#jeopardize

[drgnflyteabox]

daddy cool ⋆˙⟡

john price x fem!reader summary: “I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.” ↪or the one in which hairy muscle daddy john price asks you to show him your skills disco style tags/warnings: 70s clubbing, body hair is a central theme, scent kink, daddy kink, deepthroating, rough oral (m), cigars, some alcohol, manipulation if you squint,vaginal fingering + sex, a bit of exhibition kink but not really at all (one line), 'little' not used as a size indicator, dom/sub, oral (f), tiny gape mention

“I think he’s interested in you,” Debbie whisper-screams in your ear. It’s hard to hear her over the boom of the drums, over the four on the floor beat and soaring voices. 

“Really?”

“Girl,” she laughs, incredulous. You look over your shoulder and sure enough he’s fixing you with a stare hot enough to burn through steel.

He’s flanked by two others, but you hardly notice them. You’re staring right into the deep V of his open shirt, at the fur peeking out of it, at the pink of his tongue as it swipes his bottom lip under his mustache. Sinful.

The booth he’s sitting in is draped with orange translucent curtains, creating some illusion of privacy. No overhead lights, either, just a soft cave and dark burgundy leather. Perfect for a bear like him.

“Should I go over there?” you whisper-scream back, curling closer to Debbie, “he’s a bonafide stud.”

She laughs, throwing her long hair over her shoulder, “yeah he is, and he’s looking at you, girl.”

You peek again. He’s smiling this time, like someone who knew you’d look twice. Beyond his shirt, his pants are so goddamn tight you can see almost everything. Christ, who let him out of the house looking like that?

“I’m gonna go over,” you say before you can stop yourself.

A saxophone disco beat booms through the club, thrumming right through you down to your toes, which you move to dance your way to him. Debbie laughs behind you, disappearing into the crowd.

Your hips go side to side, your teeth bite your bottom lip, and you fix him with what you hope is a clear message; you’re hot.

He stays exactly where he is. There’s a smugness about him now, the same smugness you saw when you looked twice.

You can’t really blame him for it. Someone that looks like that is bound to expect attention, desire.

God, he’s just your type. A quiet kind of arrogance, one arm slung over the back of the booth as he lifts a cigar up to his mouth and puffs. Lazily, like a big lion that knows he doesn’t have to hunt to get his food.

“Hello, love,” he says slowly when you get close enough. You’re still bouncing to the music, but you lean forward to hear him better.

“Interested in me, are you?” you’re going for a coy, simpering kind of approach. Something about him makes you want to lay it on thick, want to seduce. To preen a little.

His knuckles are dark in the lighting, hairy and tough like he works with his hands, which you catch as he pats the booth beside him. 

You hadn’t even noticed his companions leaving.

“Saw you dancing,” he lifts a glass from the table, dark liquid, his mustache getting wet, “thought you might be interested, too.”

“You thought right,” you slide in beside him, the leather seat cool even through your tight bootcut pants. You tilt your knees towards him, lifting an elbow to match his on the back of the booth.

Reds, yellows, oranges dance on his skin. The occasional sparkle of the disco ball peeks through, but mostly it filters through the orange booth curtains and spreads into an archipelago of little bright spots. This lighting agrees with him, accentuates the best parts, makes them look darker and more defined. You’d feel like a pervert looking down his shirt if he wasn’t also doing the same to you.

“Name’s John, love,” and when you tell him yours he says, “that’s fitting.”

“So, what do you do?” boring, typical– but it’s all you’ve got. You’re surprised you can get words out at all with the drool pooling in your mouth. This close, you can see how his shirt strains where his shoulders move. A little too small, but it’s probably on purpose.

Should be illegal, honestly.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s the kind of guy whose entire face changes when he smiles, who looks disarmingly more approachable that way.

“I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.”

“Talent?” you cross one leg over the other, trilling internally with satisfaction when you see his eyes fall to your thighs.

You know you aren’t being subtle in the least– and you aren’t trying to be. But you won’t say anything outright, not yet, not while the anticipation feels this tasty.

The booth isn’t private, but it is insulated. The music is loud, but not too loud, just enough that it thrums through you, that you can hear him. Anita Ward croons in your ear, encouraging you. He can ring your bell, that’s for sure.

