#i spaced out for 3 hours and then THIS happened whoops

[roo-was-here-art]

I'll just leave this one up to viewer interpretation

[darylssunshine]

daryl x reader

“whoa hey, you’re bleeding.” reader maybe not realizing it until she looks down. falling into his arms and daryl callin for help. whump whump whumppp . set at the prison ?

Family

word count: 1.1k

a/n: finally getting into the swing of things with requests. hope you enjoy anon <3

~~~

The sounds of people yelling and the banging of chain link fences echoed throughout the prison courtyard. You jabbed your knife through yet another walker, grunting as you pushed it through its thick skull. You, along with everyone else in your small group, including Carl, had been at this for at least an hour now, but it was necessary to keep the prison safe. Still, the constant stabbing motion had your upper arm aching. Probably acid and bile rising up from your stomach, too.

“I got the last one!” Glenn called out from the middle of the formation, sticking his knife right in the middle of the walker’s eye. Audible sighs of relief could be heard from the group, along with a victory ‘whoop’ from Carl. Standing right beside you, Daryl was flicking the excess undead blood from his knife and his hands, wiping the rest on his pants. He shaked a stray hair out of his eye then wiped a hand down his face, sighing and sheathing his now blood-free knife. 

“Jesus. Glad that’s over. Can’t wait to do that again tomorrow.” He scoffed, leaning against the fence and stretching his overused right arm.

“I know, right? My arm is killing me. Gonna have to… ” You trailed off, suddenly feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. You leaned your arm against the fence for support and lowered your head, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Daryl stopped leaning against the fence and took a cautious step forward towards you. “Hey, you okay?” 

You immediately snapped your gaze back up to the archer, desperately trying to seem like you had your shit together. “Yep. Yeah. I’m okay.” You placed your free hand on your hip to simulate normality. That’s when Daryl looked you up and down and his eyes suddenly went wide.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey, hey! Yer bleedin’!!” He quickly stepped toward you, glancing down sporadically. 

You placed your hand on your stomach, discovering the right side was wet and sticky. It was, in fact, blood.

“Fuckin’ damn it.” You mumble, before going limp and falling into Daryl’s arms, him catching you by the armpits. 

His heart immediately started racing when he caught you and layed you carefully on the dying grass. The few that surrounded you stepped back to give you some space. He instantly got on his knees and inspected your injuries, praying to whatever deity was listening that you hadn’t gotten bit. After a string of mumbled expletives, he shouted, “I need some fuckin’ help over here!” To no one in particular, his frantic eyes never leaving your closed ones.

What he didn’t see happening behind him was Rick rushing to get Hershel, while Maggie and Glenn hurriedly grabbing a makeshift stretcher and bringing it to wear you laid. He quickly got to his feet and helped you onto the stretcher. He was by your side the entire time and throughout all of the noise and chaos, you could swear you could hear Daryl whispering, “They’re gonna be fine. They’re gonna be fine.”

—

You groggily opened your eyes and instantly felt a stinging on your right side. The events of the past hour flooded back, and you wince. You cautiously felt the area, and thankfully you felt a clean bandage.

Judging by the beige ceiling and the firm yet surprisingly comfortable mattress you were on, you had been placed in Hershel’s room. You slowly moved your head to the side, expecting to be met with an equally beige wallpaper, but to your surprise, you were met with a sleeping, hot headed, brunette, redneck.

He was spread out in a chair he had brought from the dining room. His head was lolled towards you, his hair in his eyes and snoring quite loud. You smiled, heart slightly skipping a beat at the thought of him not wanting to leave your side.

“Hey.” You rasped, cringing at your own voice. 

Daryl, being a naturally light sleeper, immediately blinked awake. It took a second for the fog of sleep to leave his brain, but it left fast when he realized that you were awake. That you were alive.

“Holy fuck. (Y/N.) Hey. How’re ya feelin’?” He rambled, scooting the chair closer to the bed and sitting on the edge of it.

“Like shit. But I’ll be fine.” You sighed in response. 

“Good.” Daryl said softly, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Hershel said you probably got scratched by a walker. That true?”

You averted his gaze from his and started picking your fingernails, a nervous habit you’ve had since you were a child. “It happened while we were dealing with that hoard. I didn’t wanna make a scene.” 

You heard him sigh deeply and didn’t speak for a moment. You turned your head back towards him, and he had his head in his hand, almost willing himself to speak. He looked up and his eyes looked redder and puffier than they were before. “Why th’ fuck would ya do tha’?”

You slowly sat up in a somewhat sitting position to better look him in the eyes. “We all have to protect this place, Daryl! This family! It’s something that most don’t have these days.”

“We coulda had one less person in th’ family if you’d told me about tha’ any later.” He motioned to your wound with a nod of his head.

“You guys can function without m-” You were cut off from your half-joking comment.

“I can’t, ‘kay?! I can’t. So shuddup. Don’t say tha’.” He suddenly raised his voice a little, making you shut your lips and look at him with your full attention.

“Look. I don’t want ya gettin’ hurt. I care about ya. Always have.” He gazed into your eyes with such a fondness you could’ve started crying right then and there. And you would’ve, if he didn’t look away from you in sudden embarrassment. “Yer the only one who keeps me sane ‘round here.”

You sniffed, chuckling to cover up the tightness growing in the back of your throat. “That why you stayed and kept me up with your snoring?”

“Shuddup.” He repeated, sounding exasperated, but you didn’t miss the slight smile on his face.

He then stood up, flexed his probably sore neck, and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. More heat blossomed onto your cheek at the sudden contact.

“Gonna go get Hershel now that yer awake.” He said softly before walking towards the door.

“Can you bring me dinner after pleeeeease?” You asked, your hands in a prayer motion and your eyelashes batting.

He turned around in the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

“Sure. ‘S a date.” He drawled, winked, then walked away like nothing happened.

Maybe you should have thanked that walker before you stabbed him.

[smittywing]

WIP Wednesday: Marriage 101 (Part 3)

It's been a DAY on my side, so enjoy some fic.

Earlier parts here: | 1 | 2 |

From last time...

“Okay, yeah,” Jason conceded. “I guess I’ll have to stop by for my mail now and then.”

“You’d better,” Tim told him. “If Gotham U sends you a ginormous envelope, you have exactly one hour to get over here and open it or I’m doing it for you.”

Jason dropped his head back and laughed. If Tim watched the ripple of his throat, well, he was married to the man. “Fair,” he allowed with a grin. “So, uh, see you around, I guess?”

“Yeah,” said Tim. “See you around.”

And that was that. 

$

Tim didn't tell anyone. He was aware that Jason had some kind of conversation with Alfred that resulted in a hell of a lot of side-eye, but no commentary. 

Patrol happened. School happened. The occasional global crisis happened. Tim saw Jason maybe three times. 

Then, the envelope came. 

ONE HOUR, he texted. 

Jason showed up on his motorcycle, in his civvies, in fourteen minutes. 

“Where were you?” Tim asked as Jason took the envelope out of his hands and tore the flap. 

“Close,” Jason answered and yanked out a sheaf of paper. “Holy shit.”

“You're in,” Tim said, so confident that it didn't need to be a question. 

“I’m in,” Jason breathed. 

“Yeah!” Tim grabbed Jason’s shoulders and shook him hard. “You’re in!”

“I'm in!” Jason whooped. He wrapped Tim in a bear hug that might have cracked a rib of a less sturdy person. It tipped him off his feet and he let Jason whip him around in a half circle before releasing him. “Wow.” Jason said, straightening awkwardly. He ran a hand through the front of his hair and then settled both hands on his hips. “I wasn’t sure this was actually going to work,” he admitted.

“I was,” Tim said confidently. “Want to see your room?”

“I have a room?” Jason asked, his eyes meeting Tim’s. “Of my very own?”

“Yeah, we’re that modern kind of married where we each have our own space,” Tim joked. “C’mon.” He led Jason upstairs to the third floor where four bedrooms filled the corners of the narrow townhouse.

It was the second best bedroom in the place, with an en suite bathroom and a pair of windows that led to a fire escape. The walls were painted a warm white but it was neither as big nor as elegant as one of Bruce’s penthouse rooms would have been. The king-sized bed had a blue comforter and the dresser and nightstands were cherry wood.

“The closet has a false back for your suits and the wifi password is on the desk,” he said. There was a laptop on the desk, too, a low-end Wayne Tech one appropriate for a college student with a pre-loaded search history and secure messaging platforms hidden in a second operating system.

“Pretty sweet base,” Jason commented. “This mine?” he asked, tapping the computer.

“Already loaded with everything college student Jason Peterson could need,” Tim told him, “and a few extras.”

“Nice. Mind if I leave a few books up here?”

“What, no, you can leave yourself if you want,” Tim said. “I’m all by myself here and you’re supposed to be my husband, so you know, move in already.”

“Yeah, but.” Jason looked thoughtful. “It’s nice and close to campus. You don’t mind a roommate? For real?”

“For real,” Tim swore. “I mean, also it would look weird if you didn’t have some stuff here, right?”

“Right,” Jason said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll bring some stuff ‘round. So does this place have a kitchen?”

$

Since he wasn’t living on campus, Tim hadn’t planned to attend any of the freshman orientation events. This wasn’t high school. His plan was to get in, ace his classes, score his degree, and move on to Wayne Enterprises full-time. 

He had not accounted for Jason’s plan.

“The English department is having a sundae party,” Jason said, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen. It was a good lean, the kind that made his shoulders look extra big and his waist look extra narrow. “Come with me in case I don’t know anyone.”

“Of course you don’t know anyone,” Tim said, looking up from his case file. “It’s freshman orientation. The whole point is to meet people you don’t know.”

“Are you unfamiliar with the concept of wingman?” Jason asked. “C’mon. It’s ice cream. And toppings. You’re not going to get a better offer today.”

Jason had a point.

$

Banana Karenina. James and the Giant Peaches & Cream. One Flew Over the Coco’s Nut.

“They don’t have neapolitan,” Jason complained, studying the long table of thematic flavors. 

“No one could come up with a good pun,” said one of the grad students standing behind the table with a scoop. “Skor and Peace?”

Jason shook his head. “I’ll go with the Crazy Rum Raisin,” he decided.

Tim edged down the table looking for something…else. He wasn’t sure what but he was staying far away from the Grape Gatsby float, which was vanilla ice cream floating in a vat of grape soda. He paused in front of something called, The Coffet.

“Is this coffee?” he asked. 

“What book is that?” Jason asked, leaning up behind him.

“The Prophet!” the grad student said, already scooping out a serving for Tim. “By Khalil Gibran! Get it!?”

Tim did not get it.

But he did want coffee ice cream. 

“That’s a stretch, my dude,” Jason said, but Tim was already making off with his cup to top it with hot fudge.

With Tim as his wingman (or emotional support sidekick, Tim figured), Jason met some of the grad students and talked about the different classes they were assisting. Tim ate his ice cream and nodded at appropriate points. He was a tiny bit antsy about the reading he had to do for the first day of classes but he was a fast reader and watching Jason talk about the female authors in the 1800s was pretty amazing. After his dish of The Coff-et, he got a scoop of something called Parable of the (Elder)Flower and sprawled under a tree next to Jason who had withdrawn to try Banana Karenina.

“I’m surprised you wanted to come to this stuff,” Tim admitted. “I thought you would find it…” Tim considered the right word. “Frivolous.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Jason agreed. He tilted his head to the side and ate a spoonful of ice cream. “But it’s nice, pretending I’m a real boy sometimes, you know?”

Tim snuck a peek over at Jason’s face. Jason was smiling a little and he looked young and - 

Jason was only two years older than Tim. It was easy to forget that sometimes when he was acting like an edgelord hatched from a Lazarus Pit. Tim had been a precocious kid, but he’d been a kid, with school and chores, and hobbies, even if those hobbies had included stalking Batman and Robin. Jason’s hobbies had included stealing tires so he could eat and dying at the hands of the Joker.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “It is.”

$

“You have actual food in your refrigerator,” Stephanie accused. 

“Ooh,” Tim said, abandoning the radio receiver he was dismantling and going to peer over her shoulder. “Anything good?”

“Somehow it makes me feel better that you don’t even know what kind of food you have,” Steph said. “I think those are deviled eggs?” 

“Oh, yeah, get them, and some of the spinach dip,” Tim advised. 

“There’s spinach dip? With actual spinach?”

“There’s chips on the top of the fridge.” Tim pried a transistor loose and said, “I told you Jason was staying here, right? For school?”

“Yeah, for school, and for cooking you amazing shit,” Steph said. “Speaking of, did you get your schedule?”

“Got it this morning,” Tim said, sliding a whole deviled egg into his mouth and meeting Steph’s fist-bump.

By “this morning” he meant the early hours of the previous day, hacking into the registrar’s office and rearranging his classes into a more ideal schedule as he munched on some post-patrol cereal and ran an upgrade on his phone. For the most part, he had received the engineering classes he had selected earlier in the summer, skipping over the courses he had taken while he was in high school. However, Gotham U had freshman requirements and one of them was an English class. Technically, Tim had tested out of that but it occurred to him that Jason would not have tested out of anything. So, he had hacked into Jason Peterson’s registration and committed to memory the course and section numbers of the two literature classes Jason had picked. One of them fit nicely in his schedule. It would be good to have a class with Jason. 

For…reasons.

