#i know i’ve done it before and i might do it again

[theunsinkableship1]

If You Know You Know

I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say this, it must be tiring for some, but I need to reiterate this CLEARLY to be properly understood:

I WILL NEVER SHIP THEM WITH ANYONE ELSE.

This makes absolutely no sense to me. The only reason I’m here is to support Luke and Nicola as a couple. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I won’t do it again after them. Hopefully, if they become an official couple, I’ll step away because my purpose will be fulfilled.

I joined this fandom because I saw something extraordinary between them, something I’ve never witnessed in my entire life. Their connection felt so unique and undeniable. Other relationships, real or supposed, simply don’t matter to me in this context. I initially believed people supported them because they, too, recognized the magic between them. But clearly, that’s not the case for everyone, which is disappointing.

To me, there’s no point in being part of the Lukola fandom if you don’t genuinely support both of them together. To be clear, I deeply admire and respect both actors, and I support their careers wholeheartedly. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m not here to support two talented actors, I’m here for their LOVE, for that incredible bond they share.

I’ve seen many relationships in my life, but nothing like this. Their dynamic is something rare, something worth rooting for.

To be a true shipper is to stand firm in your belief, to celebrate the connection you see and cherish without hiding behind the guise of "realism" or "pragmatism" to spread negativity. If you don’t believe in the ship, that’s fine, but then, why stay? Why participate only to criticize those who do have faith?

Truly shipping them isn’t about constant doubt or spreading cynicism; it’s about what you see and feel between the two people you root for. For those of us who support Lukola, our belief stems from the extraordinary connection we’ve witnessed between Luke and Nicola. It’s something that doesn’t come along every day.

It’s not about shipping every supposed relationship they might have, that approach dilutes the magic of what we see in them. Even if they confirm that they are indeed in those relationships, will I support those ones? Not really because I’ve seen many of those; if they love it, I like it .Their lives, their choices. Not every relationship needs to be shipped, and that’s okay. If Lukola isn’t your ship, then jump ship. No one is asking you to believe, but also, don’t bring your doubt and negativity into a space meant for those who trust and support this connection.

This space is for believers, for those who see and celebrate something extraordinary. If you can’t see it or choose not to, that’s fine, but don’t pollute the energy of those who do. We’re here for Luke and Nicola together, and our faith in them doesn’t need validation from those who don’t share it. Let us enjoy this space as it’s meant to be a celebration of love, connection, and the beauty of their bond.

It’s not about being delusional or not accepting the facts as reality. It’s about recognizing something profound, something rare that transcends other real or supposed connections. We don’t believe their bond is just platonic, just PR, or just friendship. If you still think that you need actively LISTEN and pay a closer look and EAR at what is publicly available. It goes beyond that. What we see is something that defies the boundaries of ordinary relationships.

This isn’t about diminishing the significance of other relationships they may have; it’s about acknowledging that what Luke and Nicola share is singular, a once in a lifetime kind of connection. It’s not something that can be replicated or overshadowed. It’s more.

This ship isn’t built on superficial observations or wishful thinking, it’s rooted in what they’ve shown us. It’s something you don’t see every day, and certainly not in every connection. It’s about believing in the rarity of what they have and celebrating it for the unique bond it is.

For those of us who believe, this feels more like something bigger, more meaningful, and more enduring than any fleeting moment.

This corner of the internet wasn’t created to be all things to all people, it was built with a clear and intentional purpose: to celebrate, believe in, and support the connection between Luke and Nicola. It’s a space rooted in trust, admiration, and the shared belief that what they have is rare and extraordinary.

If someone finds that they no longer resonate with that purpose, that’s okay. People grow, perspectives shift, and interests change. But the respectful and graceful thing to do is to quietly take your leave. Staying to criticize or sow negativity only detracts from the energy and intention of the space, which is to uplift and celebrate, not to argue or debate.

This community thrives on faith and positivity. It’s for those who still see the magic, who choose to believe, and who want to nurture a space filled with that same belief. If that’s no longer where your heart lies, it’s perfectly fine to move on, do the same if you think that we’re crazy, but let us continue to build on the foundation that brought them here.

"If you know, you know."This phrase perfectly encapsulates what it means to believe in something that isn’t always spelled out but is undeniably felt. Like the kind of connection that doesn’t need an announcement because it’s there, plain as day, for those who see it.

“If you know, you know" speaks to the undeniable energy and chemistry between Luke and Nicola. In their silence, because sometimes, what’s not said speaks louder than words.

For those who know, no explanation is necessary. For those who don’t, no explanation will ever be enough. That’s the beauty of it. Some things are felt, not proven, and if you know, you know.

[madridfangirl]

Cricket with the Bellinghams

(Jude & Jobe Bellingham blurb)

'Should we ask her to play as well?’

Jobe asked Jude while nodding in Ananya’s direction. Jude finished setting up the wickets, then turned around to look at his girlfriend who was currently pacing around the living room while on a serious work call. On a Sunday afternoon.

‘She might go all can’t you see I’m dying out here and what makes you think I have time to spare for playing?’

Jobe nodded in support of his brother.

‘Yeah she shooed me away 10 mins ago for breathing too loudly around her.’

‘Exactly. On the other hand, she might go all feminist if we don’t ask her and be like so you assumed I can’t / won’t play just coz I’m a girl?’

Jobe nodded again.

‘Yup, can see that too. What do we do then?’

‘You ask her. She’s sweeter to you.’

‘Oh bollocks. You scared of your girlfriend bro?’

‘Talking about me?’

Both brothers jumped to find her standing right behind them. How did they not hear her come in to the yard at all?

Jude was a little tongue-tied wondering how much she had heard so Jobe decided to take the reins.

‘Just wanted to ask if you’d like to play cricket with us. If your work is done I mean.’

‘Oh it’s not done. It’s never going to be done till I burn that place down. Might as well play a bit.’

Jude scanned her closely - it didn’t look like she had heard much at all. He smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

‘Wanna bat first?’

‘Sure. Gonna beat your sorry ass with it.’

