spreads across his face. The ache of your canines extending doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your mind focused on nothing else but, the man that's been your lifeline for the past year. 

“I–I um I ca–can't do that,” he explains, his voice sounding strained. His attempt to pull his arm away proves to be futile. Not that he was trying particularly hard anyway. “But, Lix,” you whine, pushing your body closer to his, your breasts pressing against his arm, “Didn't you say you'd help me?” 

The way he attempts to stammer out a reply just makes him so much cuter to you. Nothing but, instinct driving you to press yourself even closer to him. Delighting in the shudder you feel run through his body when your breath hits his exposed neck. “Don't you want to help me, Felix?” You ask with a desperate edge to your hoarse voice, one of your hands travelling down the span of his lab coat until you reach his soft hand. Moving it until it's between your slick covered, inner thighs, “It hurts, Lix.” 

Felix, for his part, looks absolutely shell-shocked. Warm, panicked brown eyes staring at you unblinkingly but, he doesn't move his hand. Not even when your own is no longer holding it. Your body moves on its own. Hips chasing the brush that his fingers offer. Your lashes fluttering at the pleasure courses through you. You feel so sensitive, even his barely there touch is enough to cause you to gush further onto his fingers. 

And Felix watches it all. Watches the way you clumsily try to hump his fingers. Watches the minute expressions of relief and desire and frustration that all cross your beautiful face. Watches the way your canines sink into your bottom lip. Feels the way your sharp claws dig into his lap coat. He doesn't miss a thing. 

Impulse and maybe a fraction of ration desire push you to tug on his button up shirt and kiss him. You're moving completely on what feels natural and what you've seen a couple of movies he's watched with you. It takes him a second to kiss you back. Tentatively following the movements of your lips and guiding you in more comfortable and enjoyable directions. You swallow his stuttered groan greedily when your tongue invades his mouth. Searching for more of him to explore. To taste. To burn into your memory. 

As nice as it feels to kiss him like you've thought about far too many times in the silence of your room and, use his fingers and hand to help satiate the persistent ache that sits in the pit of your stomach, it still all isn't enough. Not even close. This time, you moan into his mouth when one of your hands snakes its way down the front of his body until it comes to rest on his lap. A particularly painful throb coming from the apex of your thighs when you feel how hard he is beneath your touch. 

“So you do want this just as much as I do,” you sigh dreamily against his lips, sparks of desire shooting through your entire body with every palm of your hand over his clothed cock. All of his adorable, little noises making your walls clench. You don't think you've ever felt pain like this in your entire, short life. Saliva pools in your mouth as his scent wafts to you. Much heavier and headier than earlier. Beneath the anxiety and fear, the arousal makes its presence known clear as day. 

“W–Wait, I–” Whatever he was going to say is cut short by you shoving him onto your bed. His wide eyes, pupils blown out and completely swallowing his irises, meeting your lidded ones as he watches you straddle his slender hips. You've always thought he was a good-looking man but, he looks even better like this, underneath you. 

Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you press down on him. Your drenched folds coming in contact with the evident bulge in his dress pants. Resting your palms on his stomach, you start to move. Chasing the friction against your clit desperately. Not caring all about the mess you're making of his pants. Your eyes focused on watching the way he tries very, very hard not to lose himself in the way you grind against him. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he lays there and let's you use him. 

Fuck. What a cutie. 

His eyes shoot to your face when you use your claws to rip his blue button up open. While the colour looks absolutely lovely on him, you much prefer the sight of his bare chest. Your tongue running over your teeth at all the skin that you now have access to. 

“He–Hey, I think we should calm d–down a bit and–” Felix tries to interject, the drop in octave of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. You disregard his words easily. Leaning down to shut him up with your mouth while your hands busy themselves with exploring his chest. Your canines nipping his bottom lip when he gasps into you while you trace his nipples with your claws. Sensitive too. Perfect. 

“Why stop when I can feel how hard you are for me, Lixie?” You whisper against his full lips, fingers tracing random patterns into his nipples. His hips jutting up to meet your drenched core every time you touch him a little too harshly or drag yourself along his entire length. 

“Don't you want to just give in?” You ask, meeting his blown out eyes as your hands move their way along his lithe body until they reach his belt buckle. 