$

Reasons he couldn’t necessarily remember when he slid into that particular class thirty seconds before the bell.  Jason was sitting in the front row, dwarfing the kids sitting around him, and holding court on the works of Jane Austen.

“Tim!” he waved. Tim made it a policy never to sit in the front row because it was too obvious when he inevitably had to skip out of class for crime fighting, but he slipped into a seat in the row behind Jason, which worked out because Jason was sitting sideways in his seat. “Guys, this is my husband, Tim,” he told the others.

Tim widened his eyes at Jason. He hadn’t expected they’d be introducing themselves as a married couple to the other students. Or to the professors. Jason widened his eyes in response and then *winked* at Tim. 

“This is Greg, Daniel, and Rebecca,” he introduced his - Jason had *friends* already? “They’re in my Classical Lit class that met yesterday. Greg, Daniel, and Rebecca murmured hellos to Tim, who murmured something back but was saved from further socialization by the arrival of the professor. 

She was a tall woman with pale hair swept back in a French twist and pince nez glasses perched on her nose, who introduced herself as Professor Worthington. She seemed a little formal compared to professors in Tim’s advanced engineering class, but Tim assumed riding herd on a required freshman English course did that to a person.

“When I call your name,” she instructed, “answer with your hometown and your favorite author.”

What. Tim didn’t have a favorite author. At least he didn’t think he did. He tried to remember reading for fun but that was something that happened pre-Robin. Next, he scanned back for required school reading and what was the least tedious to read. 

“Timothy Drake?”

“Uh. I’m from Gotham and uh, my favorite author is - “  Crap on a stick. “Sun Tzu?”

“Interesting choice,” Professor Worthington said skeptically. She squinted through her glasses at Tim for a moment. “Are you a chess player, Mr. Drake?”

“When I have time,” he said. He so rarely did have time, but yes, he saw the connection. He let out the breath he’d been holding as quietly as possible. Sun Tzu was a good choice. He’d only written one book, it was short, and Tim had read it. 

Professor Worthington nodded and moved on. There were about a hundred and twenty students in the class so it took her a while to get to Jason. Long enough for about a dozen Austens, a few Orwells, some Bronte’s, a handful of Vonneguts, and one Stephen King, which earned that student a general snicker.

“The best novels are those we can engage with,” Professor Worthington said mildly in his defense.  “Jason Peterson.”

“Gotham born and bred,” Jason said. “And Mary Oliver.”

“Mary Oliver,” Professor Worthington said thoughtfully. “The Night Traveler?”

“Wild Geese,” Jason countered.

Tim, who had never heard of Mary Oliver, tried to Google her work on his laptop without moving his hands very much. He had seen Jason read Austen and Bronte, was she in that era?

“‘You do not have to be good,” Jason said and wow this was poetry. His voice was deep and mellow and curled around the words in a way Tim had never heard. “You do not have to walk on your knees; for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body; love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile, the world goes on.’”

“And you’re Mr. Drake’s husband,” Professor Worthington said dryly. “Interesting pairing, you two.”’

She moved on but Tim felt the words of the poem, in Jason’s voice, jammed up in his head.  He kicked the back of Jason’s chair and mouthed, “That was great,” when Jason turned around.

Jason flushed across the bridge of his nose and the highest part of his cheeks, summer freckles popping into view. “Don’t you dare tell anyone,” he hissed in return.

Tim shook his head no. He wasn’t going to tell anyone. This was too perfect, too precious, to share.

$

[souperbloom]

deffo need some subtle sub!luke in my life - maybe y/n and the guys are all talking about sex lives & one of them slips out that luke once mentioned wanting y/n to be in control because it was usually the other way round, so later on they give it a go!

nothing too extreme, just y/n making decisions, praising luke & being on top etc

you don’t even want to know the sound that came out if my mouth when i got this notification.

(if u requested this reveal yourself.) (im joking.) (maybe.)

enjoy <3

————————

secrets, secrets. [L.H.]

🖤 boyfriend!luke

after what seems to be a secret revealed, you and your boyfriend Luke try something new in the bedroom.

a/n: FIRST LUKE SMUT WOOOO. i wrote most of this while listening to classical music which i just think is so silly and on brand for me. i also had a last minute epiphany and changed the title whoops.

CONTENT WARNINGS: references to weed/smoking, angst if you squint, sub!luke (duh), pet names, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), orgasm denial, protected sex.

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You hadn’t checked the clock for what seemed to be hours.

The guys and yourself had been wrapped up in a heated discussion sitting in a circle in Calum’s living room, all stoned on your own accord.

The conversation had been flowing since the moment you all sat in your respective places, turning from lighthearted banter into something much more vulgar than you were used to. You all hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, which meant there was a lot of ‘catching up’ to be had.

But you weren’t quite sure how the simple conversation of ‘how have you been?’ morphed into something along the lines of: ‘have you ever had a dirty dream about me?’

"You’re lying! I can see it in your eyes!" An eager Michael shouts across the room at his dear friend, and your boyfriend, Luke. You watch the entire ordeal unfold perched atop Luke’s restless thigh.

He tries to hide a measly smile, as Michael has caught his bluff.

"Okay, fine… It was one time. Nothin’ to fuckin’ write home about."

"How does that even happen?" Calum, baffled, rubs his hand on his chin.

"It means he thinks about ya’ before he goes t’sleep," says Ashton confidently, motioning towards Luke with a cheeky grin.

"No! That’s not— no."

"Luke, c’mon. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sure we’ve all had some pretty fucked up dreams about each other." Michael tries his hand at consoling your boyfriend, whose cheeks were now glowing red.

"I’m not embarrassed. You just— you forced it out of me. A man’s allowed to have secrets, y’know."

Secrets.

It always came back to telling secrets.

You’d like to think that you had a pretty open and honest relationship with your boyfriend, as well as his best friends.

But there were still some things about them that you didn’t know.

And you were afraid you were about to find them out.

"Speakin’ of secrets…" Ashton begins, adjusting his posture to rest his elbows on his knees, "…I’ve got one."

Bingo.

"Go ahead. This is a safe space," you say teasingly, trying not to acknowledge the fact that you had been so high for the majority of this conversation that you had completely forgotten to speak.

"Ashton’s got a seeecreeeet." Calum teases Ashton in a singsongy tone, but Ashton’s face was reading more serious than anything. He clears his throat before speaking his mind.

"Call me crazy, but takin’ on the submissive role in bed has gotta be one of the greatest things on Earth. And if ya’ haven’t tried it, then you’re not livin’ right."

You quirk your brow, and take a look at the rest of the room. Each of the guys’ faces were contorted into a different stage of grief.

Michael was amused, clearly. His eyes were wide and glassy like he had just witnessed one of the Seven Wonders. Calum’s jaw was practically touching the floor, trying to bite back a smile that was so obviously hard to hide.

And then, there was Luke.

He wasn’t making a face— his expression was unreadable. The only thing you saw was his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He swallowed hard, and you noticed that.

"Dude… what? I did not expect that from you…" Michael was still in awe of his friend, as he cupped his cheek with his hand.

"Don’t make assumptions, Mikey. You only live once."

As much as you wanted to say you were shocked, you honestly weren’t. You didn’t know a whole lot about Ashton’s sex life, but this didn’t surprise you. He’s the kind of guy to try anything once.

"Well? Don’t be a prude… Tell us what happened."

"Y/N—" Luke blurts, seemingly attempting to stop this conversation from unfolding.

"What? Am I wrong for being curious?"

"No, no— I agree with Y/N," says Michael, "Since you wanna rave about your endeavors as a submissive princess… Tell us all about it."

Michael’s sly comment earns a snort from Luke, who had been trying to remain steely faced since the moment he had called him out for having sexual fantasies about him. You smile to yourself, eyes darting between Ashton and your boyfriend as their stare down commences.

"What’s so funny over there?" Ashton quips.

Your boyfriend’s eyes shoot down to his lap. "Nothin’."

"Ash, get on with it." Michael was fed up, and ready to hear all about what Ashton was so persistent about.

You can’t help but stifle a giggle as Ashton lets out a sigh. He was taking this a lot more seriously than you thought he would.

"I’m not sure what came over me— but there was this one time. I guess I was feeling particularly lazy er’ somethin’, but I asked her to take over for the night. I won’t get into the nitty gritty but let’s just say; it changed my fuckin’ life."

"I am way too high to be talking about this right now." Calum says, his eyes wide as he is still processing everything.

Ashton continues, "Somethin’ about the feeling of your fate lying in your lover’s hands is just so… exhilarating. You never know what’s gonna happen next— you learn to expect the unexpected… It’s fuckin’ great, man."

Upon Ashton's admission, your seat in Luke's lap shifts slightly. He adjusts you, pulling you closer into his torso and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Still can't picture it, but... I believe ya'," says Michael with a nod of approval. You laugh, feeling your boyfriend's fingertips drumming against your stomach.

"You guys ever tried it? Don't mean to pry but, as Y/N said, this is a safe space."

The room goes pin-drop quiet. Nobody wanted to speak up; not you, not Luke, not anybody else. It seemed as though this conversation had died out quicker than it came to be.

"Oh, come on. You guys are the freakiest fucks I know. Seriously? None of you?" Ashton presses the group for answers, his eyes landing on you. But you just shrug.

"I'm always on the bottom, Ash. You're preaching to the choir."

"Oh trust me, we know."

"Cal—" Your boyfriend huffs, cutting off his friend and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Confused, your eyes search around the room for any sign of an answer. You seemed to be out of the loop, which was unlike you in these kinds of situations.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You can’t help but get a little defensive, now zoning in on the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingernails anxiously biting into your waist.

"Nothing! He means nothing..." Luke tries to defend, his voice a bit pitchy.

You bite back a smile. “Secrets, secrets are no fun…"

"Unless they’re shared with everyone, fuck, I know! But you don’t have to—"

Calum butts in, "Mate, relax. I’m just messing around."

"No, no— don’t give me that bullshit. What were you trying to say Cal?"

You weren’t sure why, but feeling left out of some sort of inside joke or secret was making you angry. Your temper was mellowed from smoking, yet this whole back and forth was getting to you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Luke lets out a sigh from behind you, dropping his chin on your shoulder in defeat. He didn’t feel like arguing anymore, with the rest of the room dead quiet as they wait for Calum to speak.

Calum on the other hand was holding back a high smile. A look of ‘I know something you don’t know’ was plastered proudly across his cheeks. He rubs his hands together, glancing at Ashton and Michael before he opens his mouth.

"I know you pride yourself on being a pillow princess Y/N, but… Luke wants to see you in charge."

Immediately, your face flushes pink. You didn’t know what you were expecting Calum to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

It was almost as if everyone in the room was trying not to burst into laughter, Ashton and Michael slapping each other’s legs to get the other to stop snickering.

You swallow the newly formed lump in your throat, taking a second to look each of your friends in the eye.

"Well, this is news to me—"

"You fuckin’ suck, Cal." Luke blurts, embarrassment and anger laced through his tone.

As you sit cross legged, still perched on Luke’s thigh, you feel a tap at your lower back. This was your boyfriend’s cue; an unspoken means of telling you 'let’s get the fuck out of here.'

"I’m sorry," Calum laughs, "I didn’t mean t’ hit a nerve with that one."

"Luke, wait—" pleads Michael, who had been rather quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

"I think we’re gonna head out."

Soon enough, you’re rising to your feet, and your boyfriend is quick to follow. He grabs your bag from off of the floor, scooting you closer into the awkward energy of the circle. The rest of the guys just look at you in pity, but you were far too busy in your own head to notice their stares.

Luke wanted you to be in charge?

"Can’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to," Ashton shrugs, clasping his hands together between his knees, "I guess we’ll see you two tomorrow?"

You purse your lips to reply to Ashton, watching your boyfriend feverishly pack up your belongings and shift you towards the nearest exit. But Luke is quicker than you, cutting right to the chase.

“Yeah, sure. Somethin’ like that."

The entire car ride back to Luke’s apartment was silent.

You were still hung up on how awkward those last few minutes had played out; but a part of you was just dying to know more about Luke’s little secret.

Pushing boundaries was something that you hadn’t yet considered when it came to you and your boyfriend. Your relationship was fairly new; with the both of you still testing the waters and occasionally stepping out of your comfort zones.

Luke was excellent at reading you. He paid very close attention to detail, which was one of the things that had you falling so hard for him in the first place.

But there was a piece of you that felt guilty for prying this all out of him, the way his entire demeanor seemed to drop when Calum spilled his beans. He was embarrassed, from what you could tell. And you weren’t quite sure what to do.

"Luke?" You pop your head out of the bathroom door, your face wash in hand, looking into your master bedroom at Luke splayed across the mattress. He’s still fully dressed, laying flat on his back with his shoes hanging off of the side.

You, however, took it upon yourself to get ready for bed. You took off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and changed into a little plaid pajama-short set to try and get your mind off of the awkward energy still floating in the air.

"Luke…" He hadn’t replied the first time you called out his name, so you tried your luck again. This time, he just sighed, before turning his head to face you.

His sandy blonde curls were haphazardly strewn across the made comforter. His body restless, as he drummed his hands along his abdomen and waited for you to reply.

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Mhmm."

Your shoulders drop in defeat, your eyes still lingering on his lanky frame. He lets out a deep breath before looking at the ceiling again, gnawing on his bottom lip mindlessly.

"I’m sorry," you say, "I didn’t mean to embarrass you."