“That’s right,” he puffs again. The smell makes you lightheaded.

“Moviestars, you mean?” you roll your ankle around, watching him watch you, wondering if he likes the polish colour you picked. 

You like that he’s visibly affected; licking his lips, that meaty hand climbing higher up his thigh.

“Something like that, love,” he smiles again, leans back in the booth and launches a counter attack to your leggy flirtations – he spreads those legs, feet pointed out, hunched just so that his belly starts poking out of those sinfully tight pants.

Motherfucker.

Looking back up at him, his eyes are crinkled at you, head tilted forward. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Which movies have you produced?” you lean your head on your hand, looking at him through your lashes, “anything I’ve seen?”

“I hope so,” he hums. His eyes flit down to your feet again, up to your midriff, then back to your eyes– it’s hot, but it’s also not just a flirtation. He’s assessing, “have you seen Swan Lady? The Nun and the Two Vikings?”

You frown, “no, I haven’t heard of either.”

“How about Call of Duty: Servicing the Captain?”

Ah, it clicks. Your eyebrows go up, into your hairline, “you make pornos?”

“Aye, smart girl,” he gruffs.

Pornos, huh. You could laugh– he looks the part. A little sleazy, unabashed. Masculine not to the point of parody but it’s close. The ‘stache is in style, but in combination with everything else is just the cherry on top.

You only have one question, “you don’t star in any?”

“I prefer working behind the scenes,” something about the way he says behind feels filthy.

John tells all. He does scout, finds girls who want to have a good time (like you), and gently (or so he says) nudges them in front of the camera. I can always sniff ‘em out, he says. The ones that’ll do well on film, that have star quality.

“How can you tell?” you ask, lips pulling on your straw. John has ordered you a tequila sunrise.

You can’t help but trace the skin of his neck with your eyes, roving at the bob of his Adam's apple as he explains. Girls who can take the gloves off, so to speak. Says he can tell by the way they move, how free they are with their bodies.

A little dubious, but it’s honestly doing it for you. You wonder what he saw when you danced up to him, if the sway of your body was free, liberated.

Doesn’t take long at all for him to invite you out either way. John puts his hand on your knee and squeezes, gets real close, gruffs that his place is nearby.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” and of course the only answer is yes, please.

Boney M. soars around you as you follow him out, your hand holding his, your fingers stroking the hairs on his knuckles. 

She’s crazy for her daddy!

On the drive over, he keeps that big paw on your thigh, squeezing almost subconsciously. Just the flex of his fingers.

You widen your knees, hoping for that rough palm to slide upwards, glancing at John as he drives one-handed. Not your first rodeo going home with a man from the disco, but it sure is the first time you’ve felt so keyed up about it.

He’s huge, takes up an absurd amount of room in the car, knee knocking into yours. He even drives sexy, so sure and in control.

“You think I could be in one of your movies?” you say, impish, looking to provoke.

John glances at you for just a second too long, too intense. You can tell he’s picturing you in front of the cameras.

“That what you want?”

“Just picturing it,” you simper, shifting your knee to deliberately touch him again. His fingers flex against your thigh again, jaw moving.

The air is warm, breezy, lights passing by like twinkling firebugs. You roll your window down, smiling at the feeling.

“Oh you're picturing it, are you? Is that making you wet, sweetheart?”

Fuck. It certainly is now.

“Only if you can be my co-star.”

“Is that right?” he laughs, low and deep. His hand climbs higher, “‘fraid I’m just the recruiter, but I’ll have to do a quality test.”

“Quality test?”

“Mm,” he hums, “need to make sure you’re ready for the camera, don’t I? You think you’ve got star quality, then prove it.”

Your panties are sticky.

“I can do that,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Can you prove you can show off your star quality for me, sweetheart?” his fingers slide, achingly slow, to the gusset of your pants, “that you can look into that camera and show the world you’re a good girl?”

They press against you, right up against your clit through the fabric. You fight to stay still, to not come across like you’re desperate, but god it’s hard. You ache.

“Mhm,” you breathe, subtly tilting your hips forward as he idly pets your pussy.

