#i hope my point came across well

[velmashaircut]

When I first began reading/ watching OPM I use to really, really hate Tatsumaki. She was probably my least favourite character from the main cast for over a year. I tried to hide it in my posts but I despised her.

Even back then I knew why, Tatsumaki reminded me of my older sister who at the time I did not have a great relationship with. Not only would I say Tatsumaki has my sisters personality and motivations amplified to the extreme, but my sister was seen as ‘better’ by everyone around me, or at least it felt like that to me. My sister obviously isn’t an esper prodigy but she is seen as smarter, prettier, more likeable you know the drill. The Psychic sisters arc was probably one of my least favourite arcs unsurprisingly, I can understand Fubuki’s feelings towards her sister completely. You would think this would make me like Fubuki …but back then I didn’t like her that much either lmao.

The manga, especially the chapters for the monster association arc, did a great job of changing my perspective of Tatsumaki. I can see why she’s the way she is and even if I disagree with her methods I do like her character now, I prefer her to Fubuki. I used to hate webcomic counterpart as well but ever since the mangas MA and psychic sisters arc I like her webcomic self also.

The relationship improvement with my sister played a part in this as well. My sister wanted to make sure I could stand in my own two feet but she went about it the wrong way, which was what Tatsumaki also did. So understanding my sisters motivations and the manga chapters made me understand and like Tatsumaki more.

[kimdokjas]

If you're not here, then how are you always with me? If I'm not here, then how am I not there with you? — One of Us, Paruyr Sevak (tr. metamorphesque)

happy belated birthday, tay ♡ @misakarose [insp.]

[fabuloustrash05]

Missed opportunity in season 5 of TMNT 2012 of Usagi becoming like a new mentor figure for Leonardo.

For the Usagi arc, the two have a rocky start in their friendship (mainly w/ Leo wanting to take charge despite Usagi liteally being the only one who knows where to go and what to do in his own world), but eventually are able to grow a mutual respect for one another, with Usagi even calling Leo his brother when they part ways.

On another post of mine, I purposed the concept that each arc in S5 represents the Turtles going through the Five Stages of grief. Kavaxas arc with Donnie is anger, When Worlds Collide with Raph is denial, Halloween Arc with Mikey is bargaining, etc. The Usagi arc for Leo could've been denial or better yet, acceptance.

Instead of butting heads with Usagi from the get-go, Leo instead sees Usagi as a new mentor figure that he so desperately wants to win the approval of. A new Sensai to look up to and gain wisdom/guidance from. A new Splinter for him to talk to. His brother quickly pick up on what exactly he's doing but when they call him out on it, Leo denies it. Usagi notices it too and confronts Leo about his attitude towards him one night. Leo at first denies it like he did with his brothers, but soon he opens up to Usagi about everything. How this new found position of being leader, Sensai and caretaker for his brothers has put a lot of stress and high expectations onto him. Usagi would be the one who helps Leo find inner peace and help him move on, not as a mentor like Leo thought he needed, but as a friend.

[mcybree]

I prepared this ask in the Notes app only for Tumblr to not let me copy and paste the text so here’s a screenshot bc I’m not typing all that again lol

there’s this funny trend i see in trafficblr art, in that, when there’s a lineup of every past winner, most players will be surrounded by symbols that were relevant to their POV, and perhaps drawn with the last emotion they’d felt just before death (or maybe just whatever emotion the artist most associates with the character). The winners might be doing something, or in a pose that reflects how they won—there are a million ways to make a life series winners’ piece. What’s funny about it is that no one ever seems to know what to do with Scott. He’s most often just standing there looking mildly disgruntled. And for the symbols he’s most depicted with, it’s typically poppies, which are only relevant to the first season; last life scott does not place any importance on poppies, poppies dont ever come up beyond a brief interaction in episode 1, and jimmy as a whole is less relevant to scott’s pov in last life than he is in every other season.

not that this is an issue with the art; the pieces are beautifully done, it’s just representative of how little fandom discussion there is about scott’s win thematically. Most discussion I see are about the watchers and how they hate scott for defying him or whatever, but watcher lore is not discussion of the series itself as much as it is a fan creation that is retroactively applied to create meaning.

Scott’s Last Life win, to me, was achieved through accomplishing what Third Life Scott could not.

Scott spent 3L waiting for his day one ally to die. He kept Jimmy at a distance, often fully gearing himself up first before backtracking to help Jimmy along. There’s a funny disparity in episode 5, where Jimmy spends the entire episode trying to get good enchants on his iron armor, while Scott sets up a villager and gets good enchants for the full diamond set that he’d already had in storage, in about half the time Jimmy took trying to accomplish his own goal, iirc. This disparity is also something scott acknowledges with the “I’ll always be more powerful than you” line, but it’s been a while since ive written a post like this so i unfortunately do not have the episode number memorized on that one anymore. But Scott goes on to explain that he’ll always have better armor and weapons, which is why Jimmy could never kill him. This is all to say that Jimmy and Scott do not stand on equal grounds in their alliance, and, more importantly, Scott does not depend on Jimmy. The progress Scott makes in Third Life is entirely his own, with Jimmy as more of an afterthought than a teammate.