“I–I–” he stutters out when you sit back up so you can gain a better view of his frustrating belt. He must see you preparing to rip his pants off too because he stops you immediately, “I–It's okay, I got um it,” he quickly responds. You shift down him a little to provide him with space to unbuckle his belt. Fortunately, he doesn't take too long. You're sure your impatience is rolling off of you in waves. 

Much to your surprise given how bashful he's been, he tugs his pants and boxers down in one go. His hard, pre-cum covered cock slapping against his stomach in his rush, his eyes pointedly looking at everywhere but, you. 

It's one thing to feel him, it's a whole different matter entirely to have his cock right there, ready for the taking. And take, you do. It's adorable how red his face is and the way he sneaks glances at you shyly when you shift back up his body until your dripping pussy is hovering over his twitching cock. Your shirt sticks to your damp body uncomfortably and, the reminder that you're still wearing it is an unwelcome one. So, you simply tug it off. Exposing yourself freely and readily to his shy eyes. 

Not that he's all that shy when you're bare for him to fully drink in. Bruised lips parting as he watches you grasp his cock with an impatient hand and align it with your dripping hole. He doesn't stop you when you begin to sink down onto him. Strained whimpers falling from his pretty mouth with every inch you eagerly swallow. The stretch only stings a little. The sensation of his scorching cock dragging along your walls more than makes up for it. It's your turn to moan once he's fully sheathed inside of you. Your clumsy attempts with your fingers don't hold a candle to this. 

The way Felix chokes on your name when you start to move will forever be etched into your memory. The pleasure clear as day on his face spurs you along with the desire to feel him inside of you for as long as you can. To make love with him in this awful place that only he gave any semblance of meaning to. To mate with him. 

You lose yourself in the way his cock feels easily. Fluttering lashes threatening to shut every time he hits a spot inside of you that makes your pace falter and your claws dig into his soft stomach. The faint, pink lines that decorate his skin cause you to preen. They look gorgeous on his skin. They look like they belong there. Like they were meant to be there. Based on the way his hooded eyes switch from watching the expressions your face morphs into, the way your breasts bounce with every movement on his cock and the way you swallow as much of him as you can, you don't think he minds or cares all that much. 

Your skin grows impossibly hotter when his hands touch you. He's careful. Watching for any discomfort but, there's none to be found. If anything, you revel in the gentle hold his hands take of your hips. Not controlling your movements but just enjoying touching you while you bounce on his cock. 

You might actually love him. 

The thought prompts you to lean down and smash your lips to his once more. The metallic tang of blood lets you know that you nipped him too hard but he doesn't care all that much. Letting you take everything you need from him right now while he lets you. You can feel the way he throbs inside of you. He tries to stop himself but, you notice the way his hips sometimes jerk up to meet you, to move with you. And the knowledge that, on some level, he wants you just as much as you want him sends you into overdrive. 

His sharp inhale echoes through your room when you sink your canines into his neck. The punctures aren't deep but, they're more than enough to satisfy you. You're not sure why or how you knew to do that but, instinct has been your driving force all night and you're going to continue to trust it. 

“We're mated now,” you sigh, thumbing his flushed cheek. 

He just looks up at you for a moment, attempting to digest your words before responding, “Mate–Mated?” 

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, purring when you notice the way his twitches like crazy inside of you, “You're my mate now, and I'm yours,” you explain breathlessly. A tension you're barely familiar with building in the pit of your gut that you chase. 

“But we fuck can't–” his sentence is cut off by the drawn out moans from the depths of his chest, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you pick up your pace. He looks so attractive like this. A bruise already forming on his neck and his chest littered with faint marks from your claws. He's gorgeous. 

“I'm ah cl–close,” he gasps out, his glazed eyes meeting yours and his hands desperately gripping your hips, “You need to shit st–stop,” he manages to stutter out. You think it's amusing that he thinks you're going to stop now. Especially when you're just about to get what you want. Leaning down to his ear, you whisper, “Why, Lixie? You look so cute like this. Why would I ever want to stop?” You smile when you hear the way he whimpers and his cock pulses harder inside of you, “Don't you want to cum inside me?” His hold on you grows tighter, “I want you to. I want you to cum inside me until it's spilling out of me,” you emphasise your point by intentionally clenching around him, “For days.” 