"You didn’t."

His short replies were making your stomach churn. It was unlike the both of you to be so cautious with each other, walking on eggshells in hopes that the other would just let up and speak their mind. You didn’t want to make it worse, either— it seemed like this affected him, and the last thing you needed was for it to be your fault.

You turn back to face the bathroom counter, continuing your nightly skincare. But from behind you, you hear shuffling. The sole of a shoe hitting the floor, then another. The sound of a jacket unzipping, and pooling to the floor as well.

You could see Luke’s slouched posture in the mirror through the doorframe, watching him slowly rid himself of his clothes and leaving him in nothing but his grey t-shirt and pink heart boxers. The ones you gifted him for Valentine’s day.

The water was warm as you started to wash your face, warm enough to let yourself relax for a moment. It dripped down your forehead, into your eyes, momentarily shielding you from your surroundings as you bent over the sink.

In your daze, you turn the faucet off, your eyes screwed shut and vision starry. But as you blindly reach around the counter for a towel, you feel someone hand it to you.

"Here," the familiar voice drawls from behind you, before you feel a broad hand slither around your waist.

You let out a whimper from the back of your throat, unable to say "thank you" now, as you grab the towel from Luke’s hand realize his hips are digging into your backside.

When you dry your face and regain your vision, you stand upright. Luke’s torso is warm, and inviting, his blistered palm making headway beneath your shirt to drag across your torso. In the mirror, you see his face contort into a mellow smile, his curls pushed back away from his eyes.

"Hi," You whisper into the mirror, water dripping off of your eyelashes and down your cheek.

"Hi, pretty."

"Are you mad at me?" You hated asking that question.

"Of course not, why would I be mad at you?" Luke replies, pulling you into his cotton t-shirt.

"You seemed like you were a few minutes ago." The feeling of his fingertips was getting to be distracting.

"No, no. It was just— something I’d been meaning to tell you but… I just never got around to it."

"Oh."

His other hand has made it to your waist. "Are you mad at me?"

"Never."

"Good to know."

For a moment, the two of you stare at your reflections in the mirror. Luke’s eyes rake down your body, his hands still wandering along the delicate skin of your tummy beneath your shirt. You sigh into him, leaning backwards to rest your head on the crook of his neck.

"Wanna try something new tonight?" He asks, his voice huskier than before and mumbling into the top of your head.

"Mmm, like what?" You were unable to hide your melodic hums as his hands move closer beneath your breasts.

You already knew what Luke was going to ask of you, the excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach as his eyes wandered, pretending to think.

To be honest with yourself, you had already thought a lot about what’d it’d be like if you two switched places for a change. But you were always too nervous to bring it up, especially in the heat of the moment.

"Want you t’ be in charge tonight, pretty. Do whatever you want t’me. Think you’d be interested?"

"Yes," you breathe without even a second thought, entranced by his fingertips as they creep towards the waistband of your shorts, "I’d love to."

"Sounds good t’me."

Not a second passes before Luke is spinning you around to face him. He dips down, and plants a gentle kiss on your lips, leaving you with a fuzzy head and a fluttering stomach.

When you pull away from him you notice the twinkle in his ocean blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was a look of anticipation. Pure excitement. You were about to try something new with the person you loved most in this world, and he was about as thrilled as you were.

You could just tell.

"How can I be good for you, pretty? Wanna be your good boy tonight."

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you figured it’d be best to just play it cool.

"Wellll—" You press your index finger to his chest, "Maybe start by getting on the bed?"

"Are you gonna come with me?" He asks sweetly, still holding you in his hands.

"Of course, baby… But I need you to just sit tight and wait for me, okay?"

He nods quickly, biting back a smile between his teeth before he’s shuffling out of the bathroom towards the bed. You linger in the doorframe for a moment, watching in complete awe as Luke crawls to the top of the mattress and sits with his back resting against the headboard.

Doing exactly what you had asked him to.

You start in slow strides towards him, swaying your hips with each step in hopes to kill some time.

You wanted to figure out a game plan. Since you’d never done this before, you weren’t sure where to start; and as much as it wouldn’t be shameful to ask Luke for advice, you wanted to impress him.

"Okay, done. Now what?" The anticipation in his voice made you want to just explode on impact. He was just the cutest fucking thing.

"Hmmm," you hum, crossing your arms as your eyes scan his body, "I’m gonna need that shirt off."

"Yes ma’am."

He then crosses his arms in front of his torso, pulling the hemline of his shirt over his head. He tosses it to the side, revealing his bare chest sprinkled in sandy blonde chest hairs.

As you watch him move, you gnaw on your bottom lip, scanning down his practically naked body and thinking of all of the things you could do. All of the things you could do to make this right for him. To make this worth wild.

You glance down at your plaid pajama shirt, clad and held together by buttons that gap between your breasts.

And then, you get an idea.

"You ready for me baby?" You ask your boyfriend, whose legs had been crossing and uncrossing impetuously as he watches you near closer to the bed.

"Mhm."

"Gonna play a game with you, m’kay?"

"M’kay." He mocks your gentle tone.

Before you could explain the rules of this new, made-up game of yours, you start to move. Dipping one knee down into the mattress, then the other. You crawl to him, straddling his lap and settling down atop of his obvious hard-on.

He was turned on just by the thought of you.

"It’s very easy," you start to say, reaching for the first button of your blouse, "and there’s only one rule."

Luke’s hands hover around you awkwardly, unsure of where to rest them, unsure if he was even allowed to touch you at all.

"What is it?" He asks, swallowing and adjusting himself beneath you.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His eyes widen. He had finally noticed your hand lingering and toying with the button on your top.

"You’re pretty, baby. The prettiest."

And with that, the first button comes undone. You move your hands down to the second.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His tongue juts out to wet his bottom lip, his hands now stagnant at his sides and twitching by your calves.

"You’re so pretty. Prettiest girl in the world."

Second button, undone.

"Tell me I’m pretty, baby. Tell me again."

As you reach for the third button, you make a point to grind your hips down, swiveling them in a way that he’d feel it. His face contorts in bliss, petal pink lips parting slightly.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty… Prettiest I’ve— ever seen."

Third button, undone.

"Tell me more, baby. Tell me again."

You grind your hips down again, and a soft whimper escapes the back of his throat. You could feel his hands fidgeting down by your legs, reaching out to touch something that wasn’t even there.

"So fuckin’ beautiful… My pretty girl— ah—" He's cut short with another dig of your hips. The paper thin material of your pajama shorts leaving absolutely no room for the imagination. You could practically feel his cock twitching beneath your core, but you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

With his last words of affirmation, you undo the last two buttons on your own accord. The breeze from the air conditioning makes you shiver, instantly perking up your nipples.

Luke noticed that, too. He always does.

"So, so pretty…" He utters with one last labored breath, as if it were the last he’d ever take, upon seeing your chest.

"You did so good for me, didn’t you baby?"

Luke hums quietly, clearly feeling some sort of release due with the pressure of your body on top of him. You notice his hands trembling still, down at his sides and oblivious to the thought of touching you.

"You can touch me, y’know. Been’ such a good boy for me so far."

The eye contact between you was like trance; it was gentle, and warm. Still wavering with uncertainty, yet eager to continue. Luke’s hands eventually make it to your waist, something he had been dying to do since the moment you straddled his hips.

You could tell he was still hesitant to let his fingers roam as they usually would, and that was definitely getting to your head.

You swivel your hips one last time without a single word, dipping down to kiss him. Your hands are quick to cup his face, lips interlocking eagerly for the first time since this morning.

It’s not long before your tongues begin exploring, tangling together in the sweetness of your kiss.

You’re still grinding your hips. He’s still in a trance.

Luke’s hands had moved to grip your ass, pushing it down while simultaneously bucking his hips up into your core. This action of his makes you disconnect from him for a moment, a disapproving look in your eye.

"Ah ah ah," you tut at him, his cheeks now squished between your palms. He quirks his brow.

"What?"

"Not so fast, pretty boy. You said I could do anything, right?"

He chuckles, eyes flicking down to your lips, "I did say that, didn’t I? You're right, baby. Tell me whatcha' need from me... I'm all yours."

You suck in a deep breath, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts that keep poking at your head and telling you to just let him have his way with you. You wanted to remain stern, whether he took you seriously, or not.

"How about this…"

You let go of his cheeks to shrug your pajama shirt off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the floor next to his tee. His pupils shake, eyeing down your breasts.

"…You don’t get to cum ‘till I say so."

"Oh, fuck— you're too good t'me..." His voice is soft and melodic, already so willing to give up the power he usually claims. "Yes. Yes..."

Your palms lay flat on his broad chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took.

He was anxious; anxious in the way that one more subtle touch to his flesh would send his heart thumping right through his ribcage.

You couldn't contain your excitement anymore; just looking at him was already creating a slickness in your panties.

But Luke could've stared at you for hours.

"Are you sure, Lu?" You ask once your delicate boy once more, tracing little hearts with your pointer fingers across his pecs. He nods eagerly, eyes going doe.

"Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes. Have your way with me, please."

With a tug at your bottom lip, you take his words as your cue. You're quick to take out a condom from Luke's bedside dresser, and even quicker to shift your ass down to rest on his thighs.

As you move, his stare lingers. He nods at you slowly, to remind you of his approval. How desperately he wanted you to have your way with him.

His cock twitching and practically popping through the button of his boxers was already telling you everything you needed to know.

To try and read his eager pleas, you begin to palm him delicately through the pink heart fabric, heavenly sounds spilling past his lips and floating to your ears like a siren's melody.

He was grunting, whining; almost as if he were in pain.

"Easy now, baby," you coo gently, as a shiver runs down Luke's body, "Still my good boy, right?"

"Mmmmph."

"Good, good. Just like that, pretty baby." You squeeze your hand around his length, and his jaw falls completely agape.

You weren't planning on teasing him for much longer. It almost felt cruel to do so.

So, instead of waiting any more, you release him from the button of his boxers.

His tip was already leaky with precum; angry and red, that angelic face of his melting the second you wrap your manicured fingers around his shaft.

Tipping down to take him into your mouth, you hollow out your cheeks, tongue laying flat against him as you start to bob your head.

Sucking him off had always been one of your favorite things to do. In your head, it gave you a purpose— and you always loved the praise that would come with it.

But with the power dynamic now in your favor, you were already enjoying it all the more.

"Fuck me, pretty... So fuckin' warm..." Luke groans through gritted teeth, taking his hands to comb through your hair. You hum at him, sending a vibration down your tongue and directly through his body. He jolts, as if he’d been struck by lightning, while your hands begin to claw at his hipbone.

The walls of Luke's bedroom felt like they were closing in on you, each heaving breath that he was taking was making you dizzy. Your nails leave little crescent etchings deep into his flesh, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat each time you duck down.

"Fuck... fuck fuck fuck–" He grunts, he whines, he continues to writhe beneath you, completely at your disposal. You were eating up every single sound he made, every little spasm of his hands or jerk at his hips.

Picking up on the signs, you could tell he was close. He didn't even have to say it.

"Y/N... I–I'm..." He can barely even finish his thought before he's grabbing your hair in a handful. You always loved it when he was a little rough with you, and this time was no different.

With a tug at your roots, you hum around him again. His body comes lurching forward, almost as if to stop himself from fucking your throat.

"Baby– M'close..." He finally utters, which brings you to toss your head up, releasing him from your mouth with a pop.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whisper, watching his cock fall thump against his stomach and twitch here and there, "You’ve been so good for me so far."

"I have?" He asks the question sweetly, genuinely. With a little twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, of course you have, my pretty baby…" you say, running the back of your hand down his belly, "Gonna keep it up for me, right?"

"Yes."

"Such a good boy."

Luke tosses his head back, his bottom lip held captive by his teeth, and lets out a whine the moment you start to get off of him. The fact that he was whining at the loss of your touch was enough to send you over the edge right then and there, but you wanted to keep your promise.

You hastily discard your pajama shorts, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Luke whimpers again upon seeing you naked— you didn’t bother to wear your panties tonight.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N… My pretty little flower—" Luke sighs, in awe of you, despite the lingering sexual tension in the air. He always made it a point to compliment you, no matter the scenario.

"Thank you, Lu," You can’t help but giggle and blush, making your way back to his lap to straddle him.

Again, his hands find your waist. He sucks in a deep breath, eyes wired shut.

After only doing this for a little while, you were already comfortable talking to Luke in a more dominant way. The trick was to not think about it too hard. Just let the words roll right off of your tongue.

Simple enough, right?

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby." Your words are soft like down pillows yet loud enough to get a rise out of him. He shifts beneath you, still closing his eyes.

"Fuck me… please? I’m achin’ for you."

You take his pleas as your sign to start, wet enough from merely the obscene sounds spilling from his lips. The condom you had grabbed was still at your side so, you rip the package open with your teeth.

When you start to roll the condom down over his length, he lets out a hiss. Could have been the temperature; or maybe he was just too desperate to be ashamed of his sounds.

"Shit—" He whines, clutching onto your hips as your hand pumps his cock a few times.

"Easy, baby," you purr, adjusting yourself upwards to line him up with your dripping slit, "You ready for me?"

"Mhm— yes… yes please, angel. Please— fuck me."

His throaty cries only furthered the butterflies floating around in the pit of your stomach. You could barely contain yourself as you hover over him, biting your lip as you sink down onto his cock.