Jude’s arm dropped from around her, as did his smile, while Jobe giggled behind the stumps. He could already tell this was going to go places.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me.’

‘You know Jobe and I used to play cricket in school right?’

‘And I’ve grown up watching it. What’s your point?’

While Jude was always fiercely competitive, he knew she was a demonic warrior when she wanted to be. This clearly seemed like that day. He still ranked himself far higher in skill, so he knew it would end the way he wanted it to.

‘Game on then.’

‘Yup.’

‘Not gonna go easy on you dove.’

‘Didn’t ask you to.’

Jobe looked between the two of them, wondering how a light fun-filled afternoon had completely turned on its head. What he didn’t know was that the couple had been arguing over small small things all weekend. The kind of fights where you won’t even know half way in what it really was about or where it started from. So what was happening right now didn’t just originate out of nowhere.

Jude counted the steps of his lineup and got in position. Though he had said no mercy, he still decided to bowl slow, just short of out and out underarm. Even with that he was sure he’d beat her. But at least it would look like a contest then.

He bowled the first delivery. She had all the time in the world to step out of her crease, catch the ball mid -air and hit it into the outfield.

It took Jude two seconds to process what he just saw, after which he chased the ball. By then she had taken two runs. Jobe hooted from behind the stumps, patting her on the back.

All mercy went out of the window then. Jude took a proper run and swung his arm fully for the next delivery. The pace of the ball and short length of this make-shift pitch made the ball go over her head for a bouncer.

She gaped and looked at him in horror.

‘That could have hit me.’

‘Please, that would have gone over Jobe as well.’

‘Tryna show off? Or intimidate me?’

‘Just taking the game seriously.’

He shrugged nonchalantly, which annoyed her even more.

‘Good to know there are a few things you still take seriously.’

‘Wait what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Just go back and bowl.’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’

Jobe wondered if he should leave them alone and let them sort out whatever the hell was going on here. But both would have given him dirty looks if he even mentioned that. So he stayed shut.

The next ball whipped past her shoulder. Jude just looked her up and down, before walking back for his run-up. The unabashed cockiness pissing her off. He had done that consistently last few days - just setting her off with this air about him.

Next ball came. Straight on her legs. She swung the bat with all her might but couldn’t connect it properly and the ball grazed her front leg.

‘OUT. That’s an LBW.’

‘Nope. That was a no ball.’

‘No it wasn’t. I was way behind my line.’

‘Rubbish. I could see from here it was a no ball.’

‘Jobe?’

Jobe looked between the piercing eyes of both.

‘Yeah I’m not touching that with a barge pole.’

‘Coward.’

They said together, then looked at each other to acknowledge their telepathic connection, corners of their lips threatening to twitch with a smile. But the game was still on and neither was ready to give in.

However, Jobe decided to call it quits and said his goodbye after making some lame excuse. He would rather vegetate in bed than be the go between for this sparring hot headed pair.

‘One final ball. If I get you out I win. If you score even 1 run you win. Else it’s a draw. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

Jude weighed his options. Anything above her torso would be risky, she wasn’t good with ducking or swaying in time. But blocking she was quite adept at, from what he had seen just now, so a clean bowled or LBW targeting the stumps would be the way to go.

He stood on his mark. Before starting his run-up, he gave her a final look, almost giving her the window to back out. But she was a woman on a mission today. To humble his sorry ass. No matter what it took.

He bowled the final delivery. It was on target. Right on her front leg. She tried to block well, just like he had predicted. But it was a straight LBW. Clear as day.

However, celebrating was the last thing on Jude’s mind because in her rapid attempt to block, the ball deflected off the edge and hit her on her index finger.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t make any sound. But the bat dropped from her hand immediately and she turned around, holding her finger tightly.

Jude ran to her and was in front of her in a few seconds.

‘Show me.’

It wasn’t a request. He didn’t leave any room for her to be a sore loser & act out. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her other hand away to take a good look at the finger.

Then, he moved it a little bit and on one particular angle she cried out in pain.

‘Sorry, had to check for a fracture. But it’s just a sprain. Wait here.’

Again, it wasn’t a request. Jude came back in record time with a first aid kit and a pack of ice. He applied a quick ointment to soothe the nerves, then covered her finger with an ice pack, keeping it there for 2 mins sharp.

‘Try moving it now.’

She did. And just like that the pain was gone.

She looked up at his concerned face with a half-smile.

‘All good.’

Jude stood there motionless for two seconds. She wondered if he had even heard her.

But then he grabbed her arms and pulled her in for a crushing hug, kissing her head and face all over.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry baby.’

‘It’s fine it was just a sprain and it’s not your fault.’

‘Ofcourse it’s my fault. I hurt you.’

‘Jude, it was an accident.’

‘You got hurt because of me.’

‘Jude, it’s fin…’

He grabbed her face, tilted it up and kissed her like his life depended on it. Her hands came up to his biceps for support.

‘Are you mad at me? And I’m not talking about just now.’

‘No. I mean, I don’t know.’

‘I don’t like us snapping at each other like this. It sucks.’

‘I know baby. It’s just…I don’t know….maybe it’s work…it’s just been super crazy and…..’

‘And sometimes I can be a lot to deal with yeah?’

He looked at her so earnestly that she couldn’t keep herself from giving him a genuine smile.

‘Sometimes. But I know I can be difficult too and it’s just……’

‘Shhhhh it’s ok, it’s fine.’

He pulled her close again, peppering kisses over the top of her head.

‘I know just the thing to let out some frustration.’

‘If you’re talking about sex you can stop talking. I’m still irritated.’

‘Actually that’s an even better idea. But what I had in mind was more like a punching bag. Have one in the gym.'

'That....is a surprisingly brilliant idea.'

He shrugged cockily, and she rolled her eyes at him.

'Wanna give it a go, then? Can show you some punches.'

'Yes pls. Maybe we can make it a thing. I sure might.'

'So long as you don't imagine my face while punching the bag it's cool.'

'We gotta do what we gotta do.'