This is what landed Scott his all time lowest placement. After Jimmy dies first, Scott loses sight of his priorities and dedicates his remaining time alive to avenging Jimmy, rather than focusing on his own longevity (like he’d go on to do in future seasons). And, in that way, Scott’s attitude towards Jimmy (disposable, going to die, unreliable) was an indirect contributor to Scott’s low placement.

In contrast: Scott could not have won Last Life without Pearl. Scott has to rely on Pearl from day 1, having only two lives to start with himself. Pearl gives Scott two lives total. Pearl and Scott are almost always together. They made it to the final four by each other’s side. And that forced day 1 reliance on pearl breaks down the role scott typically assumes (*he’s* supposed to be the person people rely on, he’s supposed to be the one bringing everything to the table) which curbs his tendency to see himself as above others, which then allows for the most genuine happiness i have ever seen him have in an alliance.

The comparison between the way Scott talks to Pearl and the way Scott talks to Jimmy is like night and day. Scott doesn’t compliment or otherwise say anything supportive towards Jimmy (save for the “I believe in you! MCC has trained you for this moment!” during Jimmy’s dare to flare attempt) until after Jimmy has already died. With Pearl, however, Scott is much more open about his care towards her, saying that she’s his best friend and that he loves her as early as episode 2. There’s more examples but between last life and third life, Scott’s attitude towards his primary ally is completely different, and i think it’s symptomatic of Scott allowing himself to love and be vulnerable rather than keeping himself at a distance. And i think that it’s so special that scott won the season where he was so close with his day one alliance, directly because of his day one alliance.

because, to me, one of scott’s defining characteristics is his self reliance. He will have allies, yes, but he often assumes a supportive role and acts as a supplier. He doesnt like taking things from other people. Last Life is different because Scott relies on Pearl, too. It’s also not a coincidence that last life is the only season where scott is normal about jimmy but that’s a different post

tldr yes scott won last life with the power of love but not in the way people say he did (ignoring the boogeyman curse was strategy ☝️)

I SHOULD NOTE, though, that the boogeyman curse was still a fail. Although purposeful, Scott receives the penalty and apologizes to his team. He says he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. I do think that his words here aren’t fully honest— he’d admitted earlier that this choice was fully for strategy. But I also think his apologetic attitude here is genuine. Scott is a perfectionist, he needs to succeed; failing, though purposeful, still hurts. He feels the need to apologize. It means so much to me that his win in last life directly follows the choice to fail on purpose. I’m insane though idk

third life scott embodies scotts flaws while last life scott is him overcoming them 👍 is what im trying to say 👍 last life scott is everything that third life scott could not bring himself to be, in allowing himself to love and depend on other people and overall just be a person.

[bleue-flora]

Why I think c!Dream is Autistic - Part 3

[Part 1] - [Part 2] - [Part 3]

Alright, you’re gonna want to probably go read part 1 and 2 first, promise they aren’t too long.

Done? Long time no see buddy. :) Good deal. Now finally, the last reason(s) I think Dream is autistic is because of how it fits narratively.

Who better to frame as the villain than someone who is already on the outside, who is already different, weird, a little off, not like everyone else, obsessive, abrasive, and already setting off subconscious red flags of not fitting the norm. There’s a quote that most have probably heard by Andrew Smith that says, “People fear what they don't understand and hate what they can't conquer.” And does that not say it all? Talk about history repeating itself, real history. This truth is the basis of many real wars. And if communicating and thinking differently weren’t enough to garner dislike, sucess and intelligence are another foundation of hate and as I said in part 1, while not true across the board, high IQ is one way they identify people with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). So who better to frame as the villain than an autistic admin infamous for being one of the best Minecraft players.

Of course, I hear you ask - couldn’t you make the same argument for sociopaths/people with ASPD (Antisocial Personality Disorder) are they not also different than most people to garner inherent fear? The answer is: No, not really. Contrary to popular belief, people with ASPD are not the odd balls out but are more likely to be popular and well liked as they lie and manipulate others to get what they want. In other words, there is a more calculated persona/masking in both ASD and ASPD, but while ASD is just trying to fit in, people with ASPD often have an inherent entitlement to the things they want and are trying to gain power and stand above the crowd not in it. In addition, autistic people tend to be honest, to the point of inappropriate or rude because they are straight forward. In the dsmp, Dream’s default isn’t to lie in fact he tells a lot of truth before often being forced to change his answer [clip]. Unlike people with ASPD who lie because they enjoy the power it gives them and to get what they want.

