#i was just watching legacies and got the idea

[youhavethewrong]

do you guys remember when Attack On Titan had a fucking Looney Tunes Babies style spin off where all the characters were in junior high and the titans were just bullies and eren was mad at them because they ate his hamburg steak and it was legitimately better than the original

[tarmac-rat]

Hey hey I need to uuh hum fight you at the back of a Denny's or something over those tags on my cyberpunk post lile wtf? That's such a good analysis of his character I love your work a lot in general but this is doing me in I'm gonna cry, you're so fucking right about this dumb broken man 🥺😠

I will not fight you I will bake you a cake and give you a kiss because you're very sweet I appreciate your kindness 😘

I really love your perspective on Johnny's disabilities and addictions impacting how he sees and interacts with the world-- as someone who herself isn't disabled I tend to overlook the way people view the world through that lens and as a result have realized that I haven't touched upon it much in my own analysis of Cyberpunk, and your insight really was spot-on and spoke to me in a way I hadn't considered before.

I talk a lot about the themes and meta of the game but Pondsmith himself came out and said, like, before the game came out that Johnny is not the hero of the story. He THINKS he's the hero of the story but the way people and even himself idolize him and his actions are in many ways his biggest shortcoming. Johnny is addicted to the image of himself, much like he's addicted to his vices and addicted to his cause. He needs his anchors no matter how detrimental they are to him, but in many respects those anchors were never his choice. Now he's stuck in his place, dug in and unable to move, and that's the way he dies. Alone, unmoored, and stuck in his ways.

He's a very tragic and even empathetic character-- I do understand why he does the things he does and feel for him when he suffers tragedies-- but treating him as a hero of this story is wrong, in my opinion. He's a disabled, traumatized war veteran who was set up in life to fail at a very early age. His flaws are of his own making. They are not of his own design.

[ratbubos]

🌹A Happier New Years <3

It was already past midnight but regardless, Lucie spent the last couple hours of the night happy :)

[courtillyy]

I, a person who knows barely the basics of pokemon information and has not played pokemon go since the year it came out, has made an interesting decision regarding the next group in the chatfic

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[mickyschumacher]

[PURPLE LACE BRA!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: lando's caught a sneaky little peek of his surprise and he just can't seem to keep his hands to himself.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), breastplay for sure, a brief public moment, teasing, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (protect yourselves pls), finishing inside, and a dash of poor humour (aka me dissing red bull's reveal) // poorly proof-read since i wrote it before i went to sleep

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: there is a little bashing of the f1 75 live but personally, i'm half and half on it. there was the good and bad 🤷🏽‍♀️ more importantly, this was OBVIOUSLY based on tate mcrae's new song! the new album is so good!! i haven't been excited for an album release in a while so you should definitely go check it out if you haven't already. THIS IS NOT BASED ON THE LYRICS, JUST THE TITLE.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Being a race driver, Lando knew exactly what Formula One truly meant: a sport... to entertain. While it’s legacy and history was unforgettable and enriching, it was the guys with the big dollars who controlled it. So Lando wasn’t afraid of a little glitz and glam.  

The F1 75 Live show in The O2 wasn’t bad either. Lando enjoyed that history, culture, and theatrics could come together to reveal some new cars (even if the McLaren looked the same as last year’s). But then the names started to roll in. Celebrities... comedians... chefs... the whole nine yards and all Lando could think of was how many hours of boredom he’d be in.  

Lando didn’t even really want to go. Even if it was contractually obligated for him to do so. In the end, it was you who had convinced him to go. Something about how you had a surprise for him after. Not only was that the sweetest thing he had ever heard but it was also going to be a hundred times better than going to the event.  

Around an hour and a half into the event where Red Bull revealed their car and Lando tried not to laugh at the empty look behind Max’s eyes as he was surrounded by dancers, he turned to and spotted something else far more interesting.  

He was about to direct you to Max’s misery when he spotted a small inch of purple lace peeking underneath the collar of your long coat and blouse. Initially you had covered your body more, complaining about the freezing air immediately as you both got out of the car. Otherwise Lando would’ve spotted it instantly. But the heat of all the lights were more than enough to warm you up.  

Lando pursed his lips, leaning over to your ear. “Please for the love of God tell me you’re not wearing the purple lace bra right now.” 

Your skin burned at his words while a small smile crawled onto your face. Leaning on your hand, you turned to him. “I’m totally not wearing the purple lace bra you brought me on Valentine’s Day. Definitely not,” you feigned your assurance.  

Lando blinked blankly at you, hand reaching over you grab your thigh. God, he wished it was warm enough for you to wear a dress. His fingers were aching to crawl up past the apex of your thighs. But your long trousers under your coat would do just fine. “You’re awful,” he muttered. 

You looked into his eyes, watching them move with struggle as lust clouded those blues. You simply smiled, averting your gaze as Oscar and Lily pointed out the chorus of booing that could just be heard over all the music. “I told you I had a surprise.” 

Lando rolled his eyes. “I thought you meant dinner,” he said, eyes falling to your chest once again. “Not dessert.”  

You swatted him gently in the arm. “Stop looking!” You hissed quietly. “It’s a surprise for later so be a good boy and wait.” 

The silence from Lando was loud. So was his stare. The one that glared at you and screamed “I can’t!” He couldn’t stop looking. He couldn’t wait. And he couldn’t believe you were telling him to wait. 

You had little idea of what was going through his head from just an inch of purple lace. He was imagining it. The purple lace clinging to the curves of your breasts. It was slightly see-through so he could imagine your pebbled nipples teasing him, begging for him to touch them. Lando was sure you were wearing the matching panties and all he could think of was purple lace covering your pussy, darkened and damp because you were soaking for him. 

Fuck.  

Lando cleared his throat, adjusting his legs as he tightened his blazer around him. He tried relaxing into his chair while all those dirty thoughts began crowding his brain.  

You swallowed nervously while his hand tightened around your thigh. “Lando,” you mumbled as an attempt to warn him. It was pathetic but you didn’t think he’d do anything. Not with these many cameras on you. Not when one singular individual in the crowd could just be recording you.  

Fine. Lando was going to wait. But hell, if he was going to make you suffer along with him.  

Even though you were wearing long trousers, allowing your thighs to be covered, Lando could still feel the heat of your skin as his fingers trailed up the inside of your thigh. He could hear your breath hitch upon reaching your clothed pussy. The resounding heat only made him suck in a sharp breath and wish he was in your bedroom right now.  

Lando’s teeth dug into his bottom lip while his fingers slowly rubbed you from the outside of your cunt. His restrain was beginning to fall away as your thighs tightened around his fingers and your hands fell on top of his, asking for him to stop in case anyone was watching.  

But he could tell. You were in the same plane as he was. Your pupils were dazed, lips redder from you biting them, and your hips moved with attempts to get more friction.  

Now you knew how he felt.  

The waiting had become painful for the both of you. It seemed like time was just dragging on. Like looking back at a clock to find out only a minute had passed. Even as Lando joined Oscar to leave during Ferrari’s reveal to get ready for McLaren’s, he couldn’t help but wish time could just speed up. There was nothing worse than trying to hide how turned on he was in front of the world.  

Your body felt warm as Lando’s eyes raked over you despite responding to all the comments and questions of the host. You could see it even from afar. It was silent yet loud enough to make your world tremble.  

He was going to make you regret this.  

The ending of F1 75 was a blur. You were talking to Lily and some of McLaren’s staff one minute and the next Lando was dragging you out of The O2.  

You spotted Lando’s 765 LT Spider easily with its blue shining under the nearby lampposts. Lando opened the door, eyes carefully watching you as he waited for you to hop in.  

You fiddled with the belt of your coat, stuffing your hands in its pockets. “What are people going to say now that you’ve literally dragged me out?” You mumbled, giving him a small and playful glare.  

Lando tilted his head, leaning on the open door. His eyes scanned your figure, taking in a sharp breath. “That I want to fuck you senselessly until all you can scream is my name.” 

You blinked at the utter seriousness in his voice. Knowing better, you quietly took a seat in his car, watching him close the door, satisfised with your response.  

Lando shut his door, putting on his seatbelt before he started the engine of his car and before you knew it, you were off in the streets of London. It was the middle of the night. The traffic was close to none. But Lando drove like he had somewhere to be.  

You could hear Lando sigh as the car came to a stop at the blaring red light. He turned his head slightly towards you. “I feel like I’ve been edged,” he muttered almost bitterly.  

You couldn’t help but laugh softly making him smile quietly. “I am so sorry, babe,” you murmured, patting his thigh a bit too closely for his liking.  

Lando groaned, adjusting himself in his seat yet again. “Just you wait,” he sighed, foot pressing down hard on the accelerator as soon as the green light flickered on.  

The window of the Spider had come down, introducing the cold night breeze to your body. Your stomach churned with little nervousness and a lot of excitement. With every turn, the roads were becoming familiar to the route home. The tree you always take a picture of, the flickering streetlight that no one ever fixes, and the gates of your house... each one increased your nerves.  

You blinked as Lando opened your door, jutting out his hand. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, clasping your hand while you stepped out of the car.  

You narrowed your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You retorted, walking past him to punch in the code for your gates.  

Lando grinned, following you. “I think I already do,” he teased.  

