#i may have projected a little with this one

[nerdygirlramblings]

omegaverse 141

previous

The following morning, after formation, you have your squad follow you onto the trail that runs around base. The same one Soap had seen you running a few weeks back.

"You didn't tell us we be runnin' today, Sarge," Geoffrey says, barely concealing a whine.

You chuckle to yourself and roll your eyes. Glancing over your shoulder you ask, "When have I led ya wrong?" Your squad is quiet behind you. They may not want to socialize with you as an omega, but there's no denying you've been getting the job done. "Brought ya out here cuz I wanted to talk. And to do it without any alphas or other CO's around."

There's some muttering behind you, not loud enough to make anything out, but not quiet enough to dismiss either. You notice a change in the air around you. Though they're betas and have learned how to project their calming scent, most are still working on controlling their fear and distress. You can smell the slightly sour milk and rush to allay their worries.

You turn to face them and say, "You're not in trouble! We are not in trouble." You face the trail again and resume your walk, talking as you go, "But something's come up, and it impacts everyone." You pick up your pace ever so slightly . You're looking for the clearing you'd passed the first time you ran here. It's a little space set off from the main trail, big enough for a few people to camp or for a squad to meet. You want to get there quickly to have this whole conversation out rather than dropping breadcrumbs. Your squad deserves that.

Once everyone is off the trail and standing around you, you tell them about the offer you've received from the 141. "Oh my God," Molly whispers, awe in her voice. "There, like, the best!"

You bob your head in acknowledgment and respond, "Some of, yes." It's clear that your squad doesn't understand the full implications of you joining the 141. So you lay it out for them. "If I take this opportunity, they'll pull me as your CO. Captain Price said -"

A voice interrupts, "You mean you actually talked to Captain Price?!?" You smile self-indulgently remembering how awed you were when the man first approached you.

"Yes, and 'e said that it's too disruptive for any of the 141 to have a squad of their own. Apparently, we can be called out at any point, and be gone for weeks. It would leave ya without a commanding officer." You look at each member of your squad, meeting everyone's eyes. "If I do this, you'll have a new CO. I don't know who it would be, and I don't know what that would mean for your trainin'. 'At's why I brought ya out here. Wanted to get yer honest take on what this means fer ya." There's some uneasy shuffling as it seems no one wants to quite be honest about their feelings. You remind them that you're not like other COs, and that you're an omega. Not that they need the reminder about either, but it seems to help settle some nerves. "I know it's hard fer ya having an omega as a CO. I know the stigma it carries. While this decision is mine and mine alone, yer time here is impacted by it, so I wanted to know what ya think."

It finally occurs to some members of your squad that they can be honest with you. "Yeah, 's tough around base having you as our CO. There're still a lot of alphas who won't want us on their team because you're the one who is trained us," Connor says.

One by one, your squad shares how they feel about you joining the 141. Some are like Connor and recognize the strain it puts on their careers to have you as their CO. Some are like Molly, excited for your opportunity regardless of what it does for them. Some are like Geoffrey, recognizing how they've struggled and realizing that a different CO, a beta or an alpha who is harsher, will make their time in the military much more difficult.

You get the sense - from what they say and how they smell - that most of your squad have already accepted that you'll leave them. Some may be happy about this because of the way it might benefit them while others simply seem happy for you. You close by telling them to make their way to the shooting range to practice on the Glock 17s. You remind them that after range practice is lunch with the promise of a decision for them by the time you see them in the mess.

"An' I promise, if I do take Captain Price up on his offer, I'll still keep tabs on you. Gotta make sure you all make it through basic as brilliantly as I know you can," you say with a rueful grin.

Your squad disperses from the clearing, making their way in twos and threes back to base, but you hang back. You pull your phone out and call home, finally ready with a decision.

This time it's Mum who answers. She takes one look at your face and shouts off screen to Mama and Dad "We've got a decision!" There's commotion on the other end as Mama and Dad come into frame.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," you say apologetically.

Dad reminds you he's on glorified bedrest, "So either yer Mum or yer Mama is always home. This morning I've got both." He smiles, "But a call from you is never an interruption. Or, if it is, it's the best kind."

Mama nods and leans close to the screen. "So, what did you decide?"

You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, and release it slowly. Before you can tell them, Mum says, "Good fer you, love."

"But," you sputter, "Mum...I didn't even tell you-"

"You don't have to, dear," she interrupts. "I can see the decision in your eyes. You're gonna join the task force." You hear the price, and fear, in her voice.

Beside her, Mama nods and tries to hide her emotions. "We're proud of whatever decision you make. And while I'm not happy with how much more dangerous this is, I think it's the right thing for you."

Dad is beaming, but you see the tears caught in his lashes. "Pretty girl, we love you so much! This is such an amazing opportunity for you. And if it feels right, if your omega feels safe, this might be the best thing for you."

next

[polytropic-liar]

What can you do to prepare for ICE enforcement actions?

I keep seeing that list of potential ICE target cities being shared around, so I'm breaking my "no organizing on tumblr" rule to share some info.

Credentialing: I'm an immigration lawyer, I've worked in immigration justice organizing for approximately a decade, I lead regular Know Your Rights trainings in my community.

Disclaimer: This is not legal advice. This is information about the US immigration system, and it may not be completely accurate to your specific location or situation. I am not soliciting clients on Tumblr. Do not message me confidential information about your, or anyone else's, immigration situation. If you need help with an immigration situation, the Immigration Advocates Network has a national database you can search by your location.

So, what can you do to help prepare for the event of an ICE enforcement action that impacts your community, friends, or family?

I. Assess risk

One of the most detrimental effects of the panic propaganda (which these constant threats of ICE raids absolutely are) is that it makes every single immigrant terrified, regardless of risk level. That saps the organizing power of immigrant communities and their supporters (like lawyers). You can help mitigate that effect by helping the people in your life and your community actually assess what their risk factors for targeting by ICE might be. This guide from 2017 for assessing risk from Immigrant Defense Project is a little dated at this point, but the basic information should be a good starting point.

Sometimes a risk assessment can help someone actually address some risk factors, like filing a renewal application, fixing their compliance with terms of their release before their parole is revoked, getting a lawyer to re-open their order of removal, or getting a criminal conviction mitigated/overturned. Even if it can't, it can help people have a more accurate picture of what their risk is, which people deserve to understand and to plan around.

II. Develop an emergency response plan

For people who are at risk of ICE arrest, detention, and potentially deportation, planning beforehand can make a huge difference. Immigrant Defense Project's guide to emergency preparedness is a great place to start. (Note: some of their linked resources are New York-specific. You may need to find ones for your state.)

If you're wondering how you can help the people you care about who are at risk, offer to play a role in their emergency plan. A great role for people who are fluent in English and familiar with US systems and structures is helping track someone through the detention system, and maintaining communications between them and their lawyer and outside community.

III. Prepare to document

Rapid response hotlines exist in all of the major cities on that list of potential targets. If they're not holding rapid response trainings right now, be patient: they probably will soon. Rapid response is often not about preventing an ICE enforcement action, it's about documenting it. It sucks that we often can't respond by stopping them from causing harm, but documentation provides leverage and opportunities for the people detained and for the community groups to use against ICE, which can win material victories, up to and including getting them to drop a deportation case and let someone go.

Do you film the police in your community, or otherwise document their actions? Documenting ICE works very similarly, they're just there less often and harder to identify. That means that you can train to document ICE by working with your local copwatch group. Learn how to generate good records, follow the local laws, store things securely, and connect with the people who can best use the data.

IV. Re-distribute resources

You know what really helps someone not get detained by ICE? Having the resources to avoid contact with them and with the criminal justice system. The most impactful detention prevention you can do with someone is to help them get their taillight fixed, secure a lease, pay for daycare for their kids, etc. Get people the money, access, and services they need to keep themselves safe! Do it now, and regularly: don't wait for someone to have an encounter that puts them on ICE's radar.

Can't afford to re-distribute resources directly? Most major cities in the US have "accompaniment" networks, where you can sign up to drive folks to get their licenses, and go with to the doctor, and help figure out how to get kids enrolled in school. This everyday, non-glamorous work is the most effective, meaningful, and useful thing you can do to help right now.