The both of you let out a collective groan; the feeling of him filling you up completely just seemed too perfect.

You lower your body so that you completely engulf him, taking his length fully and making your breath hitch in your throat.

"Feels good, pretty baby?" You ask, still buzzing.

"Mmph—" He whines, anchoring his hands to your hips as you start to swivel.

"Need you to use your words, Lu… Tell me."

You’re gentle with him, at first. Treating him delicately, like picking off the petals off a daisy. He seemed so weak beneath you and something about it was making your head spin. Your heart was bursting at the seams.

"Yes, Y/N— Feels s’fuckin’ good—" Luke whimpers, digging his fingernails into you, and holding onto you with his entire soul fleshing through his fingertips.

His cock twitches inside of you, as you continue your rhythm of grinding hips. It’s easy for you to tell when to pick up speed, testing his limits by his face alone.

"Such a good boy, baby.. You’re doing so fuckin’ well."

You start to notice the familiar furrow of his brow, that concentrated little notch in his forehead.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he just couldn’t seem to look away

"Y/N, I—"

He says your name again. It’s syrupy, like honey dripping off of his tongue. You place your palm flat on his tummy, tossing your hair out of your eyes to match his gaze.

"Takin’ my pussy so well, aren’t you?" You ask him, but don’t expect an answer. His face of concentration was telling you all you needed to know. How hard he was working to please your demand.

"Mmm… Th-think’ m’doin’ a good job…" He nods slowly, and you smile.

"Oh baby, you are… Keep goin’, m’kay?"

He smiles with a hum, through heavy, bated breaths.

"M’kay."

The sweaty flurry of blonde curls and baby blue eyes was slowly starting to unravel. The rise and fall of his chest was rapidly picking up speed, before he started to snap his hips up into you.

A slapping sound engulfs the walls of his bedroom, but you have no reason to complain. His cock was stretching you out, hitting that sweet spot with every stroke.

"Fuck, Lu—" You can’t help but revert to your old ways; yet not completely giving in, and letting him hold the reins. He was still beneath you, practically melting as your bodies entwine.

And that, was an incredible feeling.

"Y/N—" he whines, broken by panting, "m’close."

You nod sloppily, your tits bouncing at the speed of your swiveling hips.

"Hold it, baby— still my good boy, right?"

"Yes, yes… I am, Y/N. M’ a fuckin— a fuckin’ mess for you…"

A catty smile sprawls across your cheeks, feeling your orgasm budding lowly in the pit of your stomach, and satisfied at the way you had him completely wrapped around your finger.

"Mhm, yes you are. Such a pretty mess..."

Your orgasm was on the brink now, ready to burst and run through your body. Sloppy sounds filled the air; panting, whining, groaning. It was all meshing in your ears like the tune of a fucking song.

You felt your face tinge pink upon seeing your boyfriend’s concentrated expression, feeling a tad bit sorry for being so demanding.

So, you finally decide to let go.

"Cum with me, baby—" You gasp.

"Wha—"

"Let it go, Lu. Been s— so good for me, fuck!"

And with that, stars and galaxies are fogging your vision. You let out a cry as you finish, your walls clenching tightly around Luke’s cock as he does the same. He gives one last quick snap of his hips before you’re collapsing completely, going limp on his chest with him still inside of you.

You could hear his heart thumping through his chest; your sweaty bodies practically letting sparks fly. His hand moves to rub your back, as you both collect your devices.

"Was I good enough, baby?" He asks sweetly, that soft voice from before coming into play and making your stomach flutter.

"More than enough."

He giggles; seeming a bit shy about the semantics of it all, before planting a kiss at the crown of your head.

You can see his eyelashes fanning against the apples of his cheeks, glistening in the light of your bedroom as he grins up to the ceiling.

"I’m glad," he beams, "And you were right, by the way."

You pop your head up from his chest to look him in the eye. "About what?"

"Should’ve told ya’ about this a lot sooner."

With a shake of your head, you tut at him teasingly, just happy to feel closer to him than you ever have before.

"Guess it’s not a secret anymore."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[jamethinks]

Model Un but instead it's model parliament.

Damian obviously goes for prime minister but he couldn't pick between emile and ewen for deputy so he just picked George for some reason.

Becky wanted to go for leader of the opposition but got too nervous, and somehow, Anya managed to become the leader of the opposition. Everyone was pissed because they were sure Anya was going to lose. Becky was realistically their best pick since she had the charisma and aggression to match Damian.

In a shocking turn of events, Anya actually does well. Her method? Just disagree. Eventually, the cracks in Damian's plans will show, Mr Henderson will catch it, and therefore, Anya will and she can send him packing every time.

Also, since Ostania is a capitalist hellscap, comrade Anya had no problems denouncing everything with a bit of repressed Marxism.

----------

Damian: Before we begin, let's have a prayer and welcome the Lord into this space to guide us along this discussion.

Students: sure

Anya: hold it right there buckaroo. I am not Christian I am Muslim. I have no interest in praying to your God.

Damian: fine then pray to whatever made up god you worship

Students: *nods in agreement, Anya's team is getting nervous*

Anya: Mr. Desmond. Did you know only 47% of Ostanians identify with some denominator of Christianity. Not to mention there's an approximate 0.1% who practice Islam. Are you sure this is the approach you want to take when discussing religious diversity.

Damian: jeez what's the point of focusing on 0.1% of the population? Just sit down and let us pray.

Anya: *mischievous smirk*

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

Damian: i think we can all agree the tax rate for the upper class is far too extreme. We worked very hard for our money no reason we should be punished extra for doing better

Students: *rousing applause in agreement*

Anya: I object!

Damian: that's not what you're supposed to say Anya

Anya: speaker of the house, I want to relay a few important statistics to you. The proposed tax brackets will mostly impact Ostanians making over one bazillion dalc a year. And according to recent surveys only 0.1% of Ostanians make that much a year. In fact, the total percentage of people that will be caterized in the upper 3 brackets is a whooping 3%.

Damian: whats your point?

Anya: I'm just saying, the increase in government revenue can be extremely beneficial to the public and helping to improve the southern states infrastructure. Why are we passing on such a beneficial bill? Because it can slightly inconvenience 0.1% of Ostanians compared to the 36% that will be aided with the infrastructure improvements?

Henderson, in his head: honestly I'm just surprised she knows so many words and numbers. I checked out an hour ago when they started debating ice cream flavors.

Damian: t-those statistics are wrong

Anya: oh really? *snaps*

Martha, fabricating out of thin air, sets up a poster board.

Anya: right here on this board we can see all my numbers accurately crunched with sources properly cited.

Damian: there is no way you did that.

Anya: Of course not. Your brother did.

Damian: WHY WOULD YOU MAKE MY BROTHER DO THAT?

Anya: fufu, in the wise words of the longest running Prime minister of Ostania, the Right Honourable Sir Donovan Desmond, "The key to success is humility. To know what you cannot do and surround yourself with those who can."

Students: *applauding in agreement*

Damian: don't quote my dad? And what does that have to do with anything?

Anya: tch, Is this your prime minister? I say we have a vote of no confidence!

Students: *cheering in agreement*

Anya: *goes on a vaguely communist tangent. Starts just speaking Russian at some point*

Damian: what the hell just happened?

Class: Proletarier aller Länder, vereinigt Euch! Proletarier aller Länder, vereinigt Euch! Proletarier aller Länder, vereinigt Euch!

Henderson: none of you are working class? You're literally calling for your own downfall...?

[mauesartetc]

Have you seen vivzi's tweet regarding the mille situation?

Oh yeah. Though to be clear, it's not just one tweet; it's a motherfuckin' thread (with screenshots below for posterity).

I won't go over this whole thing point by point, but one aspect that jumps out at me is how Viv deflects responsibility from herself onto the viewers. If your audience doesn't fully "understand" your characters, that's a problem. It's your job as a writer to make them understand, and do it in the story you're telling, not on social media. Can't help but see shades of how gobsmacked Fennah was that his audience didn't get how one of his characters represented toxic relationships, despite that character amounting to a harmless, childlike pet.

While Viv's response doesn't demean the audience like Fennah's, it does come off as a tad arrogant, as if Millie being perceived as flat is the viewers' fault, not hers.

The second thing that stood out is the list of Millie's qualities: "She is resourceful, she has strong family ties and memories, she has sibling rivalry, she's excitable and hyper focused." Only three of those are actual personality traits, and I can't even remember her being "hyper focused" at any time. To me, that would suggest working long hours on some kind of project, too engrossed to notice hunger, thirst, or how much time had passed. I guess you could make the argument that she worked tirelessly to become the skilled fighter she is, but we never see that in the show. I'm not even sure how "strong" those family ties are considering Millie didn't even hug her mom when she saw her. Basically, this smacks of telling rather than showing, trying to convince us this is the case rather than letting us see for ourselves.

[Edit 6/10/23 Forgot to mention this tidbit: "we are literally on 3", meaning the third episode. Girl, no. You were literally on ten episodes total, and eleven/twelve (depending on whether or not the pilot counts) with the release of Western Energy. That's way too long to go without properly developing one of the main characters.]

Also, "we found more storylines that influenced Blitz"? You mean you created more storylines with him as the focus. You chose to follow those paths in Season 1. It didn't just happen to you. "Whoops! Tripped over this random plot! Guess I have to use it in an episode!" Obviously Blitzo is the main character so it makes sense that he'd have the most plots centered around him, but it's extremely telling that y'all gave absolutely none of the focus to Millie.

Let's look at the seven episodes of Season 1. Blitzo could be the focus of three, Moxxie could get one, Millie could get one, Loona could get one, and Stolas could get one, and you could save extra story ideas for Season 2. There ya go. Yes, seven episodes is a pretty short season with not much wiggle room to fit all the juiciest stories in, but there's definitely space to tease what's coming. Imply that there's more to these characters and this world than meets the eye. Make the audience hungry for more. This is a fan-funded Youtube series, after all; it's not like any networks or streaming services are threatening to pull the plug if the metrics aren't up to snuff.

Finally, the "this is a male-led show" excuse for female characters being underdeveloped is so weak, especially for an adult show that prides itself on social progressivism. You've got a handful of queer main characters and a trans side character, but fleshing out the women was a step too far-? Y'all are all about spotlighting LGBT stories, but anything resembling feminism that goes deeper than '90s-style "hey, this chick can fight!" girl power? Whoa, that's a bit too much, buddy.

Call me crazy, but shouldn't viewers get the impression that all of a story's principal characters have inner lives, regardless of gender? What is Millie like when she's alone, isolated from her relationships? What does she think about? How does she entertain herself without anyone to brawl with, or anything to hack into with an axe? The show hasn't given us any hints.

Honestly, if you're not good at writing female characters, you're allowed to say that. Yes, it's embarrassing to admit when you're a woman yourself, but if you grew up in a culture that promotes internalized misogyny and prioritizes masculine wants over feminine needs (which many of us did, let's be real), it's understandable. That shit's hard to unlearn. What might make it easier when it comes to characters, though, is what I like to call the Ellen Ripley method.

Challenge, Viv: Write a nuanced male character. Give him strengths and flaws, likes and dislikes, quirks and hobbies, strained relationships and happy ones.

Now make him female.

It really is that simple.

We'll have to wait and see how much that defense regarding Hazbin Hotel truly reflects reality, though if I were a gambler, I'd bet Alastor and Angel Dust will dominate the story and leave Charlie and Vaggie on the sidelines.

[vampiric-succulent]

OUAW EP 20:

It’s not even past the bean footage yet and already I have a thing to comment about—

“Hey. Keep working. Keep your hands down.” Idk if it’s just Mace or if it’s me but this is an interesting thing to start the episode with

Also I lowkey already watched this but considering that I wasn’t really paying attention due to Sleep im rewatching

Oh this is the Silly Goofy episode. Got it.

Watching this is so different now that I know how tall each of these people actually are in real life

“Mr Kremyyyyy….. Torbek had a nightmaaaare………..” torb <3

Hot jones?

Why is Mikey using the King Shmebulon voice

Oh the energy here is so weird today

NEXT YOURE GONNA TELL TORBEK THAT A SHRIMP FRIED THAT RICE and they’re gone

The improv shenanigans here are SO GOOD— “the wee hours” watches and the blue J and the bottle of something

HOT JONES!!!

“There was that guy and he was like… woah.” Bi Gricko!!!! “Why you always watching these kingly types and looking at their woah?” Lmfao Gideon you are no better

Degenerate Jones

TABAXI TORBEK and eughhh Mammon Tiefling Gricko (applying for all Mammon Tiefling Gricko)

I love how Kremy is super paranoid thinks everyone is out to get him but still immediately tells Gideon everything (I need to see Gideon do some sort of something back bc coalecroux is feeling increasingly one sided and it is making me sad)

“Torbek was happy with the infinite abyss”

THE FEDS

Poor Twig she went from dealing with absolute loneliness to dealing with all this bullshit. She needs to have the space to Bogart out a little bit like get this woman a destruction room

Twig 🤝 Torbek

coping mechanisms

Gideon has such older brother who acts like a father figure to Twig vibes

THE FEDS THEYRE IN THE CLOTHES

Torbek is simply following suit… following the suit to the ground lmfao

PENIS NOSE?????? HOW IS THAT AN OPTION

Gideon is overwhelmed by Penis im sorry

This is just reminding me of when Frost got the proud nudist curse and Derek made that slapping turn joke 😭

Obligatory “im walkin here” please stop

Nvm we have the coalecroux and also poly party affirmations (long shots and headcanons)

OH!!! Woah there Kremy

“Think of the Federal government!” Quick Gid take your clothes off!! The government!!!