There is of course empathy to be considered when comparing ASD and ASPD as perhaps the main difference between the two and I think there is a lot of evidence that Dream does have empathy. In fact, I think his moral compass is originally one of the strongest before the dsmp slowly wore away the edges. He returns items after wars, fixes creeper holes and destroyed property, helps people mine or gather materials, fights for the side of who was wronged first, constantly gives out food to feed people… etc. He does a lot of caring things he doesn’t have too. That give him no real advantage, but often even end up putting him in a sticky situation. I mean what better example do we need to prove he has empathy than him rebuilding Tubbo’s house [post]. There was no reason or manipulation or obligation to do that, he did it because he saw that Tubbo was upset. I mean I’ve said it before that we can’t truly prove whether someone does or doesn’t has empathy, but we can look at behavior and I’d argue that his less empathetic acts come much later on his arc and are not consistent across the board like they would be if he truly were a sociopath. Leaving us with the most obvious conclusion then that his logical mind that makes him look like he’s unempathetic and his masking must be because he’s autistic instead, which again aligns well with his high intelligence and obsessive development of skill.

Finally, and perhaps most notably, while a lot of times masking is associated with ADHD it is much more notable and important for an autistic person. Because we are not masking just to cover up our stimming or hyperactivity we are putting on a different face to blend in and be accepted and loved. We are shifting the very parts of ourselves to fit in a circle shaped hole when we’re squares. Which is a skill and habit I don’t find it hard to believe that Dream would use for his villain persona, especially since our (my) masks tend to change too based on environment, whether needing to fit into the family dynamic, student culture or professional world where the social rules change. Which is exactly what we see from Dream as his mask changes depending on who he’s with whether that be Tommy, a large audience, Wilbur, his friends, The Warden, Quackity, Badboyhalo, Techno… etc.

In other words, how fitting would it be if a character with the disorder infamous for masking had a literal mask. One that he literally had to take off to discovery who he was all along. What better example of the dsmp main theme of seeing things from other peoples point of view to gain understanding, than the extreme case of that. What better picture of communication issues than a disorder infamous for social struggle. Like not only does it fit so very well with Dream’s character, not only does it make sense with the symbolism of his mask, and the narrative, but it fits the overall arching dsmp story too, because by being autistic Dream is kind of like the ultimate version of the theme and for him to be a main front runner of the story just truly drives the point home in a beautiful and important manner.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

magic in asoiaf is genetic. and that is intresting. and the fact that grrm doesn’t shy away from the implications of this makes me love asoiaf even more.

because it’s very understandable that these people who could ride dragons would see themselves as more gods than men. it’s understandable that the practice of sibling-sibling incest would become common in order to keep this ability in the family/to not lose said ability. it’s also understandable that these people would see their race as superior because they are able to do these things that others could not.

it also makes complete sense that this human civilization collapsed in a horrific magical event due to their own hubris because they saw themselves as gods when they were always only men.

and that is peak world building.

some more peak world building is that the noble houses of westeros also clearly gained power and held onto their power through the use of their magical abilities inherited from their ancestors.

a godlike existence like Garth the Green being the ancestor of all the oldest and most noble of the reach houses makes perfect sense for this world!and it also makes sense that the lords without this ancestry are discriminated against in this region that still holds onto the values their society cultivated in the past in order to maintain their magical superiority, even though most of these noble and old houses no longer exhibit these abilities.

and it also makes sense that these people no longer have access to these abilities as they no longer practice the religion that was centered around these powers; plus their blood is simply diluted at this point as these houses have married into a different ethnic group so often that the magical gene just doesn’t surface anymore.

but the fact that it still matters if you can trace your ancestry back to Garth the Green? peak! peak! peak!

george does such an excellent job showcasing the stagnation of westerosi society here because why should it matter if you’re connected to this magic guy if magic is no longer commonplace? however, it also makes total sense that the ruling class of the reach still harps on and on about this as it’s how they maintain the status quo and differentiate themselves from those they consider lesser now that they no longer have access to magic themselves.

and this is also why it’s very important that the Starks still retain the blood of the first men. because the first men interbred with the children of the forest and other elder races, which is what gave these humans these powers. it’s also worth noting that before the direwolves connected with the Stark children, none of our current Starks were able to awaken their abilities by themselves, which shows that even now they are very far removed from their ancestor who’s genetic makeup gave this bloodline these abilities. and it makes sense that the Starks experienced this slow magical decline because magic itself was declining in the world after the doom of valyria.

another reason for this decline is because Andal culture started heavily influencing the North and slowly changed the way magic was perceived. so now in the present, a warg/skinchanger/greenseer has become something to fear being because that’d make you different and therefore puts your life at risk, which means that there’s now practically no safe environment to cultivate these abilities and no secure way to pass down any knowledge you do have about said abilities.

i can’t help but be reminded about how Jon Snow has rejected his nature and how that has led to the stagnation of his abilities, and then i think about Arya and Bran and how their new environments have led to an astonishing growth in their abilities, which shows that it’s not just genetics that matter, environment is also just as, if not more, important.

i bring all of this up because magic being genetic in asoiaf is not as problematic as people try to make it out as. in real life, sometimes people just have genetic gifts. some people can become olympians, and some people are disabled. some people are born 10 times smarter than the average human, and some people believe that covering their faces in lemon juice would turn them invisible. that is reality. and in this universe, some people have access to magic and some don’t, and it’s all based on genetics. it’s unfair! and that makes it realistic.