V. Collate and vet information

This isn't just about making sure what you share is verified (though it's significantly about that! I know the lure of chisme is so strong but please resist. Now more than ever, we have to take personal responsibility for not spreading misinformation!). It's also about something you, as a person reading this on the internet who therefore knows how to use at least one website, can do to be of service to the overwhelmed, scared, pissed off, and scrambling immigration justice groups right now. Find your local one, and ask: "Hey do you need more people finding news about immigration, checking it for reliability, and delivering it to you in one coordinated, easily-accessed place so you can decide how to disseminate it?" Not everyone needs that right now. But the ones who do will cry with gratitude. This is a particularly good role for folks who may have been feeling like their mobility or physical health meant they couldn't do anything to help against ICE--your skills are needed right now too, I promise.

Last note: I'm not going to tell you to calm down. It's reasonable and rational to be scared, and upset, and angry right now. But what I will say is: when the fear and outrage fade, the work won't end. I work with people who have been responding to ICE/INS actions for 40 years. A lot of this may feel brand new and terrifying to you, but to many of us, this is a familiar and known enemy that we spend our whole lives fighting.

It being familiar doesn't make it okay, or acceptable: it should all burn. But the organizing infrastructure to respond to this is here already. We're not helpless or surprised about what's happening, because we prepare for it every day. We're ready to fold you in with open arms whenever you want.

[impactrueno]

I feel like sometimes people project a bit of 'fatherliness' onto cartoon bj (due to the difference in age + close friendship between him & lydia?) which is honestly not present in his character. Like, sure, he wants to keep lydia safe, but he's immature and selfish ... hes beetlejuice.... we have nothing but evidence of how little he thinks about other people's feelings

oh my god i'm so glad i'm not the only one who noticed HAHA

he's very intentionally written as lydia's equal, never an authority or parental figure who's responsible for her. frankly i would argue it's the other way around lmao. that's part of the humor in a lot of situations they've been in (like when he had to go back to kindergarten and she acted as his guardian 😭)

i think the only time beetlejuice has ever displayed anything remotely close to fatherliness was when doomie fell in love with the mayor's pink car and BJ became doomie's grumpy and controlling dad, and only because it was part of the joke.

people often assign these traits to characters after they've slapped the "familial" label onto whatever friendships the character may have. this is why i don't vibe with familial interpretations of their relationship either. it's just...not them! beetlejuice sees lydia as lydia, not a niece, and vice versa. their bond has never been about being found family, it's about two lonely souls finally finding someone who understands them, and nobody else gets them like they do each other. birds of a feather. partners in grime. best friends who are equals. familial bonds are not. you CAN be best friends with your brother, but that's you being best friends with him BESIDES him just being your brother, and not because he's your brother. am i making sense?

the only reason beetlejuice might come off as having any authority over her is because he's sort of like her guide to the neitherworld. but you wouldn't call the cheshire cat an uncle to alice, would you?

and finally, the fact that lydia is the one who holds power over him by being able to summon or get rid of him at will. genie type shit. this just can't be familial, imo.

i've rambled enough and i don't want to ruin people's fun because i'm aware them being family-like is important to some people, but i just needed to share how i personally feel about it lol no one ever talks about this

[nubiawrites]

chapter five

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving and receiving). alcohol. talks of safe sex.

Summary: Aaron and Iriye have a nightcap, tensions being released as new connections are formed.

Notes: Everyone say thank you to GQ and Aaron's sleeve. I told you all the next chapter would be worth it. Enjoy and let me know what you think

MASTERLIST

Aaron's fingers drummed steadily against the wheel as he drove Iriye and himself back to his place. The Bluetooth in his card played some Sade as Aaron drove them in comfortable silence. 

This was not Iriye's first one-night stand, but it was with someone like Aaron—a collaborator, an artist, an actor. As they inched closer to his place, her anxiety got the best of her.

"I've never done this before," Iriye blurted out. Aaron had parked the car in the parking garage of his apartment, and he paused.

"Like had sex?" Aaron raised both eyebrows, and Iriye swatted his arm. 

"I've had sex. Trust me," Iriye sighed. "I don't sleep with talent. I never have,"

"Okay," He nodded.

"Because I respect you. And I love my job. And I love this project. And I don't make this a habit," Iriye rambled.

Aaron just smirked as she kept talking, seeing the defenses fall. She was always so sharp and on it, and he liked that, but this made her more endearing.

"What are you thinking?" Iriye asked. "Because if it is and I'm crazy, I will happily Uber home, and we can just—" He cut her off by leaning in for a kiss. The movement took her aback, but she ultimately relaxed into the gentle and sweet kiss. 

Iriye pulled back once fully relaxed and hummed, her eyes opening to look at Aaron's face. 

"Well, if you're wondering what I'm thinking, I don't care if you've never done this or have done this a million times," Aaron stated. "As Nelly and many other women I know would say, you're a grown-ass woman,"

"Please say that again. I need to hear it with your accent and all," Iriye teased. Aaron rolled his eyes before leaning in. 

"Grown-ass woman," Aaron repeated, and Iriye giggled. "Let's just see what happens. No pressure,"

Iriye nodded, and Aaron got out of the car. Iriye would do the same when he rushed to her side to open the door, holding his hand out for her. She took it and got out of the car.

"Thank you," Iriye said. Locking up his car, his hand never left hers as he guided her inside the apartment building.

They entered his apartment, and Aaron let her step inside first. She smiled at the place once he switched on the light, which matched Aaron's energy. 

"Your place is nice. Very homey," She moved to sit on the couch.

“Thank you,” He said before stepping into the kitchen. “You want anything?”

“I’ll have whatever you are having,” Iriye said, looking around at the record collections under the TV. She saw a few books stacked neatly on his coffee table, her eyes peeping at a familiar title. She smiled to herself when Aaron came back with two glasses.

“My whiskey sours may not be as great as yours,” he said, placing the glass in her hand. She chuckled. 

“I’ll be the judge,” Iriye sipped the drink and hummed. “Just a little bit more lemon,” She moved to pull the book on the top of his stack. “How are you liking the Last Days of Ptolemy Grey,” 

“Interestingly enough, I like it. I figured I would read it first before watching. Someone has great taste in literature,” Aaron tilted his head towards her.

“I mean, I do know some things about writing,” Iriye shrugged playfully. Turning to him, she moved to make herself more comfortable but realized her boots were still on. She was about to reach down and take them off, not wanting to seem like she didn’t have any home training.

"I got you,"  Aaron said, his British accent with that deep timber of a voice. Her stomach clenched deliciously, trying to be demure. He moved to lift her legs into his lap. “May I?” Iriye was too distracted by how smooth he was, nodding her head along.

Aaron kept his eyes on her before unzipping the first boot, his thumb smoothing over the revealed skin along the way. Iriye let out a soft breath, feeling him pull the boot off. He did the other, and she kept her legs over his lap.

“Was that an excuse to keep me close?” Iriye raised a brow at him, Aaron rubbing her legs.

“Would that be so bad? To want you close, love,” Aaron questioned.

“No,” Iriye felt his hand moved to her cheek. 

“Come here,” Aaron stated, pulling her closer by her chin. She leaned in and kissed him softly for a moment. Getting reacquainted with the soft, full lips on hers, the feel of his trimmed mustache near her face. When she pulled back, he leaned his head against hers. “I’m taking this however you want to,”

“That might be the hottest thing I ever heard,” Iriye admitted, pulling him close again and kissing him. His hand moved to stroke her legs as they were on his lap. She hummed, his fingertips sending shivers up her spine. They fell into a comfortable rhythm, her hands moving to his neck and cheek. His tongue looked for permission to lick into her mouth, and she gave it to him gladly.

They continued kissing that way, tongues clashing as they moved in sync. Aaron pulled away, moving his hands to pull her closer. But Iriye stopped him, lying back on the couch.

“You look so good like this,” Aaron stated.

“I’m still in my clothes,” Iriye stated.

“Imagine what you would look like splayed here without them,” His words made her press her legs together. 

“Then get me out of them,” With those words, Aaron advanced on her, legs falling apart to fit his hips against hers. Her jean dress pushed up some, and she let her hands fall to his neck as she connected their lips again.

Aaron placed one hand by her head, not wanting to settle too much weight on her as they made out. She felt his hand trail to her thigh, and she pressed herself closer to his chest as she arched her back. 

“Aaron,” Iriye moaned against his lips, her clothes feeling too suffocating. He pulled back, and his hand went to the zipper on the front of her dress, pulling it down till the dark brown bra she wore came into view. Iriye sat up to shimmy out of her sleeves, sitting confidently as she felt Aaron’s eyes take her in.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron’s eyes trailed over her breast. 