That's all it takes for him to break. His cock throbbing as he shoots his cum into the deepest part of you. A mix of his whimpers and strangled moans of your name tickle your ears as his cum fills your eagerly awaiting pussy. Your tail swishes in glee and your ears twitch in happiness. Your own orgasm creeping up on you when you feel the last of his cum spill into you. Truly, the late nights alone in your bed could never compare to this. To him. Your first orgasm could never hold a candle to this. Your entire body is riddled with quivers and shakes, your wetness gushing onto Felix's softening cock. Your thighs are sticky with cum and you're drenched in sweat but, you've never been more at peace. 

For some time, your shared laboured breathing is the only sound in your room. Fondness bubbles up inside of you when you glance at his flushed, sweaty face. His golden hair sticking to his forehead while he takes some time to come back to himself. Your fingers move before you can even think about it. The fog retreating slightly while you play with his hair and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him while your combined releases trickle out of you. Much to your displeasure.  

You smile at him when he finally blinks his eyes open to meet yours. Your fingers ghosting over his mate mark as something primal and affectionate simmers in the pit of your stomach. He really is yours now. Your tail wraps around his leg without you even noticing. 

The smile he gives you is small but, it's still one of his smiles and the way your heart hammers in your chest lets you know he really was meant to be your mate. 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[familyvideostevie]

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

__

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

"time will tell" ... but what exactly?

i thought about making this reading because we are living at times when we all know that patience is a virtue, we all know that we should work on said virtue, and so on, yet, things move are always seemingly moving in the fastest chaotic way possible. for some of us, embracing uncertainty and the absurd ways of the universe is hard. so hopefully there's something in here that helps you to have a clearer vision on what is meant to come to you with time and experience.

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws & @cafekitsune pngs by: @florietas

pile number one pile number two

pile number three pile number four

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

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before starting with this reading i just want to say that my heart goes to anyone on the united states that feels disappointed and is going through emotionally stressful situations due to the results of the elections. at times like this is important to find empowerment and safety by taking care of our peers and participating our communities, political organization is just as important as caring for one another. having a right wing president who borders fascism is not a great experience, i have my own alt right president here in south america, but surviving these moments is easier when you find strength alongside the people who share your ideals.

we don't owe tolerance to those who are intolerant, our time is always better spent when we are building the future we want or doing our best to face the adversities of the present. please, do not allow others to take away your humanity and your hopes.

・₊✧⋆ pile number one ⭒˚｡⋆

If someone ever told you that your expectations are unrealistic, they are not wrong, but not entirely right either. I think you're someone who unconsciously tries to be aware of every possible outcome and every single detail, it's quite a hyper vigilant way of approaching things and also a quite anxiety inducing one. I wouldn't say your expectations are unrealistic, but I would definitely say they are realistic in the context of the millions of head scenarios you have going on. Some emotions are being limited by logic and some logics are being limited by emotion. There are plenty of experiences that are coming your way in order to give you the opportunity to be more present in the moment instead of experiencing things mostly in your head. You need time to further develop your judgment, as of now it is something that is in an adolescent state, not because of immature or juvenile thinking, but because you are going through a, hopefully, slightly painful phase of your mental growth. Think of it as existential growing pains. You might have too much information, too much to think about and too much to feel about, it's a very difficult moment for you to maintain a self perceived stable or coherent point of view at all times. Take this time to comprehend what's making you feel paralyzed and unable to move forward mentally, and then you can begin doing something about this conjunction of mental and emotional stress.

・₊✧⋆ pile number two ⭒˚｡⋆

What I get from this combination of cards is that you are becoming more aware of the things that are threatening your higher self. From the Queen and the Page I can see that you are usually almost confident enough in what you bring to the table in terms of material achievements that are easily recognizable, although not always perceived or valued enough by yourself or others. I don't think I want to say there's someone or yourself gaslighting you into belittling yourself, but I do want to mention that it's likely that there's a sketchy energy near you or at least the cards are giving a heads up about negative reactions to you doing your thing and, to say simply, slaying it. What it is safe to say tho is that with time you will learn who is worthy of your generosity and your companion. It's key that you understand that any kind of success you achieve is not only valuable because of what you got from it, the value comes from what you did to get said achievements. With this in mind, don't hesitate to avoid others who drain your energy and misuse your time. Your presence by itself it's already enough for others to benefit at your cost. This is not something meant to give you a reason to be overly distrustful, this is to give you reasons to set boundaries, specially for yourself, in order to make sure whoever or whatever brings you down, it's out of your way. If people see the respect you have for yourself, it's more likely they are not even trying to waste your time.