“Not an answer,” he says firmly. Butterflies dance in your stomach, the air slowly being siphoned out, leaving you hot and bothered. John is barely affected, it seems, driving still, gliding through the night.

“Sorry,” you swallow, “I can do that, daddy.”

“Much better.”

“Still want to prove it to me, love?” he moves to a glass cabinet, pulling out a little box. It opens with a click, revealing a neat row of thick cigars.

“Yes,” you stand in the middle of his living room, appreciating the atmosphere he’s made; low lighting, oranges, reds everywhere. Brown leather and the heady smell of cigar smoke, of leather polish and an incense-y kind of musk.

He walks back towards you, brand new cigar between his fingers, steps heavy on the carpet. You’re made aware of the height difference when he stands right in front of you, looking down not unkindly.

Your skin prickles at his gaze, the same one from the club; that assessment. Like he’s measuring you, testing you, scanning you.

John leans forward, breath puffing lightly across your face. He smells like his house does, only there’s a bit of whiskey mixed in.

You can’t help but squirm just a little, thighs rubbing together, both to relieve the pulsing ache of your pussy and that it’s impossible to stay composed under that gaze.

“Drop down,” he says finally, “to your knees, sweetheart.”

From your knees, you get a good fucking look at those tight pants– at the bulge in them. The hair on his chest sticks out a little, too, peeking at you from above. Hot. So hot.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, daddy,” you bite your lip again.

“Keep those hands down, alright?” he leans to the side and picks up a cigar lighter, watching you as he lights up.

John stands over you, new cigar lit, plumes of smoke drifting from his fingers. His expression is neutral, though he hums in a pleased way as he strokes the softness of your cheek.

“Take me out,” he commands.

You lean forward with your mouth, unable to resist giving him a good long sniff before you pull at his zipper with your teeth. He smells good, musky and strong, a little cologne there but mostly it’s natural.

When your teeth gently take his briefs, pulling, he cups the back of your head with a big hand and strokes your hair.

“Are you going to take it all, sweetheart? Right down your throat?”

You let his cock flop out of his underwear, heavy. The bush surrounding it makes your mouth water. It looks so good, long and a little curved, bouncing as if it’s teasing you.

You nod finally, hands squeezed into fists in your lap just the way he asked, “yes, daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Are you going to give daddy’s cock a little kiss first?”

You lean forward, lips pursed, planting a little kiss on the mushroom head of his cock. Though you ache to lick your lips, to taste him, you wait.

“That’s a good little girl,” he murmurs, “open your mouth.”

You do, holding your tongue out.

He grips the base, holding his cock up, tapping your tongue with the head. You almost whine, before he grips your head firmer and holds you still so he can slide the entire length of that monster right to the back of your throat.

Your nose hits his pubic bone, buried in the coarse hairs there, overwhelmed, hands balling into fists.

“That’s right,” he grunts, “hold it right there, sweetheart, show me you’ve got what it takes.”

God, he’s all the way in, a perfect fit. You try to stay still, anchoring yourself to him, to his palm, to the possibility of hearing good girl.

You gag a little, coughing around him, tears burning at your eyes as drool plip plops onto your chest.

Finally, he pulls out, stroking your hair, “good girl, such a good girl. Ready?”

“Yes,” you garble around the heady of his cock, clit swollen and needy, hands pressing hard into your thighs, “please fuck my face, daddy.”

He does, his pistoning, fucking your mouth like it’s a cunt. His hand cradles the back of your head, pushing you, hips moving, grunting when he’s not taking the occasional puff of his cigar.

You throb in your panties, body scorching hot, gagging every so often around the thick meat of John’s cock. Drool falls in viscous strings, tears following, the world dropping away. 

Nothing else but the slide of his cock in and out of your mouth exists, matters.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he pants raggedly.

You have no idea how long he lasts, only that when he’s finished you're an absolute mess. Wet faced and panting.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his rough thumbs. You look up at him through your clumped lashes, mouth open, “did so well for me, hm?”

“Thank you, daddy,” your voice is a little gravelly, but not painful.

John pulls you up with a hand at your bicep, walking you down a hallway off his living room and towards an open door. 

It’s his bedroom– and it’s decorated exactly as you’d imagined it.