With that, she turned around and walked back into the house. While Jude stood there a bit, staring after her. She was full of surprises, never a dull moment with her. And Jude loved it all.

...............................................................

Was missing my babies so literally wrote this in 30 mins. Hope you like it :)

[cosmicrelease]

steve notices everything about eddie. and one thing he has noticed recently is that eddie has been painting his finger nails more often. sure, he always paints them black because it’s “hardcore”, but still steve is obsessed.

one day while he is hanging out at robin’s he notices her collection of polishes, “do you think you could teach me how to paint nails?” steve inquired.

“of course i can. this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain metalhead painting his nails would it?”

steve blushed, “robs, will you teach me or not?”

a couple weeks, and a lot of practice later, steve finds himself at eddie’s place for a movie night. they had already eaten too much pizza and were about to start a second movie when eddie casually said,

“hey stevie do you mind if i paint my nails? i’ve seen this movie dozens of times and i need a fresh coat.” he mentioned with a small laugh.

“want me to do it?” steve asked hesitantly.

“what?”

“do you want me to paint your nails?” he asked more confidently this time.

“um I’m not sure what you know about painting nails but i’ll let a pretty boy like you give it a go.” eddie quipped. leaving steve with a pink tinge on his cheeks.

after eddie went and grabbed the bottle of black polish he and steve situated themselves to face each other on the couch, “are you sure you’re okay with me doing this on the couch? what if i get it everywhere?”

“i trust you sweetheart.”

steve shook the bottle, mixing the polish together, another trick he picked up from robin. then he grabbed eddie’s right hand and began meticulously swiping polish across the nails. steve could feel eddie’s eyes on him so he was trying his best to not get nervous causing a shaky hand.

“stop staring at me you’re making me nervous!” steve tried to bush it off as a joke.

“i can’t help it stevie! you just look so adorable when you’re focused.” eddie openly flirted. causing the other man to blush again.

once eddie finally pulled his eyes away from steve’s pink cheeks and looked at his almost done nails he realized something, “holy shit steve! i didn’t think you’d be this good at this! have you been secretly painting your nails and not letting me see?”

“what? no! trust me if i painted my nails i would show you.” steve joked.

“be real steve how did you get so good at this? i mean, i paint my nails regularly and I’m not even this good. have you been secretly practicing?”

steve didn’t reply while he cleaned up the edges and made sure they were dry he released his hold on eddie’s hands, quickly missing the feeling.

“i asked robin to teach me. you never know when a friend might be i need of polish assistance.” steve tried to joke.

“really sweetheart? because i think you just wanted an excuse to hold my hand.” no hint of joking or teasing in his voice.

steve felt caught. he thought he had done a good job of hiding his feelings for eddie. had he really been that obvious? what should he say? what if eddie is upset? would eddie call him sweetheart if he was upset with him?

avoiding looking eddie in the eye steve softly asked,“would you be upset if it was?”

eddie took steve’s hands in his, looking softly and sweetly at steve, “of course i wouldn’t be upset! if anything i’d be overjoyed! you think i just flirt with everyone stevie? i was hoping you would notice at some point, i wasn’t exactly being subtle about it.

“i think it’s adorable that you learned how to paint nails just so you could hold my hand. but i want you to know you could have just asked. you can ask for anything you want baby and i’ll give it to you.”

steve was looking into eddie’s eyes, looking for any hint of lie. but he couldn’t find one. he knew eddie was being sincere. before leaving eddie hanging for too long steve piped up, “can i have a kiss?”

eddie smiled wide at the request before leaning in to give steve exactly what he asked for. and they both knew it wouldn’t be the last time.

a/n: your honor, they love each other! and they deserve to make out! this thought came to me when i was painting my nails and i felt compelled to share it with the world.

[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

20. Blame On Me

Series Masterlist

Maryse sat in the cozy dimly lit room, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She glanced around, taking in the bookshelf filled with self-help titles and the calming artwork on the walls, but none of it settled the nervous energy bubbling inside her. This was her first therapy session, and although she knew she needed it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was out of place.

The therapist, a kind-eyed woman with a warm smile, sat across from her, pen and notepad in hand. “Take your time,” she said gently. “We don’t have to dive in right away. This space is for you, at your own pace.”

Maryse nodded, her throat tightening as she tried to find her voice. “I’m not really sure where to start,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s okay,” the therapist assured her. “Why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”

Maryse hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her oversized sweatshirt. “Well… my partner—he suggested it,” she began. “He said I’ve been holding a lot in, especially after having the twins and, you know… the stalker incident last year.”

The therapist nodded, her expression encouraging but not intrusive. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. And it’s wonderful that you have someone in your life who cares so much about your well-being.”

A small smile tugged at Maryse’s lips. “He’s the best,” she said softly. “But… sometimes I feel like I’m letting everyone down if I’m not okay. Like I have to keep going, keep being strong, for him, for the kids, for my career.”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, and her voice cracked slightly at the end. She quickly looked away, blinking back the tears threatening to fall.

“It’s a lot to carry,” the therapist said gently. “But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself. That’s what this space is for—so you can let some of it out and start to heal.”

Maryse nodded, exhaling shakily as the weight of her emotions began to surface. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she didn’t have to hold it all together. It was terrifying but also a little freeing.

As the session went on, she found herself opening up more, sharing pieces of her struggles and fears. By the time it ended, she felt lighter—not completely, but enough to make her realize that this might actually help.

Maryse left her first therapy session feeling nervous but hopeful. The therapist had encouraged her to take small steps in opening up to the people closest to her, especially Jack. “Start with something specific,” her therapist had said. “Talk about your mom guilt. Let him in.”

Later that evening, Maryse found Jack in the living room, slouched on the couch, flipping through TV channels aimlessly. His posture alone told her he’d had a rough day.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting beside him. “You okay?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Not really. Studio was a mess today. Couldn’t get the sound right, producers kept switching things up, and I’m just over it.”

Maryse hesitated, the assignment from her therapist still fresh in her mind. She reached for his hand, trying to find the right moment. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” she started cautiously.