Rolling your eyes, you opened the doors of your house, turning to place your keys on the nearby counter. You shrugged of your coat, placing it on the hook next to your door, removing your shoes shortly after. Coyly, you stretched your arms and yawned. “What a day. Think it’s time to hit the hay,” you said.  

“Oh no you don’t.” Lando grasped your hand, pulling your body to face him.  

You gulped, feeling Lando’s fingers whisper over your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps. His fingers rubbed the soft skin of your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse before inching towards the small square of purple under your black blouse.  

“Been waiting for this all night, sweetheart,” Lando murmured, blue eyes holding yours as he slowly undid each button of your blouse, revealing even more purple lace clinging to your skin.  

Lando was going to lose his mind. The purple lace bra was everything he imagined and more. He knew he was the one who chose it but fuck, it fit you perfectly. It held your breasts like they were tailored for you. Like they were doing you justice instead.  

And he could see it. The way your nipples sat perked up behind the purple fabric, only visible enough to tease him–invite him. 

“Oh baby,” he moaned, one hand travelling to your waist while the other skimmed past your skin and trailed over your breasts.  

Your heart slammed as Lando’s hot breath fell over your chest. Your body shuddered while Lando pressed his lips against the valley of your breasts. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, fingers tightening around the buttons of your blouse to push your chest further into his face.  

“All because of you,” you responded softly, head lolling back while Lando kissed up your neck.  

A loose grin lingered on Lando’s face. “All for me, hmm?” He hummed, tucking your hair behind your ears. “I was dreaming about this on stage, baby.”  

You jutted out your bottom lip. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”  

Lando laughed softly, fingers trailing your lips. “Consider me surprised,” he murmured before bringing his lips to yours.  

You immediately responded, hands flying towards his jaw while you intensely kissed him back. One would think you had been parched for you consumed him as though his lips were made of water.  

Your stomach churned with a familiar pleasure while Lando took off your blouse, pulling the edges out of your trousers, leaving you half-naked. His touch across your bare skin felt cold as your body burned with need. Your moan was muffled against his lips, his fingers rubbing circles into your skin.  

You could feel Lando walk you towards your bedroom, barely giving you room to leave you without any kisses. You grinned, feeling the softness of your duvet morph around your body while he undid your trousers.  

“Oh fuck,” Lando whispered, blue eyes falling on your purple lace panties. And once again, he could see it. The dark and dampened purple patch against your pussy, clinging to each fold. You were indeed soaking.  

“Baby,” he sighed out, firm hands trailing down your body. “You are gorgeous,” he praised. 

You smiled softly, a shy flush of heat wavering over your face. “You too, handsome boy,” you complimented, pressing your lips on his cheek.  

Lando smiled in return, quickly taking off his blazer and dress shirt followed by his pants.  

You laughed as he struggled to remove his socks and underwear. Rolling his eyes, Lando fell to the bed, his body hovering over yours. He relished your sudden silence and the small hitch in your breath while his hand trailed over you once again, coming at a halt to your panties.  

His thumb pressed into your lace-covered folds, right below your clit. You whined softly, hips naturally bucking up for more. Lando chuckled. “You feel so warm, baby,” he started, thumb rubbing circles into your pussy. “Tell me... were you this wet at table?” 

You whimpered, your head pushing further into your duvet. You could feel Lando press further into your folds. “Yes,” you gasped out. 

Lando hummed in satisfaction, brushing your clit gently. He watched as you shivered under his touch. God, you were making him ache. His cock stood straight against his taut stomach, veiny and hard, waiting for your touch.  

“Lando, please,” you whined, hand shooting out to touch his, hoping he could hear and feel your desperation.  

“Please what? I don’t know if you deserve something after tonight,” he teased, bending his head down to trail his lips over your torso.  

You sighed; eyes fluttering shut momentarily. “Please, baby. It was supposed to be a surprise. I didn’t mean to,” you breathed out shakily as his fingers slowly ghosted over your core. 

“I know,” Lando murmured, finally hovering over your drenched cunt. He watched your body tense as he pushed your panties to the side with his index finger, introducing a rush of cold air to your core.  

Lando sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn’t sure he could hold out any longer. You were just so sensitive after being teased for so long. Every little thing was making you squirm and ache. His kisses, his touch, the air... and your folds, fuck, they looked so swollen, begging him to just– 

“Fuck!” You yelped, feeling Lando’s fingers plunge into your pussy.  

Lando let out a groan, watching you take his fingers entirely while he thrusted them back and forth, letting the trickles of your body run down his knuckles. “That feel good, baby?” He queried, curling his fingers. 

Your moans were loud and full of air. Your body was jerking and convulsing at Lando’s movements. “Yes, holy shit, yes,” you mewled, eyes shutting as the pleasure began to build up.  

Lando was entranced. The way you were losing yourself on his fingers while you were still dressed in the damn purple lace. Fuck... he needed you. 

You cried out as Lando’s fingers disappeared as though a part of you had gone missing. You could hear him mumble. “I know, baby, I know,” he said, aligning his body with yours, your legs on either side of him. “I just need to feel you,” he whispered against your body.  

Your chest heaved while Lando kept your panties to the side, his cock sliding against your wet folds. “Oh my God,” he groaned, brows mending at the pure pleasure running through his body. Your sensitivity was enough to make him push through your folds repeatedly, rubbing on your stimulated clit. 

The involuntarily jerks of your body upon the feeling of his cock only turned Lando on more. It was like he was watching your body defy you and he could watch it over and over again. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He was in pain.  

Lando’s hand moved your chin, forcing you to look at him while he slowly pushed his cock into your folds. He wanted to memorise what you looked like. He always did. But this moment. With you in this purple lace. Every whimper and quiver. Fuck, he wanted to imprint that in his skin.  

“Lando, please,” you moaned, “I need more.” 

Who was Lando truly to deny what you want? 

Lando pushed his lips further into you, his other hand drawn to your waist to hold you tight against him. Your folds were warm, clenching on to him like a vice. Even after all this time, it was like you had drugged him. All he ever wanted for the rest of his life was you. Like this. Like you were when you woke up. Like you were at the races. However you were, he wanted you forever.  

Your fingers wrapped his dishevelled brown curls around them, giving his locks a slight tug that coursed down his body. “Fuck, Lando,” you groaned, grinding your hips harshly against his, wanting any extra bit of euphoria this moment could allow.  

There was no silence anymore. It was filled with the sound of your sticky skin slapping against one another as Lando’s cock drove into you at a faster pace. Your breathless pants were mixed with his groans, creating a new rhythm all together.  

Lando could feel your body begin to shake while he peppered your shoulders with sloppy kisses. He could hear it. His name. Your mantra. Repeated over and over as you warned him. “That’s it, baby. Scream my name. Scream my name and cum for me,” he encouraged. 

The coil in your stomach was tightening while Lando thrusted even hard, knocking any sense or rationality you had out the window. You were going numb. The world was going dark and yet bright at the same time. 

You gasped as Lando’s thumb circled your clit, the extra waves of pleasure hitting your directly. “Fuck, Lando! Lando, Lando, Lando!” You cried out while your body tightened. Your core throbbed and your hips shook with a high you never wanted to come down from.  

Lando’s moans were close to becoming whimpers. Fuck, you were driving him crazy, clenching around him like there was no tomorrow. His stomach was churning, bubbling and waiting to combust.  

“Shit,” he cursed, arms wrapping around your waist to hold you tight against him. You could hear your name too. Another mantra. A spell being cast as his hips stuttered, cock throbbing inside of you as strings of his hot cum spilled inside of you, filling you right to the brim.  

“Fucking hell,” Lando sighed out, slowly pulling out, mindful of how sensitive the both of you were. He watched silently as his cum spilled out of your pussy, imprinting it to his memory yet again.  

You breathed out slowly, feeling Lando fall into your arms gently, holding you close to him. You pressed your lips on his chest. “So the purple lace bra... ten out of ten?” 

Lando grinned against your skin, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead. “Definitely would do it again.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

word count \ 3.7k | fluff & stuff | slash / mattheo riddle x reader

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time (part one to lovesick!mattheo) author's note at the end!

SECOND PART HERE - lovesick!mattheo christmas edition

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

if you would like to read the second part, click here!

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[bunny-jpeg]

cum stained logos

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, the 2024 red bull driving uniform, uniform kink, oral sex

bunny says: reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated! I love feedback!! i am looking (dis)respectfully mr. verstappen, been thinkin about this image.

the driving uniform was a core feature of formula one, it was a showcase of sponsors while also being a protector for the driver. there was a reason why technically the uniform was in two layers.

max was proud to wear red bull, even off the track he wore is quite frequently. you once made a comment asking if he got this stuff for free and that was why there was so much of it in his closet.