“I know,” Iriye giggled. She had soft curves from pilates, and her body had changed over the years, but under his eyes, she felt even sexier. “Your turn,” She pulled at his black shirt. Aaron smirked before lifting his shirt. Iriye was trying to stop herself from watching her eyes pop out at his muscular body. His broad chest, the tiny speckle of hair leading into the dark corduroy pants he wore. It didn’t help his left arm was covered in tattoos, and Iriye needed to know how it would look around her neck in the worst way.

Aaron moved to lean down and kiss her as he pulled her closer. Her hand went between them, and she found the button to his pants. He pulled back to give her some space, her fingers quick to get the button off and his zipper down, her hand brushing against his length through his boxer briefs.

“Shit,” Aaron breathed, a grin appearing on Iriye’s face. Hearing him curse was all she needed. She brushed her hand against him again, feeling his length twitch a little. 

“You want me to touch you?” Iriye teased. Aaron kissed her again, Iriye moaning softly into his mouth. She teased her hand against him, and he pressed into it.

“Fuck yes,” Aaron stated, his resolve slowly slipping. Iriye tried to wiggle her hands into his pants, but she needed them out of the way. Aaron moved off the couch to remove his pants, the bulge even more apparent in his briefs. Before she could even marvel at it more, his hands were on her dress, pulling it down her body.

Aaron groaned as he saw how her boyshorts had a wet spot, a telltale sign of how turned on Iriye was for him. He was about to take them off when Iriye stopped him. 

“Last time, it was about me. This time, it’s about you,” Iriye stated. “Do you have condoms?”

As much as Aaron was a giver, a woman being straightforward and dominant with him was attractive. It made him want to just bend Iriye over and fuck her into the couch. But patience was key. So was protection.

“Let me go check,” Aaron got up, kissing her deeply and letting his tongue slide into her mouth, needing to after taking her whole body in. She let her nails drag against his neck, and he groaned before moving away and heading towards a door.

Iriye laid back against the couch, trying her best not to let her hand slip down between her legs and keep working herself up. But the way her clit throbbed in anticipation, she rubbed her legs together to try and calm herself down, only making it worse.

After a few minutes, she heard Aaron come back into the living room, sitting up at the frown on his face.

“I don’t have any…” Aaron rubbed his hand over his chin.

“None,” Iriye asked again.

“None,” 

Aaron gauged her face for her reaction, seeing her chuckle. 

“I don’t know if I should be happy you have none or nervous because you used them up,” Iriye shook her head. A grin went to Aaron’s face.

“I’ve been busy with work. Plus, when it comes to matters of the heart, it takes me a bit to open up,” He said as he moved to sit by her. Iriye leaned into his side. “I can go run for some,”

“It’s too late to be driving around for protection,” Iriye scratched at her scalp softly. “Honestly, maybe this is just what we needed. Let us think straight for a minute,” She said.

“Right,” Aaron agreed, even if he was looking at her lips. He leaned in to kiss her, and she let her hands slip to his neck. “There are other things we can do that don’t need condoms if you want to,”

Iriye purred at the temptation. “And what’s that?” She teased. Aaron’s hands moved to cup her ass with one big hand, and the other slipped between her legs. 

“Open up for me,” Aaron stated, and Iriye slipped her legs open as he asked. He let his hand tease the hem of her panties. 

“I was trying to take care of you first,” Iriye moaned as she felt him toying with her panties. 

“There’s this thing called doing it simultaneously,” Aaron said cheekily, and Iriye gasped at him, slapping his chest playfully. “Some even say the same time or mutual,” Iriye grasped him through his boxer briefs, and he groaned. “Shit,”

“What were you saying?” Iriye asked as she got a hold of his length and stroked him. She felt his head go on her shoulder, and then she was pushed back onto the couch. 

Aaron crawled over her till he was right between her legs, and she kept her eyes on him as she felt him finally slip his hand into her panties, his middle finger already slipping past her folds and her back arching into his hand. 

“That’s it,” Aaron moaned, slipping the finger to press against her entrance before he dipped it in, Iriye rolling her hips toward his hand. “Oh god, Aaron,” Iriye whined. She felt him thrust a single digit into her a few more times, going slow as her body worked itself up. She was getting even wetter as he watched her face, moving to kiss him deeply.

"I wanted to get you off," Iriye gasped against his lips, his finger sinking into the fleshy spot inside of her.

“Trust me, watching you get off turns me on,” He moved to kiss down the side of her neck. Those words went straight to her core, gasping as she felt him pressing a second finger inside of her, and she tried her best to recover. She loved how his fingers and hands were so big, remembering how he gripped her ass.

Iriye needed a bit more control, so she slipped her hand into his boxer briefs and was met with the leaking head of his length. She let her hand wrap around him, stroking him slowly, trying to keep up with the rhythm he was setting inside of her. She stroked her hand up upward towards the head, feeling a vein against her palm, and he groaned, his fingers stopping. Iriye giggled, seeing Aaron, who was very calm and collected, lose his cool.

“You good?” Iriye smirked. Aaron’s eyes grew darker, groaning into her mouth as he kissed her deeply. “Please Aaron… I wanna make you come,” She had ground her way to bliss, and god damn it, she needed to see what he looked like when he came. He heard her pleading and pulled his fingers out of her. 

“Afterwards, I’m tasting you,” Aaron stated matter-of-factly. “I’m clean. I can show you,” 

“Aaron…” Iriye giggled as she pushed his chest so she could get up. She moved to her knees, taking the pillow he handed her. She got herself adjusted and caught sight of him licking his fingers that had been inside of her. So, of course, she leaned up to kiss him, moaning as she tasted herself on his lips.

Iriye adjusted herself until she was comfortable, her hands going to his boxer briefs and pulling them down till his length popped up, her seeing the heavy length twitch against his stomach. She leaned forward and licked the tip, hearing the breathy moan that left his mouth as she teased the tip.

Iriye wouldn’t say she was a dick-sucking enthusiast for just anyone. She had to be comfortable with the person before she would show them how much she loved sucking dick. And it should have freaked her out that she hadn’t let Aaron take her on a proper date before she was on her knees, teasing the tip and tasting the pre cum his tip pushed out. 

Iriye played with the tip, realizing Aaron was very sensitive there quickly. She allowed herself to take the tip further into her mouth, sucking softly as she didn’t want the moment to end. There was a sweetness to his taste, and she hummed as she bobbed her head on his length.

“Fuck,” Aaron breathed, feeling her beginning to slide deeper. He knew he was slightly above average, but he didn’t want to hurt Iriye even then. His hands squeezed the couch respectfully, wishing he could grip her head. But he groaned as Iriye pulled from the tip, him looking down at her eyes as one hand focused on the tips as she began to mouth at the sides, tongue licking him like a popsicle that she wanted to melt. He saw that sparkle in her eyes as she licked back up his length. He let his hands move to the goddess locs, carefully grabbing some in his hand and guiding her when she took his length back in her mouth. He felt her trying to tease the tip again, and he tightened on her hair, not wanting to pull too hard.  

Iriye’s eyes met his, preening at how Aaron was looking. 

“Take that cock deeper, Iriye,” Aaron spoke, that South London boy coming out. She bobbed her head again, working him deeper and using her hand to stroke whatever she couldn’t fit in her mouth. She moaned around him, feeling his length twitch at the sensations. “Fuck, love,” He said. “You look so good sucking my cock,” He breathed, his eyes focused on her.

Iriye could feel her panties soaking through as she continued sucking Aaron’s dick. Hearing him groan and moan, his words turned her on as she worked herself up to relax around his length. She let the tip hit the back of her throat some, finding when she gagged on his length, his hips thrust up as he wanted to get deeper. She gagged a few more times, the gaps and moans coming out more, his fingers tightening and flexing in her hair.

Iriye pulled back, a string of saliva attaching to her lip from his length. She stroked him, looking up into Aaron’s eyes.

“Don’t hold back. Take what you want from me,” She playfully winked before moving to suck his length back in, gagging twice around his length before she swallowed him, sucking on him. Aaron let off grunts and whines as he thrusts up into her mouth a few times, gasps coming with every movement until she felt the warm cum spill down her throat. As much as she wanted to choke on his cock, Aaron pulled up, his length twitching and coming a little on her lips as she stroked him. 

“Iriye,” He moaned as she attempted to clean off the tip of his cock, Aaron still sensitive. She let her tongue out, hoping to catch some more spurts of cum on her lips before she swallowed.

