#just do that you have to roll for it lmao

[strnilolover]

chris loves having something in his mouth

warnings : sub!chris. masturbation (m). oral fixation. mommy kink. dom!reader. pet names (baby, good boy, sweetheart).

chris’ body is sprawled out beneath you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks up at you with his wide eyes. his lips parted as loud whines slip past them. your hand moving rapidly between your bodies, up and down his leaking cock.

your hand draws up, squeezing the tip before moving back down, chris’ back arching as a loud gasp echos in the room. his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, as he sucks it into his mouth.

“mm, what’s wrong sweetheart?” you cooed, bringing your free hand up to brush through his tousled hair—small strands clinging to his sweaty skin. he quickly releases his lip, mouth opening in an ‘o’ as you squeeze his length harder. “n-nothing.” he murmurs, though his eyes betray him.

they flicker toward your hand, watching the way your fingers are delicately wrapped around him, move up and down on his cock. you smirked, withdrawing your free hand from his hair, dragging it down the side of his head. “oh, i see.” you teased. “d’you want mommy’s fingers baby?”

he whined, cheeks flushing as he nods his head slightly—his tongue darting out to wet his lips. without hesitation, you bring your hand to the side of his face, brushing your fingers lightly across his cheek before slipping two fingers past his lips. a satisfied sigh leaves him, his mouth closing around them instinctively.

“yeah..s’right, just needed mommy’s fingers to keep you occupied hm?” his tongue swirled around your slim fingers, nodding his head as his hips bucked into your fist. “good boy, doin’ s’well for me.”

his eyes flutter shut as he suckles on your fingers. your hand moves faster, watching as his hips continue to wildly thrust up to meet your movements. his lips break from around your fingers, moaning as his cock twitched in your hold. “mmph—mommy..p-please. m’gonna cum.” his words were muffled, but he sounded so pretty.

“yeah?” you murmur, brushing a kiss against his temple. “you’re doing so well for me, baby. c’mon, cum on my hand—know you can.”

his eyes roll back, sucking your digits further into his mouth as his cock pulsed, long thick spurts splaying all over your hand and his abdomen. his body jerked as you kept pumping, riding his through his high before he eventually started to push your hand away.

pulling away, you slip your fingers from his mouth, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his swollen lips.

“did s’good, such a good boy.” you whispered, before pulling away and climbing off the bed—quickly going to retrieve a washcloth to clean him up.

a/n : i’ve been loving sub things so much. me and my gc have came up with so many ideas LMAO

[mariasont]

I love your fics so much! Could you maybe make a pre-relationship fic of Spencer x reader Spencer rescues the reader from the unsub and calms them down?? I'm a big hurt/comfort girly lmao 🫶🏼😛

Pulse Point - S.R

a/n: thank you so much!!!! so sorry for taking so long! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: undescribed injury, lil bit of angst with a happy ish ending, pre-relationship ending

wc: 1.6k

Spencer had seen you in danger before. It came with the job—a stipulation of the unwritten contract you signed the day you joined the team. His mind had been conditioned to assess danger rationally, stripping away emotion to leave behind only what mattered: probabilities, outcomes, strategies. 

But then again seeing you, tied to that chair, unconscious and face drained of color, was something he wasn't sure any amount of mathematical modeling could prepare him for.

Your head had hung at an unnatural angle, the strands of hair clinging to the sweat slicking your skin in a way that sent a visceral wave of nausea rolling through him. Rope burns—thin, angry welts were already bruising—encircled your wrists. He couldn't breathe—his chest seized, ribs locking tight, as though his body itself couldn't handle the image of you in that state. The unsub's voice had faded into white noise, irrelevant against the single, all-encompassing command that had pounded in his head—get to you, get you out of here.

Now, sitting on the cold concrete of the clearing zone with you cradled against his chest, Spencer's mind spiraled in a loop—that singular thought repeating, relentless, fractal, like a Fibonacci sequence winding tighter and tighter around his sanity. The unsub was subdued—Morgan had handled it efficiently—but Spencer couldn't bring himself to focus on that, let alone process it. The edges of his awareness narrowed, his entire world reduced to you. Limp. Unresponsive. Alarmingly still. It made his heart pound so violently it felt like it might break him from the inside out.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, a trembling he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. One arm braced under your knees, the other pressed against the curve of your back. He adjusted his grip carefully, terrified of moving you the wrong way, terrified of doing anything that might make things worse. His eyes flicked to your chest, tracking the uneven rise and fall of your breathing. Too shallow. Too inconsistent. But there.

Twelve to twenty breaths per minute—that's the normal respiratory rate for an adult at rest, he recited, mind retreating to the relative safety of cold, clinical facts. Yours, he estimated, was faster—high twenties, maybe—an expected adrenaline response to trauma. It was within the acceptable range. It should have reassured him. As long as it didn't drop below eight or spike above thirty, there was no immediate cause for intervention. The logic was sound. The science was sound. But that did absolutely nothing to stem the gnawing unease twisting through him.

Then you started to stir.

It was subtle at first, so subtle he almost thought he imagined it—a small, almost imperceptible sound slipping past your lips, the softest shift of you head against his shoulder—but it sent a jolt through him nonetheless.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, the muscles in your face tightening with confusion as consciousness gradually took hold. Relief bloomed, but it died just as quickly. Recognition didn't follow. Instead, your expression twisted, your features contorting with something feral, something deeply afraid. Your breathing grew erratic, breaking into rapid, shallow bursts that rattled your frame.

And then you started thrashing.

"No, no—get off me!" Your voice cracked, raw with fear.

He tightened his arms just enough to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, hey—stop! It's me—it's Spencer!"

You didn't react to his voice. It was as if you couldn't even hear him. Your body twisted violently, fighting something unseen, nails scraping at his vest, frantic and clawing, desperate to escape.

Spencer swallowed thickly, forcing himself to focus on what he knew. This was textbook trauma response. Cortisol and adrenaline were flooding your system, hijacking your prefrontal cortex, reducing your mind to survival instincts alone. It all made perfect sense—he could explain it in detail, rationalize it. But none of the logic in the world could prepare him for what it felt like to hold you like this and not be able to fix it.

"Look at me. It's Spencer. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe."

The words didn't seem to do much, falling flat and useless. Spencer felt a crushing helplessness as he watched, paralyzed while panic consumed you in a way he couldn't stop. His mind scrambled, clawing through years of knowledge, training, and case studies, all of which felt painfully inadequate now. It was one thing to understand trauma as a concept, to study it in a clinical detachment. It was another to watch it consume someone you cared about, to feel it in the way your body shook.

But then—finally—something shifted.

You froze. Not the rigid, terror-fueled panic from before, but something different. Tentative. Uncertain. Your breathing stuttered, still too fast, but the wildness in your eyes began to ebb like clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. You blinked, once, twice, and then your gaze locked onto his face, really seeing him this time.

"Spence..." Your voice was hardly above a whisper, like a fragile filament of sound, barely there but enough for his chest to ache all the same.

Relief washed over him so fast it left him lightheaded. 

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly, nodding quickly as though the motion itself might convince you. "It's just me. You're okay."

Wide eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared back at him as though searching for something—anything—to hold on to. The air felt like it was holding its breath, waiting. And then he saw it—the exact second the realization hit that you were safe. The fear in your face melted, replaced by something fragile, something breaking open. Your lip quivered, your breath hitching, and then, without a word, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer froze.

He wasn't exactly new to your hugs. They didn't happen often—his aversion to touch usually kept that at bay—but when they did, they were always simple. After a particularly hard case or when the job felt overwhelming. But this? This was not that.

For a split second, his brain failed him entirely, unable to keep up with what he was seeing. He honed in on the small details—the way your hands clutched his shirt in tight, desperate fists, the way your trembling body seemed so much smaller than he ever remembered. He'd never seen you this way. The realization terrified him in ways he couldn't articulate.

But then that rare instinct of his took over.

With painstaking care, he wrapped his arms around you, like he was afraid you might break apart in his hands. One hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, softer than he thought himself capable of. The other stayed pressed firmly against your back, holding you to him, refusing to let go—because letting go felt unthinkable, impossible. He leaned into you, his cheek brushing against the top of your head, breathing you in. The familiar scent of your shampoo was still there, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something more metallic that made his fingers sink deeper into the hold.

"It's okay," he murmured, every word scraping against the tightness in his throat. "I've got you I'm not going anywhere."

He felt the sharp hitch of your breath against his chest, followed moments later by the damp heat of tears soaking into his shoulder. You were crying. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and his arms tightened around you instinctively. He wasn't sure who was shaking anymore—you or him. Maybe both.

He shifted his hand slightly on your back, his thumb brushing against your shoulder blade. But even as he tried to comfort you, his brain kept ticking like clockwork, unable to stop itself. Your pulse—it was still too fast. He could feel in beneath the pad of his fingers, pounding just under the surface of your skin.

The medics needed to get here soon.

His fingers moved without thinking, sliding to your neck, pressing lightly against the artery there. He told himself it was necessary, just a routine check to make sure nothing was wrong, but he knew better. It was selfish—a desperate need to feel the beat of your pulse under his fingertips, to remind himself you were here. Alive. That the worst was behind you.