The bed is huge, kingsized with a radio inlay and a thick, padded headboard that extends all around the mattress in a kind of cradle. His sheets are silk, dark, and dark orange.

“Nice digs,” you laugh, “you sure you aren’t a pornstar?”

He laughs behind you, setting his lit cigar into the ashtray on the bedside table. He slowly strips out of his clothes, getting totally naked. Then he slides in, and leans back.

“Give me a show, sweetheart.”

You hum, swaying again. You aren’t a pro at this kind of stuff, but it’s fun regardless to pull your shirt up and over your head like you’re a dirty dancer.

“Like this, daddy?”

John hums.

You slowly slide your pants down, turning so he can watch your ass move, kicking them away. You hear the slick sounds of him jerking his cock as you do.

“Should I take my panties off?” you ask, thumbs slipping into the elastic.

“Yes, take them off,” he grunts, “turn around.”

You do, then slowly slip your panties off. He licks his bottom lip again, quick.

“Come here.”

You slide onto the bed, on your knees, then crawl forward until you’re beside him, where he pushes you to lay on your side.

His heavy palm finds the naked skin of your hip, squeezing, “still want to show me your star power, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you’re back in it, eyes half lidded. Your pussy is making a wet spot on your thighs, “I wanna show you.”

He pushes you to your back, slaps your thighs until you open your legs and hold them out. Then he pauses, hand at the junction of your thigh and hip, thumb inching towards your pussy.

“Look how wet you are, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You clench, tilting your hips up. Your clit throbs.

“Ah ah, get back down,” he tuts.

Your ass touches the bed again, hips forced down by sheer willpower. His thumb finally reaches you, pulling aside your pussylip to gaze at your wetness.

It gushes out of you, and you’re sure he can see the way your hole clenches.

“Desperate little cunt, isn't she?” he uses his other hand, two two fingers coming to pull the hood of your clit up and just watch as it jumps needily, “awe, poor thing.”

“Please, daddy,” you could cry, “please, touch me.”

“Touch where, love? Touch this needy little clit?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he abandons holding you open to bring his thumb to your exposed clit, rubbing in circles. You shout, a tremor immediately beginning. It’s too much and not enough at once, electric and icy-hot.

Then he slips those fingers inside you, slow and testing at first, but when he realizes just how wet and soft you are he curls them inside you deeply and oh, fuck, your eyes roll back into your head.

“That’s the spot, that’s it,” he grunts, shaking you, taking you apart.

John only fingers you long enough to let your wetness spill out of you, wetting your thighs, soaking his fingers– until you’re ready for his cock.

“You’re ready,” he lays the length of it against your pussy for a moment, letting your swollen lips hug his length, before he shifts back and nudges the head at your hole, “yeah, you’re ready for it.”

He stuffs you fucking full. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life, thankful for his diligent attention earlier or you might be really feeling the weight of him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nipples rubbing against his chest hair. It sparks pleasure from your tits right down your cunt, body aflame, hands scratching through the hair at his back.

It’s like fucking a bear, or a werewolf. He’s relentless, too, without mercy. Plows into you hard and long, thrusts measured, never faltering.

John fucks like a pornstar, there’s no doubt about it. He takes up so much space on top of you that without his arms holding him up you worry about being crushed– you crave it, too.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, lip curling, mustache going with it, “want to be on camera, do ya? Let me hear you.”

You let loose, mouth open in one long drawn out sound, interposed only by the gasps you let out each time he hits you deep.

You tilt your head back, bearing your throat, taking each heavy thrust and crying out with them, squeezing around him.

“I’m gonna give it all to you, sweetheart, fuck,” he snaps his hips faster now, “and you’re gonna take it all like a star.”

You nod desperately, feeling his pubes each time he thrusts to the hilt, wet with your juices. You’re so fucking close, one breath to your clit and you’d lose your mind.

He straightens, hands going to your hips, tightening, as he snaps one, two, three times and tenses–

His head snaps back, neck bulging with veins as he comes, teeth bared in a growl as he curses, “fuck, good girl, that’s right– good fucking pussy–”

Hot come shoots inside, heating you up further, making you whine with frustration and satisfaction both.