・₊✧⋆ pile number three ⭒˚｡⋆

.

Being emotionally attached to the person you were in the past is obstructing your path towards further personal and existential growth. I definitely understand that sometimes the only thing that gives us a sense of stability is our own identity, and our power to define ourselves in our own terms. I don’t think you are afraid to grow or to evolve as a person, but I can see that right now you are resisting change by ignoring your intuitive need to expand your limits and find out about all the things, the positive and negative,that you choose to ignore because of old fears and anxieties. It’s very likely you know exactly what to do or what to keep and what to let go off,  you certainly are aware of where to go and how to get there. What's conflicting with your ambitions right now is that you have exhausted yourself by never taking the time to appreciate how far you already are from plenty of situations that have restricted your authentic self. I honestly understand what it's like to make a lot of progress after moving away from tough situations only to realize there is more work to do in order to restore or find an integral state of peace of mind and contempt. In your case, you’re lucky because sooner or later your emotions will lead you to how you can be truthful to yourself and experience life without any of the weight from limiting perceptions that other people have imposed on you. Many things have limited time in our lives, don’t miss out on them.

.

・₊✧⋆ pile number four ⭒˚｡⋆

.

Don't force yourself to be the first to do anything or the best at anything if you're comparing yourself to others. It is not fair to set your expectations about yourself by looking at what is supposably perfect or highly desirable, yet not a true reflection of what you as an individual can accomplish in a way that's genuine to your personal journeys. It's necessary that you embrace your experiences, putting yourself and your own ideals as the guide for what it means to advance and grow. Time will show you how to build a stronger confidence in your core beliefs and how to act upon them with the efficiency and courage you might be needing right now. This will develop as you become more comfortable with allowing yourself to fail, and to learn from said failures by setting structures to support the process of becoming more connected to a higher sense of self worth. You are going through a process in which key communicational aspects are at play;  many of your personal achievements will depend on your ability to share your ideas with others before taking any kind of action, as many things you’ll do will have long lasting effects. This is why I would recommend making sure you can really align your actions, your communication and your goals directly to yourself and the roots of your ideals. Don’t hurry up, it takes time to evolve and you will certainly do so by comprehending how equally confused, disoriented and impulsive we all are, and how that’s nothing anyone can ignore for too long.

.

if you enjoyed this post, maybe you should check out the rest of my account <3 and keep an eye open for ask games and a tarot reading giveaway (but lets not hurry too much about it please im still figuring out the logistics of a tumblr giveaway jajaja)

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⋆bookings for personal readings are open ཐིཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[revelboo]

DUDE I LOVE YOUR WRITING EEEK! ^v^ if you’re not too busy and want to, may I request a second part to the Jazz story you just wrote where he accidentally broke the readers leg :)

Over it Now pt 2

Jazz x Reader

• “No, no, come on. Stop,” he growls under his breath, curling his servos around your middle as you try to wriggle free while still screaming. For such a little thing, you have some impressive lungs. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you.” Again. Grimacing at the cast on your leg, he holds up his free hand. “Scout’s honor.”

• You stop screaming. Mostly to suck in a deep breath to start screaming again, when the big, monster robot, carefully sets you down and holds up both hands, palm out. “We’re cool,” it says, voice low and soothing. “Don’t freak out. Everything’s cool.”

• It feels like your heart is going to pound its way right out of your chest as you shift yourself to stretch out your aching leg. Those big hands are still up in surrender and it’s easier to breathe without it touching you. Because it was real. Really real. And it’s staring at you. “What are you?” Not exactly what you mean to say, but it’s what your panicked brain blurts out.

• “Cybertronian.” So far so good. He lowers his hands since you don’t appear to be gearing up for another screaming session just yet. “Name’s Jazz.”