Aaron watched on as the woman who was so confident and could command a room swallowed his cum, feeling so satisfied as she did so. It was so fucking nasty and hot.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Aaron breathed before kissing her, licking into her mouth to catch a taste of her and his cum on her tongue.

Iriye moaned into the kiss, whining as she was so turned on for more. 

“Come up here,” Iriye felt him manhandle her up off her knees and turn her to suit up against the couch. She couldn’t help but giggle as Aaron had to push the coffee table back across the floor so he would have more room on the ground. “Something funny?”

“Not at all,” Iriye said, the man a giant in his home. He grinned up at her before kissing the inside of her right thigh, playfully biting at her. She let out a moan. He kissed down till he made it to her center. He then moved onto the next thigh, kissing up till he pulled back, his hands tucked into her panties.

“Yeah, you’re not gonna need these,” Aaron chuckled, moving to pull them off. Iriye’s most delicate parts of herself were revealed, and she moved to lift her legs so she could take her socks off. 

“I’m not gonna need these either,” She teased. But she quickly shut up as Aaron sniffed her panties.

“You smell so good,” Aaron chuckled, throwing her panties into his pants. Iriye figured she wasn’t getting them back, and honestly, she wasn’t mad at it. Panties were replaceable, but Aaron smelling hers was not.

Iriye let Aaron hook his hands under the back of her knees, propping her open for him like a feast.

“Let me know what feels good,” Aaron said as he looked at her. Iriye nodded. He kept her eyes on her as he swiped his tongue slowly through her lower lips, collecting the sweet juices, a moan rolling out of her.  He repeated the motion a few more times, every swipe causing her back to arch and her moans to float in the air, but it wasn’t enough.

“Aaron,” She whined softly. “I need more,” He heard her words, and she felt the two fingers he used inside of her teasing her slit. She pressed her hips down, wanting to slide onto them, but Aaron held her thighs back.

“I let you have your fun. Now let me have mine, sweetheart,” Aaron spoke. She saw his smile and let him get away with talking to her like that. His fingers slipped into her pussy, and she arched her back, almost shutting her legs around him. “Nah, keep them open for me,” He said. 

Iriye was holding them, but Aaron guided one leg to his shoulder and then the other, caging him in. His fingers began searching for that fleshy spot inside of her; Iriye whined as she felt him hitting spots along the way.

“Oh my god,” Iriye moaned as she realized he wasn’t going to stop, especially as he found her g spot again. She rolled her hips against his fingers, hearing how wet and gushy he was making her pussy for him.

“That feels good to you, Iriye,” Aaron asked, his lips kissing her thighs. Her moans were enough answers for him, the tiny twitches in her thighs. But he knew she needed more. “Tell me, baby,”

“Your mouth,” She cried. “I need your mouth… this is not enough to make me come… please,” She said between breathy moans and gasps.

Aaron obliged her, his lips sealing around her swollen clit and sucking it to find the proper pressure. It took him a few moments to try to see what Iriye wanted. What sent her hips surging to his face or gave him nothing, but he loved discovering a lover’s body.

“Oh shit,” Iriye knew when she cursed during sex, something was being done right. She moved to look down, seeing his lips sucking her clit as his fingers rubbed a path inside of her. She moved to let her hands run over his scalp, her nails dragging up and down his scalp.

“Aaron,” She cried, his name a mantra she would repeat if it meant he never stopped. She felt him stop sucking her clit before she caught a peek of his tongue beginning to flick at her clit; short cries left her body as he moved his tongue with precision, almost pornstar levels even. “Oh fuck!” She whined, more words falling out as he moved his fingers in tandem with his tongue. She would gladly pay the toll if this were payback for the teasing.

Iriye continued to roll her hips toward his hand as he fucked her with his fingers, tongue flicking and sucking at her clit. He pulled back for a moment.

“You’re gonna come for me?” He asked her, almost a plea for her. She looked into the darkening hazel eyes and nodded. 

“I will! I will!” She wanted to scream. She would do anything for him.

“Good,” Aaron moved his to flick and suck at her clit as his fingers moved to usher her orgasm forward. At first, it felt like a tug-o-war, a push and pull for it to come forward. She let herself fall into it, the first crescendo warning her of what was to come, quite literally. She threw her head back before focusing on him, licking her lips and whining out as another thrust of his fingers and the gates flooded. Short cries became gasps and moans as her orgasm rushed in, and she came, her juices flowing down her pussy, and she felt her walls sporadically tightening around Aaron. 

Instead of letting her enjoy the fall, Aaron continued to work her through it, seeing how good she tasted and how she reacted to being overstimulated. It was almost too much as he sucked her clit, rubbing at her g-spot. She wanted to close her legs, but Aaron had her spread and locked in with his shoulders.

Iriye whined as he prolonged her orgasm, her nails scratching at his bare shoulders until she tapped him.

“Aaron,” She whined, feeling him finally let up off of her clit, and she felt him work her down with his fingers, her juices sliding down his fingers and wrist. She sighed as she slumped against the couch, his fingers sliding out of her. Aaron trailed his hand, wet with her juices, up her body until he teased her lips with them. She grinned and opened her mouth, letting him slide them in so she could suck her juices off of him, mimicking how she suckled his dick before. 

Aaron straightened up, their lips connected passionately as Iriye let her hands wrap around his neck, him leaning into her. She giggled as she could feel him and her pussy clenched, 

“How you feel, love?” Aaron asked her, pushing one of her goddess locs behind her ear.

“Good,” Iriye hated that she had no words except that, but he gave her the feeling. She couldn’t wipe the grin from her face. 

“You sure you’re a writer cause good,” Iriye swiped at Aaron’s face. 

“You play too much. To think I wanted to give you morning head,” Iriye leaned back, and he followed her, his head leaving between her clothed breast.

“You want to give me morning head?” Aaron questioned her.

“I did, but that’s only if we head to sleep,” Iriye challenged him. Aaron moved to hoist her in his arms, Iriye giggling as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, letting him carry her towards his room.

After cleaning themselves up in his bathroom, Iriye was currently in one of his shirts; her five foot eight stature and curvy waist had his shirt hitting right at the top of her thighs and giving a little peek at the bottom of her ass. She forgone her underwear as Aaron repeated that he wouldn’t give them back. She threatened to take his underwear but knew if she took them off of him again, the snake between his legs would not be going to bed. Tangled up in each other arms in his bed, both talking about whatever came to mind

“I honestly haven’t had a reason to need condoms,” Aaron mentioned, Iriye looking up at him. 

“Really?” Iriye said. “I would think it was being thrown at you,”

“It is,” Aaron admitted, and Iriye raised a brow. “But that’s not me,” He stated honestly.  Iriye propped herself up on his chest some. 

“Pussy being thrown at you doesn’t suit you,” Iriye teased, hoping a red flag popped up. Because he was so unreal. “You have an arm tattoo, Jamaican, and a Gemini. You could have anyone dropping the draws with just one look,” Iriye joked, and Aaron looked at her.

“I could have anyone, but at the end of the day, I want someone who wants me. Who chooses me. Not just anyone,” Aaron stated. There was a truth and a depth there that she loved seeing. Iriye leaned forward and kissed him softly.

“I’m sure you’ll find that,” Iriye yawned. 

“What are you looking for?” Aaron asked her. She thought about it for a moment. 

“Someone who can love my ugly parts,” Iriye explained. “Someone who can be around me not only during the good times but the bad times,” 

“Well, I hope you get that,” Aaron stated, his hand rubbing her back some. They lay in comfortable silence, Iriye hoping that what he said was true. That she would ge tit. She hoped for a second… she would have it with Aaron. @wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

[dorabellingham]

Boyfriend material

headcanon

characters: jobe x fem!reader

request: yes!

may contain spelling and translation errors

1. King of well-planned surprises

Jobe loves to surprise you, but he doesn't do it in an obvious or cliché way. Instead of flowers at the door of the house, he books a private cooking class because he knows you casually commented on learning how to make typical food from somewhere. He listens to the small details and transforms them into big gestures. And the best? He gets a shy smile, a little embarrassed, waiting for your reaction, as if he didn't know he got it right.

2. He memorises your favourite playlist

Jobe knows all the songs you love. He has a playlist on Spotify called "For Y/n" and whenever he hears a song that reminds you, he adds it. The cutest thing is that sometimes he plays when you're in the car, just to see you sing. And of course, when they are separated, he sends a song from the list with a "I remembered you."