"you like it." he responded as he placed his hands on your shoulders and went in for a kiss on your cheek from behind, "i know how you look at me after a race. red bull across my chest."

you looked behind yourself to him and made a face, "i love a man in uniform so." you shrugged.

the idea buried itself in max's brain like a seed. it soon grew into a hefty idea to make you squirm.

for max it wasn't hard to get his driving suit into his bag and back to his home. everyone assumed he was just very dedicated to racing (which was a correct assumption), but max verstappen would never do anything nefarious with it. to ruin the red bull legacy and brand.

so the look on your face when you went into the bathroom and saw him zipping up the dark blue uniform was a nice surprise. he looked over at you and smiled, "like what you see?"

you swallowed, "how did you even-"

he turned around, it was still partially unzipped giving you a clear view that he was not wearing the fire proof protection underneath. he had no reason to really wear it, while sex with you was hot. it was no fire hazard.

you adverted your eyes and swallowed, "max... how?"

he chuckled and went up to you. he placed his hands on his shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. when he pulled away soon after he said, "i want to show the integrity of the red bull brand.

he then laughed, "i'm joking. i wanted you to suck my cock while i wore it. after all, you liked men in uniform."

your eyes went wide for a moment, "every day you surprise me, max." then your hand was taken by your boyfriend and led back to the bedroom.

he looked over his shoulder as he led you and said, "well, you have a whole lifetime of surprises then." he got on the bed, with his back up against the headboard. he patted his thigh and you got between his legs.

"sometimes i forget how hot you are." you admitted.

he raised an eyebrow, "well, i guess i have to remind you then." then gestured for you to unzip the suit. he watched you careful eyes as you slowly unzipped it.

you felt your hand shake from anticipation as you zipped it all the way down, exposed his toned torso to you. you swallowed when you eyes trailed to his cock which was clothed by a pair of briefs. you noticed the bulge in them.

"like it?" he asked.

you looked up at him, "max, the first time i saw it on accident my jaw hit the floor. remember what i asked you?"

he scratched his jaw a little flustered, "you asked me if when i get hard if i lose all the blood in my head."

you nodded and reached for the waistband of his briefs. you pulled his cock out and without thinking licking your lips. you felt a shudder in your heart. you kissed the leaky tip and sighed contently.

this entire situation was hot. he looked good in the driver's suit. he looked good with red bull and the other branding across his body. he was a good racer and got good sponsors. he also had an impressive cock that fit nicely in your throat.

it was hefty and big, but not terrifying. it was a snug fit, but not a painful stretch. it was perfect just like the rest of him. you heard him relax further against the headboard and his large hand found the back of your head.

"ik had dit eerder moeten doen. als ik het had geweten, fuck." he shifted on the bed and let you take all of him in his mouth. as much as you threw around that max was a kinky man, you were almost toe to toe with him.

he knew you tried to act surprised, but he knew that you ate up any chance at exploring aspects of sex. and sometimes that meant him stealing his driving suit and letting you suck him off.

you held onto his thighs for support, the fabric under his fingers grounded you as you sucked him off. your eyes fluttered closed as you bobbed your head up and down.

your mouth felt like a dream. he held onto you and rocked up a little against your mouth.

"you feel so good." he panted as he felt the heat in his body. his heart was a loud thump in his ears as he stroked your hair. you looked so good laid out between his legs with his cock in your throat.

it was so painfully dirty that it lit a fire in max's stomach. he softly met your pace and pushed his cock a little further into your throat. he exhaled deeply as you just took him so well.

"do you like the uniform?" he asked, "maybe next time i'll fuck you while you're wearing it. " he chuckled a little.

you got your mouth off of him and stroked his cock quickly, "don't get cocky." you raised your eyebrows then leaned in to lick the swollen head, "not a good look on you."

he gripped your hair a little tighter and replied, "but you love it." then guided your mouth back onto his cock. he set the pace a little bit as he moved your head up and down his cock.

you got it slick all the way to his balls. his cock felt good on your tongue as you felt the heat curl in your stomach. the heat throbbed in your head.

you two continued to work together. the soft noises and the sounds of your mouth on his cock were in the air. the soft curses and heavy pants. the shifts on the bed.

max was deeply in love with you, not that it was something that you questioned. but when you were sucking the soul of out him, he felt a big swell of pride in his chest that you were his.

"shit, i'm close." he groaned, the sweat caused the suit to stick to his back. it felt good, but he was reaching his peak.

you pulled your mouth away from his cock and hastily jerked him off. you were both panting with an intense head rush. max ran his fingers through his hair once more before he tensed up and climaxed.

ropes of hot cum reached across his chest and splattered onto a few of the logos on the uniform. but he couldn't care in that moment. he did wish that he got to finish all over those cute cheeks of yours.

no time like the present for that dream as he reached down and pulled your mouth up against his still erect cock. between heavy pants he said, "keep it in your mouth next time. clean me up.'

you looked back up at him before you started to lick his cock. your core throbbed, you'd get yours soon enough. but your driver boyfriend wasn't done yet. <3

[luludeluluramblings]

Im sad I'm the only still thinking in grampa Luthor & Kent vs Wayne of all the things

Controversial idea:

What if it was Luthor AND Wayne vs Kent instead?

Here me out...

Say, in this universe, Luthor doesn't know Batman is Bruce Wayne. All he knows is his clone/project son got a fellow rich dude's kid pregnant. And, the girl is keeping the baby.

It's such a typical sounding problem, and maybe, just maybe, sparks that whole desire for a legacy and lineage. (He has a daughter, but in this insistence, Conner is technically his son and is having a son. So, he can be a good grandpa and a misogynistic asshole. Yay.)

Rather than team up with the Kents, he teams up with the fellow rich guy. (Bruce hate hate hates it, but he needs allies if he wants to get Reader back.) That mean's they're teaming up to spoil the grandchild. Offering Reader childcare and spa trips. Luthor is running to the press announcing how excited he is for his new grandchild. (He's really just meh about it, but public image is how he gets away with half his shit, so he might as well.)

Now, say the kid looks like him. (Red hair.) All bets are off. He is taking the baby to work. Showing them how to run his empire. Their getting Lex Corp when he dies. (Reader just gets to watch apprehensively, while Conner freaks the fuck out.)

(Which I find hilarious, because Bruce is gonna be all like, "What if I wanted my grandson to inherit my company?" "You already have four sons and whatever you call the others. I call dips.")

Wait... Luthor Yandere for his grandchild while Batfamily is Yandere for Reader... Hmmm... Intresting idea...

[heizlut]

Okay, this thing has been in my mind lately... But could you do Semi-Dragon Zhongli and Full legacy Childe with afab!reader? Like dude with their size?? I would die of it and love it at the same time (your writing is so good btw i really love it ngl)

rip to reader because there’s no way she’s getting out of this without being pregnant 💀 also wanted to add little something and make zhongli have two cocks since he IS part dragon during this hehe

Beasts Within

cw: size difference, rough sex, monster cock obvs, forked tongue (zhongli), monster tongue (childe), two cocks (zhongli), anal/vaginal fucking at the same time, throat fucking, honestly rip reader

tags: sub!afab reader, semi dragon!zhongli, foul legacy!childe, dom!chars, mostly proofread, they/them pronouns for reader

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

⁎⁺˳✧༚🐋 ⋆ᨒ 𓐬⁎⁺˳✧༚🐋 ⋆ᨒ 𓐬⁎⁺

You got yourself in quite the situation here. After challenging your boyfriends stating you could handle the both of them at the same time in their inhuman forms, you found yourself sprawled out naked on your large bed.

Childe looms over you in his foul legacy form, eager at the idea presented to him. Zhongli stands with his arms crossed, giving you a stern look, “This is ridiculous. I do not want you to be harmed. You know how different we are when we are not fully human…”

You pout at him, “Come onnn… Don’t ruin the fun. I’ll be just fine.” Childe looks to Zhongli, taking on the same pouty tone you had, “You know you wanna fuck them in your other form. Just do it!” Zhongli huffs, dropping his arms, “Do not say that I did not warn you…” And with that, two curved horns adorn his head, his amber eyes and markings glow, and his fingers become pointed at the tips.

You were obsessed with seeing your men in these forms. Yes, of course you loved them when they looked their usual selves, but something about their otherworldly forms made you ache for them. Zhongli’s narrowed gaze makes you shiver, “There’s no going back from this.”

Childe was the first to make a move as he leaned over you, “Give me a kiss.” You knew the drill, you opened your mouth as his slimy tongue made an appearance. It always felt strange as it licked at your lips, tangling with your own tongue, then forcing it’s way down your throat. You gag from the feeling and tears prick your eyes, but he doesn’t remove his tongue from your throat.

Zhongli moves towards you, taking in the way you looked as you did your best with Childe’s “kissing”. His lips form a smirk as he positions his mouth in front of your soaking pussy. His eyes flit to yours and without a word, his forked tongue licks a stripe through your folds and to your clit.

You buck your hips, wanting more but without the ability to say so. Both men chuckle at this, but Childe is the one who speaks up, “Aww does the needy slut wanna say something?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, unable to make a retort with his long tongue still exploring your mouth. Zhongli spreads your folds carefully with his thumbs, watching as your home clenches around nothing, “It appears you’re in need of more stimulation. I can fix that…”

His forked tongue gathers your arousal and begins to relentlessly flick at your clit. He leans closer, sucking your clit into his mouth and gently nibbling. You whimper and sputter around Childe’s tongue and Childe is kind enough to retreat it. He grasps your jaw in his own pointed fingers, making you look down at Zhongli, “Look closely at what he’s doing to you…” You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. The way Zhongli’s forked tongue moved so skilfully made your legs shake.

Childe huffs, annoyed at the lack of attention when he was the one who made you look at Zhongli. His grip tightens on you and tilts your head up harshly to look at him, “It’s not fair you’re getting all the pleasure here… Get my cock out.” He releases his grip and allows you do what he demanded all while you were letting out delicious moans from Zhongli’s ministrations.