not everyone gets to ride dragons and not everyone gets to travel back in time, and that grounds asoiaf, which is what grrm was going for.

and how these societies have organized themselves in response to these genetic abilities and the dangers they pose makes absolute sense. on one hand we have the valyrian freehold, which was a magic hotspot and the people who lived there used magic to propel their society to new heights, and on the other hand we have the seven kingdoms that demonize anyone too different, and all magic practitioners are different from normal humans.

and the fact that george decided to go this route with asoiaf is so juicy to me cause:

we have characters like Varamyr and Euron who use their abilities to commit great evils and we know that their powers have influenced the way they see and interact with others. on the other hand we have characters like Dany who use their abilities to fight against evil violent institutions. and through characters like her we learn how vulnerable fledgling magic practitioners/characters with these abilities are to these older and more dangerous institutions and individuals who are perfectly aware about the knowledge gap between them and these younger characters and know exactly how to exploit them.

so, while it’s understandable that the fandom is uncomfy with the practices and values that grrm has written about, this isn’t bad world building by any means. it’s logical and well thought out. and i truly enjoy that grrm doesn’t shy away from writing about the more worrying aspects and implications of magic being a matter of genetics. i also like how the seven kingdoms and the valyrian freehold are kinda extremes on the matter of magic and how this is/was detrimental to both of these societies and at the individual level. a horrific magical firey doom is not any better nor any worse than a slow drawn out icey decline.

imo, what is important to remember is that in the world of asoiaf, people with magic are the ones who are discriminated against (bc most POV characters are in Westeros and magic is a no no there). so they are the ones who are in danger if they out themselves as magic users. now, it is true that some societies are more tolerant (Qarth is a great example of this and Valyria before the doom was likely the most tolerant to have ever existed in this world), but as of now most societies simply aren’t. remember jojens warning? he didn’t pull that out of his ass. bran would’ve been in a lot of danger if he came out and told the wrong people about his dreams/abilities. also, jon’s assassination may have been partly motivated by the mutineers fear of wargs. this is the life-threatening danger magic practitioners are in for simply existing in an intolerant society.

tbh the reason i typed all this up is because it’s very annoying when people try to ignore the reality, which is that the dragonbond depends on genetics. now, i’m sure there are other ways to ride a dragon, as dragons are magical animals so of course there may be a one in a million chance of a dragon allowing some rando to ride it, but this doesn’t change the fact that there is such a thing as a genetic ability that gives these certain humans the ability to form a connection with a dragon.

(another example that i can’t help but remember is that melisandre was able to get ghosts approval by using some of her tricks. of course there could be other reasons for ghost to have done this, but the most likely reason is that ghost simply fell for melisandre’s trick and this influenced how jon saw mel. but this doesn’t change the fact that melisandre will never have the kind of bond jon and ghost have because melisandre is not a warg. this is also another example of how vulnerable fledgling magic practitioners are to older ones.)

so, sorry not sorry that george decided to create a realistic representation of what a society would look like if only certain bloodlines were able to ride dragons <\3.

[queer-reader-07]

coffee theory and the disparaging of aziraphale’s character

ok y’all buckle up, we’re finally talking about why coffee theory not only disparages aziraphale’s character but would cheapen the story.

this is a meta i’ve been trying to write for ages now because i know i have Thoughts but trying to communicate them in a coherent and not passive aggressive way is… difficult to say the least.

i have a few main points i’m gonna touch on in this post:

1) why coffee theory disparages aziraphale’s character and removes him of his agency

2) why it would cheapen the story

3) how it underestimates neil’s talent as a writer

4) why the implications of it irk me

ok. let’s get into this.

firstly, a run down of coffee theory for anyone who’s managed to miss it. coffee theory basically states that the metatron drugged/manipulated the coffee he gave aziraphale such that the coffee was what led to aziraphale making the decision to go to heaven. (i.e. he wasn’t himself, he was under the influence and that’s why he did what he did)

why coffee theory disparages aziraphale’s character and removes him of his agency

look. i understand that aziraphale’s decision to go to heaven and take up the position of supreme archangel hurt. i understand that a lot of y’all were angry at him, and many of y’all still are angry with his decision. that is so totally valid and i’m not saying you’re wrong for being upset.

but what i do have to say is this: you can be angry at him while simultaneously acknowledging that his decision makes sense in the context of his character. those two truths can coexist without contradiction.

i think that a lot of people (myself included) have this unconscious tendency to view characters through our own warped perceptions of them rather than their actual character. like we all have our own headcanons about the characters and media we enjoy, but sometimes they get away from us and we start projecting complete headcanon onto real actual canon plot.

so let’s talk canon for a minute. the show has shown us time and time again that aziraphale fundamentally believes Heaven is good. he knows the angels are mean or bad sometimes but he thinks that capital H Heaven is good. that God’s plan is good. he believes that being an angel makes you good.