3. He's a great cook (but only for you)

Despite being a disaster in the kitchen when he's alone, Jobe makes a real effort when it's for you. He learns basic recipes and ventures with more elaborate dishes just because he knows you like them. It's always an event: he puts on music, tries to follow recipes on YouTube, and in the end, the kitchen is a mess. But he compensates by putting the food on the table with a proud smile, waiting for your compliment.

4. He is the best listener in the world

Jobe has a special talent for hearing you talk about absolutely anything. If you're talking about a book, about the new series you watched, or even about something you read in an academic article, he pays attention with genuine interest. He asks questions, gives opinions, and you feel like the most important person in the world.

5. He's absurdly affectionate in public

He's not afraid to show how much he loves you in public. Whenever you are walking together, he holds your hand, gives quick kisses on tour forehead or wraps you with his big arm when it's cold. He doesn't care if there are paparazzi around or if someone is watching - he just wants you to know that he is there, on your side, always.

6. He's the type who solves fights calmly (and hugs)

Jobe hates fights and discord, especially with you. He is the one who tries to solve everything calmly and by talking. Even when he is angry, he takes a deep breath, tries to listen to his side and speaks carefully. If he feels that the discussion is too heavy, he interrupts and says: "Let's breathe and talk about it later, I don't want to hurt you." And, of course, he never lets you sleep upset - he always ends the night with an apology or a tight hug.

7. He is super protective, but not in a possessive way

He is the kind of boyfriend who ensures that you feel safe all the time. It is protective in a subtle way - like being careful when they are in crowded places, holding your hand so they don't get lost, or checking the car before a trip. He is never possessive, but everyone knows that you are the love of his life.

8. He encourages your dreams (and remembers the details)

Jobe not only believes in your dreams, but also makes a point of being the greatest supporter. If you have a new project, he is the first to ask how he can help. He also remembers the smallest details, like when you mentioned that you wanted to go back to practising something, and sent cute messages before the first day saying how proud you were.

9. He is very organised, except when he is in love

Most of the time, Jove is super organised: the closet is tidy, the schedules are in place and he follows an impeccable routine. But when he's with you, it all falls apart. He forgets his socks on the couch because they were watching a movie together or leaves the bed untidy because he preferred to sleep a little more to the solo. He always says that you are the only thing that messes up his life - in a good way.

10. He's unbearably cute when he's jealous

Jobe is mature and confident, but even he can't resist a little jealousy from time to time. If someone flirts with you, he doesn't make a scene, but the closed look and the hand on your waist deliver everything. Then, he jokes: "Just for you to remember, you already have a very good english by your side." And of course, you love to provoke him just to see this reaction - which only makes him even more cute and in love.

[alicefromwhichplanet]

Chapter 20: Christmas onboard Nemesis

Summary:

Sari brought a humans’ tradition to Nemesis. Now she’s celebrating Christmas with the decepticons. Optimus also got a gift, and a little surprising introduction to decepticon courtship that made him flip.

Notes:

I’ve had the idea of writing a decepticons’ get-together event when I first saw the episode about Sari celebrating Christmas with the autobots. Though this year’s Christmas has passed, but the Chinese New Year is on the way and I figure the festival atmosphere is all the same.

I like tfa decepticons a lot. I think they’re kind of like a weird family, a group of cool people with obvious defections that built their own weird safety space. They may be mentally unstable, or have only one eye, but that doesn’t prevent them from being a good team, or developing genuine care for each other. This chapter is dedicated to the decepticons. And also, to the fan that suggested me to write Meg and OP sparring for friendship. I don’t know if you’re still following my updates, and I know it took me quite a long time to get here. But I’ve written the part. Finished it on my flight home. Please enjoy.

[tgrailwar-zero]

hm... a story to spark the heart huh... I want to try something light and fluffed up a little bit... maybe a lot... (ahem)...

Not so long ago, there was an Emperor clad in black and magenta. He was fighting in a war, and had been given a mission to retrieve treasure from a God alone. On his way there a confused wraith appeared, scared and not knowing where they were! No one could see or hear their cries; but the noble man was different. His kind heart heard their panic and spoke to them. Once calmed, the Emperor invited the lost Wraith on his quest to find the treasure!

On the way to the temple, the Emperor told about the Wraith about the treasure he sought, a magical key that could grant its holder power, and soon they arrived at the foot of the God's lair! The God was good natured and joyful, but still sent one of her familiars - a dinosaur! - to attack the Emperor as a test of strength and skill! Swift on his feet he gallantly mounted the familiar and rode it all the way to the top of her temple!

The God's smile was like the sun itself, impressed by the Emperors boldness and speed, she offered him the key and two other gifts - a feather and pulque. The Wraith cheered for the Emperor's victory, and they celebrated by downing the pulque in one gulp! After the celebration the Wraith faded away- but promised they would return to quest with their new friend again some day.

You stand before the tank, and place your hand against it. Your magic scatters petals, and your voice speaks. Speaks of stories of the past, both recent and the far distant. Memories, fairy tales, legends, fables, and the blurred lines between them all. You speak of a humanity far, far away and of a humanity closer than one could imagine.

And you try to connect this warrior to where you currently reside.

The Solar Cell.

A fool's paradise. A paradise of fools. A paradise made by fools.

Home to a nascent species, born purely by chance, being given a chance at existence. A chance to exist in a manner that goes above their predecessors.

To magi, this place would be considered a miracle. A place where phantoms of the past and children of the future work together to create a new humanity.

And yet, conflict simmers.

Conflict driven by desperation.

Conflict driven by idealism.

Conflict driven by fate.

Conflict created by a clash of ideals.

Whatever is built will be destroyed. Whatever is destroyed will be rebuilt. A vicious cycle, as faction upon faction, individual upon individual, tries to proclaim that they are 'just', each one missing one fragment of the whole picture as they rush towards their preferred ending.

That's what people strive towards as they fight, an 'ending'. The final page, the 'game clear', a shout of 'congratulations'.

The ability to fight for an 'ending', that is one's right.

Good ends, bad ends, happy ends, sad ends.

Or, even that unattainable 'golden ending'.

That fantastical 'shining ending' for everyone.

...Of course, such a thing is only possible in fiction.

A consequence-free world is an impossible world. Reality does not work that way. For someone to win, someone else has to lose. Only in fairy tales does the knight slay the evil dragon and save the princess, and only in reality does one imagine what would happen if the dragon was truly slain, and what it would mean for the world.

However, for the sake of convenience, let's say that this world that you're observing is a 'story'.

Well, certainly the idea of a 'golden ending' would seem even more ridiculous. Consider this, dying to a heroine? Twice? A different would-be heroine both times? What kind of twisted tale is this?

Ah… that's right. This is a twisted tale.

You sit amongst the shattered remains of a 'bad end'.

The main players have been taken off the board, and so you have taken the reins in order to give this world-- this 'story'-- worth.

However, as broken as this world may be, that also means that this world can be fixed, as it's still being observed as a 'story'.

Therefore, those efforts you've made have not been for naught. Like the beating wings of a butterfly, each action has created an effect, and shaped the world in ways deeper than one could imagine.

And eventually, as those choices begin to pile behind you, you'll be faced with a question.

'What does your happy ending look like?'

…Though perhaps that's jumping the gun right now.

Perhaps it is too far away to be imagined.

Rather than the 'end', let's focus on the 'now'. The 'here and now', to be exact.

After all, to anyone, this place would be a miracle. A place where phantoms of the past and children of the future work together to create a new humanity in this place.

And you, as the vestiges of the 'present', have chosen to make your mark as well.

So, another question comes forth. What will this story become?

Will it be a comedy?

A tragedy?

A 'good end' or a 'bad end'?

A 'dead end' or a 'golden end'?

Regardless…

These stories, these tales of fate, all share a common thread. And thus, as the story begins its third cycle, perhaps it should follow tradition.

And thus, we find ourselves back within the laboratory.

You place your hand against the tube as the mechanism is released, and you speak. You recount. You connect.

The mechanism is released, and the figure drops to the ground, his posture placing him into a kneel as he catches himself, the color beginning to return to his form.

The back of your hand begins to burn. A sharp, scorching pain as emblems are emblazoned upon it.

And yet, this pain feels right.

This pain means you succeeded.

Your mana surges, a feeling that you have not felt for what feels like ages.

You look upon him.

A swordsman, strong-shouldered, clear-eyed, and regal in stature stands before you amongst the scattered petals. You've seen many Servants in your time, each one different than the last. The great variations found within the consistent patterns of history and stories.