OH NO THE ORCIFICATION

NO THE FUCKING CABINET

DEREK. DEREK WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT DEREK WE COULD HAVE NEVER GONE DOWN THAT ROAD

Love Torbek’s Spring Aladrin voice. It’s like some sort of old English aristocratic friend of Oscar Wilde.

Oop! Theseus’s Ship mentioned (kind of)

“Did we do a bunch of drugs before bed again?” Funny you should have asked that Gideon given what is now happening

“Tentacles probe me” “yes Gideon join us the time is now get naked”

WHY IS IT ERECT NOW DEREK. PUT THAT DOWN. “Something about beekeeper helmets…” HUH

Oh god Twig is gonna bogart out

PUT IT DOWN. PUT THAT THING DOWN AND AWAY.

“STOP BEING ERECT. STOP EATING MY BONES”

Love how Nikkie says “your mind is back to Gricko” and Mikey just starts screaming

Whoops!

It is so impressive how Twig is so controlled. Like she has every justification to absolutely freak out right now and she’s keeping calm and trying to manage things.

Thank god Hootsie is out of this lol

NO TWIG LOOK AWAY

“Torbek was *very* thorough.”

Okay seriously how old is Twig?? This is a very important question. Like REALLY important.

I’m imagining Spring Aladrin Torbek lying on a couch like he’s gonna say “draw me like one of your French girls”

Guys. Please. We are nearly halfway through this video. Please.

YES CAST SILENCE. HUSH MICHAEL.

No Twig it’s not your fault!!!!!!! No!!!!!!!!!!!

Not the Pennsylvanian sperm trees

“After what I’ve watched today I don’t think you’ll accomplish anything of value.”

Not the milk joke PLEASE y’all not the cilk

Frost is so sweet tho

No more Hot Joneses :(

Yesss Twig establish those boundaries!!!!

Tom is such a deep cut

Okay so Twig is at least 200 years old. Good. That’s really good. Good to know.

Grinko is having a stronk. Please call the Gronkulance.

WHAT HAPPENED TO HOOTSIE.

Omg she’s their niece!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But also HOLY FUCK HE HIT HER??? WITH A CABINET????????

“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.”

Menasith, and their older sibling Menapauthe.

The Glowing Anus 😭

Oh this is Nikkie’s fault. Fantastic.

MORNING FROTH CONGRATULATIONS EVERYONE

“That’s very funny Gricko. Your daughter is possibly bleeding out.”

Ohhhh Hootsie’s okay thank god

Gricko however is really not

Okay so I know this is a fantasy campaign and we are in the literal Feywild so this like kind of doesn’t matter but how does Gideon get energy??? Does he need to absorb nutrients or is it just sort of as long as he keeps his internal furnace alive he’s okay?

Twig boundaries 100 with regards to Torbek but fully get the party’s concerns

Also Twigsy ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Not Gricko being hypnotized by Spring Aladrin Torbek’s hip sway

Torbek does not know but Torbek must dance!!!!

Oh Torbek’s ticket is so sad

“This is an Acorn Satchel!!!”

Mikey annoying Nikkie so much that she just takes things away

Frost getting jealous over the Gricko impression 😭❤️

What is a mud meffet?????

I love Andy so much. Oh he’s wonderful. So glad he’s here.

KLUTZY RETURNS for like two seconds

Love these guys. Oh my lord. Also what the fuck happened in the first like hour???? Still a fun little episode.

[aster-is-confused]

okay i'm too lazy to draw rn but

deer hrt timeline!

under the cut bc it ended up a lot longer then i thought (i spent like 3 hours on this whoops)

disclaimer: this is an approximate timeline, results may vary based on individual and desired species. (also this is fictional, deer hrt doesn't exist unfortunately. scroll to the bottom of the post for more info)

0-1 month: body hair starts to thicken slightly. increased appetite for salads and vegetables.

1-3 months: fingernails and toenails begin to thicken significantly and grow in area. body hair begins to grow in thicker, but slowly for now, starting in places where body hair already grows (arms, legs, chest, facial hair). ears start to become noticably elongated. seasonal hormone fluctuation starts (high libido in spring, low libido in fall and winter).

3-6 months: lots of changes happening! disinterest in eating meat, and over half of diet is now leafy greens. too much of anything else will upset your stomach, as your digestive enzymes and intestinal structure have started changing. fingernails and toenails continue thickening rapidly and getting larger in area. more easily startled and prone to anxiety. vision and hearing sharpen somewhat. nose darkens and becomes somewhat damp.

6-12 months: diet has become almost exclusively leafy greens. at this stage, most transitioning deer will grow a significant amount of their own food, because it's not cheap to buy several pounds of salad a day. beans and other protein-rich plant products, as well as vitamin supplements, are recommended as well at this stage, since grass and spinach alone doesn't give your body the protein it needs for the changes it's going through. fur continues thickening and spreading, including across the face and ears, and has mostly changed color to match your species. ears are significantly elongated now. fingernails and toenails, now over a centimeter thick and significantly larger, merge to form the early stages of a hoof. wearing shoes is now very difficult if not impossible. behavioral changes may include being easily startled and skittish, tendency to stick with a "herd" of close friends, anxiety when separated from the "herd," aversion to change or new things, and fear of natural predators like wolves. hormonal cycles are now aligned with those of wild deer of your chosen species. individuals with male testosterone levels will grow small antlers (not yet full-sized) in early spring, which includes awful headaches in the first stages. like in a wild deer, these antlers will come out covered in "velvet" (furry skin) and the individual will go into rut, which includes strong libido, increased aggression, and urges to rub your horns on hard surfaces.

12-18 months: body is nearly fully covered in fur, although it may still be thin in some places. nose has fully changed shape, color, and texture. early changes in bone structure appear, including gradual emergence of a snount, emergence of the tailbone, shifting of eyes towards the sides of the head, the thumbs becoming angled away from the hand, big toes moving to the side of the foot, and elongation of the wrists and ankles. by this stage, it has become very difficult to live alone because of the need for a herd. fight-or-flight response is much more easily triggered as the individual gains the instincts of a prey animal, and panic attacks in crowded spaces become very common. anxiety medication may be very helpful if they wish to remain integrated with human society. tone of speech may change somewhat as the voice box becomes more simplified. hooves become much more hoof-like in shape, and fingers and toes become completely enveloped by the keratin. mobility aids may be useful while adjusting to hooves, as well as dealing with the pain caused by skeletal changes in the toes and ankles. living with hooves for hands is also a struggle at first, but the small community of deer transitioners shares lots of tips and tools for making the adjustment. by 18 months, the individual has acquired most of the surface-level features of a deer, while maintaining most of their human body structure and brain. many individuals will stop their hrt regimen at 18 months, before the major skeletal and behavioral changes set in.

18+ months: if the individual chooses to continue beyond 18 months, the next 2-4 years of hrt will slowly but drastically change their bone structure, organ structure, and behavior. mobility aids and heavy duty pain meds are necessary for dealing with the huge skeletal changes, which include change in pelvis shape and orientation, significant lengthening of the wrists and ankles, disappearance of two fingers/toes in each hoof, thickening of the remaining two fingers/toes, realignment and shrinking of the thumbs and big toes, significant enlarging of the cervical/neck vertebrae, appearance of two entirely new vertebrae, growth of all existing vertebrae, lengthening of the tailbone, expansion of the ribcage, movement and realignment of the shoulder, and significant growth of the snount. by 30 months (2.5 years), most individuals walk on 4 legs, although it is likely still awkward and painful. by 36 months (3 years), four-legged locomotion has become more comfortable, as most major skeletal changes have taken place. muscles will gain or lose significant amounts of mass to adapt to a four legged lifestyle. internal organs may change shape and position somewhat to adjust to to new body orientation. their functions will also shift to match those of a wild deer. mental changes will be significant as the brain shrinks to accommodate changes in skull shape. the rate and extent of loss of intelligence varies, but on average, at 36 months the individual will perform at the level of a human four year old in tasks assessing problem solving and pattern recognition skills. effects on intelligence beyond 36 months have not yet been researched, but it seems likely that brain structure would be nearly identical to a deer of their species within a few more years of treatment. the individual usually fully gains the instincts of a prey animal between 12 and 24 months, but human intelligence masks this somewhat. as intelligence and memory declines, the individual will start to behave more like a wild deer, first in episodes but eventually full-time. this usually firsts manifests as not recognizing (non-deer) friends and family members, seeing them as threats and bolting away. may also wander off in search of a herd of their own species. typically, human society will lose contact with an individual between 3 and 4 years.

this is based on the fictional animal hrt, aka therian hrt or furry hrt, worlds created by many talented artists. you can find most of them under the "#animal hrt" tag. obviously this is not meant to perfectly align with the process of actual hrt. i had to shorten the timeline a bit to line up with the timeline established for animal hrt, which is that you remain mostly anthropomorphic up to about 1.5 years, after which you start to become more "feral." also i had to research deer anatomy for this which was interesting. did you know that the whole lower section of a deer's leg is the skeletal equivalent of a human wrist?? i didn't

[agirlandherquill]

the calendar project - day 23,24,25

triple whammy because i forgot to post yesterday's double lot before watching logan in preparation for deadpool 3 whoops (was so worth it though, both movies were INSANE, and i also watched despicable me an hour after dead pool 3 ended - been a very fun day)

daily page count: 1 (day 23), 1 (day 24), 1 (day 25)

here's the pages,

“Then it would be a very, very sick joke if they have.” She propped herself up on her knees, examining the lock, the door chilled her cheek as she pressed her face against it, peering in to get a glimpse of the mechanism. There was nothing but darkness.

“I’m doubtless asking the wrong person but you wouldn’t happen to have a hair pin would you?”

Reid crouched beside her, frowning. “Why ask if you know what a stupid question that is?”

“I wondered if you ever needed to pin back that hair of yours. It must be inconvenient.” She reached into the hidden pocket of her dress and teased her own hair pin free from the scrap of material she kept them attached too, in case of needing one. She pressed it carefully into the lock, then looked at Reid. “Would you? It needs enough force to knock the key free.”

“So they did lock us in!”

“Why?” 

“When I get out of here I’m going to find out.” He growled under his breath and slammed the bottom part of his palm against her pin, she heard something give then the key dropped on the other side of the door with a heavy thud. She laid down, trying to push her fingers beneath the gap of the door to reach it but she wasn’t able to. 

“What is it now?”

“I can’t reach.”

“Move.” He eased himself to the floor.

“If I can’t reach it what are you going to do?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’d rather be out of here than watch you do whatever it is that you’re going to do and fail miserably.” She hugged her knees, watching him feel around the floor. Have I been trapped in here with a mad man? Is that what this is?

“Do I need to worry about being in here with you Reid?”

He scoffed, pressing his fingers into the flagstone closest to the middle of the door. “No, but you should be thankful that I’m me.” He slammed his hand onto the flagstone, it tilted up and she heard something slide, and the key appeared under the door. She snatched it up before Reid could and pushed it into the lock, giving it a harsh twist. The door opened and they both sprung to their feet.

“Get me out of here.” She pushed Reid out of the way and ran to the courtyard, stumbling as she came out into the soft, startling light of the rising dawn.

The other doors were more visible now, they were all different colours - the one she stepped out of was a dark shade of blue, the one that led back to the Church was a faded grey, the other two were green and black. 

She went to the green door first. Now’s my best chance to explore before anything serious starts. And I’d rather not see Reid question his people - that’s a line no newcomer should have to cross. 

The door opened into a lengthy corridor full of many smaller rooms, she assumed they were small from the frequency of the plain wooden doors, but none of them interested her. Her focus was pulled to a large sliding wooden door down the corridor. What could be behind this? She gripped one end of the door and pushed against it, it slid along the rails on the wall, giving her enough space to step through.

She took one step forward then recoiled as something sharp grazed against her elbow. Was that a knife? 

She shielded herself with the door, thinking it through. Why would someone attack me with a knife? And why haven’t they come out?

Isolde realised then, what she would have to do.

I’m going in.

The knife came at her again. This time she was ready for it. She ducked down and let it fly over her, then a calloused hand seized her arm and hauled her forward, using her arm to pin her against a torso, keeping her trapped with the knife. 

She took one breath, then two, then tilted her head back to see her attacker.

“You?”

“Mornin’ to you too.”

“I don’t even know your name and you’re attacking me with knives!”

“Callan. Better?”

“No.” She drove her heel into the instep of his boot. He grunted but did not let go. “Not quite the reaction I was expecting, but not bad.”

“If you’re going to drag me out because you don’t want me here, can you get on with it? I’d rather make it back to the castle before breakfast.”

“And you wouldn’t put up a fight?” He looked curiously amused.

“No.” 

He smiled, then started to twist her arm, angling her shoulder back. He’s testing me, to see if I’ll fight him. I won’t. I told him I won’t. The twisting became a sting in the joint of her shoulder, her back arched, but he kept on. Testing, testing, testing. Not going to happen. She was not going to fight him. She had no interest in fighting him. Which left her with an infuriating alternative.

Whimpering.