It was fast, just as he'd predicted, but steady. Stable. A good sign.

Spencer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders sagging. 

"You're okay," he murmured softly, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

He closed his eyes.

Minutes passed by, though they both felt impossibly long and far too short. You stayed against him just like that, breathing slowly evening out until the jagged edges of panic dulled into exhaustion. He said nothing more—words felt unnecessary, maybe even counterproductive. So he just held you.

When the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears, Spencer didn't move. Not until the medics appeared in his peripheral vision, and even then, he hesitated, tightening his grip on you for just a fraction of a second before forcing himself to let go.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "The medics are here, okay? They're going to take care of you."

You nodded, but it was hesitant, your eyes swollen and puffy, and you clung to him just a little longer. Your hand wrapped around his sleeve like you were afraid to let go.

Spencer's eyes flicked to the medics, his voice low but insistent. "Be careful."

The medics nodded, stepping in to take over, and Spencer reluctantly released his hold. His arms felt empty, hollow, as they fell to his sides. Even as the medics worked, his gaze stayed glued to you, his eyes tracking every breath, every faint movement. He couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

It was then he realized a dangerous idea, that he cared about you more than he should, more than was professional. And it terrified him.

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[mocchii-writes]

can you do a dae ho fic, with him being super protective and defending the reader, but she shows her own strength (maybe even saving him) and he is so star struck and falls in love immediately

She's the Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene

Paring: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader Summary: Dae-ho felt the need to protect you, but didn't expect how starstruck he could be when you returned the favor. Words: 1k Warnings: death, guns, swearing, violence, normal squid game stuff lols A/n: I hope I didn't make this too Y/n lmao ♡ ~🍡🍡

It's definitely hard to trust people here, to say the least. You see it all, just about. The blood of hundreds stains your clothes, and the screams you’ll probably have in your nightmares feel like a fever dream. Your survival instinct can only get you so far, though, and you know it. You need to find a backup.

You expect some kind of weapon to fill the gap in your barrier. You could break a mirror in the bathrooms, maybe? It's an understatement to say the supplies are limited, and you just barely make it through the last game. You can tell you're a target. Maybe not a huge one, but everybody here has someone after them, and it's easy and difficult at the same time to be discreet here.

But it isn't a weapon you get for help--it's a man. He doesn't hesitate to help you out when you need it, and you know that he’s valuable in this setting. You call him Dae-ho. Probably because that's his name, but it still has some meaning to you. Hopefully to him, too. It feels right, rolling off of your tongue, but you digress.

He seems to care about you, at least compared to some of the heartless shells of people here. You've both found solace in each other, and he truly made you feel safe, even if you had only known each other for a few days. You talk to one another. He tells you about his life, his past. You tell him about your past, your life. It's a small feeling of comfort, at least to you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of lights out being announced by that cold voice that makes your skin shiver. You kick your legs, sitting on a bed as you look at Dae-ho across the room. He's discussing something with his little group. He'd previously invited you to join, but you said you'd rather keep your circle small. You swing your legs, looking at his face. It's very serious, but he's pretty far away. He says something, and then you feel his eyes on you. He nods briefly at someone else as he heads to you. Your face shows concern as his serious demeanor doesn't falter.

"You need to be near us tonight, preferably in our base." You think he's joking, but you don't laugh, just in case.

""Base"?" You ask, smiling. "Why?" He rolls his eyes a bit, but you can't say you blame him. "I can handle myself." He raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"I'm not going to argue with you about that, but I could." You squint at him but chuckle. "Mr. Seong says people are going to fight tonight. He has a plan to keep us safe, and he said you can join."

"I thought we were gonna place bets." You smile. "My money is on that greasy guy who hangs out with the purple-haired asshole." He doesn't look amused, so you sigh. "How do you know he's not trying to get you killed?" You ask, dropping your egotistic demeanor.

"All he does is try to help us. Please." He says, pleading with you to have some common sense. You knew you would eventually accept, but you didn't like the thought.

"I'll think about it, alright?" He sighs and smiles a little. He knows he should take what he can get, but he hates the thought of someone hurting you.

Dae-ho isn't sure why he's taken the responsibility to protect you, but he has. He thinks of you like a flower sometimes. He can't make you take care of yourself if you don't want to, but he knows he's going to protect you anyway because everybody deserves a chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were lost in your thoughts, breaking out when you hear the robotic voice again.

"Player 230, 401, 299, 331, and 268, eliminated."

What? How? Your eyes track the room and land on Dae-ho, who's staring at the guards, confused. You make eye contact briefly, before people emerge from the bathrooms.

They go on to accuse each other of attacking the opposing team, creating an edge in the room. You're not listening very closely, though. Maybe Dae-ho was on to something when he said you should hide tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update: He very much was right.

But you can't really think about that because there are far bigger issues at hand.

The lights are flickering so intensely you're afraid they might explode, and there's too much yelling and screaming to organize your thoughts. People are moving everywhere like scattering ants, and everything is a weapon for everyone. There's blood, a lot of it, all over the floor. You run, but it's like playing operation with corpses. You have scrapes from falling off your bed and defending yourself as you regret acting tough to Dae-ho.

Your ears are ringing, only because of a punch you just took. Everything is moving at the speed of light, and you don't have time to catch up. You kick back and stun the other person enough to run away. You feel a hand on your shoulder as you whip around, ready to fight.

To your brief luck, it's Dae-ho. He says something you can't hear and then pushes you behind him. You almost scoff if you weren't truly afraid for your life. He punches the person following you but quickly takes one himself. You try to move him, but he blocks your entrance again. You shout to him, telling him to let you help, but he probably can't hear you. You see someone holding a glass bottle sprinting to you, and your instinct finally kicks in. Literally.

You shift to the left and swiftly kick them, stunning them enough to drop their bottle as you punch them, their head ramming against a bed frame as they slide down, eyes closed. You force yourself to look away from the small pool of blood forming and push down the sick feeling in your stomach. You look for Dae-ho, to see him still fighting. He appears to be losing, though you can't hold it against him.

You don't hesitate to pull the guy off of him, grabbing his shirt from behind and throwing him down as best you could. He sits up, but you kick him hard in the face, knocking him out. You're better at this than you thought. You see another lady running to you, screaming. You quickly pick up the discarded glass bottle and shatter it against her skull. The lights turn on as guards rush in, appearing to stop the fighting.

You pant, wiping unknown blood from your face as you look to Dae-ho. You expect him to look horrified at least, but he's simply staring at you. You tilt your head at him.

"You... handled that." He says, grabbing your arm and bringing you to his "base".

"I said I could," you smirk, "You seem surprised."

"No, I'm impressed." He laughs dryly.

That stressful moment didn’t feel like it would ever end, but it did, and you found yourself still standing. Or at least, still breathing. Dae-ho was too, which was the only thing you cared about at the moment. You leaned against the wall, your body trembling from the adrenaline. He was sitting across from you, his eyes anywhere but you.

"You're full of surprises," he says, his body seemed to hint at something softer than what his voice did.

"You thought I wasn't?" you say, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"I never said that." He pauses, looking at his hands before looking at you. "I'm just happy you're okay."

His words linger in the air for a moment, and you’re unsure how to respond. You’d only met him a few days ago, but Dae-ho had become more than just an ally. He was someone you could trust in a place where trust was a gamble most people couldn’t afford to make.

"You didn't have to stick your neck out for me," you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavers slightly.

"I wanted to," he replies simply, as though the decision had been easy. He finally drags his eyes to look at you. "You make this mess... bearable."

You feel your cheeks flush despite the blood coating your skin. His honesty is unexpected, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Not anymore. You’d seen too much in such a short time to waste moments of purity.

"Dae-ho," you start, but his name on your tongue makes you falter. You take a breath and try again. "I don’t know how much longer either of us will make it here, but... you give me hope in this place, I guess."

His smile is small, but it reaches his eyes this time. He shifts closer, closing the space between you two. "Then we survive for each other. Okay?"

You nod, a warmth blooming in your chest that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside of this moment feels small. The chaos, the blood, the fear—all of it fades away. In its place is Dae-ho, his presence holding your soul in an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.

You're both specks of dust in a hurricane, and you both know it. But, for this moment, you know you'll have a place to rest in the heart of this chaos. You can't say you're in love, but as he gently rests his hand over yours, you can't say you couldn't be.

So, I kind of love this, lmk what you think ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

[ramp-it-up]

Worth the Fall

Summary: James Bucky Barnes WAS an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. Despite the fact you have questions about Bucky and your parents’ conversation at Thanksgiving, you’re hitting your groove as a couple, but there is no time for alone time.

Word count: 3.4 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This part of the story is getting everything caught up to a month ago, lmao. Thank you for continuing to rock with this story. And let me know if you like it (I hope you do!)

This fic is in the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after both You've Got Me Thinking and the Steve Rogers fic Peach III.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Initial angst, Steve and Peach, Bucky’s anxiety. No time for nookie! Flirting Intimations of sexting and phone sex. Praise kink, fluffy Bucky, horny Bucky, dom Bucky. F@cking versus making love, wall time, sex with clothes on, raw p in v, creampie, after care, intimations of oral (f receiving!) dirty talk, Bucky applies for a second job. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

————

You walked along the sand and inhaled the ocean air.