This knight, with shining armor and proud bearing says--

"I ask of you…"

"...Are you my Master?"

[gullwrites]

teehee. hello. hi. you know how cynosure talks about a project, yeah? well. want to know a funny thing? i still don't have a name for the project. i have some ideas, but can't pick the one i like. SO. have a poll.

context: the (original) idea of the project was to create something that would allow to make people fall into "hibernation" in emergencies, thus allowing them to wait a bit longer until the help arrives. (though now that the project is being renewed, corporations involved also want to see if there's a way to add a little healing there)

why do they all sound so silly, you may ask. well. the name was picked by one of our protagonists, ripley tobias katz, 25 years before the story events, when it 1) was 18 years old, 2) only slept for, like, 2 hours before an early morning meeting, 3) has always named its documents keysmashes bc it truly sucks at naming things and 4) bc it didn't assume someone would ask it to name it. poor guy (gnc)

[evexe]

No yandere sim au by @quartztwst

Vee and Viva

They are twins from a family that is just getting by. Which is why Vee has a phone and Viva does not. This is due to how Vee needs to be able to effectively communicate when out volunteering and organizing stuff. Viva uses one of those smartwatches for kids to communicate. Viva borrow Vee's phone to runs her channel.

Viva's fancy cameras are hand me downs from their uncle.

They fix each others bows which is why Vee's bow is looser while Viva's is nicely done. It is hard for them to fix it themselves as they are used to fixing others instead of their own.

Vee met the student council on her second week in the service council. Vee resents the student council because to her they seem to find little worth in what the service council does. Occasionally she has to go in during a meeting to present some proposals and try to convince them to give the go head to at least some of the projects. She gets sent in more than her other service council members due to her affiliation with the Debate Club. Viva shares this sentiment as it seems to be stressing out her sister.

"Sooo, how did that meeting go?" "I don't like that Ashengrotto guy. Like why would you ask if the school is going to get any profit from a second-hand book sale to fundraiser for the animal shelter? The money would be going towards the shelter. All the books would be gained from donations for this. That's basically free. The school doesn't lose anything because they would never give anything. So why!? AAARRGHH!"

About Quartz

Vee: "She reminds me of a black cat."

She sees Quartz's shy act as genuine and it reminds her of someone. Would try and talk with her when she isn't busy.

Viva: "Her hair is cool. She seems she would be cool if we were closer."

Wouldn't notice her until Vee points Quartz out. More enthusiastic about getting to know Quartz. Would run up to her to try strike up a conversation but if Viva needs to be somewhere she gets dragged off by Vee once she finds Viva.

Other stuff

If one of the service council's bigger proposals are accepted, Vee will be too busy to notice strange occurrences as she is working to make the project be successful. She may ignore warnings from others as she would be in a hyperfocus state for the project until her sister chews her out for her actions about a week later.

Viva likes having the gossip come to her. After all she seems to be a innocent person who wouldn't spill a secret. She wouldn't until weeks later when most of the drama's died down by accident if someone bring up the topic which in turn would reveal some extra information. Gossip in exchange for gossip.

[kittyoverlord]

Ooh a question that I kinda know something about.

Due to a mix of autism and OCD, I've created a system to test out hook/yarn sizes for amigurumi.

I mostly work with chenille yarn these days because of the final texture it makes, but it means there's a large variety in hook sizes I can use - the thin inner core lends itself to smaller hooks, but the fluff means that larger hook sizes still don't show stuffing.

I make these little spheres so I can compare textures and choose which one is best for my project. You may want a stiffer fabric for support pieces, like legs or necks, while a looser fabric would be good for squishier plushies.

These work up pretty quick - I follow this tutorial and do 4 increase rounds, 5 straight rounds, and 4 decrease rounds. I've used a spare blocking board to organize them for easy reference.

I used to hate swatching, but now I've started to enjoy the mindless process, and I swatch between projects if I don't have anything else to work on.

Hope this helps!

what size hook/yarn do you use? as a fellow amigurumi enthusiast i can never find a good middle ground for some reason like either my stitches are way too tight to be manageable or they’re too loose and stuffing pokes out >:(

3.25mm hook and medium weight (4) yarn

Sometimes people tell me I should use a smaller hook and lighter yarn but Idk this works for me. I think smaller in general is better, but if you can make consistent stitches comfortably, that's what's best. Takes some trial and error but eventually you should be able to find that good middle ground

[youdontjustgiveup]

August: Chapter 12

( ao3 | ff )

Previous Chapters: [link]

Summary: Blair confronts her inner demons.

Pairing: Chuck x Blair

Word Count: 3.7k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Eating disorder

----------------------------

Blair found herself straddling him, thighs pressing firmly against his sides. Leaning against him, she moaned, her warm breath caressing the sensitive skin of his neck before nibbling playfully at his earlobe. Chuck quivered beneath her, his hand instinctively finding its place on her waist, like he needed something to hold onto.

His desire thrust forward, and Blair’s mouth went a tad dry in anticipation, a stark contrast to the growing wetness elsewhere. Craving more, she slowly rocked her hips, encouraging him to continue creating the sweet friction that had her teetering on the edge of coming undone. Her eyes rolled back. 

They were tangled in his limousine, that damn vehicle that was like an extension of him, even for a simple trip to the next block. The idea of making the king surrender in his own castle increased her own power to unimaginable limits. To have Chuck here, in this private sanctum that defined him, felt deliciously impish, like she was conquering not just him but everything that surrounded and made him who he was.

One look into his lustful eyes gave Blair the confidence to let go, to unleash the Blair she had always been, and she moved closer to brush her breasts provocatively against him. She relished having him at her mercy, almost certain she would never tire of it. When Chuck closed his eyes, she began planting kisses along his neck, each one met with moans and frantic pants, as if she were stealing the very air from his lungs in the most exquisite way. A smile played on Blair’s lips; a laugh desperate to escape her throat. 

The parts of her body he craved most rubbed against him, teasing and promising. 

He seemed to regain control at one point; his hands roaming with greedy abandon, mapping every contour, every curve. The intensity grew, tempting her to savor the moment a bit longer, but enough was enough. With a subtle yet firm movement, Blair thwarted his advances. It was her turn. Rocking her hips more assertively, she obliterated his willpower. He would succumb to her every desire.

A fiery need threatened to consume Blair if she didn’t have him in that limousine at that very moment.

“What do you want?” she dared to ask.

“You,” he responded. 

“What else do you want?”

“Only you.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Everywhere.”

Her nimble fingers fumbled for his belt, skillfully undoing its restraint, and sought out the button of his pants. His face was a canvas painted with the most pleasurable and beautiful expression; a visage contorted by desire so palpable that it hung in the air like an intoxicating fragrance. This was the moment—the point of no return—and as the seconds passed, she marveled at the absence of fear.

It surprised her how ready she felt. The doubts that typically accompanied her in such moments were conspicuously absent, replaced by a profound sense of liberation. Mind and body merged as one, creating a harmonious symphony of need that resonated through every fiber of her being. It was not just an act of the body but a liberation of the soul. 

Just as the music reached its crescendo, a flash of black transported Blair to her bed—not just any bed, but a familiar one. Her surroundings shifted, revealing her childhood room in the Waldorf penthouse, smack in the heart of Manhattan. The bedroom glowed with blue sky and creamy vanilla hues, with her favorite Audrey Hepburn-framed photo perched in the far corner, illuminated by a dangling chandelier. The air carried the sweet scent of innocence.

Now, the one sharing the space with her wasn’t Chuck, but Nate. They were both hunched over textbooks, ostensibly preparing for an English exam due on Monday. Neither of them seemed remotely interested in the study notes Blair had painstakingly arranged. While Blair tried to summon up the courage to take a daring leap into the depths of intimacy, Nate appeared more engrossed in his phone, as if anywhere else would be a better place to be. What on earth was up with him? 

Truth be told, Blair’s invitation to the penthouse had been disguised as a study session, yet deep within, it had the intention of catapulting their relationship to the next level. Lately, Nate had grown increasingly distant, and a nagging suspicion clung to Blair—that somehow, she was the one to blame. He was tired of her, tired of their childish relationship. Nate wanted something more than holding hands, chaste kisses, and the role of a glorified coat rack for her shopping bags. What he truly needed was her unwavering commitment, putting everything on the line to make their love bloom. The time had come.