Callan released her in an instant, disappointment marring his features. “Forgive me. I thought… I was wrong.” He tucked his knife into its sheath at his waist, his cloak was long gone, he was now wearing a simple shirt and trousers. He rubbed his face. “I was wrong for last night too. Will you accept my sincerest apology?”

Callan surprised her. He’s apologising, he seems genuinely guilty - excusing the way he acted last night… He seems nice. Nicer than Reid. She smiled at him. “Consider yourself duly forgiven. Now, will you tell me what you were thinking?”

He winced. “I wanted to see what you would do, I thought perhaps you were a spy, an assassin, something like that - Reid didn’t tell me who you were and I wanted to see for myself.”

“I���m nothing like that.” She reached to touch her shoulder, the ache became more apparent with her stretching so she gave up, letting her hand drop.

“She’s most certainly not, but Cal, did you have to try and dislocate her shoulder?” Reid’s questionable drawl made her eyes dart to the door. He was leaning in the gap she had made, not even bothering to shoulder it open further. “No, but if she’s going to work with us she ought to know things.” He flashed her an apologetic smile.

“Things such as defending herself?” Reid’s stare was disapproving. She stood straighter against the weight of it. “You’re right. She should.”

“She, knows enough.” Isolde stared him down, irritated by his refusal to speak as though she was in there with them. I don’t even know where I am or what this room is, but I’ll be damned if I break this stare first.

“I think our definitions of enough beg to differ.�� Reid broke the stare, nodding toward Callan, it made her scoff. “I’m not being trained by either of you cave animals thank you very much.” She stepped toward Reid but Callan held out a hand, stopping her. “Let him see what he can do, it can’t hurt to be safe, can it?”

He’s the voice of logic here then. I envy him. “Fine.”

[tammyfeabakker]

Whats going on in my neck of the woods... my check engine light came on. Air flow throttle body. Ran to the shop. Chris got me the only one left. He hooked up his code reader. Pressed a button. Said you'll be ok. If thats the case why am I putting in a throttle body if you jus press a button on your code reader? Hmmmmmm. Its been bout a month still hasn't put my throttle body in. Trouble in paradise again must of been a fight. Him and my neighbor his ex girlfriend seem to have sizzled out. Going strong there. I havnt seen her or the dog. I seen the dog not her though. My emily jus announced her n her boyfriend are calling it quits. She wouldn't explain jus they have called it quits. She says she is OK. Still wondering what the fuck happened. My job I know its been taking my time up .. I had 4 days coming I was off but no! I'm having a hard time with target. They have a stocking policy. My job is like go in there get a zebra clear off a endcap. A endcap is the end of a aisle in a store. Fucking companies pay up to 50k for a endcap. I jus can't go in there clear a endcap off. For another company! Wtf! Jus because I have a letter to do so! Means shit! I wonder what the old merchandiser did. Lie on the job app. Yeah I packed out 3 but I really didn't. This info goes back to the seller they think they are selling when their not. Me I'm like no . I didn't pack out because I'm not allowed! God! So neca has me grid lock i was told by the receiver I'm not allowed to pack out! Because there's a system. Target has stockers those stockers get a list. Now if I go in there pull shit those stockers get fucked up. My company probably take target from me. Because I'm following instructions! Give it to someone else that will lie and say yeah I packed out 6. Hasbro is like we are selling stuff. My company been in buisness for 39 years how I don't know. Obviously the info being sent is wrong. I had a gift card reset omg! I was going to fuck up some one. Cards falling off the pegs. Why is there 245 amazon gift cards on a fucking peg? I did a count 245 amazon I can't go over 50. Companies keep sending and sending. Like neca they lost space. Keep sending product for a large space. They no longer have. Walgreen gift cards I would of quit my job. My company gave me 6 hours what a fucking joke! If I had to do it. 9 hours tops. I had one 4hours it took 2 people 3 hours. I did one by myself 4hours I was given which was bigger then the 2 people one. I did it in 4 hours did I do it right dunno. Walgreens I have been hit up twice there by pan handlers. The world is coming too. A guy sleeping behind rite aid. Pan handlers everywhere Cumberland mall is loaded at every light. People riding bikes in store parking lots looking in cars. I ignored the one pan handler chased me down to my car! I don't have it to give but I did. Going through my whooping 45 dollars he is like 20s are good I was like get the fuck out here! 5 I gave him 5. Because I had 2 20s and a five. I don't carry money because of this shit. Its bad. I have to watch leaving California.com because it was said someone is profiting off the homeless situation. Yeah let the immigration flow! Pay them but don't give to the ones that pay into the system that lost everything elderly living in cars. This is ridiculous! Someone is making money off our homeless. Hmmmmmm.

[mortifiedandawesome]

On Friday, somebody's mistake was pointed out to me and I corrected it. I then went on to my other duties without any other discussion. Because it happens. whoop-dee-doo.

Hours later, the person who made the mistake was alerted. In a volume that everyone could hear, they announced "DID YOU DO xxx yyy?", Totally needlessly. We are NOT sitting close to each other.

Of course I did xxx yyy. That was the first step. Not only was it the first step, it would have been easily observable from their vantage point. There was absolutely no need to say anything out loud at all, but to anyone other than them and I, that person made it sound like 'oh shit, they're checking up on him did he mess up!?'

Because this particular person wants to be in charge and they are absolutely not. So why not phrase a question out loud to make it seem like they are on top of things? Even though the only people who knew the error were myself and them.

I'm a fucking mouse, but I don't allow that kind of shit to happen.

Absolutely enraged but trying to keep it calm, I reply in a comparative volume "did I xxx, yyy? You mean that thing that we do? Of course I did. You can see it on there."

I'm not quite sure if I could hide any rage, but it also didn't shut them up. Because like 20 minutes later, even though the issue was absolutely over (and communication is preferred to be done over the system) this person had to enter my personal space bubble, essentially to angrily complain that some other person hadn't noticed the mistake for 3 days. Why not flop your entire germy waste all over my desk!?

I'm like, I am already knee deep in other work and also I would rather not have very bad breath entering my breathing zone. The only two options available are to say "yeah they sure did miss that!" Or say loudly "of course you did the error" unfortunately I had a business call just at that point so I couldn't spend a second to think of my reply I think I said something like "oh yeah oh yeah mm" there isn't anything to talk about. It wasn't a terrible error. It was unfortunate, but it was certainly not malicious. Even if you are a fucking creep.

These fuck knuckles!

[the-firebird69]

Supreme Court lets Cowboys for Trump founder's office ban over Jan. 6 stand

This is happening a lot and the opposition is growing as minority morlock join to oppose Trump as to miscellaneous already bja and company are at him and after him and opposing him and the pseudo empire and they're much more harsh and it's getting stepped up and the empire has decided to stop him rather than feed his fire is completely out of control and that's practically everybody foreigners are attacking him they have not declared him to be a massive liability no they have and they too oppose the guy and Trump thinks it's good and we know it's awful he is going to kill everywhere. The rate of degradation of the morlock has increased to 0.045% that's half of 1/10 of a percent an hour so yes in 10 hours it so every 24 hours is a percent and it's moved up from over a day and a half now people are considering what these people are doing here is to be wrong I'm entire areas are evacuating overseas and some areas in the West. So far in the east there are huge huge casualties of trumps at the stashes and Cassius gigantic casualties okay these guys are not going to make it. The stashes and cashes overseas this morning we're at 45% empty right now it's approaching 53% empty and it is increasing in their losses it is going to be a hell of a day they're going to lose everything they've had. People are starting to see it and they are excited and they're going after them and it will be over soon for these loud mouths braggots

Other news is developing

-we have a war off Mars it is a space war it is gigantic and it is forming up to be something very substantive. Huge numbers of ships are off the planet giant giant ones too and yeah this guy Trump has to go he doesn't need to be in the neighborhood or town or state we're working on it and a lot of people are they want them out of here is relatives and all sorts of people and it's going to be a war over money and that's what he's doing too be a really cheap when our son and whoops he thought we were going to go for the money first instead it's completely upside down and he's doomed and he doesn't know if that she's addicted to it himself and he's running around without businesses and power and soon without police and or military of any kind as soon as ships will be gone and the pseudo empire is losing ships by the way a lot of them do other groups as well as the warlock and the minority Mall locker gathering ships a lot of them and it's a huge day it is a big change and I said it was and it is asking me a few times and I couldn't get it out yet but here it is. Now this this was going to be a massive shift in the paradigm the minority morlock have not entered the scene yet but they're entering scene now because they have to and they're forced to by these people and they hate them and they hahaha and Chow fat is making a joke you said we ate them and our son says yeah many moons ago said that for there is laughter all around. But they're going at it okay and they have a lot of forces out there finally and they're at 7% or so and they're pretty big but right now they're just scavenging and it's working and they really have to scavenge because they need things and they can't get them on the islands and they get pushed out by these dumb assholes it's a horrible experience there are several other things that this is huge and we're going to print

There are probably about 3 billion ships from each and those are the mackmore lock and it also includes the opposite side pseudo empire and it is quite a battle it will probably consume their fleets more shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[suhacidal]

hello

it's been so long since i've spoke on here. i do apologize, to myself, for falling out of a practice that is so healing and transformative for me. now i am taking the time to sit and honor my need of expression, regardless of what is taking place around me.

so, here we are, in the last (full) weekend of the month. i can't say i'm shocked by how alarmingly fast the time has flew, because it was just mid-july, and i was celebrating life to the fullest. i started mones, flew back to my former state to party (and see the oomf-ilf...but that didn't happen), and spend time with my dysfunctional family.

now it's september. it's been a month at my new job, two months on mones, five months sober. alot to take in, really! this weekend, i was supposed to be spending time with my mother and sibling, but circumstances arose for that to be rescheduled (to my ultimate surprise). i think it was a necessary shift, given this would be the first extended period of time i've had off from work since starting. if they were still to have visited, i fear we all would've been miserable! so instead, i've been perpetually cleaning my room, which i think can be classified as my own personal hell. i can say i have been doing this task for the past several months, seemingly making little to no progress, regardless of the long, laborious hours that were allocated for completion. alongside that, the weekend has been spent battling lengthy bouts of anxiety and mania! it's safe to say that they are WINNING. i am getting my ass whooped severely in this battle. nonetheless, here i stand, living to tell my story.

i think the recent manic-induced depressiveness (or depression-induced mania) can be chopped up to 3 things:

my new job. so, i began working a new job in late august, which i am so grateful for! i quite literally asked for this job. i went in, looked around, and asked if they were hiring. to my surprise, i was greeted by the store manager with an application and on-the-spot interview! that day was overall amazing. my interactions with strangers were much friendlier than usual, and the consistent vibe for the day was abundance. abundance of smiles, abundance of opportunity, abundance of amazing experiences. this i thought would set the tone for my work interactions and environment, especially given that the manager i spoke to almost immediately asked for my pronouns. i would love to live in a world where that is the norm, regardless of presentation. me being very visibly queer was obviously going to warrant some confusion and curiosity, so i let it be. fast forward to me starting, my first day was great! the customers were eating me up, i was learning the registers (this is a retail job btw), and i had not one bad interaction. that was until we were near close and i was standing with my manager as she talked to a customer. she began introducing me while in the same breath misgendering me. now...as previously stated, i truly understand the confusion, but she asked me my pronouns. it kind of rolled off my back, especially since she immediately corrected herself. she started apologizing to me and said that she "slipped". this statement stuck with me. because, is that how you actually think of me? in the vain of which i was misgendered; is that actually what you see? and not the identity i was vulnerable enough to come to you as--the one you sought out of me? i tried my best not to spiral and allow grace for mistakes and growth within this new environment; an environment that is not mostly or all queer like i'm used to. this would have been a sentiment i held onto if that was the only time this happened. my manager proceeded to misgender me again, as well as most of my coworkers. i was flabbergasted at this point and heavily considered tendering my resignation. i very obviously am not respected in that space or being regarded as the individual that i am, so why should i stay? the thought has been on my mind for a moment now, and i've been trying to devise a plan to make sure i'm not jumping ship with no lifeboat. needless to say the entire debacle has significantly impacted my mental health. this is without considering the interactions with customers. their perceptions of me can range from one thing to another instantly, no matter how i'm dressed, no matter how i sound, no matter how i begin to perform what i think will appease their curiosity around how to approach me. it's all very tiring and has made me question the basis of disregarding my wellbeing for the sake of money, and even partially for the sake of social interactions. i truly don't know where to go with this one.

hormones. now, this one is a more modern realization. i've been going back and forth and back and forth on what could possibly be perplexing me so, only to realize the massive emotional shift i'm undergoing. it was much more obviously felt within the first few weeks of taking them, but i feel now the noticeability has faded into the background. as with anything that becomes a routine, i've grown used to the thoughts and emotions that have became amplified by the presence of hormones. it's taken quite the toll on me, honestly. i can't lay in bed most days like i'd like to. i feel as if i have to put on a mask and perform for a crowd of people every day. i've began to be more assertive and possibly mean within my interactions because i felt as if i was just being pushed over. never in conversations around gender, though. whatever the customers perceive me as is their business. although, i am growing weary of the polarizing views. but i'm guessing that's something i'll have to learn to live with...? i don't know.