Once Childe’s cock was freed, you ran your thumb over the slit, gathering pre cum on your fingertip. A groan comes from deep in his chest, the sound deeper than usual in this form. He laced his fingers through your hair, “Suck it. I wanna feel good too.” You fought back from telling him how whiny he was being, knowing that provoking him in this state would not be the brightest idea.

The slutty moan that came from Childe’s mouth pleased you, as you wrapped your mouth around his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip and teasing the slit. The vibrations Zhongli’s dark chuckle went straight to your clit, making you moan around Childe’s length. Zhongli pulls away from your dripping cunt and looks to Childe, “I hate to interrupt but our dear here would be better on her hands and knees, wouldn’t you agree?”

If Childe could glare at him through his mask, he would. He pulls your head away from his cock, grumbling the whole time. You do your best not to laugh as you adjust your position to your hands and knees on the bed. Your amused thoughts were quickly interrupted by Zhongli’s hand making contact with your ass and you gasp. “I do hope you are ready for this…”, his voice deep and laced with a threat.

Before you can ask what he meant, Childe grips your hair yet again, pushing the tip of his dick against your lips, “Get back to it. I’m hardly finished yet.” You obediently open your mouth and he’s quick to shove his dick back down your throat. Distracted by this, you startle when you feel not one, but two cocks behind you. So that’s what Zhongli meant….

Your eyes roll back when you feel Zhongli slip inside your pussy first, but you nearly choke on Childe’s length when you feel Zhongli’s second cock prod at the tight rim of muscle as well. The noises of concern you made around Childe’s thick member didn’t do anything to stop Zhongli from slowly pushing into your ass. Zhongli’s fingertips dig into your hips as he buried himself to the bases of both cocks.

His head tilts back and his eyes squeeze shut, the feeling of being in both holes at once was unreal, “I apologize, but you did ask for this…” Zhongli pulls back then thrusts hard into both just as Childe forces himself deeper down your throat. Both men grunting and groaning in pleasure while you were filled up in every hole. Drool drips down your chin and onto the bed as your mind goes completely blank.

Both men thrust in tandem, causing you to cum uncontrollably on one of Zhongli’s cocks, while your tight asshole squeezed his other cock so tight he was sure it would fall off. He lands another smack to your ass as he growls, “Loosen up or I will not be able to continue.” You do your best to try to relax your body, but it doesn’t help that Childe was throat fucking you now. His large cock slipping down your throat as it tightened around his length involuntarily, “Swallowing my cock like a good little whore. Keep it up and I’ll reward you with my cum.”

You try so hard to keep up with Childe’s forceful pace as Zhongli decides he can move again. It didn’t take long for them to get back into the same rhythm they held before; each cock in and out and the same time. Zhongli’s glowing eyes shoot to Childe in a look that told him he was about to cum. Childe gives a single nod and with a final thrust from both men, loud growls and moans fill the room. Childe’s cum spills down your throat and Zhongli’s shoots into both holes. Never have you been filled to the point of feeling this ridiculously full.

All three cocks begin to soften and slip from your body to which you effectively collapse face first on the bed. Cum leaked from your pussy and ass, a sight that made both of them want to go again. Childe almost suggested it, but when he tilted his head to see your face, you had passed out from exhaustion, making him chuckle as he transformed back into his human form. Zhongli raised a brow, transforming as well, “Are they sleeping?” Childe nods and Zhongli sighs, “Go retrieve the wash cloths, please. Let’s clean them up.”

Hours later, you awoke sandwiched between the two of them. You sigh to yourself with a content smile and snuggle even further into the bed.

⁎⁺˳✧༚🐋 ⋆ᨒ 𓐬⁎⁺˳✧༚🐋 ⋆ᨒ 𓐬⁎⁺

a/n: i loved writing this and i hope you enjoy this anon!!

taglist: @stygianoir

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On

cw: gender identity issues, overall identity issues

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he’s started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The new year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting too muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough TIm could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason around. It was a good time of the year.

It really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands just brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs. He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting— Replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim refused just to fill in the space that was left for him anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the Replacement.

The problem is, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

---

AN: Look, look, I'm not officially starting this but I had the idea for this scene in my head and had to get it down. (Now I should sleep cause it's past 2 in the morning.)

Anyways, I love me a gnc Tim.

[dejwrld]

⤷‧₊˚ hiromi higuruma helps his bratty sub study for her bar exam.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — black reader with descriptors, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, usage of y/n, reader is a law student, mentions of reader being the child of a judge, mentions of law, dom!hiromi, sub!reader, reader described to be very feminine and bratty, no cursed au, dom x sub dynamic, usage of toys (vibrating panties), oral (reader receiving), pet names (good girl, doll), mentions of pubes, praise kink (academical), bonus after care scene, written in third pov (hiromi’s), mdni

sticky note from deja — sometimes i think about dom hiromi higuruma and just sigh happily.

Hiromi passed his bar exam with flying colors. He didn’t do study groups. Simply studied alone and prioritized his time to balance being a law clerk, studying, and socializing to ensure a law firm hired him. But this woman didn’t do any of that and frankly, he was even shocked that she still wanted to pursue law at all. She graduated from law school with a high GPA, and wonderful recommendations from amazing professors, and her father was a prominent judge. Many can assume that her pretty looks and her legacy surname got her where she is today, but Hiromi has observed her in her element and when she was in her element she was a beast. 

So the older lawyer had no clue why she came to him with law books in her arm, her tote bag slung on her shoulders—tight coils sprawled on her head like a crown, and a tight suede tracksuit on as if she was stepping into her law class. But of course, when she had a problem, she came to him. When she needed a quick nut, she came to him. Needing someone to vent about when it came to her class rival, she came to him. Now it seemed she needed help studying for the exam and who did she come to, him.

But as an hour and thirty minutes went by, the young woman was not soaking up the information that Hiromi was going over. His eyes bored into the notebook, flashcards, and textbooks scattered across his desk. She watches as she twirls her pink pen around her fingers reading over the notes she jolted down, but he can just tell by the crinkle of her eyebrows that the information wasn’t going through that thick skull of hers. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe she knew the information because she did. But he doubted she’d remember it for the exam. He leaned back into his comfortable black desk chair trying to rack his brain with a better studying technique before eventually he got an idea. An imaginary light bulb lit up over the top of the lawyer’s head.

“I think I have an idea.” He spoke out, causing her to stop her highlighting—which he was hoping she would do because the scent of the highlighter was already giving him a headache simply because she just had to have scented ones. 

This one smells like strawberries, smell it? Those were her exact words forty-five minutes ago as he was going over some laws on family laws. 

“Will it help me feel like the information I’m consuming is sticking and staying in my brain?” 

“Possibly,” was the only thing Hiromi answered before pulling himself out of his seat and disappearing from his office.

It was three things the woman that sat across from him enjoyed. Shopping, her father’s credit card, and sexual pleasure. If Hiromi had any more knowledge of psychology, he would have labeled Y/N as a nymphomaniac. 

When returned with the red velvet box, he sat the box on the table and she perked up happily, possibly thinking that this was a sparkly diamond necklace for her. 

“A gift? Aw, this definitely will help.” Her plush glossed lips spread into a smile. She claps her hands together in excitement sitting up in the chair. 

“It’s not a necklace, doll.” He points out. She opened the box revealing the black lace underwear that had a vibrator inside of them. 

He was going to use these at their anniversary dinner as a sub and dog duo, but he guessed he had to come up with another idea to make their dinner interesting. His gloomy eyes watched as her eyes lit up like fuckin’ fireworks. His assumption was right. He watches as she simply stands up ready to remove her underwear eagerly.

“I do think a quick sex session will help me focus a bit more. This is why I came to you. At first, I was going to join that one guy who knows Nanami's study group, but in my mind—I just knew you would have a better study idea.” She giggled as her hand went to untie her tracksuit bottoms to change into the other panties.

“No, we’re not doing that. Put the panties on and sit back down.” He scattered around his desk to give her time to change into the vibrating panties. 

He thought she was going to argue against what he said, but she didn’t. As quiet as can be, she’s shuffling to remove her underwear and replace it with the sexual treat that Hiromi graced upon her. While she changed, Hiromi was looking for the notebook that he used when he was studying for his bar exam. He knew it had a bunch of mock bar exam questions on there and thought they would help. When he found the book, he walked back to his desk and Y/N sat patiently waiting for him, she went back to reading her textbook without a care. 

Hiromi removed the box from the table, placing it on the ledge behind him after he grabbed the remote. He slammed the notebook on the table that looked like it’s been through centuries of war. He liked keeping it because it showed how far he had come from a law student to one of the best lawyers in the city. He skimmed through the pages before finding a page he wanted to start on. 

“A defendant is being prosecuted for conspiracy to possess methamphetamine with intent to distribute. At trial, the government seeks to have its agent testify to a conversation that he overheard between the defendant and a co-conspirator regarding the incoming shipment of a large quantity of methamphetamine. That conversation was also audiotaped, though critical portions of it are inaudible. The defendant objects to the testimony of the agent on the ground that it is not the best evidence of the conversation.” He pauses briefly to look at Y/N across from him. “Is the testimony of the agent admissible?” 

He watches as she brings her French tip manicured finger to her chin to think. He had a feeling she knew the answer, she told him about the paper she had done about admissible evidence. But as he watches her shoulders go upward and downward in an ‘I don’t know’ manner, Hiromi lets out a sigh before pressing the remote. The silence in his office was disrupted by the sound of the vibration. He watches as she jerks forward provocatively. He leans back in his seat.