Faced with Nate’s current lack of interest, Blair swiftly closed the textbook and tossed the charade of studying to the floor. It was now or never. Climbing onto Nate’s lap, the room seemed to pulsate around her, its boundaries dissolving into a blur. 

“What are you doing?” Nate said.

“Guess,” she tried to sound seductive, but even to her own ears it sounded strained.

“We’re studying.”

They were not. 

She brushed off his comment and pressed herself against him.

“You know… I have better things in mind.”

“Like what?” Nate shot her a puzzled look. His hands remained at his sides, avoiding contact.

He couldn’t be that stupid. Trying to get any interest from Nate felt like an impossible task, so she abandoned words and leaned in to kiss him. However, Nate tilted his head, dodging her lips.

Nate grabbed her arms and pulled her from his lap. A wave of anxiety crashed over her. It was like plunging into the void only to find solid ground at the bottom.

“Look, we better study, or we’re going to fail.” 

What a weak, pathetic, and painfully lame excuse. 

Nate took another quick look at his phone and burst out laughing at whatever it was he had just received. 

The sinking feeling intensified, bringing with it a twinge of nausea. Blair clutched her arms and resisted the urge to sprint to the bathroom. Despite her eyes welling with tears, she shook her head. He would not see her cry. She was better than that.

Nate remained glued to his phone. Whoever was holding his attention on the other end was more captivating than her; that much was evident. Another burst of laughter escaped him, and the smile on his face was like a succession of daggers piercing her heart, one after the other.

“Oh man, Serena cracks me up every time,” Nate’s voice cut through the air like a cold gust of wind.

Serena.

Her body tensed involuntarily. The air in the room seemed to thicken, making every breath a struggle. Her heart raced like a drumbeat, echoing the rapid pace of her thoughts. It was always Serena. Why couldn’t Nate see her? Was she not pretty enough? Thin enough? Nice? Funny? The once familiar surroundings took on an unfamiliar, almost threatening quality. Desperate to escape this invisible enemy, she tried to focus. A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to swallow, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Blair ran to the bathroom.

And then, with a gasp, she woke up. 

Blair sat up straight in bed, her heart pounding like it had just run a marathon. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead, and the haunting remnants of the dream draped over her like a heavy shroud. The soft glow of dawn in her Hamptons bedroom made the well-known place seem strangely surreal.

Struggling to regain control, Blair took a deep breath, but the incessant chorus of Serena’s name persisted, a relentless echo in her mind. Serena, Serena, Serena. Its insidious grip twisted her insides into knots. Undeterred, she kept trying, filling her lungs with more air.

In an attempt to cling to that first fragment of her dream’s mosaic, she conjured up every detail as if each were an anchor that would keep her grounded in reality. Nate was no longer her boyfriend, they were not in her childhood bedroom, and Blair didn’t have to plead for his love and affection. Not anymore. 

Still, it proved futile. Despite her best efforts, the interior of the limousine became more and more diffuse, drifting like mist, just out of reach. The pleasure that had once consumed her dissipated, slipped away, and every attempt to recapture it ended in disappointment. The dream that had begun with such promise ended like all the others. That ill-fated study day with Nate kept creeping back to haunt her. It was not the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

The usual queasiness tightened its grip on Blair, escalating with each passing second. She stumbled out of bed, the low temperature of the earlier hours doing nothing to alleviate the clamminess that clung to her skin. The room seemed to constrict around her. 

In a desperate rush, Blair hurried to the bathroom, each step fueled by the urgency to escape her most shameful nightmare. The acrid taste of bile lingered in her mouth, a vile prelude to what was about to happen. With a violent convulsion, her stomach clenched painfully, unleashing a gut-wrenching heave. The acidic burn surged through her throat, a merciless reminder of how sick she really was.

The cold, unforgiving tiles beneath her bare legs provided a paradoxical comfort. Blair clung to the porcelain, her face drenched in sweat and tears. Trembling hands fumbled for a tissue, trying to stem the torrent as her body rebelled against her. The retching sounds echoed, a haunting symphony of misery, as the grotesque ordeal unfolded.

Seated on the floor with her back pressed against the wall of the bathtub, she wanted nothing more than to disappear. Tears continued to stream down her face as she shut her eyes. Why couldn’t she stop?

In the darkness of her own self, she once again sought control through the rhythmic cadence of her breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. And repeat. Her chest rose and fell steadily. It was only a dream, a nightmare. But could it truly be labeled as such when its vivid scenes reflected the reality she had once lived? The nightmare was a fragment of the past, not a reflection of the present, Blair reiterated. Then, why did it still feel so ominously close, as if its spectral breath lingered on the nape of her neck? 

The weight of failure and inadequacy bore down on her. A constant disappointment. Never enough.

White dots danced in front of her eyes, and dizziness threatened to engulf her. Blair squeezed her eyes tighter. 

Then, a reassuring hand settled on her knee, preventing her from succumbing to the encroaching darkness. Chuck’s. He had stayed. He had spent the night by her side, a fact that had slipped through the fog of her sick and desperate thoughts. His touch, gentle yet firm, became a lifeline, his thumb tracing circles as if infusing the strength she didn’t know she needed. It was so tender that she could almost cry. Again.

Blair found herself in a tricky spot, uncertain about how to act around him in the aftermath of the events from the previous night. Should she kiss him? Ignore him? Pretend like nothing happened? Kick him out of her bedroom? It was a maze of conflicting emotions that forced her to mourn the boundaries of their friendship up until that very moment. The line had been crossed, irrevocably so, and no amount of sweeping it under the rug could change that. Despite everything, only one thing was clear: she needed him. Couldn’t they roll with the punches and have it all, whatever that meant? Did she want it all? Did he?

It didn’t matter. One day, Chuck would find out that there were plenty of better options out there. He might get tired and leave, just like everyone else.

In a quick motion, Blair wiped away her tears with the palm of her hand, reluctant to let Chuck see her in such a pathetic state. Over the years, she had carefully crafted an image, and even though she was certain he could see right through it, it didn’t matter. Something had changed, and she refused to give him any more reasons to run.

Chuck’s hand left her knee, delicately parting the sweat-drenched strands that stuck to her neck. 

He was still wearing the same clothes. His jacket had been discarded, leaving him in a crumpled white shirt that hung loosely outside his pants, a few buttons undone. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his purple socks stood out against the disheveled ensemble. He looked… well… he looked hot. Blair managed a smile. She might be a mess, but he was a mess, too, and that realization offered some comfort.

“Feeling any better?” Chuck inquired, genuine concern flickering in his eyes. 

“I feel like shit,” she confessed. 

“You look like shit.” 

If there was one thing she appreciated about him, it was that he didn’t beat around the bush. Returning the same frankness, she gestured at his appearance.

“I know, I know. Not my finest hour either, I admit,” he conceded, assessing himself. 

“Clearly,” Blair remarked. “And, darling, a shower wouldn’t be the worst idea. Much needed, I might add.”

“Only if you join me.”

“You wish,” she replied without thinking, an instinctive response she’d thrown at him a million times, but in this moment, within the confines of the bathroom, it felt different, heavier. Chuck looked at her as if she were the sole oasis in a desert, silently confirming that there was indeed nothing he’d rather be doing, but memories of past rejections, averted kisses, and chilly encounters resurfaced. As her sanity slipped away, Blair anchored herself in the fact that Chuck wasn’t Nate. He wanted her, and he had made that crystal clear. Time and time again. His desire for her was a tangible and consistent reality. 

Yet neither of them did anything about it. 

“What happened?” Chuck asked. 

“Bad dream.”

“What was it about?” 

“Nate,” Blair admitted. Her mind was drained of energy, every part of her body weighed a ton. Then, she remembered that not everything had been bad, and she let out a subtle chuckle. Well, it all hinged on your definition of bad. “And you.”

“What’s so amusing about me haunting your nightmares? Were you plotting a hundred ways to kill me?”

“I don’t need a hundred. Just one. And you damn well know which one.”

“I’m still savoring the memories.”

The weight seemed to lighten a bit. Playful teasing and banter, ingrained in their nature. It was just so easy with him. Too tempting to resist. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t dispose of you just yet.” 

“Spill, Waldorf. What were we up to? I’m all ears.”

“I’m not telling you.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks.

“Were we in the shower by any chance? Trying to rid ourselves of this dreadful odor? I know how much you value hygiene.”

“Shut up.” Blair turned to him and slapped his arm.

“Is that some secret fantasy of yours? I could fulfill it.”