the looming, overarching shadow of dread casted by responsibilities i've yet to attend. there are alot of things in this world i'd like to do. attend to these responsibilities is not one of them, however i know i must to live worry-free. well...worry-free of these responsibilities. there is so many other things i have to focus my worries on, and these do not need to be taking up so much space. almost 70% of the responsibilities consist of facing emotional traumas in regards to my parents. another reason i was so grateful for the opportunity to be alone this weekend is because of the strange relationship i hold with my mother. yes, i love her, and yes, we ki down very often, but there is alot to be addressed within our dynamic that has been left unacknowledged or simply unspoken. her perception of me aligns with those that are convoluted by societal definitions of gender norms, which obviously creates some distance. i do my best to give transparency and vulnerability despite this major character flaw. i've explained to her the meaning of nonbinary, just not in my case scenario. i just don't know what's to come of it when i do finally demand respect. i know it needs to happen ASAP especially because...what have i got to lose? besides the odd relationship where alot goes unsaid, my livelihood is not at stake for me standing in my authenticity and claiming visibility in front of my parents. i don't know why i act as if it's life or death for me in this situation. the whole thing has been bothering me for quite some time now, and even more so with the progression of physical changes induced by hormones.

another thing i forgot to mention in my first point is the newfound access to recurring deposits of money. it's convinced me that the world is at my fingertips and i can spend my whole check in a week without batting an eye. i know my first few checks went to rent, but the last one, i couldn't tell you. actually, yes i can--that one went to bills as well. it's unfortunate that living in this world means working to survive. not to rest or reap the fruits of your labor, of course! i've been compulsively shopping with what i have left from squandering on bills. the manic spending of money has made things more dreadful for me, because i'd like to save. i've been too deep in the "live like it's your last" mindset for a while now and it's time for a change. i cannot say i'm completely disappointed with those decisions (i acquired some cool stuff), but i could be doing much better and living wiser without the see it, want it, have it attitude.

the main thing keeping me afloat right now is another planned trip back to my former state, this time specifically to reunite with oomf. also for a friend's wedding, but that's tbd. the details were given to me in passing and forgive me if i don't remember the very vague sentiments that were expressed. this friend also doesn't talk to me often, or at all for that matter! we may have exchanged one or two conversations since i moved. mind you, this person was a best friend to me, so imagine my shock when i was left on delivered for months. anyway, a trip away from the usual humdrum of life always gets me going, and this time i actually will get to stay with my oomfita. things have been rocky for us lately, so i'm kinda riding on this trip to provide us with some stability, and maybe even deeper connection. it's going to be their birthday so i'm hoping to make it very special. (me being there should be special enough...just saying.)

i can truthfully say that sitting down and intentionally dedicating time to write and express has lifted a weight off of my shoulders, and tended to some of the overwhelming anxiety that has been plaguing me for who knows how long! i must do better at holding myself accountable to talking/writing, even if there isn't much to say. i also have to give thanks to the soundbath i've been listening to the entire time i've given correspondence. it's been itching my brain in all the right ways. i just feel very zen and very light, finally releasing so many thoughts that have been with me for so long. i thank myself for getting up here, because i know it was not easy. i am excited to come and visit again tomorrow. hopefully with some prompts!

[gold-wolf-soldier13]

So I’m watching Friendly Space Ninja’s video on the Originals cause I never watched it but my mom and sister swear by it and in the last hour he mentions that he thinking literally anybody could play Elena Gilbert, that it didn’t have to be Nina Dobrev and I 100% agree!! but not for most of the reasons most fans would.

So I started reading the original Vampire Diaries books back in like, the late 2000’s/early 2010’s so look I think I’ve got skin in the game here even if it’s been a minutes since I read them and I have never watch past the pilot episode of the tv show honestly because of Nina Dobrev

Like no hate to her she gets enough of it honestly but when people started talking about The Vampire Diaries as a tv series, she was the last person I would have picked simply because, well honestly she wasn’t fucking blonde.

And like I get it, “Gold that’s so shallow wtf” but Eleana Gilbert is a Very Special Character to me and I could have gotten over Elena not being Blonde™️ if they didn’t, seconds later introduce Jeremy and Not Aunt Judith I literally don’t remember her name on the show whoops and that shit took me out.

Aunt Judith and Margaret while never heavily involved in Elena’s supernatural struggles were a very integral part of her character, like fuckin spoilers for a book over 20 years old but keeping Margaret safe is one of Elena’s first interactions with Damon!!! he threatens her baby sister and she gives into him, letting him drink her blood against her will to keep him from doing anything to Margaret.

Elena is a bitch, she is kinda selfish and shallow- she’s a teenager!! she’s kinda supposed to be! She’s Queen Bee of Robert E. Lee High School and she didn’t get there by being fucking nice but she was never actively malicious- just a teenage girl who was used to getting everything she wanted because people just liked her and the showrunners for the tv show were fucking cowards

Because the tv show came out after Twilight even though the source material was written well before, TVD had to be like Twilight and that meant there was a love triangle and over the top dramatics because that’s just what the genre was at the time. Now I’m not saying that the book series didn’t have a love triangle but it just felt different in the book cause you knew from jump that it was always going to be Elena/Stefan, there was no way in hell that she was gonna end up with Damon and everyone knew that.

Which is what made the beginning of book 3 (I think I can’t remember, I owned the omnibus versions and I’m at work rn and can’t fact check myself) so shocking and actually made me ship Elena and Damon for a while. Elena had just died, run off the bridge that had killed her parents something the tv show actually gets right but she survives cause she and Damon had shared blood very recently and when she wakes up as a vampire, she has no memory of anyone besides Damon and for that brief moment Elena was honestly That Bitch™️ until she got her memories back and stopped being a bit of a menace

But even after that she handled her transformation really maturely from what I remember and from what I know of the show, that doesn’t happen and it’s a huge disservice to Elena as a character and Nina Dobrev as an actress because she was handicapped from the beginning by the showrunners!!

The writers purposefully chose to make Elena this timid, wallflower, whiney, “girl-next-door” type of character then didn’t understand why no one liked her as the main character and gave all of Elena’s best traits and story beats to Caroline. They kneecapped Elena from the start, designed her into a corner then floundered when their choices came back to bite them.

Elena Gilbert is the driving force behind the plot of The Vampire Diaries, and it’s such a shame the people in charge didn’t understand that because the show could have been so much better if they’d just embraced the material they had instead of trying to be Twilight and making her another version of Bella Swan.

[notwhelmedyet]

Part IV: I Finished the Typesets While You Weren't Looking

As you could probably guess from the absence of updates for several months, I steamed on ahead without updating y'all 😅

Let's cover the important details I might want to remember later:

General approach: I used the same workflow I usually do (set up as much as possible in the HTML source document prior to importing to Scribus), with the difference that this time I split out each chapter. That allowed me to easily place my header image and initial capital in the same place in each chapter and also stopped Scribus from blowing up when I imported multiple 50 mb images.

I initially pulled the text in september, edited, flopped about being anxious about asking for permission and then reached out to Ealcynn...only to learn she'd made a complete edit pass a week after I pulled the text. I then went back and merged her edits for her gift copy. Whoops! this is why you should ask before getting neck-deep in a project.

I discovered a bug in Scribus while typesetting this - hyphenation exception lists from Document Setup don't persist across edit sessions. I put in a bug ticket and it's apparently fixed in future versions. But I figured out a workaround in the meantime - you can set universal hyphenation exception lists via Scribus->Preferences and that works fine. This saved me from manually unhyphenating lots of elvish names when I did my final pass.

About 80% of my typesetting time (minimum) was spent on that final pass, where I remove hyphenation that shouldn't be there (ends of paragraphs, ends of pages, names I forgot to put on my exception list) and adjust word spacing & max/min glyph extension to remove widows and orphans wherever possible. Sometimes there are too many 3 line paragraphs in a row and there's just nothing you can do, but I managed to remove almost all of them around page turns. A few had to be left across spreads in order to make that happen, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

Some people just use the default "keep paragraph together" options in their typesetting program. Those people are very sensible. But consider: I hate the way it looks when the pages don't all end on the same line. Isn't it worth nine or ten hours of a little typesetting to avoid those uneven lines?

Extra Decorative headers: Given how ornamented the chapter titles were, I wanted my colophon, author's notes, copyright page and title page to also be pretty. But the extra ornaments I could find in the source book weren't a very good fit for the shapes I needed. I looked around a little at other nouveau books, but couldn't find what I wanted. Eventually I decided to do exactly what I swore I wouldn't do at the beginning of this project: juxtapose my amateur art skills next to alphonse mucha's masterpieces. whoops.

As inspiration, I turned to the vellucent bindings published by Cedric Chivers. I decided to add a beech leaf element, to tie in with my planned cover art & the floral motifs of the chapter titles. While I won't pretend I'm 100% happy with these (they feel so awkward and untidy compared to the mucha art), they fulfill the necessary functions and I have other projects to work on someday - if I stretched this project out till I felt like my art could stand shoulder to shoulder with Mucha's we'd be here my whole life.

I settled on a computer heavy workflow for these. First I sketched a design based on the Chivers bindings. Then I scanned that sketch, adjusted it where necessary in GIMP and then mirrored the image. I printed the revised sketch and taped a piece of tracing paper over it, which I then inked using a dip pen. I was very happy with the discovery you can get good results inking on tracing paper, it saves for so much time with the lightbox.

Of course, then I decided I wanted to do the titles pages in color, and had to use the lightbox anyway. I was very happy with how those turned out though - I got to play with my thickened watercolors as inks and it is so much fun making color transitions. I landed on a early fall/late fall motif for the two volumes by coloring the design in greens/yellows for ATWW and reds/browns for DR.

The Colophon: Originally I designed a fun archway shaped colophon for the books, but as I kept going I realized I wanted to include more information in there than I could reasonably fit on one page...so for the first time I've split out the copyright page at the front, describing where the fic was first published and how I came to bind it, and the colophon at the back, describing my font choices, binding style etc. I wanted to play with a shaped colophon and do a circle, but it is very hard to make a typeset circle look actually circular...so I went ahead and added a frame.

....and yes, now that I'm looking at it (with the damn thing already printed out and sewn into two books) I see that the divider managed to cut off the tails of some of the letters 🤦 luckily there's still time to fix Ealcynn's copies, this is exactly why I'm doing mine first.

Layers: The other thing I'm doing differently in this fic versus any other I've bound is attempting to print on both a color and laser printer for the same pages. Logistically this is a bit of a mess, but I want my colored frames in color and the text looks much better printed by the laserjet. In order to make that happen, I had to export two versions of each document - one with only the text and one with only the colored headers/drop caps. Thank heavens, I discovered Scribus has layers that allow you to do exactly that.

I set each header image in the background layer and made two additional layers - text for my black/white elements and initials for the drop caps. By toggling which layers were visible and exported for printing I can easily export only the colored or only the black and white parts of the book.

typesetting 'A Fire Shall Be Woken'

So I've been nibbling away at this project in secret for a month but I finally reached out to the author Ealcynn (who I don't believe has a tumblr?) and got the go-ahead to post updates so! here we go!!

Over the past year I have fallen absolutely in love with a LoTR AU fic series called A Fire Shall Be Woken, which is essentially a "for want of a nail" AU where Legolas was exiled from Mirkwood and has never met Aragorn. It is very well written and intricately detailed and it makes me cry every time I read it & after reread #3 I decided I should probably bind a copy.

Around that same time I discovered Cloches de Noël et de Pâques, a french book from 1900 illustrated by Alphonse Mucha. There's a wonderful quality scan available online and each page has a gorgeous floral frame & I said to myself: well. I'm never going to find a fic that's a better fit for these illustrations than this series.

So, step one, I went through the book and picked up some of my favorite frames that has winter/autumnal vibes, since both fics take place from October-December. There are about 80 pages of frames, but less than 40 illustrations because they are repeated with varying color schemes. I needed 19 illustrations to have one per chapter. I recruited some friends in the Renegade Publishing server to vote on the order, though I ignored a lot of their sensible advice to put my favorites at the front and back of each volume.

Then I had to do basic image editing to clean up the covers. The scans were good quality but were very grey. Each page had a dark and light side due to the curvature of the pages during scanning. So for each image I:

Cropped to size & auto-adjusted the white balance to brighten the background to white

Selected the transparent frame between sections and filled it with white

Used a layer mask on a duplicate of the image to lighten the dark side of the page, using an opacity gradient to make the transition seamless.

Covered the text frame and top illustration with smooth-sized white frames of matching sizes. I tried just filling these with white but at the reduced size I'll be printing the imperfections of the original linework were jagged and distracting.

[sunflowerharrington]

The Dating Plan (Part Two.)

read part one here <3

-> Summary: The smutty part. Minors DNI! And the fake relationship doesn’t seem so fake anymore 👀

-> Notes: @quickiesgirl is still an icon, as always. Enjoy babes! Also the first time I wrote part 2 it didn’t save at ALL so… whoops? i guess

-> Word Count: 3212

-> Warnings: Minors DNFI, smut, 18+, viewer discretion is advised, p in v, not that graphic cause they’re still like 18 and 19 in this respectively, praise kink, peter is not a good dom lol (bottom bitch tingz💅), not a warning but a condom is used because like i’m not writing a baby fic yet

-> Taglist: @quickiesgirl, @xxlangdon, @langdon-cumslut, @sympathyforher, @wzrlds, @taecube, dm comment or inbox to be added to my taglist!

"Peter? Peter! Peter Maximoff! Where are you going?!"

Outside of the venue, you called out to him, waiting by the road on his own, making sure to keep your voice down so as to not attract attention.

"Home," he said, not looking at you.

"I thought you were coming to m—"

"I'm not feeling well, sorry." Peter replied, kicking at the stones beneath his feet.

"I don't get it. You were just fine an hour ago. What happened?" You walked down towards him, crossing your arms over your chest. "I know you might not think the world of me, but I can at least listen."