When the taut line of his body relaxes and he pulls out, a flood of come following him, he slides to his stomach and spreads you open with his thumbs.

“Let daddy make it up to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs to your pussy, “he’s not usually so selfish.”

John looks down first. Your pussy is swollen, well-fucked, and you can feel a slight gape.

“Poor little pussy,” he murmurs, then seals his mouth over your clit until you fall apart.

“You sure you aren’t a pornstar?” your cheek is pressed to his chest, basking in the furriness, arm and leg thrown over his body.

He laughs, “I’m sure, sweetheart. But I will say–” he pauses to lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth, mustache still damp, “you’ve definitely got star quality.”

[manav-007]

Five astrological factors that are believed to potentially jeopardize a romantic relationship, according to their zodiac signs

According to Astrology, here are five astrological factors often considered in astrology that could potentially pose challenges in a romantic relationship based on the zodiac signs involved:

Opposite Signs (Aries-Libra, Taurus-Scorpio, Gemini-Sagittarius, etc.): Opposite signs are known for their contrasting qualities. While they can attract each other initially due to their differences, these differences can also lead to conflicts if not managed well. For example, Aries may be impulsive and direct, while Libra values balance and diplomacy, potentially causing clashes in communication.

Square Aspects (e.g., Aries-Cancer, Taurus-Leo, Gemini-Virgo, etc.): Square aspects occur when signs are 90 degrees apart in the zodiac wheel, leading to tension and challenges. For instance, Taurus, an earth sign, may find it challenging to understand the fiery and outgoing nature of Leo, potentially causing friction.

Opposing Elements (Fire-Water, Earth-Air): Signs with opposing elements may struggle to find common ground. Fire signs (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) are often passionate and impulsive, while water signs (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) tend to be emotional and sensitive. These differences in emotional expression can be a source of conflict.

Incompatible Modalities (Cardinal-Fixed-Mutable): Zodiac signs are categorized into three modalities, and incompatible modalities can lead to issues. For example, a cardinal sign (Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) may find it frustrating if they are in a relationship with a fixed sign (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius) due to differences in decision-making and adaptability.

Mismatched Elements in Key Positions: In a birth chart, the sun sign is just one element. Mismatched elements in key positions, such as the moon sign (emotions) or rising sign (outer personality), can also create challenges. For instance, if a water sign sun has an air sign moon, they may struggle to balance their emotional needs with their intellectual tendencies.

Jyotishay revolutionizes the field of astrology by offering a user-friendly app and web interface that provides personalized astrological insights. Rooted in the time-honored tradition of Vedic astrology, the platform allows users to generate detailed horoscopes and birth charts, tailored to their unique birth data. With features ranging from daily horoscopes to in-depth career and relationship analyses, Jyotishay empowers individuals to gain a deeper understanding of their lives and make informed decisions. It also fosters a sense of community by connecting users with experienced astrologers, creating a dynamic space for learning and exploration. Jyotishay seamlessly combines ancient wisdom with modern technology, making astrology accessible and insightful for all.

[faultfalha]

At a recent GOP debate, Vivek Ramaswamy had a major gaffe. This could be a big problem for the party now. Ramaswamy is a rising star in the GOP, and his stumble could jeopardize his chances of becoming a major player in the party.

[dailynewskit]

Politics of 'moneycracy' will jeopardize Ghana's democracy

The former Speaker of Parliament, Professor Aaron Mike Oquaye, has shed light on the dangers of the politics of ‘moneycracy’ and its detrimental impact on Ghana’s democracy and pervasive corruption. Delivering a lecture during the 2nd R. S. Blay Memorial lectures, under the theme “Consolidating Democracy and the Rule of Law in Contemporary Ghana: If Justice R.S. Blay were with us using the Law as…

[its-ate-oclock-somewhere]

[hplonesomeart]

@eliscz Uh UH I caved in and started drawing fanart of them

I know the Behind the Broadcast AU is mostly for spin-off indulgent sillies, but you have a real strong grasp on how to adapt Puzzles character attributes + modifying the designs to better reflect the story you established (seriously the coat does wonders. Puzzle glowup fr). A lot of impressive creativity that’s packed into it! Character banter is one of my favorite things in any form of storytelling. I continually root for them as the best romantic pairing ever, thank you for the daily serotonin boost