You were shaken to the core. 

Bucky Barnes had surely just taken your parents out to ask for your hand in marriage. But it was so soon, how could he be so sure?

Also, you were an independent woman. How dare he talk to your parents before he asked you to marry him!

He wasn’t your feudal lord.

You were scared witless and turned to the waves to try and calm down. 

“He loves the hell out of you, you know.”

Steve had fallen in beside you as you stared at the ocean. You looked up at him, trying to smile, but failing. To Steve you looked terrified.

“It’s just so….”

Steve smiled to himself, remembering that Bucky had purchased the ring weeks before, after just a few days of knowing you. But that wasn’t his story to tell.

“Just know that I’ve never seen him like this. And I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s never been so open, so determined with a woman before. You make him a better man. It’s truly amazing.”

Steve looked so earnest. Your cousin had done quite a number on him.

“You don’t have to be scared. You are ‘The One’ for him.”

This time you managed a smile and an arched eyebrow. You had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about his best friend.

Steve chuckled.

“Gah. Don’t look at me like that. You and Peach and that eyebrow.”

You laughed at that and grinned, more relaxed now.

Steve looked off into the waves himself.

“So fucking cute…”

He looked down and kicked a rock, a small smile on his face. You could tell he had it bad.

“Thanks for the pep talk Steve-o. And I get what you’re saying. I love Bucky Barnes with all my might, making every other relationship I’ve ever had seem… trivial.”

You glanced at Steve, who was nodding at your sentiment.

“I’m just spooked at the possibilities. I mean…this seems…like a lot.”

“I know. Bucky gets intense.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Understatement of the year. And you’re a lot like your friend.”

Steve looked at you, one eye closed from the sunlight in his eyes. He didn’t have any sunglasses and the sun highlighted his windswept hair and the planes of his handsome face. You were squinting at him and you could totally see why Peach let him touch her goodies. 

Steve was kinda hot.

You sighed.

“Listen. I’ll be alright. Bucky and I just need to chat.”

Steve smirked.

“Chat. Is that what the kids call it now?”

You laughed and swatted him on the arm as you continued walking again.

“Fuck you, Steve. But for real. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it. And I love you for it. I just wish my cousin could see this side of you.”

Steve scoffed.

“Fucked that up good, didn’t I?”

“Not gonna lie, she’s kinda blinded by rage right now. But don’t give up on her. She’ll come around.”

Steve looked at you skeptically and you shrugged.

“80– 75% chance she’ll come around.”

You both laughed.

“Just remember what I said yesterday. She’s a tough nut, but she has a huge heart behind that wall. She is determined about the success of that dance school and she is competitive as fuck. You know what to do.”

Steve grinned. 

“Yes ma’am, I do.”

—-

You and Steve re-entered the kitchen laughing, you holding on to his arm. 

Peach was at the table drinking coffee and dedicated to ignoring Steve.

“Thanks again for the pep talk Steve. I appreciate it.”

You gave him a long hug and when you separated, you saw Peach’s eyebrow cocked in what you could only imagine was the way Steve described. You stifled a giggle and leaned up on your tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“You better stop before Bucky comes back and chops me in the throat.”

Peach humphed, and you knew exactly what she was thinking.

You laughed at Steve as he headed toward the stairs, ignoring Peach right back.

“I’m gonna go get my running shoes. A turn down the beach will help me get some of this tension out.”

You watched Peach as she watched Steve roll his neck and stretch on his way out of the room, her coffee stalled in mid air. Her head was on a swivel as he walked out of the room, checking out his formidable ass. She sighed and then remembered that you were there.

You looked at her and she looked at you.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t say a word, cousin. Yet. But we will talk later. Any coffee left?”

—-

The week ended up smoother than when Bucky and Steve arrived, and before you and he and Steve left on the jet back to New York, Bucky surprised everyone with an invitation to Vermont for Christmas. 

Your heart did a funny little thing because why would he invite your entire family on an all expense holiday vacation from Christmas Eve to New Years unless he was going to…

You couldn’t dwell on what ifs, and you didn’t want to spook yourself. You just decided to appreciate the moment.

It was funny watching your cousin’s face and the corresponding look on Steve’s. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be stressful at all.

Perhaps there would be entertainment.

—---

Later, back in Brooklyn, there was a whirlwind of activity as the Rebirth Foundation geared up for the annual summit and gala. 

During the second week in December, Rebirth Endowment recipients (which included your cousin this year!) flew in, were oriented and toured around New York City. The two culminating events were the summit, held at NYU, where there was an art lecture series, a panel, and the gala. 

Steve usually participated in the summit by himself, with Sam or Natasha sometimes joining him on stage along with the city’s movers and shakers in the art scene.

But this year Bucky was participating.

He said he wanted to be more prominent in the Art community moving forward as a path toward legitimacy, and you knew that tangentially, that had something to do with you.

When you got back from Thanksgiving, there was a week to prepare for the activities. Your Arts and Culture Alliance in Brownsville, as a part of Rebirth through the Howard Benson exhibit, was a stop on the tour, and you had a ton of work to do. 

Bucky and his three partners obviously had their own long list of to dos, but he also needed to be there for Steve, who was a wreck at the thought of Peach coming into town. 

Steve was so far gone.

But James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d never seen Bucky Barnes shook. 

Sure, you’d seen him excited, impatient, horny, angry, and a little irritated, but never truly nervous.

And you shouldn’t have thought it, but it was adorable. 

Friday night, you met your cousin at the airport and witnessed the beginning of her downfall. The cocktail reception later at the hotel had her, and by proxy your own, head spinning. 

You grinned at the way Steve was handling everything. 

Bucky was beautiful and you admired him as he toasted the guests, his beautiful tenor a nice contrast from Steve’s baritone as they both gave their salutations. Only you knew how anxious he was to speak in front of people and for everything to go well. You felt privileged.

You realized that James Buchanan Barnes was a good man who just wanted to be better for you and for his community.

And suddenly you were not afraid of a future with him.

—-

During this time, you two shared brief cuddles and quick kisses, furtive touches and brief bouts of handholding when you saw each other at events. The mornings meant salacious pictures and quick phone sex to take the edge off, but you weren’t able to luxuriate in each other as you usually did.

You missed Bucky’s full attention, but the fact that you were working together on something worthwhile was the shit. You loved this man and you wanted to work beside him as an equal, not just be his sex toy.

This was the week that you fell completely in love with Bucky Barnes.

Thursday was the day of the Rebirth Art Summit and Bucky was pacing up and down his home office, reading glasses switching locations from perched on top of his head, to his delectable mouth, to his handsome face as he reviewed his notes.

You looked up from the ones in your hands with which you were quizzing him and smiled at him.

“Jamie, it’s going to be okay.”

He stopped to look at you, a faint smile on his face. He came over and pecked you on the lips and gave you a hug.

“‘M so glad you are here tonight, even though you tried to stay away.”

You sighed into his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his Bucky smell.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you, I was just giving you space. I know tomorrow is important to you and I don’t want to distract—”

“Frumoasă. You don’t distract from anything. If anything, you add to my life. You add so, so much. I love you. And I miss you. I want you here with me tonight.”

You melted into him, chuckled and shook your head as he held you. This feeling was crazy.

“What?”

You heard his voice in his chest, but he didn’t move, except to sway just a little, as if soothing you. It worked.

“I love you too, Bucky. And I miss you too. So much. It’s wild to feel so much in such a short amount of time.”

You and Bucky had only been together about three months, but you knew this was it.

“When you know, you know, my love. And we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

You hugged him tighter. What was understood didn’t need to be said.

He kissed the top of your head and then moved back so he could see into your eyes.

“And having you in my space while I get ready for an important event is everything.”

You looked him in the eye, thinking of sucking his dick for being such a dream.

“Bucky…”

Bucky took your hand and raised it to his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that, Frumoasă. I will be forced to fuck you all night long, something that is long overdue.”

He kissed your forehead.

“But there is much work to do.”

You cast your eyes down and whispered, “You’re right.”

Bucky took you in, looking so demure and being so patient with him. It was such a turn on.

“Such a Good Girl for me.”

You wanted to fall to your knees, but you just bit your lip and went to sit back down, crossing your legs as you began quizzing him again. 

Soon, you told your pulsing pussy. Soon.

You worked late into the night and soon dozed on the leather couch in his study. The next morning, you woke in Bucky’s bed with a sweet note on your pillow. You smiled and knew that he’d carried you to bed and held you all night long.

—--

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

You sucked your teeth at your cousin’s comment, but you didn’t pull your gaze away from Bucky up on the dias the next day at NYU. 

You were proud and in awe of your man. Your smirk turned into a grin as he glanced at you and started to speak.

You were down bad. And Bucky was too. After almost two weeks with little to no physicality, your energy was at supernova strength and about to cause a black hole in the universe.

That’s how intense this thing was. 

You were wet and hard and soft in all the right places.