“Can it wait?” he muttered, not looking at her. “I’m not really in the mood for anything heavy right now.”

Her heart sank, but she pressed on, her voice a little firmer this time. “It’s important. I’ve been feeling… I don’t know, overwhelmed, I guess. Like I’m not doing enough for the twins, or that I’m not a good mom because I’m away sometimes.”

Jack sighed again, this time louder, and leaned back on the couch. “Babe, you’re overthinking it. The kids are fine. You’re fine. Can we just not do this right now?”

The dismissive tone stung more than she expected. She bit her lip, fighting back tears, and nodded silently. “Okay. I’ll let you relax,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, before standing and walking toward the twins’ room.

Once inside, she found herself pacing, frustration bubbling up. She didn’t want to push him on a bad day, but it hurt to feel like her emotions were being brushed aside. 

She spotted London lying in her crib, wide awake but quiet, her big eyes staring at the mobile above her. Maryse scooped her up gently, holding her close and peppering her with soft kisses.

“Hey, baby girl,” she whispered, her voice shaky as she tried to soothe herself through London. “At least you’re always here for me, huh?”

London cooed softly, her tiny hands reaching for Maryse’s face, and Maryse let out a weak laugh, the weight of her frustration still pressing down on her chest.

Over the next few days, Maryse barely spoke to Jack. She went about her routine, caring for the twins and avoiding him as much as possible. When he tried to initiate small talk, she responded with short, curt answers. Meanwhile, she started packing a bag for herself and the twins bit by bit, trying not to make it obvious but unable to fully hide her intentions.

It wasn’t until the third evening that Jack noticed her pulling baby clothes from the dresser into a tote bag. “Yo, what’s your problem?” he asked, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

She paused, her back still to him, then turned around slowly. “My problem? My problem is that when I tried to talk to you about something important, you brushed me off like I was annoying you,” she snapped.

Jack frowned, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t brush you off. I just had a bad day! I’m doing my best here, but I’m not a mind reader, M. How am I supposed to know what you need if you don’t tell me?”

“You didn’t even try to listen!” she shot back, her voice rising. “I finally worked up the courage to talk to you about how I’ve been feeling, and you couldn’t even give me five minutes of your time. Instead, you made me feel like what I’m going through doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not fair,” he countered, his voice defensive but softer now. “You know I care about you and the kids. I’m just trying to juggle everything too.”

“Well, congratulations, you’re juggling so well you’ve managed to drop me,” she said bitterly. “So, until you figure out how to actually listen and care about what I’m saying, I’m taking the twins to my parents’ house.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “What? You’re overreacting—”

“Am I? Or am I just making sure I’m around people who actually notice when I’m drowning?” she interrupted. She zipped up the tote bag with a dramatic tug. 

She brushed past him, leaving him standing in stunned silence as she headed to the nursery to get the twins.

Maryse was in the nursery, gently dressing London while Noah sat in his bouncer, kicking his little feet. She moved methodically, her hands steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Jack followed her into the room, his voice firm but not harsh.

“Maryse, stop,” he said, “We need to talk about this.”

Without looking at him, she adjusted London’s tiny socks and shook her head. “No, I tried talking. You didn’t want to hear me then, so why should I believe you want to hear me now?”

He sighed and pushed off the doorframe, taking a few steps closer. “I wasn’t in the right headspace that day. I know I messed up, but walking out with the kids isn’t the answer.”

She finally looked up at him, her eyes sharp. “You don’t get to decide what the answer is for me. You made it clear I was just another thing on your list of problems that day. I’m not going to beg you to care.”

Jack ran another hand through his hair in frustration. “You know I care. I’ve been here every step of the way, trying to support you and the twins. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying.”

“Trying?” she repeated, her voice bitter. “Trying would’ve been sitting down with me when I told you I was struggling instead of brushing me off. Trying would’ve been hearing me when I needed you instead of making excuses.”

He crouched down to her level as she adjusted London’s tiny jacket as she placed her in her car seat, his tone softening. “I hear you now, though. Don’t leave, please. Let’s just talk.”

But she stood up, moving to get Noah. “No, Jack. I don’t want to talk anymore. You didn’t listen when it mattered. I’ll be at my mom’s. Maybe you can use the quiet to figure out what you want to say.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew there was no stopping her at that moment. As she buckled Noah in, she added quietly, “I’m not trying to punish you—I just can’t keep feeling like this in my own home.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, but said nothing as she lifted the car seats and walked past him. 

Jack eventually followed her to the front door, his voice sharper now, frustration bubbling over. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna take my kids and leave like this? You don’t think this is a little childish?”

Maryse spun around, her hand still gripping the car seat handle. Her eyes blazed as she snapped back, “They’re not just your kids, Jackman. They’re ours. And I’m doing what I think is best for my sanity and their well-being because clearly, staying here and feeling invisible isn’t working for me.”

“I feel like you’re trying to make me the bad guy.”

“You think this is about making you the bad guy?” she said, her voice trembling with anger and hurt. “This is about me needing to be heard, needing to feel like my feelings matter too. But every time I try, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

He clenched his jaw, his hands on his hips, trying to steady his tone. “You don’t have to run to your mom’s house to make a point.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “This isn’t about making a point. This is about me feeling like I’m not drowning for once. And if I have to leave to get that, then so be it.”

As she opened the door, she turned back one last time, her voice quieter but no less firm. “I love you.” knowing that he needed to hear her say it.

“I know.” Jack said and gave her a nod. Maryse sighed and with that, she stepped outside, the door closing behind her with a weight that lingered in the air.

***

Jack was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, the house unbearably quiet without Maryse and the twins. He hadn’t heard from her since she left, and guilt was slowly sinking in.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he grabbed it without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

Before he could say another word, his mom’s sharp voice cut through the line like a whip. “What the hell did you do, Jackman?”

He sat up straight, alarmed. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” she snapped. “Maryse called me crying—crying—and said she took my grandbabies to her mom’s house because she needed a break from you. A break from you, Jack! What did you do to her?”