• “Is that- are you-what? An alien. Robot. Car?” Maybe you’re really still in the hospital bed. Drooling on the pillow from whatever painkillers they gave you. Having a good old time. You certainly don’t feel coherent.

• “Yeah, but I’m more the come in peace kind than the bursting out of your chest type,” it says, shoulders and those weird door wings lifting as it gives an uncannily human shrug. A surprised snort escapes you, because this thing knows pop culture references? Now that you’re calming down enough to actually look at the thing, the car it changed from is pretty obvious. There’s the tires. The hood. “Sorry about the leg,” it adds, distracting you from your absent minded inventory of parts.

• Right. Giant robot had dropped a tree almost on top of you. Accidentally? Hopefully accidentally. “It’s fine.” It’s really not fine, but you don’t have the guts to tell this thing off. Mostly because you don’t want to be smushed like an ant if you make it angry.

• “What were you doing out there in the dark?” Jazz asks, the human’s face reddening slightly at the question, their eyes drifting toward the tree line. As they try to shift themselves, face twisting in discomfort, he reaches for them. Freezing when their eyes widen. “I’m not going to hurt you, doll.” Moving slowly to not spook them, he curls his servos around them to help them sit up. It’s almost unsettling how soft and warm they are, the way he can feel their little heart racing against his servos.

• “I heard the crash and thought someone might be hurt.” It’s shockingly gentle for being so big. Those hands can seriously hurt you if it wanted to. If Jazz wanted to. That wry expression on its almost too human face speaks of guilt. Maybe it feels bad for hurting you. Previous Next

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 1)

A night of relaxation at the inn. Inspired by a cursed screenshot of Astarion looking loopy, drunk and high.   

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, tbc in part 2

Comfort, fluff, humour, banter, goes from very silly to very horny 

Bits that are definitely not canon that were written solely for my (and hopefully your) amusement. 

TW: It’s all very much in jest, but maybe give this one a skip if you’re struggling with any kind of substance addiction.  

Approximately 2,000 words 

AO3

“Don't be ridiculous, these silly druidic herbs have absolutely no effect on me, vampires have a natural immunity. Pass me the pipe again, I’ll prove it,” Astarion giggled uncontrollably.  

“Just hold on to it, friend, I don’t think anyone else will benefit from it,” replied Halsin. 

You, Astarion, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were gathered in one of the inn’s rooms.  

Gale and Wyll were off doing whatever people who didn’t like having fun did. Possibly playing chess or reciting poetry to each other. And Lae’zel had had one look at your gathering before chk’ing, saying that someone competent needed to keep a cool head, and stalking off. 

You and Astarion were sitting crosswise on one of the beds, you nestled between his legs, your back against his chest. Shadowheart lounged on the opposite bed, with Karlach and Halsin settling on the floor between the beds.  

A scattering of glasses and opened bottles surrounded you, and a light haze hung in the air. Tadpoles, vampire lords, demons and gods could all wait until tomorrow. Tonight, for all you cared, all was well in your world.   

Earlier, Halsin had laid out an assortment of herbs, most of which you couldn’t name, and busied himself with mixing them in varying proportions and stuffing them into several smoking implements. Karlach had declined, saying there was no point and that she would stick to grog. You and Shadowheart partook in Halsin's ‘herbalist mastery' together with the druid. And now, to everyone's disbelief and amusement, so did Astarion. 

“What in the hells is in this?!” Astarion tittered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut and an idiotic smile on his face. You couldn’t look at him, lest it set off yet another chain reaction of giggling. 

“Part of it is moonflower, which mostly serves as an amplifier,” Halsin answered, cautiously. 

“And? What else?” You wondered whether whatever it was might help Astarion with his nightmares. The scent of the herb was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.  

“Wait! I want to guess.” Shadowheart leaned over to whisper to Halsin. He shook his head at her suggestions. Once he whispered back to her with the correct answer she collapsed on the bed with a guffaw. “Oh gods... So it is official.” 

“Halsin...” Astarion croaked. “Halsin, I will stab you... What did you give me?!” 

“I had a hunch, but it was intended as a joke – I didn’t really think it would do anything.” Halsin almost sounded apologetic.  

“Well, spill the beans, what is he smoking that’s so damned funny?! Vampire dust? Cow dung? Some kind of goblin foot fungus?” Karlach was also growing impatient.  