Bucky had to pause frequently for the interpreter, and it gave you a chance to make googly eyes at each other. You ignored Peach’s subtle retching noises as you concentrated on Bucky. But you cut your eyes over to her while Steve spoke and found her visibly eye fucking him. You smirked when she noticed you noticing.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

She was trying to distract you. You laughed.

“Fucking-A.” 

You nodded up at the stage.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You were shocked as hell when she responded.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

You elected not to tease her about her response. It seemed as if Steve was working the plan.

You resumed watched as Bucky did his thing. He was glowing, handsome and impressive as hell. No one would believe he was as introverted as he was. But he was flourishing in the spotlight, seemingly born for his. He exuded confidence. 

It was such a turn on.

—-

Bucky watched you watching him and talking to your cousin and knew your tells. You were probably wet and ready for him. He briefly thought of what he was going to do to you later before he refocused on the task at hand. Knowing you were there for him was such motivation.

When he made his way back over to you, you were an angel, giving him a huge hug and exclaiming, “You were so fucking good up there, Jamie! I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky felt his heart explode and although someone was pulling him away from you, he mouthed a promise in your direction.

—-

“Later...”

You definitely read those sexy lips and your heart started racing. You looked around for your cousin, expecting to be roasted, but she was nowhere to be found. You shrugged and made your way to the subway, assuming that she was gathering with the other recipients. There was more work to do in Brownsville and you were busy anticipating the night.

You waited all day for Bucky’s text to tell you what time Nico was picking you up, but it never came. The rest of the day flew by and by the time you were walking home, daydreaming of dressing up for the gala tomorrow night and what Bucky might wear, you happened to check your phone and saw messages he’d sent just 10 minutes before:

You looked so good today. Especially this morning. Good enough to eat.

I’ll be at your place in 30. Wear that bra, no top, that skirt, no panties, and those heels.

You blushed and thought of the mirror selfie of the cream lace lingerie set you were wearing underneath your cream colored cowl neck sweater and grey wool pencil skirt that matched your grey wool coat.

Yes, Daddy, you replied and picked up the pace to make it to your brownstone ahead of him, your heart beating a mile a minute.

You thought you were prepared when you opened the door after Bucky knocked, but you weren’t.

In fact, you were shaking with anticipation.

There he was, bundled up from the cold, but those blue eyes sparkling down at you.

Bucky stared at you for a beat, and then walked toward you, taking your face in his hands and backing you up against the entryway wall, kicking the door closed behind him.

“My Frumoasă. So good. So perfect”

And then he leaned down and kissed you.

—-

Bucky had the strangest thought as you opened your door.

I’m home.

Although this was not his place, he realized that you were his home and that he couldn’t wait to make you his wife. His eyes swept down your form, pleased that you had followed instructions. You were such a badass, capable woman and partner and he just had to be inside you soon. 

He complimented you and his cock stiffened as your mouth parted in desire. He knew your praise kink very well. Bucky cradled your beautiful face and moved inside to kiss you.

His demanding mouth parted your trembling lips, sending tremors through your body. You clung to the lapels of his coat to tether you to earth as his tongue invaded your mouth. You suckled it, previewing what you wanted to do with his cock later. 

He pulled away, his bright blue eyes blazing, and his jaw clenched so tight as he shrugged out of his winter coat. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was angry, but the look was desire. 

And only for you. You grew warm from the inside out.

“I can’t wait. Wanna make love to you, but I have to fuck you now.”

Bucky bent his knees and grabbed your thighs, prompting you to wrap your legs around him and hold on to him as he walked you over to your couch.

You attacked his face as you were sat down firmly on the bulge in his pants and Bucky accepted your assault, chuckling as you kissed him from his hairline, to his forehead, down his nose, each cheek, skipping over his lips to his stubbly dimpled chin and finally back to that mouth. When he kissed you again, his hands were everywhere, starting at the nape of your hair, pulling so your neck was exposed as his mouth moved down to mark you up, then trailing down to your fine lace bra cups.

Bucky palmed your full breasts, weighing them in his hands and watching your face as he twisted your nipples. You nipples tightened under his touch and you arched your back, moving and giving him a view of what was underneath your skirt. He admired your ardor, you squirming and moaning on his lap.

It was his dream come true.

“So fucking hot, Frumoasa. I’ve been craving you. All day. All week. Ever since Thanksgiving. Since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Bucky…need you.”

You grasped the lapels of his jacket as his hand traveled down your torso and as he leaned down to travel under the hem of your skirt. Your soft fingers peeled his jacket away and unbuttoned his shirt. You opened it and ran your hands down his chest, rubbing his nipples with your thumb and trailed your hand down to his happy trail and proceeded to try and undo his belt buckle.

Bucky grew hot at the warmth of your thick thighs and the way your cunt was so hot that he could feel it through his pants. 

He had to have it. 

Panting now and desperate, Bucky tugged your skirt up, flashing your bare pussy, but it was difficult to get rid of because it was still buttoned. It slipped out of his hands and he grunted in frustration.

“Ah, poor baby…” 

You leaned forward, brushing the locks of hair that had fallen into his flushed face, grazing your nipples across your chest with a sexy smile.  Bucky whimpered and you smirked at his desperation. You slowly reached behind you to your zipper, pushing your chest toward Bucky’s face. He licked his lips and pulled your bra cups down, causing your warm breasts to spill out and his hands to be drawn to them again like magnets as he watched you loosen your skirt.

When you grabbed the hem to bring it over your head, he released you, watching as the fabric moved above your crotch.

Your pussy. Fuck.

Bucky could never get enough of staring at it, the dark petals, which were spread open for him as you sat on his lap were calling his name. He licked his lips, suddenly parched.

“What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted, no needed, to hear Bucky’s voice right now. You reached behind you again as you unclasped your bra and suddenly you were naked on an essentially fully dressed Bucky Barnes.

It was sexy as hell. 

“I’m thinking that your pussy is a work of art, Frumoasă. It’s perfect. I’m thinking that I want to spend at least eight hours a day between your legs, make you cum over and over again, make you beg me to stop, and to start again. How I want you to taste you and make you squirt so I can swallow you down…”

You moaned and started grinding on his bulge, causing Bucky to curse.

“Damn, Baby. You’re gonna make me jizz in my pants like a teenager.”

Bucky grabbed your ass and reached between you to tease your clit, feeling how wet you were.

“Fuuuuuck, you’re so wet.”

Bucky’s eyes rolled as he grabbed your waist and lifted you to your knees on either side of him as he unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear just down past his ass to get his cock out. He grabbed your cheek as he stroked himself and rubbed his thick cock head in your juicy pussy.

“Fuck me Frumoasa. Slide down this dick for me.”

You brushed Bucky’s hair off his forehead again as you nodded and started to slide down his fat, hard cock. Your head lolled back on your neck as you reached the root of him.

“Oh… Bucky… Fuck….”

You could feel Bucky pounding inside you, long thick cock battering your cervix and you whined, leaning back and working your hips as Bucky fucked up into you and thumbed your clit while the other hand guided you up and down his dick. 

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were shining as he looked up at you. You knew he was close and you couldn’t take it.

He started to speak and you knew it was over.

“Frumoasă. I-I’m gonna need you to… oh holy fuckkkkkk!”

His stutter made you start to cum.

As soon as your pussy started spasming around him, Bucky started shooting his spend all over your warm walls causing you to convulse and hug his head to your chest. He clutched you to him, whimpering as he held onto you for dear life as he came.

He collapsed backwards, taking you with him as you became boneless in his arms. You rolled off of him and curled up on the couch as Bucky stood and untangled himself from his clothes.

You closed your eyes for a minute as he got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth to clean you up. When he finished, he kissed your forehead and gathered you up in his arms.

“You turn me on like no one else, Frumoasă. You’re it for me. I love you.”

You cuddled into him as he lay you in your bed.

“Me too, Bucky. You’re my one. I love you, too.”

Bucky kissed your forehead again, and then proceeded to move down your body.

“Good, now. I need to clock into my main occupation. Hour one of eight.…”

—-

If you like it, hit Reblog! ☺️

[linddzz]

One thing I've been wondering about and maybe I just missed something, but is old mage Viktor supposed to be post-glorious evolution era, with him succeeding in his conquest and everything? Because I have been wondering why he still looks human and not like his machine herald form, and also appears to have aged? Or can he change his appearance?? Idk I am so confused about that part O~O

The Doylist answer is that Viktor being the mage was most likely a retcon (not a dig at all, as I love the way it really makes Jayce and Viktor a causal loop of a pair) and/or having a machine herald hand would give the entire twist away. Fun fact though, I just went for screenshots comparing the hands in episode 2 vs the flashbacks to show the gnarly nails, but they did give Viktor the nails if not the hand tattoos in the quick flashback! Maybe he cleaned them up for Jayce's visit lmao

There's a few plausible theories one could roll with, though I don't think the show itself has one answer they planned. While I still fully think Arcane could have at least used another act to flesh out more details and give that breakneck ending some time to breathe, one thing I like is that they do give the audience a lot to work with in the details. Though I'm also someone who enjoys having lots of breadcrumbs to play with in a story,

(tangent, but as someone who loves different methods of storytelling this is why I love Arcane and how it uses narrative, visual, and musical storytelling methods to weave everything together. It's approach to crafting a story is also very collaborative, which is how we get different answers between writers and the animation teams (see the writers not intending Jayvik, but more and more animators/VA's revealing that they ship it, and YEAH, most of the Jayvik content is in their body language and vocal delivery. I think the audience is included in that collaboration, and they give the audience a lot to build pretty solid speculations with. Tho again....we could have used things slowing down to make it easier to take in at that end there.)