Jack groaned, running a hand down his face. “Ma, it’s not that simple—”

“Not that simple? Let me tell you what’s simple, boy,” she cut him off, her voice heated. “You’ve got a woman who gave you two beautiful babies, and she’s trying to handle being a mom while still figuring out her own stuff, and instead of supporting her, you’re pushing her away! That’s what’s simple!”

“I’m not pushing her away!” he protested, though the defensiveness in his tone wasn’t helping his case.

“Oh, really?” she fired back. “Because from what I’m hearing, you encouraged her to go to therapy, and now that she’s trying to open up to you, you’re shutting her down! What kind of sense does that make?”

Jack froze at that, the truth of her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He didn’t have a response, and his mom took the silence as her cue to keep going.

“She’s already feeling guilty and overwhelmed, and she’s trying to do what you suggested—trying to talk—and you pushed her away. How do you think that makes her feel? How do you think it makes me feel, knowing my grandbabies are caught in the middle because their parents are too stubborn to figure this out?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, guilt hitting him full force. “Ma, I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I just… I had a bad day, and I didn’t handle it right. She tried to talk to me, and I didn’t… I didn’t give her what she needed.”

“Well, no kidding!” she huffed. “You think this is some kind of game? Relationships take work, Jack. You need to fix this before it gets worse. And don’t just show up empty-handed either—bring some damn flowers, apologize, and for heaven’s sake, listen to her.”

“I will,” he muttered, feeling about two inches tall.

“You better,” she warned. “Because if you let that girl slip through your fingers, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“I hear you, Ma. I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“And don’t wait too long, you hear me?” she added, her tone softening slightly. “She loves you, Jack. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” he said quietly.

As the call ended, he stared at his phone for a moment, already planning how to make things right. His mom was right—he’d been stubborn, but it was time to own up to his mistakes.

****

Maryse was sitting in the rocking chair in the kids nursery that her parents put together when they decided to move to Kentucky to be closer to their grandkids, gently swaying back and forth with London in her arms. The baby was fussing, her little face scrunched up as she whimpered and refused to settle.

“Come on, London,” Maryse whispered, her voice soft but tired. “Mama’s got you. Just close those pretty eyes for me.”

London, however, had other plans. She let out another fussy cry, her tiny hands grabbing at Maryse’s shirt in protest.

Maryse sighed, resting her head against the back of the chair. “You’re really going to make this hard for me, huh? Is this because Daddy’s not here to do the bedtime dance?”

She tried humming a lullaby, but London wasn’t having it. Maryse adjusted her hold, gently bouncing her daughter in hopes of soothing her. “I know you love when Daddy sings to you, but Mama can sing too, you know,” she said, her tone teasing despite her exhaustion.

Her mom peeked her head into the room, holding a warm bottle. “Still not down?”

“Nope,” Maryse replied, her voice tinged with frustration. “She’s got her daddy wrapped around her little finger, and now she won’t nap without him.”

Her mom chuckled softly, walking in to place the bottle on the dresser. “That girl does love her daddy, but you’ve got that same magic touch, sweetheart. You just have to find it again.”

Maryse gave a weak smile. “Yeah, but he’s the one who does all the silly voices and bounces her in that special way that makes her laugh first, then fall asleep.”

“Maybe you can FaceTime him,” her mom suggested, giving her a knowing look.

Maryse sighed, staring down at London, who was still fighting sleep like it was her personal mission. “If I call him now, it’s going to feel like admitting defeat,” she joked, but her tone was weary.

Her mom touched her shoulder gently. “It’s not defeat, honey. It’s teamwork. And I’m sure he’d love to see her anyway.”

After a moment, Maryse relented. She pulled out her phone and hit the video call button. When Jack’s face popped up on the screen, looking a little disheveled but concerned, she felt a wave of relief.

“Hey,” he said, noticing her tired expression right away. “What’s going on?”

Maryse turned the camera to London, who perked up the moment she saw her dad on the screen, her little arms reaching toward the phone.

“Well, somebody won’t take a nap because you’re not here to do the magic,” Maryse said, her voice softening.

Jack chuckled, his voice warm. “Oh, is that right, London? You giving Mama a hard time?”

London babbled happily, her fussiness forgotten as she watched her dad’s face. Maryse rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay,” Jack said. “Put the phone near her ear. Let me do my thing.”

As Maryse held the phone near London’s ear, Jack’s soft singing worked its magic. London’s little body finally relaxed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Unbelievable,” Maryse muttered, more to herself than to him, as she gently laid London down in the crib.

Jack smiled at the screen. “Told you I had the magic touch,” he said playfully.

Maryse just shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Guess so,” she replied, her tone flat. She didn’t even glance at the screen as she adjusted the baby blanket.

Jack frowned slightly, sensing her mood but deciding not to push. “You, uh… you coming home tonight?” he asked cautiously.

Maryse didn’t look up from where she was now tidying the nursery, giving a small shake of her head.

“No,” she said simply, her voice devoid of any emotion.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softening. “Alright. Well, I love you.”

She paused for a split second, her hand hovering over London’s crib, then straightened up. “I know,” she said coolly, not meeting his eyes through the screen.

Before he could respond, she ended the call, setting the phone down on the dresser without another word.

Jack stared at the now-black screen in disbelief, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. For the first time, the weight of the distance between them felt heavier than ever.

Her mom had been standing just outside the nursery door, rocking Noah gently in her arms. She heard every word of the conversation and watched as Maryse stared at the blank phone screen with a clenched jaw.

“Baby,” her mom said softly, stepping into the room, “you need to go home and talk to him.”

Maryse sighed, shaking her head as she grabbed London’s pacifier from the dresser. “Why, Mom? When I wanted to talk, he didn’t want to listen,” she said bitterly, her tone sharp.

Her mom didn’t let her finish. “Stop it right there,” she said firmly, giving her daughter a knowing look. “Your father and I raised you better than this, and you know it. You’re upset, and you have every right to be, but shutting down like this isn’t the answer. You two are in a partnership. That man loves you, and I know you love him. You don’t fix things by running away every time it gets hard.”