[hannermoment69]

The hate and disdain I have for Mayor Lewis of Pelican Town is BLINDING. HE IS SUCH A SLIMEBALL. "Yeah, let me just leave the entire town's broken infrastructure and pollution to the farmer who JUST MOVED IN A WEEK AGO". He literally goes around every single damn week collecting "tax money" from all of the local business. WHERE EXACTLY IS THAT TAX MONEY GOING? NOT BACK TO THE COMMUNITY! The kids don't even have a school, the town is so lucky they have Penny willing to teach both Vincent and Jas basic reading and writing skills. Not only that but he could use that money on fixing up the old community center, but yknow what he does instead? HE BUILDS A FUCKING GOLDEN STATUE OF HIMSELF IN HIS OWN BACKYARD WITH THE TOWNS TAXPAYER DOLLARS. And then has the sheer utter AUDACITY to not only make me retrieve his crusty ass undies from his flings bedroom BUT ALSO TELLS ME TO MAKE HIM LUBE?! AND DOESN'T EVEN SAY PLEASE. HE IS SUCH A DEGENERATE BRO I WISH HE WOULD GET BOOTED OUT OF TOWN ONCE YOU COMPLETE THE COMMUNITY CENTER. There is genuinely nobody more cowardly and disgustingly selfish in all of Stardew Valley than Lewis, aside from MAYBE Morris, but I don't fucking see Morris with a golden statue of himself in the middle of Joja Mart. Anyways rant over also maybe Pelican Town needs it's own Luigi Mangione to take out Mayor Lewis and Joja Co.

[marzipanandminutiae]

can "activists" please stop trying to fuck with the empty frames at the Gardner museum. this is the second time the museum has had to close early to keep that from happening

like. first of all, the art museum climate protests that have happened so far piss me off despite the fact that I agree with their overall goals, because the messages in interviews all boil down to "how DARE you VALUE ART when BAD THINGS ARE HAPPENING, ordinary museum-goer?!" but at least they've taken pains to not actually damage anything important (throwing soup on modern, sealed cases or glass barriers instead of the art itself, etc.)

the frames at the Gardner? are art in their own right. they are mostly very old and made by often-unacknowledged craftsmen who were incredibly talented. they're not the same as a modern barrier. AND they're there as a reminder of a time when some jerks stole art from the public so rich assholes could wall it up in private collections so only they got to enjoy it

like go puncture a CEO's tires or something that actually reaches the people responsible for this mess instead of ordinary humans (who probably already agree with you!) just trying to do the very Human Thing of appreciating art

EDIT: I double-checked, and last time their Thing was "why are people still talking about the Gardner heist, but NOBODY is talking about biodiversity loss?!?!?!"

which is just.

they are? just not usually in the same breath as an unsolved art theft case?

[frankiebirds]

I love this scene a lot and it lives in my head rent-free. I can't really think of another way to interpret it other than that this is elle telling reid that the reason he can't get a date isn't because of something wrong with him that he needs to change but simply because he doesn't ask people out (or, more broadly, lacks confidence).

I have seen some spencelle shippers read this as elle saying "hey. ask me out" but i disagree, not because i don't ship spencelle (i sort of do, elaboration in the notes) but for the following reasons:

I think elle would have realised very early on that if she was going to wait for reid to ask her out, she would be waiting years

i don't think she gives enough of a fuck about gender roles to wait for The Man to ask her out

she generally seems confident

i lean more towards her being very new to the BAU in the early episodes. I don't recall right now if there's an official anti-fraternization policy or if that's a fanfiction trope, but even if there isn't, entering a relationship with a coworker that early on is an easy way to mess up her career.

i think she was waiting until she was more established to start anything, but then, well, everything happened, and she left before becoming established enough to feel comfortable taking a risk like that

[searchforahero]

roydicktim is so fun to me...

dick bringing tim to meet the teen titans and tim has such an obvious crush on roy, just in a constant state of being beet-red when roy talks to (or even looks at) him, asking him all sorts of questions about archery and convincing roy to "teach" him (despite definitely already knowing how to shoot).