Also; introducing a multiverse is kind of genius when you have a story that has nebulous cosmic magic, since it creates a LOT of leeway for getting around details like Wizard Viktor. (Again, not a dig at all!)

One take I have is that Wizard Viktor never transformed into the Arcane Herald form because Jayce never killed him. For extra heartbreak, the pose we see Jayce in could have been a willing submission instead of defeat :). There is still some of the arcane corruption coloration around his face, with the rest of him being hidden besides the hands. That leaves the hexcore body still, but since our Viktor had his face exposed I don't see it as much of a stretch that Mage Viktor may not have had his entire body changed.

Another take, and I think the easiest answer, is that Mage Viktor is already at a level where he is fucking around with timelines and is seen using an anomaly and it's not much if any stretch to assume that he can change how he looks to some extent. The anomaly is a force of perpetual creation and self annihilation (aka exactly what he's doing by perpetually making himself/Jayce while trying to avert his own existence). I headcanon that his first attempts to undo what was done to Jayce (and everyone else but it's pretty obvious Jayce is his focus lbr) involved him trying to undo his own evolution and using the time shenanigan powers of the anomaly to make himself more human again.

[mattysketchup]

NIGHT OUT

pairing… dealer!chris x girly!reader

summary… when chris’ client couldn’t give him his money, he rages like hell and all he needs is his girl.

warnings… slight cat calling, chris raging, mentions of drugs, girly!reader being a little whiny, unprotected p in v (don’t do this !!)

sorry this took so long !! i suck at writing smut bare with me lmao, enjoy !!

blessings and riches, tessa

(masterlist) (more dealer!chris x girly!reader)

“chris, c’mon can we please go already?” you whined for what seemed like the millionth time.

chris took you to a party and after hours of standing around sweaty, drunk, horny bodies, he still wants to finish a few more deals.

“ma, i jus’ gotta finish this deal then get some money from this kid i supplied to last week” chris tells you.

you sigh as a pout forms on your face, your legs getting tired and makeup starting to melt.

you see chris finally hand his guy the drugs and get his money back, but instead of walking away to go to his other guy, he just kept talking.

you sigh louder and roll your eyes, grabbing a couple stares from random guys.

chris wraps his arm around your crossed arms, and you lean against him.

“yeah, you want some more shit? i got it in the back, it’ll run y’bout six fifty though” chris says to the men in front of him.

you roll your eyes. another deal?

apparently, the men noticed your tiredness and annoyance.

“oh, what’s wrong with you sweetie? y’don’t like drugs?” a guy says.

“‘kay, shut the fuck up bastard. you’re gonna need to check yourself before you start calling my girl ‘sweetie’ dumbass.” chris explains angrily.

the guy nods and looks at the floor. “oh yeah, ya’ prices jus’ went up to two thousand. fuck off” he pulls you away and turns to the exit.

“can we go now?” you whine.

“nah, i gotta get my money from this fucker downtown” chris tells you.

you throw your head back in annoyance and grumble. you attempt to be quiet, but it catches chris’ attention.

“y’fuckin’ whining right now?” he asks, as if it wasn’t obvious for the last hour.

“yes chris, i am. i’m fucking tired and i don’t wanna be running around all night with sketchy men! you said this would only take an hour chris, its been five” you blurt out, your anger getting the best of you.

“i spent the whole fuckin’ day at the mall with your shit so don’t get me started kid” he says.

you grumble in protest which doesn’t go unnoticed by chris.

“kid, c’mon we jus’ gotta drive like twenty minutes, pick up some shit and go home” chris explains. “and maybe when we’re home, we’ll have some fun, yeah?”

you nod as you both get in his car, still mad at how long this was taking.

“y’want some music?” chris asks, trying to get you to actually use your words.

you shrug at the question, to which chris sighs and plays kid cudi.

the both of you get to the house where chris needed to get his money, exiting the car and walking in.

“chris wassup” a guy says, dapping him up.

“yo charlie, i need that money from when i supplied to you last week” chris says bluntly.

“oh- oh shit the money?” charlie asks. at this point, chris was already frustrated and wanted to go home himself.

“yes dumbass the money.” he replies coldly.

“y-yeah i’ll get that for y’right now” charlie seemed to be already shaking, obvious he didn’t have chris’ money.

he hands chris a stack of money from his drawer. chris counts it all, making sure this guy wasn’t trying to get by short.

“y’four hundred dollars off.” chris says. you already know how this was gonna play out.

chris would ask him about it, beat his ass up, probably pat him down for more money, get pissed, and leave.

you were too tired to watch all of that happen and just wanted to sleep, so you try to get chris to calm down.

“chris he doesn’t have your money, can we just go home and you’ll get it tomorrow?” you whisper to him.

“yea i know he doesn’t have all my fuckin’ money.” chris spits. he’s still holding your hand, yet inching closer to charlie.

“chris please, can we go home? ask him about it tomorrow” you whine, annoyance shining through your voice.

“nah, ‘cus then he’ll think it’s okay to do shit like this” chris says. charlie was still in the room, yet he was talking about him like he wasn’t.

“chris. let’s go, ask him about it tomorrow.” you say with a death glare. your words are strong, hoping to convince the stubborn boy in front of you.

“ah, for fucks sakes” chris yells, grabbing charlie by his collar. “you better have the rest of my fucking money by the weekend or i will fucking kill you, got that?”

charlie nods, frightened. chris grabs your arm and pulls you out the door.

you’re both quiet once you enter the car, not knowing what to say.

“who even was that guy?” you finally speak up. “like an old friend? i-i was just wondering because you never supply to random people”

“yeah, he was a friend. but he’s a liar and a dickhead who can’t get anything on time for shit” chris grumbles.

he was being really moody, to which you let out a small sigh.

“i-i don’t know why i got that angry back there, i mean we’re pretty close friends” chris says. “i jus’… get so angry, y’know?”

you nod at his words and grab at his hand, holding it. he reciprocates the gesture, holding you as if you were a fragile piece of glass.

“y’wanna do anythin’ tonight? movie? snacks? chill?” he asks you, sliding his hand up your thigh.

his fingers are practically touching your panties underneath your skirt, causing you to get noticeably aroused.

“shit chris, what has gotten into you?” you giggle.

“i jus’ need my girl” he says, eyes on the road.

“we’re almost home, contain yourself for like two minutes chris” you laugh.

once you get home, chris practically runs into his room. “bed. now.” he commands, unbuckling his belt.

your clothes are now discarded on the floor as chris leans over top of you.

“f-fuck chris… please” you beg, your arousal dripping between your legs.

“it’s okay ma, i got you” he responds, lining his tip up to your entrance.

he slowly pushes his length into you, inch by inch. your jaw drops slack as he does so, chris smiles at your face.

“fuck… y’like that mama?” he asks, slowly pumping in and out of you.

“oh fuck… yes chris please” you mewl, your back practically arching off the bed.

he continues the motion, his speed gradually increasing as you both moan in pleasure.

“shit ma, m’gonna fuckin’ cum” chris groans, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

“chris... fuck-m’close” you warn.

suddenly, you feel spurts of cum entering you, both you and chris letting out shameless moans.

“fuck baby… did so well f’me” chris whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

he cleans you up and both of you get dressed. he collapses on top of your chest, cuddling close up to you.

tessa’s notes… thank u sm for reading !! this is ass but idgaf im tired

taglist… @emely9274 @baileysturns @sllutty-sturniolo

comment to be added or removed from the taglist !!

[reaviraa]

this is not a hot take whatsoever and I'm pretty sure more than half the fandom already thinks that way but I feel like even in a modern setting sirius and remus would be those people who mostly listen to 70s-80s music and listen to music on a record player.

I'm pretty sure they would have like thrifted walkmans and cd players still and they would go tape hunting™ trying to find tapes of the bands they love while people look at them weird because who tf listens to cassette tapes still at the year of 2020 somethings?

Apparently they do.

Like they would like new music too of course but I can clearly see them getting fussy about missing out on the "best era of music". (am I projecting? maybe.)

New music wise I feel like Sirius would LOVE Maneskin. ("Rock n Roll is back baby!!")

Maybe palaye royale if you squint idk about this one.

Remus would like Arctic Monkeys I think. (I saw someone saying he would like Snap Out Of It and its living rent free in my head ever since)

I would KILL for them listening to My Chemical Romance (imagine them blasting Destroya or Vampire Money in the car)

And no one can tell me sirius wouldn't just go feral singing along to "Mama"

Plus "You know what they do to guys like us in prison" reminds me of Remus for some reason.

I remember any other "modern" bands/artists to save my life rn but yeah you get the point thanks for listening to me ramble lmao.