Maryse crossed her arms defensively but didn’t respond, her mom’s words hitting too close to home.

Her mom continued, her voice softening. “He’s not perfect, and neither are you. But he’s trying. Don’t let your pride ruin something good. Those babies deserve two parents who work through their problems, not run from them.”

Maryse swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward London’s crib. Her mom placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been through so much, and I know it’s not easy. But don’t shut him out just because he didn’t respond the way you wanted the first time. Go home. Sit down. Talk to him like the woman I raised you to be.”

Maryse blinked back tears, her mom’s words sinking in, but she still hesitated. “What if he doesn’t understand, Mom? What if he doesn’t get it?”

Her mom smiled softly. “Then you explain it to him until he does. Relationships aren’t about who’s right or wrong. It’s about making the choice to try every single day. You’re stronger than this, baby. Go home.”

“I’ll think about it.” Maryse said with a sigh before turning to leave the room and head towards the bathroom to shower for the night. 

***

The next morning, Maryse’s mom was up earlier than usual, enjoying her coffee in the quiet of the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. She frowned, not expecting anyone, and pulled out her phone to check the ring camera.

There he was—Jack, standing on her porch in a hoodie, hands stuffed into his pockets, rocking nervously on his heels.

Her jaw dropped when she noticed the rest of the scene: the entire porch was covered in roses. Bouquets of every size, from deep crimson to soft pink, crowded every inch of space, leaving barely enough room for him to stand.

She sighed, setting her coffee down with a muttered, “Lord have mercy.”

Opening the door just enough to poke her head out, she raised an eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Big Gesture himself.”

Jack looked up, giving a sheepish smile. “Morning, Ms. Monet. I, uh… I came to apologize.”

Her gaze flicked to the mountain of flowers spilling onto her porch. “And…all this?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to show her I’m serious. I messed up, and I need her to know I’m sorry.”

She looked him over for a moment before stepping out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. “You can wait right here,” she said firmly.

“Outside?”

She folded her arms. “Yes, outside. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll come out. But I’m not letting you barge in here and force her into anything.”

Jack nodded, swallowing hard. “That’s fair.”

She softened just a bit, adding, “And for the record? Big gestures are cute, but they don’t fix everything, son. You’ve got to do better than flowers.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I’m ready to.”

“Good,” she said, turning back toward the door. “Now sit tight. I’ll go let her know you’re here.”

He watched her go, left standing on the porch surrounded by roses, the morning air cool against his skin as he rehearsed everything he wanted to say.

Her mom walked into the nursery where Maryse was playing on the floor with Noah. Arms crossed. “He’s outside. And he’s not leaving.”

Maryse frowned, glancing up from where she sat with Noah in her lap. “What do you mean, he’s outside?”

Her mom sighed and gestured toward the front door. “Check the camera.”

Reluctantly, Maryse picked up her phone and opened the app, her heart sinking as she saw Jack standing there. He looked nervous, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She hated how good he looked, even when he was clearly stressed out.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before deciding to press the intercom button on the camera. “What do you want?” her voice came through the speaker, flat and guarded.

Jack immediately perked up, looking straight at the camera. “Baby, can we talk? Please?”

Maryse tilted her head, her tone remaining cool. “Didn’t you say I was acting childish? Maybe I’m still too busy being childish to talk.”

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, I deserve that. But I’m not here to argue. I’m here to apologize. Can we please talk? Face to face?”

She crossed her arms and leaned back on the couch, debating her next move. “You seem fine talking to me through the camera.”

Jack chuckled softly, though it was tinged with frustration. “You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?”

Maryse smirked faintly but kept her voice steady. “You tell me, Mr. Mind Reader.”

Jack sighed again, looking directly into the camera. “You’re right, I messed up. But I miss you and the kids so much it hurts. Please, just give me a chance to fix this.”

Her mom, watching from the doorway, gave her an expectant look. Maryse hesitated, then sighed, standing up. “Stay there,” she said into the camera.

As she walked toward the door, her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook completely, but seeing him out there, looking like a lovesick puppy, was softening her resolve.

Maryse unlocked the door and pulled it open, expecting to see just Jack standing there. Her breath hitched when she saw what was behind him.

The entire front porch was filled with roses—dozens upon dozens of bouquets in every shade of red, pink, and white. They spilled down the steps, clustered around the railing, and even lined the walkway.

“Are you serious?” she asked, blinking in disbelief.

Jack gave her a sheepish smile, hands still shoved in his pockets. “I figured one bouquet wasn’t gonna cut it.”

She looked from him to the sea of roses, her lips parting in surprise. “This is… a lot,” she admitted, though she couldn’t hide the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He took a cautious step forward, his voice soft. “I meant it when I said I’d do whatever it takes to make this right. I just… I love you, and I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t care.”

Maryse’s fingers tightened around the edge of the door as she fought the lump rising in her throat. She wanted to stay mad, but seeing him standing there, nervous and vulnerable, surrounded by roses, made it nearly impossible.

Maryse sat down on the porch reluctantly, trying her hardest to look unimpressed as the sea of roses surrounded her. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. “You know, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still not forgiven.”

Jack, standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets, smirked just slightly. “But… these are your favorite flowers,” he teased, his voice soft but cocky, like he already knew the answer.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, though the corner of her mouth twitched as if fighting a smile. “So? That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

He nodded, taking a small step closer and dropping the smirk. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m not here just to sweet-talk my way out of this.” He crouched down in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees so they were face-to-face. “I’m here because I messed up, and I need to own that.”

Maryse glanced away, her walls still up. “You’re right. You did.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like your feelings didn’t matter,” he continued, his voice earnest now. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me, especially when I wanted you to. I just… I don’t know. Sometimes I look at you, and I see how you just do it. You’re this incredible mom. The twins love you. They’re obsessed with you. And sometimes, I feel like you’ve got it all figured out, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

Her eyes flicked back to him, her expression softening slightly.