Halsin shook his head, laughing.  

“It’s catnip,” Shadowheart managed, still doubled over. “He’s losing his mind on catnip!” 

Once Astarion regained his ability to speak coherently, you couldn’t get him to shut up.  

Astarion hardly ever took lead in group conversations. He tended to stay on the outskirts of discussions, albeit always ready with a quip or observation. You wondered if his newfound loquaciousness was a glimpse of what he might have been like some 200 years ago. 

It helped that Karlach was bombarding him with questions about vampirism, which he was ordinarily reserved about.  

“So what happens if you consume normal food? Can you drink?” she asked. 

“Well... Kind of..? Although I think the tadpole has had some additional influence. I can drink liquids without becoming ill, as long as it’s not too much. They tend to taste vile or like nothing at all, or not have any effect on me. Coffee smells amazing but tastes like dirt, for example. But potions work, somehow,” he rambled. “Solids are a complete disaster though”. He refused to elaborate.  

“And the wine?” she persisted.  

“Red wine is palatable,” he said, swirling some in a glass that he held in his hand. “But if you want better than ‘palatable’ you really need something of good quality.” 

“You’re just a snob,” you interjected. 

“That may be so, but this is about having something called standards, darling, I’ll teach you about them someday”, he said with a kiss to your temple, as you elbowed him. “But there are ways of going around poor wine.” 

Astarion took your hand in his, pressing his lips against it. 

“May I?”  

Once he had your approval, he carefully punctured the tip of your ring finger with a fang. You idly mused about how completely unfazed you had become by having your skin pierced, as he dripped some of your blood into his wine. 

“Now stir.” He licked the drops of wine from your finger once you were done, and had a sip from his glass. “Like adding honey to tea... Now it’s delectable.” 

“Freaks,” said Karlach, lovingly.  

The conversation moved to him debating wines from various regions with Shadowheart, a subject they were both perhaps unsurprisingly well-versed in.  

“How kind of Lady Shar to leave you such detailed knowledge of something that truly matters, when wiping out so many other memories,” he observed.  

Eventually, the topic changed to Karlach’s years in the Hells, and what it had been like to set just about everything she touched ablaze until Dammon’s recent assistance.  

“Could you do me a favour and hold my hand in yours for a moment?” said Astarion, leaning towards and holding out a hand to Karlach.  

“I haven’t done this in so long this still makes me nervous, you know,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Sorry if I lose my cool and burn you.” 

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he replied humourlessly. “...That should do it,” he said after a short while. “Gods, you really do run like a furnace.” You wondered where this was going.  

“Now could everyone look away? I’m about to do something disgustingly sentimental.” 

Immediately, four pairs of eyes including your own were locked on him.  

“Voyeuristic pricks...” he sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

He ran the back of his fingers delicately down your cheek before cupping it in his hand. It was warm, almost hot, as you nuzzled into it.  

“Well isn’t that cute,” Shadowheart remarked into her glass of wine.  

Astarion wasn’t always cold to the touch, not exactly. He became warmer after drinking blood. His body was heated by sunshine on sunny days, just like anything else. And after spending some time under blankets with you he felt almost cozy to snuggle against. But he’s never radiated heat the way the hand against your cheek did now.  

“It doesn’t feel like you,” you mustered, looking into his eyes. He gave you a wistful smile.  

“...If there is any other bodypart you’d like me to warm up for Tav’s benefit, do fuck off before you even ask,” said Karlach, breaking the brief silence that had descended onto the room, and the tender moment was gone, overtaken by yet another uproar of laughter. 

Things quieted down as the evening wore on. 

“I wonder what Lae’zel is doing,” said Shadowheart, who had been silently gazing off into space and occasionally blowing smoke rings for the past while. “Probably something infuriating.” 

“You should go tell her how utterly unimpressed you are with her,” goaded Astarion. 

“I should... I will,” she said, suddenly getting up, determination writ on her face, exiting the room with a surprisingly steady step. 

Karlach sighed. 

“I better go look after her and make sure they don’t need to be taken apart. ...Or that no one else does, if they don’t.” She followed Shadowheart.  