Bonus: Marlene loves Paramore

[romerona]

I'm really enjoying your Carmy x Abott teacher stories. Would be funny to see Carmy interact with the students. Either they go to the restaurant for a class trip, or he visits for career day. I'm sure the kids would have so many curious (and embarssing) questions to ask.

LMAO yesssss!!! He probably thinks 'I hope none of these kids actually listen to me and want to become a chef' like my boy is that traumatized lol but he would do it because it would make you happy. Gret recommendation THANK YOUUUUU.

Side note: I can totally picture you giving Carmy those big ol' heart eyes while he talks to the kids—completely lost in the moment—until you remember the cameras are rolling. Cue the instant shift from love-struck to Oh-God-what-do-I-do-with-my-hands awkwardness.

"Carmy? Yeah, he's my neighbour. Totally normal stuff. I mean, yeah, he’s what I like to call a tortured artist... but, like, in the most adorable way possible. Am I gonna tell him I like him? Eh, probably not. I just moved into the building, and if it goes south, that’s one awkward elevator ride after another. No thanks. Besides, he gives off these shy, skittish vibes—like a deer. Or maybe a bunny. One wrong move and poof—he’ll bolt faster than I can say ‘How’s the sourdough starter?’ So, I’ll let him come to me. Patience is key, right?"

[jinxsleftmiddlefinger]

timebomb highschool au

(part 11)

(masterlist) (read on ao3)

description: timebomb highschool au pretty much sums it up lol. there’s also canon storylines (vander death, vi conflict etc.) but translated into a modern context

note: sorry this one took a little longer ur girl is struggling 💔💔 thank you to anyone still reading this ilyyy!!!! I think I might try to wrap it up in the next two chapters but we’ll see where it goes lmao (not edited so bare with me here)

Jinx is scared. Her heart is hammering in her chest and her face feels red hot. She shouldn’t be scared; it’s not even that big of a deal.

It’s just, Ekko isn’t even technically her boyfriend yet, maybe he doesn’t even really like her. And she’s scared for him to meet Silco and Sevika, for them to meet him. To meet her non-boyfriend.

The voices are loud today, and it’s only making her feel worse and worse. She can’t let him see how fucked up in the head she is on top of everything else.

She’s been getting ready for much too long now, staring at the mirror like her appearance is going to change. Silco keeps calling for her to come downstairs, but she’s frozen, studying every aspect of her face, of her hair. Like it’s going to get any better.

It doesn’t matter. It’s just dinner. She’s looked worse, right?

Jinx smiles at herself in the mirror and immediately drops it when she realizes how much she looks like a maniac. She is not going to make it through the night.

“Jinx!” Silco calls again. “Do you want to be late?”

She ignores him in favour of running her hands through her again.

“Jinx!” 

“That’s me.” She whispers to herself before standing, grabbing her small purse and making the walk downstairs.

The restaurant is fancy; Silco will only ever eat out if it’s at a fancy restaurant. A run down diner would have been just peachy, but no, she instead must dress up for some high end place downtown. She spent way too much time pondering what was too causal and what was too fancy. An embarrassing amount of time.

Silco and Sevika are already in the car by the time she’s on the first floor, and Sevika’s revving the engine by the time she makes it outside, still sliding her boot on. 

“I’m going, I’m going!” Jinx speed walks towards the car. “Impatient ogre.” She grumbles.

Jinx slides into the backseat, Silco in the passenger seat in front of her angrily gripping the wheel.

“There.” Silco says, sitting in a weirdly proper position. “We are all ready now.”

“Took her long enough.” Sevika steps on the gas pedal.

“This dinner was kind of on short notice.” The blue haired girl in the back seat crosses her arms.

“And whose fault is that?” 

“It’s Silco’s, not mine!”

“Jinx,” Her adoptive father warns her for what seems like the millionth time today. “This dinner is going to be fine. And it will be good for you. Both you and the boy.”

“Are you planning something? I swear to god-“ Jinx huffs. “Listen, I appreciate the notion, but I just don’t trust that this gonna work out. Like I’ve already told you, me and him are not dating!”

“You were swapping spit behind the school like you were about to take your pants off.” Sevika comments, not even acknowledging the glare that Jinx gives her.

Silco simply nods in the drivers direction, a silent agreement.

“Ach! Come on, guys! I was not gonna have sex with him or something at the back of the school-“ Her arms flail around wildly.

“That does bring up the conversation, Jinx, that-“ Her adoptive father starts, turning to look at her from the passenger seat.

“Nope!” Jinx slaps her hands over her ears. “We are not doing this. Not again.”

“You are getting to the age-“ He tries again.

“Stop! Stop stop stop! Sevika, stop him!”

“Leave me out of this.” The driver rolls her eyes.

“You need to be safe, Jinx, and-“ 

“Crash the car! Sevika, crash the fucking car!” Jinx sticks her fingers in her ears.

“Oh really, Jinx,” Silco clicks his tongue, resigning from his mission defeatedly. “Be mature, please.”

She shakes her head, silently looking out the window. “Do not try to give Ekko the talk at dinner, please.” She shivers just imagining it. “If you love me at all, do not bring anything of the sort up.”

Sevika laughs dryly and the car goes quiet.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jinx can see Ekko’s car already waiting in the parking lot. She can only recognize it slightly, considering Ekko usually took his skateboard to school. Seeing his car was a rare occurrence, but she had memorized the look of it enough to know it’s his.

She hops out of the car, smoothing out her skirt beneath her hands and shoving her phone into her pocket. Ekko gets out of his car at the same time. She almost wants to laugh at how he looks.

He looks terrified, and on top of it all, he’s wearing some dorky suit. She wanted to say that a suit at dinner was like a gaping wound in shark infested waters; Silco could smell weakness like a damn animal. She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to do all that, not for her. At the same time, she wants to grab him by the silly tie and kiss him stupid.

Alas, Sevika and Silco are third wheeling this not-date with her not-boyfriend. But a girl can dream, right?

“Hey.” Ekko says, and she smiles tightly.

“Hey.” 

The 4 walk towards the restaurant in silence, Jinx standing beside Ekko, and Silco and Sevika walking in front of them.

“Are you nervous?” Jinx whispers to the boy beside her.

“Yeah.” He laughs anxiously. “Really nervous.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” She looks at the ground. “I’m nervous too.”

He looks at her through the corner of his eye. “At least we’re in the same boat, huh?”

She trails here eyes from his brown ones to his lips and then back up again. Focus, Jinx. Focus.

“Yeah.” She shoves his shoulder lightly. “Except, I’d be more worried if I was you. Don’t fuck it up.” Her voice is light.

“I’ll try.” He shoves her back and she giggles. He gives her an odd look, one she can’t quite decipher. Adoration? Confusion? Want?

Jinx shakes her head to clear herself off all the thoughts. Her mind is whirring with desire and confusion and worry faster than she can even keep up.

The restaurant is exactly how she expected it to be; unbearably neat and clean and full of snobby people. It smells like cleaner and polished floors, and the classical music playing softly in the background makes her long for her headphones on max or the car speaker vibrating through her body.

“And so the fun begins.” Jinx mutters to herself as they walk towards their reserved table, her shoes clicking on the stupid fancy floors.

Of course Silco would choose a place like this to eat at. Of course.

Jinx slides into her seat and Ekko stiffly sits down beside her, putting his hands in his lap and holding his shoulders back like he’s made of ice. She tries to not show her amusement at his effort to impress Silco and Sevika.

“So, Ekko.” Silco says, folding his hands on the table like how he does at his principals desk. “How are you?” 

“I’m good, thank you, sir.”

Jinx almost laughs at that one. She can see Sevika’s lips curling up at the stupidity of the interaction.

The waiter interrupts with a pitcher of water, pouring some in each of their glasses. Jinx chugs all her water while Sevika asks for wine and Silco stares at Ekko, who looks close to a breakdown.

After the waiter refills her cup and walks away, Jinx chugs the water again, whilst the lady across the table watches her with mild disgust.

“What?” She says, wiping off her mouth.

Sevika just raises an eyebrow.

“Ekko,” Silco starts. “I was looking at your grades, and-“

Jinx groans. “Don’t be weird. Why would you do that?” 

“Jinx.” He says slowly.

“Sil-co.” She mocks. Her dad has never scared her.

The waiter returns with Sevika’s wine, and Jinx can feel the itch to grab it and chug that to. She could really use a drink right about know.

She glances over at Ekko, then back at the two adults at the the table. She doesn’t think she should leave him stranded here with them, but she also really needs to pee.

“Going to the washroom.” She informs the table, standing up.

Ekko looks at her with those beautiful big brown eyes, full of desperation. ‘Sorry.’ She mouths at him. She can already picture the interrogation Silco is going to perform in her absence.

The people sitting at the tables remind her of Vi’s annoying girlfriend; preppy and stuck up. Then she thinks of Vi, and her mind starts to scribble over any coherent thought. Jinx really hopes she’s not going it have an episode in the middle of this disgustingly shiny restaurant.

The bathroom is empty when she walks in. 5 stalls, wooden doors, high ceilings. A lot nicer than the school bathrooms, that’s for sure.