"That's where you're wrong."

"Excuse me? If you knew how many times I had to listen to Jean blab on about Scott…”

“Not that. I'm sure you're a great listener... but you're wrong. I do think the world of you. I really do, Y/N.”

The silence was disarming, but Peter had said it. Not in the exact words, but close enough. He couldn't let it hang here.

“When we started this whole thing, I thought it'd just be for a joke. That I'd have all these mad horror stories about Y/N Y/L/N to tell my friends and maybe get a few free lunches off of it. But it didn't happen... well, apart from the free lunches. Those were the shit. But they weren't with this unattainable, emotionally unavailable asshole like I thought it would be. You're funny... charming... you're beautiful, obviously. You drive me absolutely crazy with some of the stuff you do but that's what makes hanging out with you even more fun. I loved seeing how our worlds would collide. But this... this is supposed to be the end of it. And if I take your guardian’s offer, or even if I just try to be friends after... it's not gonna be fun anymore. Because it's going to be knowing that I'll never have the chance to be with you, for real.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. Peter looked down. His hands were shaking. “That’s why I think we should say goodby—“

He couldn't get another word in edgewise before your lips collided with his, your lip gloss tasting sweet as your lips met in a passionate, long overdue embrace. Peter felt his heartbeat accelerate and his entire body tingled with sensations as he realized what was happening, before you released yourself delicately, looking deeply into his big brown eyes.

"I... I don't want to say goodbye, Pete."

"But I... but you..."

"I know. There's not exactly a good way to show someone you convinced to fake date you how you actually feel, but... it hasn't been just you. You're unlike any other boy I've ever been with. You're unpredictable, funny and out there... but that's what I love about you. I'm always banging on about structure and order, when really? The variety you've added to my life has made it so much more exciting and fast paced." She squinted as she saw his eyes mischievously light up. "And no, that's not a speed joke."

"Damn it!" Peter laughed.

"But... know that... no, it's not just you. So, if you'd really just like to go home after all this, I don't blame you. I'll give you all the space you need, but... I'm not washing my hands of you. I don't want to."

"So, you're breaking the agreement?"

You sighed, a smile on your face as you shook your head. "I'm breaking the agreement."

“I think this calls for a celebration!”

You chuckled. “And what exactly would that be?”

“Let me show you,” he said, this time his voice was more raspy, lower than usual, and it made your stomach somersault.

In a split second, Peter pulled you in by the chin and met you in a searing kiss. A blush all over his face, and you gladly reciprocated it, a warmth exchanged between you both in finally being beyond the terms of your agreement. And in another second, you were sitting in his lap on his bed down in his mom’s basement slash his bedroom, ball gown hiked up to your hips, lips still attached to his. Peter knew his speed would come in handy, and would also come in handy for locking the door so you would be away from prying eyes and ears. Cough, Wanda and his mom, cough.

His hands never left your hips, holding you closely to him, and once you pulled your lips away from his you looked back into his half lidded eyes; he looked so peaceful and sleepy, so you kissed him in the centre of his forehead and then both of his temples, his nose, his cheeks, his chin… But not his lips.

“Mmph, Y/N. Kiss me!”

“I did,” you chuckle.

“On the lips you dummy!”

“Nope.” You watched as he pouted, his eyes widening and rounding, looking up at you like a lost little puppy.

“Pleeease? I’ve gone so long waiting to kiss you!”

“But how am I meant to do anything in this huge ball gown? I left all my clothes at home. Would Wanda have anything?”

“Oh, uh… yeah… sure! Let me just go and ask my mom,” he said. “Since Wanda’s still at prom.”

He came back with a grey hoodie that had a tiny line of writing reading ‘bee-lieve in yourself and anything is possible’ with a small stitching of a cute bee beneath it, and a pair of shorts. Peter handed them to you and offered to help you out of your dress, which you accepted.

“Thank you so much, I can barely breathe!” You laugh, and he gets to work unzipping the back.

“I’ll stop when you tell me to, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything… I’ll just unzip your dress and then I’ll go and get changed too, in a different room, obviously.”

You stepped out of your dress as Peter unlocked the basement door and left the room to go change in the bathroom, leaving you alone in his room. You fought the sudden urge to snoop around his room, and quickly changed into the bee hoodie and black shorts. But you wanted to keep your heels on because you knew damn well that if you took them off now your feet would ache for days, and you didn’t want the pain to start right then.

When you were finished dressing, you sat back down on Peter’s bed, waiting for him to come back down into his room. He audibly gasped as he walked back into the room with a plate of cookies, almost dropping them to the ground upon seeing you.

The dress that had been covering your legs had now been ridden of, and we’re now exposed before him, and there was a look on his face that you had never seen before. You subconsciously began fiddling with the sleeve of the hoodie you borrowed as he set the cookies down on his dresser and he walked towards you.

You’d thrown your hair into a messy bun, and that added to the fact that you were wearing baggy clothes sent his mind into overdrive. His clothes were against your skin, and he could barely comprehend that.

“You could’ve asked me nicely and I’d strip for you, baby,” you said in a joking manner, but nothing in Peter’s expression read as being amused as he bit his lip.

“Really, peaches?” He asked, sitting down right next to you, your bare leg brushing against his. “And would you fuck me if I said please?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the air shifting around them. Peter got closer, leaning towards her and sliding one hand down the side of your body, brushing his thumb ever so slightly against your warm thigh. You could feel the familiar warmth climbing your skin as your heart pounded like crazy and you swallowed dry, feeling Peter’s breath against your neck as he planted kiss after kiss on it.

“You look so fucking beautiful wearing my things," he said, leaving a trail of kisses up your neck and jawline. "That hoodie looks so good on you. You can keep it if you want. Take all my clothes, they’ll all look better on you anyways."

“I thought it was Wan—”

And when he finally locked your lips with his, it was like the whole world had just disappeared and the room started to spin in slow motion. There were no teachers, no students, no ‘she did’ ‘he did’s, and no parents in that world that could make your world spin so fast yet so slow at the same time. Not when his tongue tasted heavily against yours, not when your nails scratched the back of Peter’s neck making him shiver with delight, not when his slow hand ran down your arm, all the way down to rest on your inner thigh, mere inches away from where you needed him most.

“You do not know how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you, babe,” he muttered, his voice raspy as he continued to kiss up and down your neck, stopping at the pulse point to suck your skin into his mouth.

You squeezed your thighs together, trapping his right hand between your legs, arching your back, leaning your head back to give him more access to your neck. He mumbled something into your skin, moving to take your heels off, slowly, too slowly for your liking. Was this payback for when you didn’t kiss him? Maybe. Maybe not.

As you grabbed his t-shirt in your balled fists you began slowly lifting it up over his torso, arms and head. Piece by piece, each piece of clothing ended up strewn all around his bedroom, he would sort out the mess later but for now his attention is solely on you.

He flipped your positions so you were now sitting on the bed instead of his lap, and never did his lips leave yours. Peter trailed his kisses down your neck to your now exposed collarbone and you took his cock in your hand and began stroking him slowly through the fabric of his boxers.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, babe?” You asked, whispering softly into his ear, your breath hitching in your throat as did his. Already his breath was ragged, the temperature in the room heating up with every rapid rise and fall of your chests.

You could feel him nodding, and so that gave you permission to stroke him harder, listening to the soft moans eliciting from his throat, slicing through the quietness in the room like a knife. Peter climbed on top of you stopping your movements for a moment, kissing your lips once, finally, holding the spot on your thighs just below your ass to lift you at an angle.

“Peter, please I can’t take this anymore,” you whine, the sexual tension between the two of you becoming too much for either of you to handle.

A thought flickered in his mind and he gently lowering your back down onto his bed, the sheets brushing against your bare skin as he hooked his slender fingers into the band of your panties, slipping them down your legs, pressing soft kisses over your exposed skin with so much care as if you were a doll made from porcelain or ceramic.

You were everything his wet dreams had prepared him for; so warm and inviting, and yet your body felt cold to the touch.

He leapt off the bed and dashed out of the room before coming back a second later with a silver wrapper in his clenched fist. Some might think condoms are a mood killer, but so are babies, so Peter made sure he was always careful when having girls over.

“How long, Peaches? How long have you been waiting for this?” He says, voice low and dangerous, and if his voice got any more soft you thought you would pass out, or simply pass away at peace and utter bliss.

His breath is hot on your neck as you work on pulling down his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace, ridding them and throwing them… somewhere across the room. You didn’t know where, and that’s not what you were worried about for the moment.

You did the honours of rolling the rubber up his length, taking your sweet, precious time, chuckling as he groaned in frustration.

Peter lined himself up with your entrance, kissing you on the lips as he stroked himself firmly through the rubber, waiting for the right moment to slide himself between your legs, and when he did you couldn’t help but whimper his name under your breath. He rested his forehead against yours as you gradually took him all the way in. Every inch, every rapid pulse, every vein, every pump of blood worked to stretch your walls.

“So tight for me, peaches,” he moaned, voice breathy, and you swore to yourself that you never heard a sound so beautiful in your life before this moment. He hovered above you for some time as you adjusted to his size.

“Please, baby,” you pant, giving him permission to start moving, but he didn't. “Peter…”

“I uh… I don’t like how we’re doing this, Y/N,” he began, his voice shaking as he asked, “Can you be on top?”

His heart pounds in his chest, he hated the fact that he was a bottom, but that would all change tonight. He lay down beside you and you took this as your sign to straddle his hips, pushing yourself back down onto him.

You held onto the headrest and slowly began lifting your hips up and down, taking his cock almost out and then back in again while watching his eyes roll into the back of his skull from the pleasure.

The image beneath you was breathtaking; his silver locs splayed out over his pillow, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your movements, his hands taking a loose grip on your waist, and his soft whimpers. “Fuck,” he moaned, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. “That’s it, just like that peaches.”

Tiny bolts of electricity began shooting through your body as you rode him faster, picking up your pace as he writhed under you, becoming a whiny moaning mess beneath you. His cock brushed along your sweet spot, causing the breath to hitch in your chest.

Peter’s hips bucked up against yours, stretching your walls that little bit more, making you cry out his name. You leaned forward, almost against his chest, to move the sweaty hair from his forehead, and then he thrusted up into you again.

“Holy fuck- do that again!”

He sat up in the bed, wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close to himself as he could, as he thrusted up into you. You weaved your fingers into his soft hair, tugging lightly, but hard enough to cause a moan to escape from his parted lips.

Peter wanted to make himself last, so he tried distracting himself by driving his cock into you quickly, faster, his grunts matching his rhythm as he erratically slammed his hips up into yours. He kept an arm around your waist and wrapped his fingers of his free hand around the back of your neck, holding you still as he fucked you from below.

You buried your face in his neck as he picked up his pace, and with your face buried in his neck he could hear every angelic sound that escaped your throat.

“Oh my god… Please, I’m right there! I’m—”

Your pussy spasmed around his cock, milking him as he slowed down his thrusts as he came with you, his whimpers quieting and dying in your hair as you both came down from your high. Panting, you both slowly caught your breath back, chests heaving, caressing each other’s skin, Peter’s thumb brushing your cheek.

“I… I think I’m in love with you,” you whispered, your cheek still pressed against his warm, slightly clammy shoulder. You couldn’t believe you just admitted that in front of him, but you’d already said it and it could never be taken back. “I— I love you, Peter Maximoff.”

“And I love you, Y/N Y/L/N,” he found your hand and held it tight for a moment, before extracting from the embrace (though he didn’t want to, he never wanted to let you go), getting up from the bed. His insides were intensely screaming and cheering for him, over the moon that you said that, thanking the heavens that you felt the same way.

His eyes glazed over as he went to grab a towel to clean up before his mom would come down and see what had happened—Peter was pretty sure she heard what happened so it wouldn’t make any difference if his bed was a mess or not. He wiped beneath his eyes, his back to you so you couldn’t see what was happening, and sniffed his tears back in. Or so he thought.

As he walked back into the room with the towel in his hand all he could see was you, sitting on the edge of his bed with his bee hoodie and shorts back on. Your heart felt heavy as you watched his movements as he cleaned up, insisting he did it since it was his bed, sniffling a little.

“Are you okay, babe?” You asked, and he nodded wordlessly answering your question, but not a second later the tears started again and you ran to throw your arms around his waist.

“I just… Why me? You’re an amazing, beautiful woman and I’m… well… me. And don’t girls like guys who do it on top?”

“Peter, look at me,” you encouraged, standing on your tiptoes to be as level to his height as you could.

“You,” you started, pressing your index finger against the centre of his chest twice, “are perfect to me. All of your small insecurities are valid but I don’t see them! I wouldn’t have this relationship any other way, and I don’t wanna be with anyone else. Stop doubting yourself!”

The smile on your face was contagious, infectious, making Peter grin back at you brighter than ever before. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, holding his waist tighter as you felt your knees weaken a little, playing with the hem of his shirt to distract yourself, though you wouldn’t need that distraction moments later.

Lost in each other’s gazes you smiled at each other, taking in this precious moment and sealing it inside your hearts forever. Peter wrapped his arms around you, sniffling from his recent tears, one lone tear falling down his cheek. You raised your hand up to his face and gently caught the tear on your thumb, wiping away any insecurity he had with it. And though that tear was alone, Peter was not, and neither were you.

The world around the two of you faded away as Peter’s lips caught yours into another sweet kiss, your love for one another blooming all around like daffodils in springtime along with your relationship, which blossomed into something truly beautiful.