Blair put a hand over his mouth just to stop him from talking about them in the shower, fantasies, or anything else that would tighten the rope of desire that kept stretching between the two of them. He playfully nipped at her hand and took the opportunity to pull her onto his lap.

Their eyes locked, and Chuck’s intense gaze zeroed in on her lips. He wanted to kiss her, she could tell, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to kiss him too. Would it be like this from now on? Fighting the urge to kiss him senseless at any given moment? Then, a simple realization struck her—she hadn’t even brushed her teeth.

“Seriously, Chuck, you need a shower,” she said, diverting the impending kiss before either of them succumbed to their deepest and most immediate impulses.

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he protested.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“I’m better,” Blair replied honestly, a subtle smile playing on her lips.. 

“You can shower in here,” she offered. 

Chuck wrinkled his nose, a mock look of horror. “Not in a million years will I resort to washing my hair with fruity shampoo.” 

“Forgive me for not choosing the very essence of a lawnmower humming under the moonlight. You know, the epitome of masculinity and refinement.”

“Exactly.” 

“Stop pretending. You’re worse than me when it comes to pampering yourself.”

“Beautiful, my pampering is a refined art. You wouldn’t understand.”

Blair loved when he called her beautiful.

Chuck released her and stood up, positioning himself in front of her mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to straighten his appearance, all to no avail. Blair smiled to herself as he continued his efforts to tame his unruly hair. Eventually, Chuck moved on to smoothing out his shirt. The next thing she knew, he was handing her a toothbrush with toothpaste already on it.

As they both stood in front of her mirror, Blair brushing her teeth and Chuck trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed, she couldn’t resist savoring the domestic moment. The desire to hold on to it, to not let go, rekindled a warmth in her. Everything that had felt so right the night before couldn’t possibly be wrong, could it? Each moment only reaffirmed that the boy beside her not only wanted her but cared for her deeply. And he would go to great lengths for her if she asked. What more could she possibly want?

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Blair rinsed out her mouth, erasing all traces of toothpaste, and dried herself with the nearest cotton towel. “What are we, Chuck?”

“We’re Chuck and Blair.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we understand each other better than anyone else.”

“Is that enough?”

“I don’t know.” 

Their eyes met through the mirror and Blair almost looked away, unable to confront him when she was so unsure of herself. Chuck Bass, notorious womanizer, what made her different from the rest? Why should she be special? Couldn’t she be just another one of his games? An entertainment until something shinier came along. Another Serena van der Woodsen. But despite numerous opportunities, he hadn’t shied away—from that first party to last night, he’d been there, he’d chosen her. He had stood by her against all odds. So maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Then, why was she so determined to resist happiness? Why couldn’t she stop the wheel of the past from spinning?

Blair still couldn’t answer. Fear, self-doubt, the lingering sting of hurt.  

“Let’s take it slow,” she blurted, letting her heart speak for her.

“Okay.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. Why would I?”

He placed a hand on her lower back, pulling her closer. Her head rested on his chest. “Because you’re you. You’re Chuck Bass.”

“Then let me show who Chuck Bass really is,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

After a while, Chuck lifted her up in his arms, and she found her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. One of his hands was under her ass, helping her up. The thrill of anticipation rumbled inside her. 

Blair bit at her lip. “I know this Chuck Bass already,” she remarked.

A devilish gleam lit up Chuck’s eyes. “Oh, you’ve barely scratched the surface with this one.”

If last night was just a taste, Blair couldn’t shake the feeling that the real feast of her life was waiting for her.

With one arm securely wrapped around her, Chuck guided Blair back towards the bedroom. Once there, he gently placed her on the bed. 

“What are you thinking right now?” Blair traced the lines of his face with her hand, smoothing a frown that threatened to appear. 

“A lot of things.”

“Can those things be said?”

“No.” 

As he made a move to step away, she reached out, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, silently expressing that she didn’t want him to go anywhere. 

“I should go.” His eyes did that thing where they didn’t match his mouth. 

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “I’ll behave.” 

“I don’t think you’re the one who needs to behave.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Do you want to behave?” she probed. There was nothing more exhilarating than hearing him confirm his desire. 

“You know I don’t,” he replied. “But if you—”

“Then don’t,” Blair said. 

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hey hey hey may 31th anon! How's 2024 going? ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ This year I have for you a leaked Sherlock season 5 image. Thinking of you!! And everyone!!

[obtusewafflee]

HAPPY!!! BIRTHDAY!!! UNDERTALE YELLOW!!!!!! It's still the 9th where I am so this still counts right guys right guys right gu

This silly little fangame. This silly little fangame man

I genuinely do not have the words to express my love of uty so I drew this instead and made myself cry several times while doing so in hopes that it gets the message across well enough

Long story short AGSUSGH. I LOVE YOU UTY

[heartorbit]

a mob of emus for an artstyle game on twt! ^_^

[whatudottu]

Welcome one and all to my version of the party's loopified designs, featuring my many broken bones and blood stains I especially put into Odile who I tackled second unlike the alphabetical order that I have presented here! I'll have in-depth discussions on each designs and matching practice portraits under the cut but before that-

Siffrin 'barely taller than a preteen' no middle name no last name Loop is still barely taller than a preteen but now that preteen can claim fire to their height!

Alphabetical order GO!

Bonnie, who I've been calling Bonfire (which if that ends up being their name I can imagine Bonnie calling them 'Fire' while they call Bonnie 'Face' to match), was the last of my designs because frankly I knew from the start what their design was going to take influence from and also knew I was going to draw fire :P They were based on bonfires (of course) and also specifically the Burning Man effigies just for a humanoid figure, plus being a chef cooker and a campfire and also a very heated expressive person.

Their flames are hot but not actual wood burning so the Favour Tree (and Mirabelle in the height chart) are not at risk of combusting, they're just incredibly bright-

Isabeau my first design, with influences from @basilpaste 's Lock (with a dressform body) and @nullapophenia 's original version of Husk (the faceless identityless sketch), I have combined them both to make a mannequin it/its loopified design that finally gets to be capital T Tall all for the low low price of being Changed against its will and suffering another bout of body dysphoria that it can't fix anymore :) :) :) When I was referencing mannequins I actually noticed how long their legs actually were let alone how they were perma-stuck in that Barbie-like highheel pose and thought why don't I just curse Isa with something he previously wanted :P

Something something Isabeau actively Changed not only his body but his personality to become someone he wouldn't be ashamed of, yada yada Loopsabeau is back to hating itself and has started to become a person it despises to match (also like a mannequin it's head and arms are technically painlessly removeable :P)

Third in order and third in design is Mirabelle, who technically is the only loopified design with technically hair and clothes, but the hair are the tangled roots of the Favour Tree and the clothes are like the carved hardstone statues of religious figures :P Initially my Idea for Mirabelle was to make her kinda like her statue, with the wonky expression of someone who made it without much mastery over details, not to pit anything against Mira, no, no. Thought about maybe abstract statue design but I couldn't find a version I liked but I did always imagine her statue being weathered in some way, there was a reason why I saved her for third I couldn't pick what I wanted. But then I remembered the broken Change God statues, thought about the 'blessing' that ended up being a curse, and then thought about overgrown weathering and gave her the roots.

I actually looked up Black hairstyles and mostly wondered what specific hair texture Mirabelle had (she wears it in a fro of course, but she has flyaways that aren't coils, but she described her own hair as kinky and :P) so that if I were to mimic hair with tree roots I can get an appropriate matching hairstyle (settled on megatwists). Hah, if Mira has 4C hair, considering how long her hair actually looks, if she to wear her hair in twists she might actually have elbow length hair :P

I spent 8 non-consecutive hours on Odile can you tell? Can you see my hands bleeding my wrist breaking my eyes drooping? Yeah so Odile was again, my second design and it took me a week to recover, and she's a combination of gem and mirror suit with all the little fragments floating around her the 'diamonds' that represent all her family members party plus the ones she originally had in sets of 2. I also put geodes where parts of her body have broken off (inspired by how when the King strikes she can't move, plus also being a glass canon) where when I was actually drawing those geodes that they kinda use the Change symbol?

Circle within a circle within a circle, regardless of how wiggly it is, and at the centre is a cluster of crystals. That was an accidental reference to Odile's mixed heritage but hoo boy what a connection! Her missing pieces are a combination of 'being too old for this' fragility and also 'i didn't want to render more mirrors sue me'

Anyway I am going to put my wrist in a cast and imagine loopified party members with their pre-wish counterparts :P

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...