“You know the answer to this, stop being a smart ass.” Hiromi’s slender fingers toyed with the small remote watching as she was withering forward in attempting to mask her moan.

“It’ll be admissible,” She breathes out. 

“Why?” Hiromi asked. 

For a quick second, he can see a glint of sexual frustration in her eyes. This was the first sexual encounter in a while due to him restricting them from it. He had a huge case coming up and she had to study for the bar exam. Sex would cloud their judgment on the tasks they had to do. 

“The best evidence rule does not require proof of the conversation through the audiotape.” 

He presses the button on the remote making the vibrator stop. “Good girl. I knew you knew that.” His lips crack a smile and he watches as she recomposes herself. 

“Next question.” Hiromi flips through the pages in his notebook. “Hypothetically thinking, say a person broke into a closed building to solely seek refuge due to a snowstorm. Can this person be convicted of burglary if that’s her defense?” His fingers were itching to press the button, but he had to hear her answer first.

“No.” 

“Why? Come on baby, you know they’re going to ask why?” 

“I’m not sure, let me think.” 

It didn’t take long before Hiromi pressed the button. Her moans echoed within the study while clasping her thighs closed to engulf the sudden vibration from the panties she wore. She falls back into the seat across from him and her body arches off of it briefly before she’s finally croaking out an explanation. 

“Burglary requires the intent to commit a crime upon entering a building and seeking shelter from a storm is not a criminal act. So, this hypothetical person can validate her claim.” 

“That’s right. You’re doing amazing with these questions. Just need it to stick in your brain, that’s all.” He reassures Y/N with a smile.

The quizzing went on for about thirty minutes, but Hiromi had lost track of time when he felt how tight his cock felt in his slacks. He was sure she had orgasmed multiple times from the vibrating panties just by the way her eyes drooped, her body slouching in the leather seat she was in, and the fact that he could see her hardened nipples through the sports bra after she had unzipped the hoodie of her tracksuit. She had this tendency where if he wasn’t touching her during little sessions, she had to touch herself. Which she did, right across from him—each time he flicked the remove on causing the vibrating on her pussy, she'd pinch her marbled nipples while uttering out a response to a random law question. 

“I think you deserve a break for today. You still have the weekend to study,” He pointed out as he tossed the remote back into its box. “Come here.” 

She’s hesitant at first and Hiromi can tell just by the way her lips part to argue and her eyebrows frown together. She wasn’t sure if she should cave and come forward or stay put just to feel the vibrating in between her thighs again. She knew that he knew she always defied him in some way just to get a rise out of him, but today—it seems her head was screwed on right. After all, Hiromi didn’t have to help Y/N study. Helping her study wasn’t a part of the contract, but he did—in such an odd sexy manner that caused her to be soaked between her thighs. 

As she tiptoed around the wooden desk, she was peeling off her clothes so provocatively that Hiromi couldn’t help but swallow the harsh knot that formed in his throat. He couldn’t wait for himself to be buried so far in between her sumptuous thighs that the only thing he could smell on his top lip was her essence. Hiromi spread his muscular thighs so that she could take place between them—looking down at him like she was Aphrodite and he was a man that she had just placed under a spell due to her elegance. His hand grabs her waist letting his hands caress every bump and curve of her body that he was obsessed with. From the stretch marks that decorate her mahogany skin to the small mole that was right near her belly button. 

“You drive me fuckin’ insane,” Hiromi finds himself saying. His dark eyes scan at how her lips spread into a grin. 

He grabs her, placing her on his desk without a sweat. The sound of textbooks and notebooks echoed through the office as he pulled himself further under the table. Her legs gaped so provocatively that in Hiromi’s mind, the Lady Justice statue on the shelf on his left probably wanted to clutch her pearls. Hiromi placed subtle kisses on her legs starting from her ankle which was decorated bejeweled with a diamond anklet. 

“You’re stalling. You know how much I want you right now, and you’re stalling.” The law student breathes as she leans back on the weight of her arms. 

Hiromi watches as her chest begins to rise rapidly with each kiss growing closer to her pussy. Her words went into one ear and out the other for the lawyer and when he was finally face to face with what his mouth salivated for, his eyes met with hers. Her eyes were pleading for something. A kiss. A nibble. A lick. Hell, even a blow. Anything to soothe the aching feeling on her clit. Y/N’s hand went down to palm at the wetness in between her thighs, so eager and impatient—but the stern lawyer stopped her. 

“Don’t fucking touch yourself, Y/N.” He commands. 

And there goes the tone she was longing for. Oh, that authoritarian tone that made her pussy clench when he used it. She relaxes under his touch and lets him do his work. “If you’re going to take so long, I might as well finish off by myself.” Y/N comments. 

“You talk so much, do you love hearing yourself talk?” 

“And you are doing so much talking for a man whose mouth should be stuffed with my pus—”

Her words were interrupted by the feeling of Hiromi’s tongue dragging upon her panties. He pulled them to the side swiftly and finally was granted what he wanted all along. The flat of his tongue licks up her pussy lips collecting her juices like a man that was deprived of water for days. He moans at the taste of her and his hands grab at her waist to pull her closer. His eyes flutter close as he’s lapping at her puffy pussy lips at the sound of her moans. Her fingers entangled in his hair as her hips grind against his face. She wasn’t sure what was turning her on more. The way his face was buried into her pussy or how attractive it looked as his nose was nuzzling against her pubes. 

“Fuck.” She moans out, her toes curling at the feeling of his tongue flicking her clit. 

Hiromi detaches himself from her briefly, peppering soft kisses on her trembling thighs before devouring her whole again. The thing about Hiromi is that he knew how her body would react to certain things. He knew how her pussy clenched around his cock when he gave her neck a little squeeze. He knew that she was in between a squirter and creamer depending on the task. Squirting when he’s fingering her with a vibrator practically glued upon her clit. Creamer when he’s forcing orgasm after orgasm out of her after begging him to cum inside her (but to Hiromi, having his cum inside her is merely a privilege). So of course, he knew using his tongue to trace alongside the drooling entrance of her pussy was going to have her pushing herself forward for more. The mere feeling of his tongue invading her in such a manner that had her a trembling and whimpering mess was something Hiromi knew about her. 

Hiromi lets out a moan at how good she tastes. The taste of Y/N has graced his tongue countless times and he still ate her out as if it was the best meal he has tasted. With each squirm in his arms, he’s flicking his tongue slower on her clit. With each moan of his name that slips by her plush lips, he’s granting her more licks and sucks. He wanted to see her come undone right here. He could feel it just by the way her thighs were poorly attempting to entrap his head by shutting them. 

He lets out an annoyed sigh after he removes himself from her pussy, “Do you want to cum, Y/N?” 

“I do. I want to cum.” She whines.

“Then fuckin’ act like it.” 

Y/N obediently nods, her snarky comment jammed into her throat before she let Hiromi spread her thighs even wider than what they were before. Her clit throbbing to be in his mouth again and he graciously granted her wish. Like a deprived man, Hiromi snuggled his nose back into her pubes as if he belonged there. Y/N was aware that Hiromi knew she was about to cum. He had this tendency to hold onto her as if she would turn into dust in his arms—as if he didn’t want to let her go. That’s what he was currently doing as her orgasm was spilling over. One hand gripping her in place (that she knew would leave a bruise) and the other palming his hardened cock through his pants.

Just with the flick of his tongue, an explosive feeling causes Y/N to let out a dragged-out moan. Her back lays back on the desk as Hiromi’s tongue helps her ride out the orgasm. Her French pedicured toes curl at the feeling of that fiery pit in her stomach shattering so intensely it brought tears to her eyes. Her fingers tugged at his black strands of hair as if they were a handle holding her up from falling. When she heard him remove himself from her with a pop, Hiromi leaned back in his seat with a huge satisfied grin on his face.

After Y/N came down from the euphoria of cumming in Hiromi’s mouth, she sat up on her elbows with a pleased look on her face. She knew after any sexual intercourse with the high-profile lawyer, he just had to include aftercare in the special package. He may have gotten off at the thought of seeing her tied up with rope, handcuffed to his headboard, or mouth gagged with his cock—but he was very serious when it came to aftercare. The two soon settled for a bath to end the evening. The warmth of the water engulfed their bodies as they were in the large bathtub filled with scented soap and rose petals. Hiromi’s head fell back to be met with the marbled tile and he let out a relaxing sigh, the scent of Y/N lingering on his upper lip and tongue. 

“I have a confession to make..” Y/N leans further back on him, relaxing under the warmth of both the water and Hiromi’s body. 

“Hm.” He hums lightly letting his eyes flutter back open.

“I’m actually well prepared for the bar exam. Took a practice bar exam a week ago and according to my professor—if it was the real one, I would have passed.” She happily sighs letting her fingers play with the bubbles in the tub. 

“What?” Hiromi glares at the back of her head with a displeased look.

“I woke up this morning with a student and tutor sex fantasy, silly.” 

“You will be the death of me.” 