“Nature calls,” said Halsin, also getting up. “And I don’t think anyone’s fed Scratch and the owlbear cub.” 

It was just you and Astarion, who had been grazing your neck with his fangs with increasing impatience. 

“Do it,” you said as soon as the door shut behind Halsin. Instantly, you felt an icy chill in your neck and released a small moan as he bit down, drawing your blood, his hands roaming your body.  

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for hours,” he breathed hoarsely, once he had his fill. Having a miniscule amount of your blood in his wine and then being unable to sate himself more thoroughly would have been the ultimate tease for him. He really did not think that through, per usual.  

You could have offered him your wrist at some point, your companions had witnessed that on numerous occasions. But you knew you both wanted something more intimate. And private.  

You sank onto the bed with Astarion on top of you, as he continued to lick at the puncture wounds, to get them to stop bleeding.  

“Think Halsin’s coming back?” you murmured.  

“Of course he is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been looking at us?” He wedged his hips between your legs as he continued to suck and lick at your neck, more slowly now.  

"Oh, has he been looking at us in some particular way?” you feigned ignorance. Astarion raised his head briefly to shoot you a look that said ‘oh please’.  

“Do you want him..?” He rolled his hips deliciously into yours as he asked that.  

“Stop teasing,” you whispered. You knew he wasn’t going to let you do anything with the erection you felt pressed against you. 

“Never. Do you want him?” He gave you a mischievous look.  

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sorry darling, I’ll try to do a better job at explaining.” He raised himself back up, his face hovering just above yours. “Do you want to feel his hot, hard cock pumping in and out of you, while I watch?” He studied your reaction closely. “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you..?” 

“Astarion-” It wasn’t easy to make you blush, but somehow he always found a way when he wanted to.   

“Shh love, I already know everything you’re going to say.” Astarion raised his voice in pitch (resulting in something that definitely DID NOT sound anything like you) and returned to your neck, planting a kiss further down with each sentence: “’I love you, Astarion. I only want you, Astarion. I don’t think you’re ready for this, Astarion. You’re going to regret this, Astarion.’” 

“How about, ‘you’re intoxicated, Astarion’?” 

“Barely,” he scoffed. “It’s worn off.” He tugged at your blouse’s lacing with his teeth. 

“Or maybe it’s ‘no, I don’t want that, Astarion’,” you lied.  

He chuckled at those words and came back up to whisper in your ear. 

“My love... You’re forgetting I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. Every time your breath hitches and your heart speeds up – I know. Any time blood suddenly rushes somewhere in your body – I know...”  

“That is an entirely unfair advantage,” you protested. 

“Yes, having a lover that anticipates your every need and reads you like a book is so, so tragically unfair, your poor, poor thing...” 

“And also it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it!” you continued. 

“Porridge,” Astarion whispered in his most seductive voice, grinding against you. “The philosophy and theory of divination, volume four. A bulging coin purse. Gale’s purple pajamas. ...Nope, nothing.” Astarion smirked, and continued in a more normal voice, stilling. “Now let’s try... You dripping wet and begging us both for mercy before the night is over.” He grinned wryly as you let out an involuntary whimper. “I thought so...” 

“You’ve told me yourself, you don’t want to share me with anyone,” you persisted.  

“It’s your heart I can’t bear to share. And he’s a wood elf,” Astarion said dismissively. “He may as well be a walking penis, who would get emotionally involved with that?” 

“You did not just call our honourable companion, the esteemed archdruid of the Emerald Grove a walking penis!” you hissed, choking on laughter, covering his mouth with your hand.  

“A giant phallus on legs,” Astarion mumbled stubbornly against your palm, licking it.  

You heard footsteps approaching the door.  

“Do you really want this?” you whispered, angling Astarion’s face to make him look you in the eyes, and releasing his mouth. “Be serious for a second.” 

“I want this,” he said, holding your gaze. “I really want this. As long as you do too.” 

The door opened, and you both turned your heads to regard the tall, broad figure that paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe.  