dick is not impressed, obviously. wants roy to stay the hell away from tim, even though roy has no intention of pursuing tim in any way, but dick can't find it in himself to listen to reason because whenever he thinks of tim and roy all he can do is remember the image of roy leaning over tim's shoulder and positioning his hands on the bow while tim stood there awkward and flustered to hell.

fast forward years and years to bftc/brucequest and tim has hardly seen roy since he was younger, just every once in a while because of hero work, and he's not the type to go tripping over his feet because a cute boy looked at him anymore.

but he can still remember how mad dick got back then, and maybe he's mostly just sad now, when he thinks of dick, thinks of how they fought each other, how dick wouldn't trust him. but there's anger there too, deep and bitter betrayal, and it rears it's ugly head every once in a while, overpowering the loneliness and the sadness and everything else.

and he runs into roy by complete happenstance, and roy is still hot, and he's grown into his looks even more now than when dick used to bring him to visit titans tower, so really, he can tell himself it isn't about dick, he'd want to sleep with roy either way.

the next morning, he sends dick a selfie, smiling lazily at the camera with his hair splayed out on his pillow, roy's tattoos arm visible where it's slung over tim's chest, orange hair too-long and covering his sleeping face. captions it "look who i found :)" and promptly turns his phone off.

[manav-007]

Five astrological factors that are believed to potentially jeopardize a romantic relationship, according to astrological teachings

Astrology offers various factors and aspects that are believed to influence romantic relationships. While astrology is a belief system and not scientifically proven, some astrologers suggest that certain astrological factors can potentially affect the compatibility or dynamics of a romantic relationship. Here are five of these factors:

Sun Sign Compatibility: The Sun sign is one of the most well-known aspects of astrology. Astrologers believe that the compatibility of two individuals' Sun signs can play a significant role in a relationship. Some signs are thought to be more compatible with each other, while others may clash. For example, water signs (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) are often considered compatible with other water signs and earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn).

Moon Sign Compatibility: The Moon sign represents emotions and inner feelings. Astrologers suggest that the Moon sign of each person in a relationship can influence their emotional compatibility. People with compatible Moon signs may understand and connect with each other on a deeper emotional level.

Venus and Mars Signs: Venus represents love and attraction, while Mars represents passion and desire. The compatibility of Venus and Mars signs in a relationship can indicate how well romantic and sexual energies align. For example, a person with Venus in Aries (impulsive love) might clash with someone with Venus in Taurus (slow and steady love).

Aspects between Planets: In astrology, aspects are angles formed between planets in a birth chart. Conjunctions, sextiles, squares, trines, and oppositions are examples of aspects. Challenging aspects (like squares and oppositions) between important planets in two people's charts can indicate potential conflicts or tension in a relationship, while harmonious aspects (like trines) suggest ease and compatibility.

House Overlays: House overlays occur when one person's planet falls into another person's astrological house. The houses represent different areas of life, such as love, career, family, and home. The overlay of one person's planet in another person's house can suggest where their energies are focused in the relationship and how they interact in those areas.

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[doloneia]

much like odysseus i too am on an unexpected, long, and winding journey (digging through tangentially related articles to my research projects), fraught with peril borne of my own ὕβρις (procrastinated until the week before my presentation), and yearning to return home to my wife (teucer) and son (telemachus)

[andy-888]

Do you think Kim saw Jean show up in Martinaise on the third day and took him aside and threaten him to take off his wig in front of Cuno if he dares to jeopardize his chances with the amnesic communist bear

Viquemere: yk if he is too much we can-

Kim: Listen. He thinks im cool. He sang me a song. We played board games. Don't. ruin. this. for. me.

[makorragal-312]

If anyone needs me, I'm gonna be heading to California so that I can stomp out Moira's ass and get the cure to save our firefam.

If you happen to see me covered in blood and/or carrying a very heavy and cold duffel bag, NO YOU DIDN'T.

[peregrine5]

Cub just lurking in the background lmao

[dimorphodon-x]

Jeopardous, a once small but aggressive elf owl, has somehow taken on a much larger and more bizarre appearance. Some of his new features almost appear bug-like.