Once she’s left the stall, which has a toilet nicer than she knew a toilet could be, she goes over to the sinks to wash her hands. The soap smells like some kind of flowery perfume and the water even feels nicer than normal. She wonders if this is what someone like Caitlyn’s house would be like, what they would live in all the time. She can’t even imagine Vi living somewhere that looks this nice.

Jinx turns to leave, hurrying to be Ekko’s salvation from her slightly intimidating father. She almost walks right into someone coming into the bathroom door, grunting and stumbling back. 

“Sorry.” She mutters, looking only at the heels of the woman in front of her. 

“It’s okay, I should have been watching where I was going.” The woman replies, holding the door open for her.

Jinx freezes. Fuck. She recognizes that stupid accent, that annoyingly smug voice.

She locks eyes with her and can see the exact moment she recognizes her too. 

“Jinx?” Caitlyn says, looking scared and angry at the same time.

“Caitlyn.” Jinx huffs, pushing past her, out the door. “Can’t you just-“ She stops, squeezing her eyes shut as her chest burns with anger. 

Jinx walks away, farther and farther into the restaurant. She doesn’t have the energy to blow up at Caitlyn right now, the mental fortitude. She needs to be alone with the screams and scribbles behind her eyes; she can’t let other people see the crumbling stability her mind holds.

“Can’t you just fucking leave me alone?” She says to no one in particular. She’s alone in this part of the restaurant, the people at the tables sparse in this area. The bathroom is still too close, Caitlyn’s still too close.

And if Caitlyn’s close, that means Vi is…

Right there. Fuck. Pink hair is sitting at a table, facing away from her.

“Why did they have to be here?” She groans to herself, burying her hands in her hair and hiding behind a wall. Jinx is starting to feel grateful the restaurant is so big; there’s more walls to hide behind, more spaces to slip into.

She’ll need those hiding places now. Her mind is slipping away from her by the second.

The panic is seeping in, chipping away at the fragile peace she was holding. She knew today wasn’t going to be a good day, she just didn’t know it would be this bad. She never should have come here. 

The bathroom door opens, and she turns to look from behind the wall. Caitlyn walks out, looking scared.

Seeing Caitlyn again only sets Jinx off more. She pulls her knees to her chest and buries her face, trying to breathe through it. She was never good at dealing with panic attacks, which was unfortunate, considering how often she would have them.

Jinx’s mind is too loud, too quiet, too much, too colourful. She can’t think. Every voice in her head is screaming on full volume, louder than even her speaker could drown out. She can’t think, she can’t see, she can’t feel.

And then suddenly, she can. A warm hand on her arm. A voice, one outside of her brain, one that’s not screeching; it’s warm like summer and soft like a plush carpet.

“Jinx?” It says. The hand shakes rouses her lightly. “Jinx, are you okay? Talk to me, please.” Even filled with desperation, the voice calms her.

Her vision clears, just a bit, of the colourful scribbles, of the mess. She can see who’s in front of her, who’s talking to her. Ekko.

Jinx almost wants to cry from relief.

“Jinx?” He says again. He’s kneeling beside. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get someone? Silco?”

“No,” She manages to gasp out, leaning into his feather light grip on her shoulder. “Just you.” 

Her muddled mind and eyes clear more, and she can see his shining eyes, his furrowed brow. She wants to wipe the worried expression of his face.

She starts to breathe easier, staring at Ekko. Caitlyn and Vi don’t matter, not right now. She doesn’t have to worry about how she fucked up with her sister when she can just sit here, with this wonderful boy who she somehow hasn’t managed to jinx. At least not yet.

“Sorry.” Jinx’s voice sounds raspy and rough, even more than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Ekko tilts his head. “Jinx, you haven’t done anything wrong.” 

She breaths deeply, trying to balance herself out more. “I did…I’ve messed everything up, with everyone.” She hates how her voice breaks.

“No you haven’t.” He sits down beside her, leaning on the wall sheltering them from the outside world. “You haven’t messed it up with me, Jinx. And it’s not your fault, whatever happened.”

“But you barely know me.” She puts her head back on the wall. “I make everyone leave, run away…if you stay any longer, I’ll jinx you too. That’s how I got the stupid name, and I…I can’t do that to you.”

She can hear him breathe. She can feel his confusion, his worry.

“I…wasn’t born with the name Jinx.” She starts to explain. “I mean, that’d be stupid, but my old name isn’t much better. I used to be called Powder, way back when. And then…sweet ol’ Powder fucked up, and she started calling herself what she always had been, always will be; Jinx.”

Ekko tentatively moves his hand down from Jinx’s shoulder, putting his hand in hers. “You’re not a jinx. Everyone makes mistakes. And even if I haven’t known you very long…I know you’re a good person. You deserve good things. I promise.”

He looks at her so sincerely she can feel another piece of her battered, rotten heart break off. 

“Oh.” Is all she can say. 

His wide brown eyes stare into her blue ones. It almost feels like he’s looking into her soul.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ekko.” Jinx bites her lip, desperately trying to find the will to look away.

“I don’t think you will.” His fingers curl tighter around hers. “And even if you do, I’d let you.” He laughs. 

Jinx wants to kiss him so bad it hurts.

Their faces get closer and closer, noses almost touching. She pauses, resisting for a moment. “How’d you even get away from Silco and Sevika?”

“I came to look for you. You were gone for a while.” Ekko’s eyes flash from her lips back up to her eyes. “Are you good now?”

“Yeah.” She breathes. “Thanks.”

She moves forward, holding the back of his head with her hands, and locking his lips with hers. She really hopes this wall gives them enough privacy from the others in the restaurant, or else they’ll have to eat with a view of two teenagers passionately making out.

And even though Jinx’s rotten heart starts to feel fuller, her mind starts to feel clearer, there’s still a piece missing. Still something…not there. She wants to be with Ekko, but she doesn’t want to hurt him. She can’t. Despite what he says, she knows it’s inevitable.

So she savours this kiss like it’s the last. Kisses him as hard as she can, kisses him like it’s goodbye. She doesn’t think he notices that it is. 

I’m sorry, Ekko. She thinks. 

Once a jinx, always a jinx…

[unicyclehippo]

Hey, Ollie, you mentioned AGES ago that Show Me the Way Home (Avatrice) had a second chapter, it just wasn't perfect yet-- do you think you'll ever post it? Or is that officially an abandoned fic?

its not abandoned, i actually did some minor editing on it the other day. the problem is that its a very seasonally locked piece in my mind & also im lazy & also a perfectionist & also i want to watch wn again before i keep writing it bc i need to rmbr what the characters are like & basically any one of those obstacles are enough to shut me right down so.

it actually is a four part story & if u want, i can share a little with u now? maybe that'll make me feel better for not posting it yet lmao

thursday 22nd december

// 6:55 //

Beatrice stood by the doorway of her apartment, phone in hand and duffel bag at her feet, and wished she was already at her parent’s holiday home. 

It wasn’t that she thought their reunion would be simple or pleasant; it was more that today had started hot and was getting hotter and her parents kept their home at a crisp twenty-three degrees at all hours of the day and night, environmental impact be damned. As the humidity clung to her, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck, Beatrice’s thoughts drifted to the crystal blue pool and the ocean wind that would blow up from the cove and she checked her phone again for any word from her driver. 

Camila’s voice travelled from the kitchen. ‘Maybe you should take the can opener with you. I mean, what if you need to open a can and you don’t have one? There might be beans. Baked beans, cannellini beans, red kidney beans.’

‘I’m sure my parents have one. They do have a kitchen. And a personal chef.’

Camila heard her. The apartment was too small for her not to have heard but she continued listing off every tinned item she could think of. 

‘Lentils, obviously. Diced tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, peeled tomatoes, puréed tomatoes.’ There was a long pause. Beatrice wondered if Camila was reading the labels of what they had in the pantry; if she was, those lentils had been there for a very long time. ‘Tinned peaches.’

‘I think those come with a tab now,’ Beatrice pointed out. She kept her voice mild, not really wanting to draw Camila’s attention to her hiding place by the door. 

At some point over the last few days, the nerves buzzing under Beatrice’s skin had jumped ship and now Camila was the one pacing the confines of their apartment. She’d picked over every inch of the house in search of things Beatrice might need—which ranged from the useful, like the good phone charger she’d “found” (definitely hadn’t stolen out of her room a month ago) to what could be charitably called not useful, like the can opener—and now she stood at the end of the hall bearing the can opener and a dark frown befitting a serial killer. 

Beatrice cleared her throat. Carefully, she said, ‘I really don’t think I need it.’

Camila looked down at her weapon. ‘Oh. Right. No, sure, of course not.’ She tossed it backward into the living room; it missed the couch, landing instead on the floor with a loud thud, the sound of their rental bond being instantly halved. Beatrice winced. Camila seemed not to have noticed, though, and with her hands now empty she returned to chewing nervously at her thumb nail. She scanned the living room, hawkish, before fixing her attention on Beatrice once more. 

‘Can I help you?’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Camila…’

‘Because you don’t have to. You know that, don’t you? It’s not your only option—you could come home with me again! My parents would love it, we’d all love it, I promise. And you wouldn’t be intruding at all, I swear. The boys ask about you all the time and when you’re coming to visit again.’

‘They’re very sweet.’