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @tojiscumdumpster @salaciousdoll @thithesandofferings @tachibannaa @shinsousliya @sinistersnakey1427 @gothogue @rhionnajones @jamaicanqueenaa @dxmb-luv @0hmyg0th @ryukenzz @dancingwithdeities @getosbunny @hvly @racconwarrer @aiyaaayei @torapologist @strawhatsav @msdrpreist @neesieiumz @strawberrymuffinlovin @consternat1on @photosbyameil

thanks for reading. <3

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think were any kind of specific aspects of the culture, industry, economy, etc that made making cartoons in 90s / 2000s better or worse than trying to make them today?

They're literally different worlds.

As a 22 year old neurodivergent, I was able to pitch show ideas directly to executives. Part of that was because TV Animation wasn't a glamorous profession (quite yet), so the higher-ups were genuinely passionate about the medium. I earned good money for the time and was generally trusted to run my show and tend to the crew. I would periodically be handed portfolios, which I would personally review and pass on to other show runners. For the networks it was always corporate, cutthroat, and ultimately about the money, but as an artist you could still have a voice and make art while being paid a living wage.

The pay for a freelance storyboard in 2005 is almost exactly what it is today, but now you're likely to have less time and be required to do an animatic on top of it. Portfolios are online, and (beyond metrics) you'll probably never know if anyone looks at it or not.

Animation got big. Too big. The executives got "glamorous", then the talent got "glamorous". By then you probably wouldn't get a pitch meeting unless you were a celebrity or knew one willing to be connected to your project. Animation eventually got so big that it popped. And that's where we are now.

Most of the people I know from Kid's TV Animation are currently unemployed. I have been off Jellystone for over a year, and I'm starting to get genuinely worried. Like, "move away to save money" worried. Most of the employed artists I do know are on long-running legacy series, and they're concerned about their futures when/if those series end. Right now is not a fantastic time for "animation as a money-making profession". The "glamorous" part popped years ago.

That being said, there are still opportunities out there. If you're just starting out, apparently there's a planned surge in adult and pre-school animation. It's also a great time (as long as YouTube remains sane) to be crafting your own content. But I think that the time of Big Studio Patronage is over for most of the industry. It's up to the individual artist now more than ever, not only to make but to promote their own content.

Back at the height of Billy & Mandy, we mostly pulled fours and fives in the Neilsen ratings, but we occasionally got a seven. For reference, E.R. consistently got eights. It's difficult to say exactly how many people that actually was due to how those ratings work, but it was a big deal for the time. Millions. Enough people that if I had a dollar for each person that just watched that one episode, I would have been set for life. Now, nobody gets a seven. A four is huge. Back then there were maybe fifteen or twenty channels of programmed content as opposed to the streaming smorgasbord we were all just enjoying (and which now also seems to have popped). Point being, even though I wasn't paid-per-view, I was able to use those views as justification for an eventual raise. In modern times, streaming numbers are seemingly deliberately kept secret. You'll never really know how well your show was doing until it's over. Or maybe never.

In modern times, a million views on YouTube is enough to get you noticed online. It's a lower bar for entry in a way, but you've got to get there all by yourself. Once you're there (hello Hazbin) a network may indeed come and scoop you up. Even if they don't, you can probably make a decent living with numbers like that if you're savvy and willing to take the time.

I feel like I could go on all day, shaking my fist at the sky, gray-ass beard blowing in the wind. Was it better or easier making cartoons in the past? It seemed that way to me, but that was a world I knew. There was no AI to sell you out to, and the media was more of a "Wild West" than it is today. I do think that AI is going to continue to displace artists (and soon others), making it even more difficult to get anyone's eyes on anything at all.

Culturally, we lack the common cultural touchpoints that bonded our society in the 20th Century. I suspect that the media landscape will continue to become more "bubbly" and disjointed unless some powerful force swoops in to mandate a common viewpoint. Those are two very divergent, uniquely tiring futures, each presenting a different challenge for an artist's survival.

Outside of whatever our modern world is, animation was made for a century by photographing drawings. If Émile Cohl could do it in 1908, you can do it now. It's a lot of labor, but maybe that's part of what makes it special.

[onegayastronaut]

In Love and Legacy

I've been watching too many mob movies lol, so here's a fic of Wanda and Natasha being your moms and dating Kate Bishop

Words: 1556

The morning was heavy with tension as you paced the lavish living room of the Maximoff-Romanoff estate. The grandiose space, filled with antique furniture and tasteful art pieces, was a testament to your mothers’ power and influence—a legacy built on their iron rule over the city’s underworld. Wanda and Natasha were not just feared; they were legends. Today, however, that intimidating reputation loomed larger than ever. You were about to introduce your girlfriend, Kate Bishop, to them for the first time.

Kate, with her sunny personality and penchant for sarcasm, had no idea what she was walking into. Sure, she knew your moms were important and influential, but the whole "mob boss" detail? That was still something you were figuring out how to explain.

"Are you sure about this?" Kate asked as she adjusted her navy blazer for the third time. Her archer’s instincts betrayed her; she looked like she was about to face off against a horde of enemies.

You paused and took her hands, squeezing them gently. "Kate, they’ll love you. Well, eventually. They’re just… protective."

Kate’s eyes narrowed. "Protective like regular parents, or protective like they have someone on speed dial who can make me disappear?"

You winced. "Uh, a little of both?"

Before Kate could press further, the double doors to the living room swung open. Natasha entered first, her movements sharp and deliberate. She was dressed in a tailored black suit, her red hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Behind her was Wanda, ethereal in a deep burgundy dress, her piercing gaze taking in Kate from head to toe.

"Darling," Wanda said, her voice soft but firm as her eyes shifted to you. "You didn’t tell us your guest was this punctual."

Natasha smirked. "That’s rare these days."

Kate swallowed hard but managed a polite smile. "It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Maximoff and Mrs. Romanoff."

Wanda’s lips twitched upward. "How formal. Call me Wanda, dear."

"And Natasha," your other mom added, her expression unreadable.

"Natasha, Wanda, got it." Kate’s voice wavered slightly, but she straightened her spine, her confidence kicking in. "It’s really nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you."

"Have you?" Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow as she leaned casually against the back of an armchair. "All good things, I hope."

Kate nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah. Mostly."

Wanda’s laughter was soft but chilling. "Mostly?" she repeated, tilting her head as she studied Kate.

"She’s nervous," you interjected, stepping closer to Kate and sliding an arm around her waist. "Can we maybe save the interrogation for later?"

"Interrogation?" Natasha echoed, her tone mock-offended. "We’re just getting to know her. Isn’t that right, Wanda?"

Wanda smiled serenely. "Of course. No need to be nervous, Kate. We’re just… thorough."

Kate’s laugh was shaky but genuine. "Right. Thorough. Got it."

"Come," Wanda said, gesturing toward the dining room. "Let’s sit and talk."

You guided Kate into the dining room, where a long table was already set with an assortment of appetizers and drinks. The room was as imposing as the rest of the house, with high ceilings and a massive chandelier that sparkled ominously.

Natasha took her seat at the head of the table, while Wanda sat to her left. You and Kate sat opposite them, and you could feel Kate’s tension as she fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth.

"So, Kate," Natasha began, her tone deceptively casual. "What do you do?"

"I… I’m an archer," Kate said, her voice steady despite the intensity of Natasha’s gaze. "And a private investigator. I’ve been working with Clint Barton for a while now."

Wanda’s eyebrows rose slightly. "Clint Barton? The Avenger?"

Kate nodded. "Yes. He’s been kind of a mentor to me."

Natasha’s lips twitched in a faint smile. "I know Clint well. He’s… a good judge of character."

"That’s a point in your favor," Wanda added, her tone lighter but no less probing. "Tell me, how do you plan to protect our child?"

Kate blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Protect?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her green eyes sharp. "This isn’t a rhetorical question, Kate. Our world is dangerous. Being with our child means you’re a target. Are you prepared for that?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but Kate spoke first. "I’m not afraid of danger," she said firmly, meeting Natasha’s gaze head-on. "And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Always."

Wanda’s eyes softened, and Natasha’s expression shifted into something resembling approval. It was subtle, but you’d known your moms long enough to recognize the signs.

"Good answer," Natasha said, leaning back in her chair.

Kate exhaled quietly, and you reached under the table to squeeze her hand.

As the conversation continued, the tension in the room began to ease. Wanda and Natasha’s questions became less intense, and Kate’s natural charm started to shine through. By the time dessert was served, Wanda was smiling warmly, and even Natasha’s guarded demeanor had softened.

"You know," Wanda said, sipping her wine, "it’s not often we see our daughter smile like that. You must make her very happy."

Kate’s cheeks flushed. "I hope so. She makes me really happy too."

"She does," you said, leaning into Kate’s side. "And I’m glad you can see that."

Natasha gave a small nod. "We’ve been… worried about who she might bring home one day. It’s a relief to see she’s chosen someone with a strong heart."

Kate’s eyes lit up at the compliment, and she smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot."

When the meal ended, Wanda stood and placed a hand on Kate’s shoulder. "You’re a good person, Kate. I can see why our daughter cares for you so much."

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a rare smile. "You’ve earned our approval—for now. But if you hurt her…"

"I won’t," Kate said quickly, her voice full of conviction. "I promise."

Wanda’s smile widened. "Good. Welcome to the family, Kate."

As you and Kate left the estate later that evening, you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of relief on her face.

"That was… intense," Kate admitted, slipping her hand into yours. "But I think they like me."