“i know the angel you were.” “you’re a demon you lied.” “you’re the bad guys.” “we’re hereditary enemies” “there is no our side”. aziraphale believes that being an angel and being on the side of Heaven is what makes you good. yes he knows crowley is good but aziraphale thinks it’s because of his past status as an angel. that it’s in spite of his demonic nature.

aziraphale believes that with the help of someone good (properly good, not pretend-y good) Heaven can be perfect and good and share that goodness with humanity. and he’s been given the opportunity to do that, alongside crowley no less!

aziraphale doesn’t fully understand how corrupt Heaven truly is. and nobody can get that across to him. not even crowley. miscommunication is an issue between them, yes. but it’s not the only issue. aziraphale fundamentally believes in Heaven, and crowley does not.

so of course aziraphale chose going to Heaven and being in charge because now he can truly enact change. his decision makes so. much. sense.

and coffee theory? coffee theory would strip aziraphale of all his depth and complexity as a character. it would say “yeah he has this long history of being hurt by this institution but his faith in it is so strong that he was willing to leave the one being he loved most in the universe behind if it meant fixing the institution and creating a safe future for him and his lover. but actually he just got drugged lol.” like. how utterly disappointing would that be? it strips him of his agency, it strips him of his complexity, it makes him boring. and boring is one of the worst things a character can be.

aziraphale is allowed to be a complex character. he’s allowed to make decisions you don’t like. in fact i think he should. that’s what happens in stories. especially in good ones. characters make decisions you don’t like all the time but what matters is if the decision makes sense. and aziraphale’s decision makes all the sense. no matter how upset it made you, it checks out.

why it would cheapen the story

look me in the eyes when i say this: most of y’all would probably hate coffee theory in practice because it is such a cop out plot twist.

coffee theory fundamentally disallows complexity to aziraphale’s decision to leave earth. it makes it a “oh no he was drugged!” situation instead of a “he has a lot of shit to work through and he’s hurting and the being he loves is hurting and the world is gonna end and he needs to work on himself before he can save the world properly.” situation.

coffee theory is bred out of the knee jerk instinct to say aziraphale was completely wrong and crowley was right and “i need to explain away aziraphale’s decision because he would never hurt crowley!!!”

y’all. i love aziraphale, do not get me wrong. but have we been watching the same show? aziraphale has hurt crowley, multiple times. he’s said many hurtful things. and it all comes back to the same reason: he believes Heaven and angels are good, and demons and Hell are bad.

it’s all connected. and i want to see the show acknowledge all of that. push it to the surface and let them confront it all. not brush away the hurt with some cheap “he was drugged!” plot twist. it’s boring and disappointing.

how it underestimates neil’s talent as a writer

neil is a good writer. i’m not gonna entertain arguments about this, if you like good omens you like neil’s writing. (and i highly suggest you read his other novels). and if there’s one thing i’ve found in my time reading neil’s books it’s that everything is intentional.

how much time does this fandom spend dissecting every single frame of the show because we know nothing is accidental? that is not a good omens specific thing, it’s in all of neil’s works (at least the ones i’ve read). neil is incredibly intentional in what he does, and in my experience he doesn’t rely on cheap plot twists.

he can plot twist the ever living daylights out of you but it will never be a cheap cop out like “he was drugged!” and acting like coffee theory is actually plausible is frankly an underestimation of what neil is capable of as a writer.

why the implications of it irk me

can we all just agree that the fandom likes crowley more? and that whenever aziraphale does anything slightly complex it’s often times either met with “oh nonono here’s this reason that doesn’t allow him any complexity” or “i hate him!!!! (also doesn’t allow complexity)”

you can adore crowley. i adore him too, i relate to him very deeply. but i love aziraphale too and i’m kind of tired of how frequent the aziraphale slander is.

and coffee theory, if i’m being honest, feels very much like y’all just can’t handle aziraphle being anything more than “silly little gay angel running the bookshop”. it feels like people just can’t handle the fact that he has his own motivations and feelings and that he truly thinks he’s doing the right thing.

and it’s to the point that you need to convince yourself he was DRUGGED so that you can accept his decisions?? y’all. did we watch the same show?

[caswlw]

thoughts on new sneak peaks for tonight 👀👀👀

i have SO many things to say omg

firstly, i think the writing in them is wild. buck’s hesitance every time he says something to tommy (and even more when he sees tommy and eddie interact), the way that he keeps pushing down his feelings to be like “yeah friends are good, always good to have more friends”, THE HALF NAKED MEN LINE??, the line about just Clicking with someone and buck saying he knows that exactly… i could go on 🤧 i think the editing is a bit stiff in the tommy/buck interaction and that’s not helping what ppl are saying abt their chemistry, but the bachelor sneak peek seems to have fun directing choices behind it so !! a mixed bag on those two parts

i’m having my pre ep delusions fluctuate tho. after the us mag article i was So Sure abt bi buck, then we get an article with friendship inserted in every single line, and then i actually see the clips and im shifting between saying that there’s def a story there or idk maybe the writers’ and oliver’s idea of buck getting off his hamster wheel is just branching out into new hobbies/friendships and thats the self reflection they mean- not what we all want it to be. but after that thought i go back to the us mag article and im sure again that it IS what we all want it to be.