“Is it company or privacy you desire?” 

~~~~~

Part 2

More of my chaos gremlins

AO3

[biceratops7]

Oh… oh my gosh…

I just noticed something.

It seems to be that Crowley’s almost entirely stopped wearing his glasses while alone with Aziraphale. Even in moments they appear to be quarreling, they’re still off.

So in season 1 we were pretty much mostly in agreement the Crowley’s the one who knows he’s got it down bad and is just patiently waiting in agony for Aziraphale to catch up. And so… well? He still kind of kept some distance, just that little bit of reserve that would allow him to save face. Crowley talks a big game about running off together and being on their own side, but he is, after all, all about insurance.

There’s also, paradoxically, the element of Crowley’s eyes being the only thing that visibly marks him as a demon. They meaningfully separate the two in a way that at best they would politely ignore and at worst crack under the pressure of. The glasses serve the purpose of displaying an unwillingness to fully be close with Aziraphale before he’s ready to assure Crowley, but also a fear of setting them apart by highlighting a striking reminder of how Crowley officially “failed” to be worthy of divine and loving companionship.

Then you have Aziraphale, who still in part is trying to hide what he’s got going on with Crowley. Even though everyone seems to now know they’re close friends and mostly leaves them alone… so what exactly is Aziraphale still hiding?

Come on, we all know what it is. I mean fucking look at him! Micheal Sheen understood the assignment.

Alright alright, enough ribbing and back to hopefully smart and coherent thoughts. So this dynamic of Crowley being a bit ahead in the ✨understanding✨ front and Aziraphale needing more time is nothing new. But now we have a situation where Aziraphale is without a shadow of a doubt fully aware of his feelings, and has nothing else to stall with. In theory he has everything he wants with Crowley, to “dine at the ritz” and be left alone to enjoy the gifts of earth, and yet, he’s still longing. Then Crowley is just as ready to be the woo-er as before, but he’s also ready to be more vulnerable, more trusting, than ever.

Mark my words. SOMETHING is a-brewin’. So uh… who’s excited for season 2? 😅

[williamvapespeare]

going to u for advice/hear others thoughts, not to attack u, but how do u reconcile knowing the actions of neil gaiman with interacting with dead boy detectives stuff? i know he didn't make all the comics but he made the original/other comics are based on his works and he was an executive producer for the netflix show. i'm feeling conflicted and i haven't seen a lot of dbda fans talking about it

hey! this is something i've been thinking about a lot too and my answer is solely based in my own experience; i can't speak for all dbda fans. i wouldn't say that i was a huge neil gaiman fan before this, even though i did like his work - you can see i wrote one good omens fic back in the day and i do remember loving "ocean at the end of the lane" when i read it. i was really sad that i couldn't see the play when it was in london. i definitely liked what he did, but i hadn't read all his books or anything like that so i can't imagine the hurt other people are going through who DID feel that way.

i see dbda as distanced from him in part because i haven't read or seen Sandman, which is maybe a problem because it allows me to block out his association with something i love. i've engaged with it mostly by reading dbda fanfic that uses sandman characters, etc (also HUGELY unrelated not, but once i got a comment on a fic gushing about how i'd used sandman lore in a throwaway line about charles not dreaming and i just said like "oh thank you!" or something but it was completely accidental al;sjkf). from what i know: neil gaiman didn't write the comics and wasn't involved in the show beyond executive producing. i want to support people making fun queer horror art because that's the kind of art i love and i personally like to make. the way people engage with this is going to be individual, especially for anyone who needs to grieve or deal with feelings of betrayal and trauma.

personally, the things i will do going forward are: try not to give support to media that will benefit gaiman, and DO give vocal and monetary support to the creatives of dbda when i can (ie i supported the Appearances fundraiser because i want to see these creators make more excellent weird queer art and i knew that money would go to them), give praise and credit for the show to the people who were actively involved in making it - Steve Yockey, the writers, the cast, the writers/artists of the comics - these people we KNOW were the ones who had hands in crafting the story we love and none of them are neil gaiman.

you are 100% right to call attention to the fact that gaiman is inherently connected to this world and story that i/we love and that IS something i need to learn to acknowledge in my existence in fandom and as someone inspired by it. i don't have a concrete answer for how i'm going to do that morally, other than make sure i'm aware of it and try to make decisions that support the creatives who make artistic and moral choices that i DO believe in.

hopefully this answer was somewhat coherent and answered your question alright? again, this is probably a really individual thing for all fans of the show so i'm sure everyone will have their own insights