You grinned. "They do. And they’re not easy to impress, so you should feel pretty proud of yourself."

Kate smiled back, her eyes sparkling. "Worth it."

You leaned in to kiss her softly, grateful that the most intimidating hurdle in your relationship had been cleared. With your moms’ approval secured, you knew you and Kate could face anything—together.

Later that evening, back at Kate’s apartment, the reality of the day finally seemed to hit her. She flopped onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her arms over her head.

"Okay," she said, "I knew meeting your moms would be a big deal, but I didn’t expect to feel like I was auditioning for a spy thriller."

You laughed, curling up next to her. "They’re intense, I know. But they really do like you."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure Natasha was two seconds away from interrogating me under a spotlight."

"That’s just her way of saying she cares," you teased. "She’s not used to letting new people into her world."

Kate sighed, her expression softening. "I get it. Honestly, I kind of respect it. They’re just looking out for you. And I can’t really blame them for that."

You leaned your head on her shoulder. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

Kate smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I try."

Meanwhile, back at the estate, Wanda and Natasha sat together in the living room, a bottle of wine between them. Natasha poured herself another glass, her expression thoughtful.

"She’s good for her," Wanda said, breaking the silence.

Natasha nodded. "She’s strong. And smart. I like that she didn’t back down."

Wanda smiled. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

Natasha rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, a rare look of contentment on her face. "I think they’re going to be okay."

Wanda reached over, taking Natasha’s hand in hers. "They are. And we’ll be here for them, no matter what."

The two women sat in comfortable silence, their bond as unshakable as ever, their love for you guiding every decision they made. And in that moment, they knew they had done something right.

Over the next few weeks, Kate’s relationship with your moms continued to grow. She joined you for family dinners, where Natasha taught her the finer points of strategy over a game of chess, and Wanda shared stories about Sokovia. Kate even earned points by helping Wanda set up a security system at one of their properties—a task that quickly turned into a friendly competition between the two.

"You’re lucky," Kate said one evening as the two of you walked hand in hand through the city. "Your moms are incredible."

"I know," you said, smiling. "But so are you. And I think they’re finally starting to realize that too."

Kate grinned, pulling you closer. "Well, if I’m going to survive in this family, I’d better step up my game."

You laughed, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t known was possible. With Kate by your side and your moms’ approval, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead—together, as a family.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |2|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Tara removed the pieces of her thrown together pirate costume and sat at the edge of the bed. She knew following Frankie upstairs would have been a bad idea, something she would have regretted the second they got up there, something she already regretted. She couldn’t believe Sam tracked her down though, she was nineteen, she practically raised herself the last few years, she should have been allowed to go to a party and not worry about her sister crashing it.

She looked up when she heard a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” she called out. The door creaked open, and you popped your head in before stepping into the room. “You don’t have to knock; it’s your room too.”

You crossed the room and set a glass of water and a couple Advil on the dresser. Even after she snapped at you, you were still thoughtful enough to bring her something for the headache you knew she’d inevitably have. Tara dragged you to a few parties, you never drank, you let her have her fun and then you took care of her, every time.

“Wasn’t sure what I was walking into,” you said quietly. Tara frowned when she noticed you wouldn’t even look at her, you just kept your eyes on the floor. On top of all of that you didn’t come to sit next to her on the bed like you always did, you remained standing, leaning against the dresser and creating as much distance as it seemed like you could from Tara.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Tara said softly. “I just…” she tried to gather the right words; she didn’t want to snap at you again, but she wanted you to understand where she was coming from. “I don’t need you and Sam both being overprotective and always hovering over everything I do.” Tara couldn’t help the way the irritation naturally slipped in her tone, it had been like this since everyone moved to New York and Tara was over it, she couldn’t keep having the same argument.

“I’m fine,” Tara tried to stress. “I just want to move on.” Tara pushed herself off the bed and stepped closer to you. “You’ve been different since the attacks last year.” You let out a small laugh, like you couldn’t believe she just said that. Of course you changed, Tara herself changed, they all did, but Tara was trying to get back to a place like where she used to be, and it didn’t seem like you were. “I just want my girlfriend back,” Tara reached out and gently ran her hand down your arm until she stopped overtop of your own hand. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Tara tried to meet your eyes, but you still refused to look at her. “Just three days,” you whispered.

“What?” Tara furrowed her brow.

“Just three days,” you finally looked up, meeting her eyes. “That’s what you called it. Just three days,” you shrugged. “Do you know what I went through in those three days?”

Tara couldn’t say anything as she watched your eyes fill with tears. A part of her wanted to say she did know what you went through, of course she knew. You barely left her side that entire time, for almost everything the two of you were together. She didn’t think you wanted an actual answer though.

“Within three days,” you whispered. “My girlfriend was attacked.” Tara dropped her gaze to the floor, as much as she didn’t want to hear this it seemed that you had been wanting to say this for a while. “I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there while the love of my life was lying there dying,” your voice cracked on that last word. Tara had to stop herself from visibly flinching at the emotion in your voice.

“Now, I get to spend the rest of my life hating myself for not being there,” you continued. Tara tried to blink away her own tears, she could hear the anger at yourself bleeding into your voice. “Every time I’m not with you; I worry about what could happen when I’m not there again.” Tara finally looked back up at you, she knew what was coming next before you even said it. “Like tonight!” Tara couldn’t help the way she jumped slightly at the small shift in tone.

“I was at work,” your voice got softer. “Just like last year,” you gestured with your hand. “When I got home, you weren’t here, and I got to run off with Sam to a frat party, only to see you being dragged up the stairs by some douchebag!” Tara sucked in a breath as she listened and took in the words you were saying. “Once again, a reminded of what can happen when I’m not there,” you shook your head and let out a humorless chuckle.

Tara blinked away a few tears that had started to fall. She knew you weren’t blaming her or saying anything of this to hurt her, but she never considered your side of things. Tara had to sit in the waiting room as she waited to see if you’d live or not, then she waited by your bedside until you woke up, just like you had done with her. The difference though, you had no idea what was happening to her when she was attacked, you came over to her place expecting her to be waiting up for you, like she always was, but instead when you got there Tara wasn’t there. Tara couldn’t imagine what it was like for you to pull up to her house to see a bunch of police cars and to be told someone had attacked her.

“I was also accused of murder last year,” you said. You were looking up at the ceiling as if that was helping you stay calm and not break. “Accused of hurting you,” Tara let out a shaky breath when your voice cracked again. “By your friends.” Tara’s eyes flicked down to the floor again, her friends were never a fan of you, she understood everyone should be a suspect when it came to Ghostface, but they were particular harsh on you.

“The only good thing to happen last year was that you didn’t believe them,” you continued. Tara looked up again just as you looked back down, each of you meeting each other’s eyes. “You never wavered on me. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,” you whispered. “That on top of spending a year being told by your friends I wasn’t good enough for you and your sister coming back and instantly saying the same thing, is that every single one of them jumped on the idea of thinking I was the potential killer.”

“Then on top of everything else,” you whispered. “Within those same three days, I learned who my parents were,” once again your voice cracked. “I spent my whole life thinking I was unloved, just tossed away like trash,” you gestured carelessly to prove your point.

When Tara first met you, you seemed to have your shit together. You were just the older kid in her class who she had a crush on. Tara obviously knew a little about you before the two of you started dating but even after you didn’t talk like talking about your past. All you knew was that someone dropped you off at the hospital, you had never even looked in to trying to find out who your parents were. Tara always thought there was a part of you that was curious but the rest of you resented your birth parents and didn’t want to know the truth.

“Turns out, I’m the kid of two legacies,” you continued, letting out a humorless chuckle. “And my mom abandoned me because she chose her career over me my…”

The words died in your throat, you never talked about Dewey. You never talked about what happened at all actually. It wasn’t all on you though, Tara never asked. Maybe that made her a bad girlfriend, she wasn’t sure, she just assumed you didn’t want to talk about it. Tara knows what it’s like to have a crappy mom to not really want you around, but she doesn’t know exactly what you were going through. On top of everything, almost as soon as you learned who your father was you lost him.

You cleared your throat. “He was the nicest, most loving man there was,” you said. “Who would have done everything he could to be a good father, but he never even knew I existed,” you voice cracked. “And when he found out…” you were looking at Tara, but it didn’t seem like you were seeing her. “He never even got the chance to know me.” Dewey did know you; Tara knew that he was the reason you got your life together, he saved you in ways he probably never knew. He never got to know you as his kid though. “Because I pushed him away.” A tear fell from your eye, making Tara do everything to keep her own tears at bay. “Then he died.” You wiped away the tear and at your eyes. “His last act was saving my life and then he died.”

Tara opened her mouth, but no words came out, she didn’t know what she could say, what she even wanted to say. She could see now, you were hurting, it was clear as day. You had been hurting all this time and Tara never noticed, she really was a terrible girlfriend. You spent all your time worrying about her, being what she always deemed as overprotective, and Tara was just selfish the entire time. Instead of being someone you could open up to and talk to Tara was selfish, she wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things used to be, to just live with you and have fun like the two of you always talked about.

The next thing Tara realized was you walking across the room and grabbing a pillow off the bed. Tara’s eyes widened at the action and as you made your way to the door as if you intended to leave the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Tara asked. She reached out, trying to grab you on the arm to get you to stay but you remained just out of her reach.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight,” you mumbled. You didn’t even wait for her to apologize and beg to stay before you walked out of the room, leaving Tara all alone.