“And instead of saying that… instead of listening to you, I pushed you away like an idiot,” he added, his voice quieter now. “But you were right. You tried to talk to me, and I didn’t listen. And I’m sorry, babe. You’re the best mom those babies could ever have, and you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I want to be better at showing you that.”

Maryse sighed softly, looking at him for a moment as he sat there waiting, his eyes full of guilt but also hope. “You really feel like you’re just ‘keeping up’?” she asked, her tone gentler now.

Jack nodded, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah. All the time.”

Her lips finally quirked into the faintest smile. “Well, you’re doing better than you think, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He smirked, relief washing over his face as he straightened up. “So, you’re saying there’s hope for me?”

Maryse exhaled, giving him a small eye roll but with a smile this time. “Maybe.”

Jack grinned, pulling her up from the seat on the porch, keeping his hands lightly on her waist. “I’ll take ‘maybe.’ It’s better than ‘get off my porch.’”

She let him pull her close, though she kept her voice stubborn. “Still not forgiven.”

“Okay,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll keep working on it. Just don’t make me bring more flowers. I don’t think there’s any left in Kentucky.”

Maryse couldn’t help but laugh, punching him lightly in the arm. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Ow!” he yelped, clutching his arm and pretending it actually hurt.

“Stop being such a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes, though her smile betrayed her.

He dropped the act and looked at her seriously, his voice soft. “But for real… are you coming home now? I really miss you. I miss the kids, too.”

Her teasing expression faltered, replaced by something softer. “You miss me?”

“Like crazy,” he admitted. “The house doesn’t feel right without you.”

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I miss you too,” she finally whispered.

“So… what do you say? Come home?” he asked, reaching out to gently take her hand in his.

She sighed, trying to act like she wasn’t already planning to say yes. “I guess so.”

Jack grinned, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Good. Because I don’t think I could’ve handled another night without you.”

Maryse gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go home.”

***

AN: tell me your thotssss

Tag List

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[pharmaciacatholica]

Someone once told me that suicide isnt like a "you're going to hell rn" situation because its often done under extreme stress/altered mental states and people aren't always in full control of themselves. I am sure the "instant hell" sentiment is probably a protestant thing but do you happen to know more on this?

I actually have a post in my drafts about this but is a subject that I do not love to speak on because it is inherently sensitive and it can often be difficult to express hardline truths without coming off as callous.

The cool part about being Catholic is that I often do not need to wade into the waters on my own. For the most part, I am able to point to the words or a far more learned and pious man than myself. In this case, I have the written words of Pope Saint John Paul II:

Suicide is always as morally objectionable as murder. The Church's tradition has always rejected it as a gravely evil choice.(x)(x) Even though a certain psychological, cultural and social conditioning may induce a person to carry out an action which so radically contradicts the innate inclination to life, thus lessening or removing subjective responsibility, suicide, when viewed objectively, is a gravely immoral act. In fact, it involves the rejection of love of self and the renunciation of the obligation of justice and charity towards one's neighbour, towards the communities to which one belongs, and towards society as a whole.(x)(x) In its deepest reality, suicide represents a rejection of God's absolute sovereignty over life and death, as proclaimed in the prayer of the ancient sage of Israel: "You have power over life and death; you lead men down to the gates of Hades and back again" (Wis 16:13; cf. Tob 13:2).

Evangelium Vitae (paragraph 66)

So you are partially correct and partially incorrect in your assessment. For some people, and I’ve seen this before, to go around telling those who have had a loved one commit suicide that they are burning in hell is completely insane and unjustifiable. It is also extremely dangerous to play off suicide as something that isn’t a grave sin or that every time it happens the person isn’t culpable for their actions. Suicide is one of the sins that landed Judas in hell, because he chose despair over repentance and mercy. I also think G.K. Chesterton spoke very poetically on the subject here:

Not only is suicide a sin, it is the sin. It is the ultimate and absolute evil, the refusal to take an interest in existence; the refusal to take the oath of loyalty to life. The man who kills a man, kills a man. The man who kills himself, kills all men; as far as he is concerned he wipes out the world. His act is worse than any rape or dynamite outrage. For it destroys all buildings: it insults all women. The thief is satisfied with diamonds; but the suicide is not: that is his crime. He cannot be bribed, even by the blazing stones of the Celestial City. The thief compliments the things he steals, if not the owner of them. But the suicide insults everything on earth by not stealing it. He defiles every flower by refusing to live for its sake. There is not a tiny creature in the cosmos at whom his death is not a sneer. When a man hangs himself on a tree, the leaves might fall off in anger and the birds fly away in fury: for each has received a personal affront. Of course there may be pathetic emotional excuses for the act. There often are for rape, and there almost always are for dynamite. But if it comes to clear ideas and the intelligent meaning of things, then there is much more rational and philosophic truth in the burial at the cross-roads and the stake driven through the body, than in Mr. Archer's suicidal automatic machines. There is a meaning in burying the suicide apart. The man's crime is different from other crimes - for it makes even crimes impossible.

Orthodoxy

This is just the writing of an overrated layman poet, but it really drives home the point.

[thefleshyougoveggie]

we as a society need to talk more about platonic love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND HOW WONDERFUL IT IS!!!!!!

[birbmonster]

Could you draw a Riff or a Mammott?

The iconic one

Monke 👍

[banditblvd]

Right so regarding my last post, I plan on posting whatever I draw for the fandoms I’m in :-) in hindsight this is kind of a no brainer, but I’m still glad I asked

The 4 main fandoms I’m in are hermitcraft/traffic (ofc), JRWI (riptide+wonderlust, I have yet to watch the other campaigns), sky cotl, and Pokémon

So I suppose if you don’t want to see stuff about those then this is your last chance to flee before it’s too late :D

/j don’t worry I’ll change your mind

[lilgynt]

my mom found the thing that started the fight that got me kicked out. so i was right. in my fantasies this happens and it’s great in real life im gonna jump her

[shaykai]

You know I thought I was strong enough to let the tieflings die, but I don’t think I am actually

time to reload a save that’s like 5 hours back

[joestarfucker420]

going from being ashton all week to being my legal name again is honestly one of the worst feelings in the world

[foxgloveinspace]

oh my god you gave permission to send vids and i lasted all of 30 minutes before needing to send something 😂

BUT!!!

iv crying 🥺🥺🥺 the love for iii these last few shows has melted my heart and clearly the bands too

https://x.com/vesseltoken/status/1734391886901616999?s=46

i cannot suffer alone with this one i’m so sorry

Well, as I watch this and suffer. here, sleep token official instagrams account second to last pic…. Our boy AdamRosssi knows what we want, haha.