‘Sweet! When they want something, sure! They’re still hoping you’ll teach them how to throw people—they bring up your match with Conner every time I call home.’

‘Tell them I’ll think about it.’

‘That can be your Christmas present for them. And Pop, he says you’re the only good one of the bunch.’

‘It’s because I don’t talk.’

‘I know. Poor guy. Christmas in a household of me’s. It’s so loud we have to mime everything for him.’

Beatrice smiled. ‘He turns off his hearing aids.’

‘What? That sneak!’

‘Don’t tell him I was the one that dobbed him in.’

‘It’ll be the very first thing I say—then you won’t be his favourite anymore and the rest of us will have a fair shot.’ Laughter shone in her eyes; it faded a little as she stared at Beatrice, gaze flicking down to the duffel at her feet. ‘I’m serious, Bea. You could call up your parents and tell them you’re not coming anymore. I’d prefer you tell them to go fuck themselves but.’ She sucked in a breath, shook her head. ‘Bea. Don’t waste your time on them. Spend your holiday with people who want you around. Who love you.’

It was a tempting offer. Of course it was.

From the day they met, Camila had been Beatrice’s friend; from the second, her sister. She’d gone out of her way to be all that a sister could be—kind, understanding, supportive, deeply irritating—and offered it all without cost. Her family was just the same. 

Beatrice remembered last Christmas fondly. The singing, the laughter, her chair squashed up to the end of the table next to Camila’s, the friendly chatter, the elbows bumping, the squabbles breaking out, the yet more guests arriving and pulling up a chair, the pass the salt, pass the butter, pass the damn water would you I’m dying over here, where’s the champagne, Arthur we don’t need another bottle of champagne it’s not even midday for Christssake, Beatrice do you want a second serve help yourself sweetheart, when do we open the presents. It had been loud, sometimes overwhelming, and wonderful all the same. 

But. 

Beatrice shook her head. 

Camila sighed. ‘I had to try, obviously.’

‘I know. Thank you.’ She set her hand on Camila’s wrist and squeezed. ‘I appreciate it, very much. Please tell them… Please tell everyone I miss them and that I’ll see them soon.’

‘You mean for your surprise birthday party?’

Beatrice smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Good. Because mum’s going to need a menu from you—’

‘I thought we agreed we’d buy the food, Camila, I’m not making your mum cook for me.’

‘She likes to cook for her kids. Unless you want me to tell her you’d prefer eating a stranger’s food over hers?’ Beatrice scowled at the bold threat. ‘That’s what I thought. Pick what you want and I’ll tell her. Better yet, text her yourself.’

‘If I know your mother, she has something in mind already.’

‘More like eleven somethings.’ 

They shared an identical grin. Camila’s mother had a small habit of going overboard for parties and events. A buzz broke the moment. They both glanced down at Beatrice’s phone. 

Mr. Morris I have arrived

Beatrice Thank you. I will be there momentarily.

Beatrice nodded. This was it. She slid her phone into her pocket. ‘Mister Morris is here. I should go.’ To Camila’s suddenly stricken expression, she soothed, ‘It will be fine, Camila.’ And, because she was not completely oblivious to Camila’s concern, ‘I will be fine.’

‘I know that. Of course I know that. But I want—you don’t have to be just fine. You should be having fun. You’re my best friend, Bea, I want you to be happy.’

Beatrice paused. She struggled for a moment to think of a way to explain the purpose of this holiday to Camila, explain her purpose, in a way that she would understand and accept. 

‘It means so much,’ she began, carefully, ‘to be welcome in your family. But they will always be your family.’

‘Bea…’

‘You and they are all beyond generous.’ She held up a hand to stop Camila interrupting. ‘I know they love me, and I love them. I do love Christmas with your family. It’s always wonderful and comfortable and fun.’ She paused, considering her words. ‘But this is - this is about me,’ she admitted with difficulty, and was rewarded for the effort when Camila softened. ‘I want to go. I need to find out whether I have a place with them or not. And I’ve been so uncertain of how it might turn out that I haven’t tried. But this invitation is an opportunity. One would like to make the most of.’

Camila grabbed both of her hands and pulled her close. Very intensely, she said, ‘Okay.'

'Okay? Just like that?' Beatrice asked, doubtful.

'Yeah. I’m not going to say I understand because I don’t. It honestly makes me furious and a little bit sick to think of you going back to them. But I love you and I trust you and I want you to call me if you need anything. And whatever happens, Beatrice, you always have a place with me. Always.’

Beatrice smiled. Shifted so that she was the one holding Camila’s hands. Her friend wouldn’t let her go willingly and there was a big part of Beatrice that wanted to let herself be held tight and give in to her friend’s protectiveness, to be bundled safely up into Camila’s terrifying little car and trundling off to visit family. 

It was hard to pull free. 

Beatrice stepped back and opened the door.

‘There’s no need to fret, Camila. I’ll have Ava with me, remember?’

‘Yeah. I know. It’ll be great, you’ll see.’ The tightness around her eyes told Beatrice she didn’t quite believe her own words. ‘And you’ll call me.’

‘Every day.’

With one last hug, Beatrice picked up her bags and left. 

// 7:03 //

The town car waited for her outside the apartment. It was sleek and black, washed and polished; the only evidence of the recent storms were faint specks of grey mud deep in the tyre wells.

Beatrice stopped at the bottom of the stairs, observing the car and its driver—Mister Morris, patiently stood at the kerb—and swallowed around a lump in her throat. He looked the same as when she had left. A little more silver in his hair.

He might not have changed much but she had. Now that she was grown (or perhaps, now that she was not in that household), she found herself full of questions—where was it that Mister Morris had driven from? Where did he live? Had the storms been bad on his side of town? How had he passed the time? Had they lost power? (She and Camila had huddled in their living room—it was, Camila had insisted, the perfect weather for a marathon of gory slashers—and the rain had hammered against the windows with frightening strength but had done no damage. She knew others had not been so fortunate.) Most pressing of all, how had he been? Questions that could not be answered by hiding.

Beatrice gripped the strap of her duffel and, setting her shoulders, marched to meet him.

‘Good morning, Mister Morris.’

‘Miss Turner,’ he greeted her, his smile small but true. ‘A pleasure to see you again. How are you?’

‘Quite well, thank you.’ Then, keeping her tone light and brisk, ‘And yourself?’

‘Very well, Miss Turner. Very well.’ It looked as if he wanted to say something more but then he only smiled and cleared his throat. ‘Your luggage, Miss?’

‘I can see to it myself.’

Beatrice stashed her duffel in the boot then folded herself neatly into the backseat. Mr. Morris retook the driver’s seat. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Beatrice fixed her eyes on the headrest in front of her.

‘We have another stop to make, Mr Morris.’

‘Yes, miss. Do you have the address?’

‘I do.’ She ran a finger along the inside of her watchband, rubbing away the sweat that had gathered there. She made it a notch tighter, then loosened once more. ‘They are - That is to say, she is my—’

Mr. Morris met her eyes in the rear-view mirror. His were green and kind. The kindness did not make it easier to say.

‘She is my girlfriend.’ 

‘Yes. I know.’

‘Oh.’

‘Though your mother used slightly different terminology. Companion, I believe she said.’ He kept his eyes locked onto the rearview mirror. When Beatrice glanced into it again, he said warmly, ‘Congratulations, miss. That’s wonderful. I’m very glad to hear it.’

When she had been younger, there had been a stretch of time where running away had seemed very appealing. Each time she attempted it, Beatrice had never made it further than the park four streets from her home. She’d been too pragmatic, even at ten years old, but she’d also been stubborn so Beatrice had say there in the swing until someone noticed; whomever did notice, it was always Mr. Morris who collected her. She was reminded of it as he started the engine. The sound of its growl scared old memories out of hiding—she remembered how the plastic swing creaked, the feel of the metal chain in her little hands, how the gravel of the park entry had crunched beneath the town car tyres. How the headlights had washed over her and away with the tilt of his park and how invisible she’d felt when the lights turned off. Like a ghost haunting the playground.

Beatrice stared thoughtfully at his back, remembering how he would climb out of the car and sit next to her on a too-small swing until she’d been ready to return.

‘Thank you, Mr Morris.’

He nodded. Then, ‘I do still need her address, miss.’

‘Oh. Yes, of course.’

[neighbourhoodtwo]

playing along with the dm and giving your character and their weapons a cool backstory vs "i bought them from a shop"

[teehee-vibes]

Hi guys. I’m behind on JRWI-Tober. Here’s my progress so far.

1) Riptide

2) Fave PC

3) Fave NPC

4) Campaign swap

[hekateinhell]

we’re not going for exact representation here (lol yikes) just if you had to pick one!

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Actual footage of Tony trying to talk to Kelsey this episode:

Now what I personally need is for her to despise him for a while then for them to have some big heart to heart and them to become best friends OKAY I'm very invested in what's become of their dynamic and I'm all here for "Punished" Tony the wet cat that he is I yield the rest of my time thank you.

[inniave]

changed around some of the posters in my little music corner

[humming-fly]

do you fw he/they greedling

I mean when referring to the collective greedling character it's more of a 'they/them' situation isn't it? :P