Tara dropped back down on the bed and put her head in her hands. She really hoped it wasn’t too late to make things right with you. You were amazing and kind and deserved so much better than Tara. She stood by you last year when anyone accused you of being Ghostface and since then she had done nothing but fail you. You were the best thing that ever happened to her, and she needed to do everything in her power to make it right, she had to make it up to you and become the type of girlfriend that you deserved.

Tara wanted nothing more than to go out there and beg you to come back to bed but it was clear you wanted space. You didn’t even want to be in the same room as her and she couldn’t even blame you for it. Tara needed to think of you and what was best for you in the moment, it didn’t matter what she wanted. Tara struggled to fall asleep without you right next to her since the attacks last year, but she would just have to suck it up because she couldn’t be selfish at the moment.

Not long after you left to sleep on the couch did Tara crawl under the covers of the bed. She wasn’t sure how long it was as she tossed and turned, still completely unable to fall asleep without you there. You were just in the next room but even that wasn’t enough, Tara needed you there in the same room, she needed to feel you holding her. She knew that made her selfish, you were going through something and the last thing you needed to be worried about was Tara’s sleeping habits.

Tara laid there for a couple more hours, never once getting a wink before she sighed and tossed the covers off herself. She glanced out the window to see it was still dark, knowing her luck it wouldn’t even be close to normal waking hours. She made her way into the kitchen thinking a glass of water might help, though she knew it wouldn’t actually do anything.

Tara got to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. She downed the water in only a couple of gulps before resting her hands on the counter. She wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, she knew it, she half considered working on some schoolwork until it was time for her to go to class. She looked back to her bedroom before her eyes drifted towards the entryway of the living room.

She knew she had no right, but she couldn’t help but wander towards the living room. She leaned against the wall of the entryway and just watched you. You didn’t seem to have a problem falling asleep, though she guessed she always needed you more than you needed her. As quietly as she could she inched closer to you and gently began running her fingers through your hair. She frowned when she noticed you wince in your sleep then she saw the blanket shift and watched as you shifted your leg.

“You should prop up their knee,” Sam whispered, making Tara jump as she whipped around to face her sister.

“What?” she whispered back, quickly sparing you a glance to make sure she didn’t wake you.

Sam rolled her eyes and made her way into the room. Tara watched as Sam grabbed one of the smaller pillows from the couch and as gentle as she’d ever seen her sister move, Sam lifted your leg and slipped the pillow underneath it, propping your knee up. You stretched your leg out again, seeming to get comfortable with the new addition but Tara couldn’t help but noticed the way your face softened, as if the pillow relieved some pain.

Tara opened her mouth to question her sister, but Sam walked past her without a word. Tara frowned, she might not have been paying as much attention as she should to you but there was no way she missed you and Sam becoming friends. She followed her sister to the dining table and took a seat across from her. They’d still have to whisper but at least they wouldn’t be standing right over you when trying to talk.

“How did you know?” Tara asked.

“Their knee sometimes bothers them,” Sam said. “When they’ve been active a lot, a brace tends to help with walking but at home, they usually like to prop it up.”

“But how-”

“Because it’s obvious.”

Tara’s eyes widened, she looked back at you, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed. If you were truly in pain, Tara was around you all the time, she would have noticed. You walked most places, you’ve walked for hours with Tara, she would have noticed, if you were actually hurting, she would have noticed, she was sure of it.

“They never said anything,” Tara mumbled weakly.

“Did you really expect them to?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “They spent every day taking you to physical therapy and being there for you.” Tara dropped her eyes to the table as she remembered all the times she snapped at you when her physical therapy hadn’t gone exactly like she wanted, when she didn’t think she was making enough progress. “Then they’d bring you home and while you took a nap they’d head back out there for their own physical therapy.”

Tara’s eyes started to fill with tears again. She knew you needed physical therapy just as much as she did. She knew you had been going because she did notice as you gained more movement but she never went to any of your sessions with you. When Tara got home, she tended to crash within minutes of getting into bed, but you supported her through all of her therapy only to go and have to do your own right after.

“Since when did you two become friends?” Tara asked. She felt like she had to, clearly, she had missed a lot and now it didn’t seem like you and Sam becoming friends under her nose was completely out of the question.

“We’re not,” Sam answered instantly. Tara couldn’t help but smile at that, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But they deserve better than how you’ve been treating them.”

Tara looked up to meet her sister’s eyes. “I know,” she whispered, glancing back at you.

Her own sister, who barely tolerated you, had noticed your pain before she did. Tara truly was the worst girlfriend in the world. She would need to do more than just apologize, a simple apology wouldn’t cut it, she needed to grovel and beg for your forgiveness. She needed to stop focusing on trying to have a normal life, or what she deemed a normal life, and just be there for you. All the frat parties in the world didn’t mean a damn thing to her if she didn’t have you, she know she had been showing it, but she would rather spend every time coming home and just relaxing with you on the couch than go to another party ever again.

Tara’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud ringing. She jumped until she noticed Sam pulling her phone out of her pocket. She furrowed her brow as she watched Sam answer the phone, she didn’t know what time it was, but it was way too late for someone to be calling.

“What?” Sam asked into the phone. “Slow down, slow down.” Sam stood up and crossed the room again to grab the remote off the coffee table.

“What’s going on?” you mumbled, your voice still filled with sleep. Tara frowned, whoever was on the phone had better be important if it made them wake you up.

“Who is it?” Tara asked as she came to stand next to Sam.

Sam didn’t answer either of their questions though, she just hit the button to turn on the TV. Tara furrowed her brow and watched as Sam flipped through the channels until finally settling on one with the news. Tara opened her mouth to ask what this was all about when she saw a picture of two of the guys from her film class on the screen, then a picture of her professor.

“… Authorities are still investigating the murders,” the news reporter said. You stood up from the couch and made your way next to Tara, as if you could also sense that none of you were going to like the next words to leave the reporter’s mouth. “But an inside source is telling us this just may be the work of Ghostface.”

Tara sucked in a breath, everything suddenly sounded muffled as Sam dropped the remote. Tara tried to focus on her breathing, she couldn’t risk having an asthma attack now. She looked over at you to see your eyes glued to the TV. Your eyes left the TV and seemed to instantly find Tara’s; she opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what she was even supposed to say. It didn’t seem she had to say anything though as she felt your hand slip into her own. It seemed as though you forgot your fight from earlier because you instantly pulled Tara into your side, and she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around you. Tara didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t think she could deal with this again, she almost lost you the first time, she wouldn’t be able to survive anything happening to you again.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

[shorthaltsjester]

there is something so, so devastating to me about imogen having spent the past weeks utilizing how much like her mother she appears to be as a way for the hells to gain intel and slip past different situations but how significantly her like . relvin vibes have increased in the past couple episodes. and of course we only have the one interaction with him but the temult dynamic is one of the ones that spins my brain around in knots. there is something very juicy to me about an imogen who can’t escape her mother’s fate because she looks like her spitting image and has her same powers and who can’t escape her father’s fate because she’s also powerless watching the woman she loves disappear.

like relvin in that visit is of course walled off and he’s decades down the road of having seen the woman he loves disappear into the unknown of her powers and what we got of his response to liliana and the idea of helping imogen save her wasn’t unlike imogen’s recent response to laudna. his comment that he always figured that liliana would realize gelvaan wasn’t the place for her, he just also hoped they’d go together when she left is like the domestic small town mirror of imogen’s illogical but real griefguilt about leaving laudna alone by fighting against predathos. i mean relvin specifically brings up that he doesn’t know if liliana was lying to him the whole time about her powers or if she didn’t know either, “it’s a lot to take in at once. you think you know someone, there’s a whole part of their life that they just been keeping secret from you. i was angry. i’m still angry. but you know, a little part of me wants to believe she was just doing it to protect you.“ a sentiment echoed by imogen’s responses to laudna the past few episodes.

and at the end of that gelvaan visit, relvin speaking up enough to tell imogen to “tell her…” but not having anything to say. because liliana made her choice and he knows his words didn’t mean anything before. imogen just watching as laudna shoves a dagger into her own chest, imogen telling her “i’ll always love you, laudna. i just don’t know what to do with it.”

god, in general, imogen who grew up knowing that love isn’t enough. that love is important and it’s a lot, but not enough. relvin and imogen standing with a chasm of grief and a silver locket between them and “i never want you to be afraid of me, daddy” “me neither.” and laudna’s “i don’t like people being mad at me.” and imogen’s “i know.”

because imogen is her father’s daughter. like absolutely with anger at him and complexity in that relationship but silly little cowboy jokes aside, the values imogen expresses are ones that — when not ones born of her experiences with her powers — seem very much contextualized by her upbringing. i mean the ideal life that she dreamt of and dismissed with laudna someday when the apocalypse is over is a small cottage with some horses. relvin lives in a farmhouse furnished for one.

i’ve talked before about how For Me the most fruitful lens for viewing imogen’s story is one of generational trauma, and i think the reasons for that re: liliana are obvious. but i also think that being raised by someone who isn’t privy to the intricacies of whatever haunts their spouse enough that it’s been passed down is another sort of fucked up legacy and i am truly delighted/sorrowed by how messily and interestingly imogen sits at the intersection of these dual temult legacies; one of leaving and one of being left.