i think regardless the episode is going to be a banger bc it’s about buck, ravi is in it (YAY), and an ep w a buddie focused part will always do numbers in the fandom. but im very optimistic in ways i wasn’t before this onslaught of news!!! so we’ll have to see :)

[fluffle-writes]

I wanna. Pick them up in my mouth and shake 'em around like a dog obliterating a squeaky toy

[k8felge]

nothing hurts more than seeing ur fave character depicted in an official au story or elseworld where details ab them r different but it explores the character in a new way -- its good in a vacuum, but u know it isn't the Definitive Version of that character. Just a new exploration (cool!). but because the adaptation brought in so many new fans and/or was a huge success it ends up being treated like its the Definitive Version and all discussions of prev versions are overshadowed bc of it... even worse when studios / execs see the success and try to pivot to this New Version only and never try to explore new routes for the character ever again (can you tell this is about comics yet)

[pixelmator5]

Laudna’s Lack of Control

You know what, why the heck not, part 1 of 6 of a may or may not be finished group of posts about CR3 EP63 and its effects on the 6 PCs (yes including the one that died.)

Laudna’s been through a lot, and that’s putting it lightly. All her life, she has experienced a lack of control. When she was young, no one viewed her like an actual person, no one around her at least. We see and hear about how a boy her age when she was young attempted to lure her into a sense of security before throwing dirt in her face. He was likely not the only one who did this. When she was young, she had no control over the social life, or the way the rest of the townspeople of Whitestone viewed her.

Then the Briarwoods came. Whether the townspeople knew how they did it or not, they took the place of the previous leaders of the once peaceful city. Once again, Laudna, at that time Matilda, was forced to watch as her home gradually declined under the Briarwoods rule, unable to do a thing to stop it. She had natural magical capabilities, but even they wouldn’t help in this situation.

Eventually Whitestone was in such disrepair that nothing could be done. Matilda begged her parents to leave the city, but without to funds or anywhere to stay once they left, the group of three were left to rot in the dying town. Once again she had a total lack of control. Until a letter came. The Briarwoods had invited her family to dinner. Finally, a way for her to take control of something. She had hoped that they would take an interest in her innate magical abilities, teach her how to use them, make her stronger! She’d finally have control over something in her life!

That was 30 years ago.

She died that day, at that dinner. She was skeptical about going in the first place, but her parents had talked her into it. Practically forced her. Once again, she suffered from her lack of control.

When she awoke hanging from the tree she thought it was the gods giving her a second chance, a way for her finish the life the Briarwoods had cut short. But her body was changed. Her skin was cold to the touch, her eyes constantly seemed to be bulging from her head. Her bones dislocated easier, her hair fell out in clumps, it was as if she was still dead. Then the voices started. Well, voice, Delilah Briarwood was in her head, but Matilda, if that was even still her name at this point didn’t want that. Control. The thing she still lacked.

Eventually, she met Imogen, she helped, she understood what it was like, being ostracized, not having control of what people think of you or the control over your own power, and eventually, they met Bell’s Hells, a ragtag group of nobodies banded together with little to no common ground between them. But she liked them, and together with Imogen they decided to stay.

Delilah’s has been living in the woman now named Laudna’s head for 30 years now. Advising her, empowering her, controlling her. Laudna knew she had to get rid of her. She didn’t want her there. But this came to a front when something happened. Delilah took complete control, took something, shattered something, she caused Laudna to betray Imogen. Laudna’s tether, Laudna’s friend, the one who wasn’t afraid of her. She took Laudna’s feeling of safety, to control she had in this small part of the world.

When Laudna died she became a prisoner to Delilah in her own personal hell. Fitting that the one who originally took her life tormented her in her afterlife, reminding her of all the things that had happened prior to her original death. When the Hells came to rescue her, Laudna was happy, she knew she would be safe. When Imogen told her to fight back, Laudna said she couldn’t. That it was up to Imogen and the hells. She relinquished control, she left it all up to the others, knowing they would help her. This was the only time where she was fine without the control being held in her hands.

When Laudna awoke next she was in Whitestone, seemingly Delilah free. At least that’s what the gnomish woman told her. Releasing control finally did something good, at least this time. So she continued travelling with the group. They uncovered secrets, revealed a conspiracy... they were separated. She thought she was doing something good, ignoring the speech and continuing to try and damage the Malleus Key, but it didn’t work, and control was stripped from her once again as she was teleported halfway across the world with no way to get back, once again separated from Imogen.

When the party met Bor’Dor after the split she thought it was great, another person like her and Imogen with seemingly no control over their magic or what has happened in their life. But eventually, things started to seep through the cracks. It started with the guards at the temple, it almost seemed like he knew what he was doing. But surely that was just Laudna’s imagination, he was on their side afterall, he had no reason to lie, right? She offered to help teach him how to use his magic, help him control it, like she had learned to do... but it was all a lie. Well, maybe not all of it, but enough of it... and he tried to kill them.