🥺🥺🥺

Oh no……

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun

[pastellmochi]

[makismei]

thinking about toji with a sensitive girl who runs away before she cums, saying it’s too much and she can’t take it! cw: hints of sadism & machoism, unintentional edging, squirting, he’s pretty sweet ^.^

“baby, c’mon, you’re making this harder for yourself.” he chides, dragging your twitchy hips back. your thighs stay shut and he sends you a pointed glare, “what’s this?”

“toji,” you sniffle, “s’ too much, i can’t do it.”

with your teary eyes and quivering legs, toji can’t help but be mean. you’re so cute. it might be the death of him.

“want to use your special little word?” he asks lowly, already knowing your answer.

you shrink in on yourself, “n-no…”

he hums, a sick grin tugging on his lips. “i’m gonna need something more convincing than that, baby.”

you pout. he’s teasing you. he likes to see you like this.

shyly, you open your thighs, revealing your soaked cunt to him. his eyes lock in on your needy hole, twitching and drooling all over the bedsheets. “please, toji, make me cum..”

“aw, how sweet. saying please too, how can i say no?” he mutters, thick hand caressing your thigh, trailing closer to where you need him.

“you’re not gonna run this time, right?” he pats your pussy, entertained by the way you tense and how you force your legs to stay open.

“m’ not!” he knows you’re lying. but it’s fine, he likes testing how far you can go.

he thumbs your clit, watching you intently. you’re staring down at his hand, anticipating his next move. slowly, he pushes two fingers inside, groaning to himself when you squeeze down on his digits, “what a slutty cunt,” he grouses, “see doll, she’s begging to cum, but you’re not letting her.”

toji prods around, still thumbing your clit and you think you’re going to cry.

“hold your legs back,” he doesn’t even bother looking at you, “your legs are trying to close on me.”

you know what’s gonna happen if you hold your legs back. but also, what happens if you don’t. you shake your head, defiant. “i don’t wanna…”

the man hums, amused. “you’re gonna be like that?” you nod, testing him.

“hmm, i think m’ done being nice to you.” your pupils morphing into hearts at his words, barely even realizing that he’s putting a hand on your thigh, pushing it down to make room for him. he locks your other leg underneath him.

his fingers know exactly where to poke, thumb still on your clit. he’s so precise, aiming for that one spot again and again.

naturally, because he’s already tried to make you cum a few times, it doesn’t take long for you to know you’re gonna cum.

“don’t.” he scolds, already knowing what you’re up to, “don’t hold it, cum.”

it’s overwhelming, you’re not sure if you’re holding it intentionally, but you like it when he forces you to cum anyway. “i c-can’t, toji, toji no!”

you’re trying to squirm away. away from the onslaught of pleasure. toji glares at you and then you hear it.

a soft buzz and you look down, mortified. he’s still fingering you, despite the fact you’re clenching down so hard he can barely move his fingers.

“wait.. wait toji, baby, please,” you beg, “i’ll cum, i’ll cum now. but plea—easeeee!”

“i’ve given you enough chances,” he frowns, pressing the little toy against your clit, he continues driving his digits into you. “c’mon baby, make me happy.”

you’re sobbing hysterically, unable to get away from the pleasure. toji laughs, “let go, i dunno why you’re doing this to yourself.”

writhing on the bed is useless because you can’t escape his hold—teetering on the edge of orgasm is making your mind go numb.

“n-no, m’ gonna cum, toji i can’t hold it! it’s gonna come ouuuttt!” he doesn’t let up, shaking the toy and watching your back arch up.

“hands.” he scolds and you immediately withdraw your clammy fingers from his own, “that’s good, now c’mon, you know what i want.”

it’s paralyzing, left leg shaking uncontrollably underneath him while you babble incoherently. he keeps a watchful eye, working you to it. he feels his cock drooling pre at the sight of you—the feeling of you falling apart on his fingers is making his mind hazy.

your vision whites. toji whistles lowly, watching you splash liquid all over his lower tummy, soaking his boxers. he tosses the vibrator aside, thick fingers gently working you through it.

you’re practically screeching, becoming so fidgety that toji has to use his free hand to scoop up your wrists, keeping you at his mercy.

“shh, baby, that’s good. that feels good, don’t it?” when your body relaxes, he pops his fingers out, shamelessly putting them in his mouth. he leans over you, pressing his weight onto you.

burly hands hold your face, grinning at your bleary eyes and tear soaked cheeks. “hey, gorgeous,” he hums sweetly, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. you’re panting, trying to catch your breath and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but it’s in his nature to be a little mean.

pressing his tongue into your open mouth, you moan, unable to keep up and he breathes out a laugh, pulling away. he knocks his nose against yours, praising you quietly.

weak arms throw themselves over his neck, keeping him close to you. you can feel his bulge twitch, a familiar warmth beginning spread over your body.

“tojiii~” you tease, “i think your little friend wants some attention too.”

he’s amused, grinning wolfishly. “haven’t you had enough, lady?”

you pretend to ponder, “i can’t say for sure.”

“you started this,” he pulls away, manhandling your body so you’re on your knees, face smushed into the pillow, “i think you’re biting off more than you can chew, doll.”

more pleasure dom!toji here ^.^

[irabu]

Guilty Gear plans cancelled I’m going to watch Card Captor Sakura on my new TV after I do some workout since my silly ass took a decade to realize they’re the same characters as Tsubasa Chronicle and now I need to rewatch both as a grown man in my mid 20s to understand the plot properly.