Laudna was distraught, she was sure he was telling the truth, but he betrayed her, he took what little control she had around her and he took it himself, manipulating it to his own will and she just could not handle being manipluated again. Manipulated by someone she trusted just like she was manipulated by Delilah, and losing her sense of control all over again...

And there it was, there was her chance. Deni$e had restrained him, he was so easy to get to, she could take her control back from him... and she did. With the same low heartbeat that was there when she took the gnarlrock from Imogen and broke it in her grasp... she had her control if only for that brief moment where she and she alone got to decide if he lived or died... but what will be the cost?

Laudna until this point had never been able to control anything in her life. How others perceived her, the trauma she’s had to go through. Her death, and rebirth. Delilah forcing her way into Laudna’s mind. Nothing, until she had complete and total control over someone who until recently had his own form of control over the others, and she takes it 

[vampvelvet]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how I've been doing better mentally these past few weeks and a lot of it boiled down to things people have been telling me my whole life. I mean, I had gone through traumatic events some years ago which caused depression. then I fell into a codependent friendship which has worsened my mental state. only now that I have backed out of that friendship and started to think more about myself and how I feel, did I figure out how to keep myself going well.

I found hobbies im interested in, I've been using music I adore to keep my spirits up, I've been getting outside more, getting more exercise, using my phone less, living more in the moment, diversifying my friendships, taking time for myself, etc etc etc

and seeing myself improving in these ways makes me feel optimistic, thinking, these are the things that helped me, they can help you too! it's easy to get excited about that.

but none of those things were the solution to my problem. those were parts of healing, ways to keep my rhythm, ways to give me energy when I feel like going back to what I typically do when I'm depressed.

but they weren't *the solution*. and that made me realize why only now I'm following all this advice that I had been given to me for years and years. why people get so cynical and annoyed when others try to motivate them into getting out of their depression. because staying inside, staying sedentary, overusing phones, avoiding socializing, etc- those things aren't the cause of issues, they're the *symptoms*. and when someone is in a terrible mental state they're not going to realize/notice/care about the things that they're using to cope with their lives.

I don't know what the solution is. everyone's lives are different. for me, it was getting out of a codependent friendship. I don't have the answers. but it's going to be something bigger than just 'getting out more'.

people have to see the future on their own. there are moments when people realize that they have to take their life into their own hands. nothing is easy, but things can get better.

long rant in the tags if you're interested. take care <3

[foldingfittedsheets]

There was this park near where I grew up. I remember we’d just moved to the area so I was around six and we drove past and saw this waterfront area. My parents decided to check it out so we went for a walk. It was a lovely park, there’s a lazy slough, lots of trees, extremely picturesque. My parents ambled along the trail enjoying the nature while my siblings and I ranged around in their orbit like excitable moons.

Then I saw something odd. Something vibrantly alive down by the water that was entirely the wrong color. I called back my vital scouting info and my family gathered around me. We looked down the steep verge toward the slough, screened by underbrush. We couldn’t quite make out what it was. The only thing we could agree was that it certainly wasn’t a duck. However it was about duck sized and roughly duck shaped. It just wasn’t a duck.

This led to some heated debate amongst my siblings and I but we were forbidden to scramble down the muddy hill to harass the mystery animal. Reluctantly we continued down the trail, speculating wildly when a chicken popped out of a bush in front of us with a train of several chicks.

We froze. The chicken did not. She placidly herded her little puffs across the trail, pecking happily for seeds, unbothered by our proximity. My family had not yet delved into farming and this was the first time any of us kids had seen a chicken up close. It was like a fairytale thing, a creature we had seen over and over in books was suddenly here in the wilderness of the park. We all realized the mystery creature had likewise been a chicken.

Another couple came up the trail and saw us staring.

“Is this your first time at the park?” They asked?

We nodded.

They informed us that this park had become a dumping ground for unwanted chickens. Once the chickens were dumped they were park property and the locals didn’t mind the eccentric additions at all. No one looked after the chickens, but they got on surprisingly well.

As the years went by we visited the park regularly. Signs were added to warn people not to dump off chickens or they’d be fined. They were also excluded from snatching the existing chickens. The hope was that the chickens would eventually run their course and the park would go back to normal.

It did not.

Instead the menagerie grew. Peacocks cropped up occasionally, turkeys; and one visit we saw guinea fowl. But there were always chickens. Eventually feed dispenser were installed so park goers could pay a quarter to enjoy the motley flocks.

Because we’d moved into a house with land my mom started up a chicken coop and we got our very own chickens at the feed store like proper folks. The first rooster we had was a gentleman, politely clucking at us when came into the coop, but the second proved troublesome a year later. He either adored or hated me. Every time I entered the coop he’d dance and flounce and brandish his spurs.

My mom didn’t want to off him frankly she didn’t know how at that point but his fascination ended with him flying at me and the rooster was sentenced to banishment.

We drove to the park.

We saw him there for years afterward, clucking dutifully around a small flock of hens. He did pretty well in exile.

Anyone who’s kept chickens knows that eventually there’s always a tragedy. Ours happened when a neighbors dog broke into our coop and slaughtered the flock. I was absolutely distraught, my lovingly hand reared chicks all decimated in a flurry of senseless bloodlust. I have not loved a chicken since. They are too fragile to bear it.

After a few days of mourning my mom offered that she knew where to find some more chickens. To make up for the massacre she planned a night raid with us. We stayed up past our bedtime and drove to the park with tarp covered kennels in the back of the truck.

We crept down along the gravel parking lot, looking up into the trees, spotting the telltale lumps of shadows that meant chickens. We quickly developed a strategy. We picked a chicken branch, creeping close underneath. Then we reached the end of the branch and gave it a good shake until the roosting chicken glided down to the ground in confusion. It was easy to scoop them up and we went home the proud new owner of a handsome flock of chickens.

The Take a Chicken Leave a Chicken park is still a beloved feature of its neighborhood to this day.

[wild-at-mind]

I remember how I used to read tumblr and the more angry and disillusioned someone seemed with society and life, the more valid I thought their point of view was. This is now mostly no longer the case, but when I'm depressed I think I still go there.

[charizardstolemynickname]

Putting this here instead of in the tags because I think I can be more articulate here

By the "newer stuff" I assume you mean the NewWho as a collection and not just NewNewWho (Which will from now on be shown on disney+ for Americans I believe) (NewNewWho may not be what it's actually called, but that's what I'll call it)

For context:

Classic Who: is the fandom name for classic Doctor who, the first TV show about it, from the 60s to like the 90s I think? I am not an expert, someone can fact check me, anyway contains the doctors 1-8

New Who: is the fandom name for the continuation of Doctor Who that started in 2005 by the BBC, making Christopher Eccleston the first doctor shown (but is the 9th doctor) until 2022

New New Who: (may be) the fandom name for the 2023 doctor who, which will be shown on BBC iplayer AND Disney+ (for any Americans only)

All 3 are the same show, but just from different time periods

So, if you want to get to know the "New doctor who" I would recommend starting with New Who, (which is just called Doctor Who) starting with 9 (Christopher Eccleston). New Who is around 13 seasons

Don't worry about not understanding New Who if you haven't watched Classic Who, a lot of fans first started watching New Who first because of how easy it is to find, and so the first season explains everything you need to know to watch Doctor Who. I personally have only watched New Who (so far)

I also think New Who is much easier to watch as the episodes are timed well and the plot lines don't typically drag too much (in comparison to Classic Who) so it's a good watch

As I think you are American and live in America currently (? I do not know) I would possibly suggest some.... different than streaming services way of watching New Who (hint hint questionable sites) just because I don't think there is a way to watch it legally in America (I could be wrong)

However if you are living in the UK you can watch it on BBC iplayer very easily, it's a free service and you just have to make an account and say you own a TV licence and that's it

I hope this explains everything (I may have missed things so if there are any questions feel free to reblog asking)

Hi any people who enjoy doctor who I want to get into the new stuff where do I start from?

[sapphire-writes]

Beyond The Play

college!Art x college!Reader

summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.

word count: 3.8k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!

a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!

“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.

“Shut up.”

“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.

You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester. 

But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.

You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love. 

Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player. 

But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.

“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”

Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more. 

“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.

“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”

She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.

“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.

“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”

The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.

“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”

Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing. 

“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”

“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”

“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”

“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”

“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin. 

You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.

“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”

“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.

Art frowns, confused.

“But we were—”

“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”

Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear. 

“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”

You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”

“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”

“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”

Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.

His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up. 

“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs. 

Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other. 

“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”

“You should stay.”

You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.

A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.

“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”

“I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.

“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”

You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him. 

“Okay,” you agree.

“Bathroom’s right there.”

You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.

When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.

“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”

“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”

“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”

“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”

Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.

“I mean only—”

“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”

Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.

He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.

“What?”

“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”

“What is it?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.

“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”

Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that. 

“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”

“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”

“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.

“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”

“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.

You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure. 

“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.

You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him. 

Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.

Oh, Art.

He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.

A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly. 

“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”

You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.

“Art wake up!” 

Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him. 

“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Art.”

“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”

“Art…”

“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”

“Art!”

His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps. 

“Get back up here,” you tell him.

Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”

Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”

The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”

“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.

“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone. 

You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.

“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”

You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest. 

Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop. 

“Art.”

He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered. 

He’s too pretty.

You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field. 

You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.

You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again. 

“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.

His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center. 

“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs. 

Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.

“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance. 

He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.

Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.

“That feel good?”

“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”

“Yeah?” 

Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers. 

“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”

His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.

“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”

You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.

“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”

Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself. 

“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer. 

He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit. 

“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.

Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You okay?”

“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes. 

Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”

“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”

This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”

Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.

“What’d you tell her?”

The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”

“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”

“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure. 

The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch. 

“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”

You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air. 

You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest. 

You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”

“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”

Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.

“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says with a smile.

“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”

“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”

You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me too.”

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