#like bitch.... that was so good. this show had so many great moments and so much potential but my god it was a fucking mess

[karuvapatta]

buckle up, I'm gonna bitch about Arcane season 2 for a while.

disclaimer: the animation and art direction is absolutely stellar, writing and voice acting is mostly solid, music ranges from good to amazing, sound design is great, and it's a great show overall.

HOWEVER:

There were so many interesting subplots and ideas, but not one of them had enough room to breathe or time to develop organically.

(spoilers under cut)

Caitlyn - I love the subplot about her becoming a fascist dictator and Ambessa's pupil, I really do. But then it sort of fizzled? She faced no repercussions for installing a police state and using chemical weaponry against civilians? The last one got to me especially - her mother built this system claiming that "the people of Undercity deserve to breathe" and Caitlyn then turned it against them. Okay, Vi and Jinx both called her out and it left to her rift with Vi, but... she's still in charge at the end, having seemingly learned no lessons?

Vi - uh, she was there. Sort of. Most of the time. Again, she joined the Enforcers, and it led to SOME conflict, but... is she going back to being an Enforcer? how does she feel about that? Who knows - Vi was mostly there for Cait and Jinx's subplots than her own.

Jinx - her subplot with Sevika and Isha was my second favourite thing about this season. The idea of her becoming a symbol and uniting Zaun is great. That little moment in the prison was awesome. But, ultimately - it didn't amount to much. Her sacrificing her life for Vi (or not, I don't know if she actually dies) didn't hit as much because we already knew she was actively suicidal.

Isha - had the potential to be super annoying, but like I said, I ended up really liking her character. Her death rubbed me the wrong way, however - it was very emotional, but the framing was very strange. Were we supposed to find it inspirational? Tragic but beautiful? Proof that Jinx isn't irredeemable?

Sevika - again: loved her, loved her interactions with Jinx and Isha.

Silco - I found it weird how this season consistently framed him as a good guy. Jinx and Sevika remember him fondly, he was the only thing holding Zaun together, there are cute flashbacks / AU versions of him and Vander being happy... he's a complex character and we love him for it, but let's not forget his many, many crimes.

Singed - kinda weird that he got what he wanted with no repercussions.

Mel - all right, her subplot bothered me perhaps most of all. Mel is a joy every time she's on screen, true, but last season she had been established as a savvy politician and businesswoman, motivated by her mommy issues, and a corrupting presence on Jayce. She pushed for progress at all costs to fulfil her own ambitions and prove something to her mother. That's a great setup! But what we got in s2 is... random superpowers out of nowhere. Mel always had power - she was the richest woman in Pilltover and basically ran its Council - but now instead of confronting her with the potential side-effects of Hextech, the consequences of her ambitions, and the futility of proving herself to her abusive warmongering mother, she just gets... more power. Out of nowhere. And validation from Ambessa. It was just weird.

Jayce and Viktor - easily the most compelling part of this season, and my favourite subplot. And STILL - it felt rushed and incoherent. I thought at first that Viktor would become jealous and resentful because Jayce is everything that he isn't, and I am honestly so glad they didn't take that route. But instead, Viktor gets... brainwashed by the Hexcore I guess? Ascends to a higher plane of existence? His Jesus Days and his cults were fascinating, but I didn't get the philosophy behind them at all. I can see why Viktor would want to shed his physical body for a machine that has none of its weakness, and how he might convince others to follow that path, but instead he chose to brainwash his followers and then assimilate the entire human race? What? There were so, so many potential sources of conflict between himself and Jayce - the Hextech weaponry Jayce built, Pilltover's fascist takeover of the Undercity, Jayce reviving him against his will and not destroying the Hexcore, accidentally poisoning Ekko's tree through their irresponsible use of Hextech... but the conflict we got didn't built on any of that. And I don't understand why.

(But I get you, Jayce/Viktor shippers. You won this round.)

[misstwisted]

raaaaant time

so, I am very upset over the new Menéndez brothers series that came out. If you’ve seen it, you probably know why. Before I go into this, if you don’t know about this case, the menendez brothers had murdered their mom and dad in 1989 as self defense, fearing of them soon murdering them themselves, after suffering years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse by their parents hands.

for context I am a long time supporter of these men. I’ve known about this case since I was around 12 (unsupervised internet access, lmao) and I supported them then and I support them now.

This series is fucking disgusting. And not just because of the atrocious, disrespectful, and weirdly comedic relief portrayals of these traumatized men, no no no, it also of course just had to include sexualization and Incestuous fetishization of them. I was SO EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE watching these scenes. I’m sure it’s all supposed to show how their father had fucked up the brothers relationship and how he blurred the lines for them of what’s appropriate and not appropriate to do with your family, but this crosses a god damn line. It’s possible I’m also giving this dumb fuck director too much credit. Idk if it’s just me, but this feels like a writers barely disguised fetish moment. So many scenes felt like the start of a porno, and at times DID BECOME A PORNO!!!!!

I remember so many times of me yelling out loud in shock “WHAT IS THIS SHOW????”

the dialogue is trash, the pacing is trash, the portrayal is trash, etc. The only part I personally think was great was when they recreated the footage of Lyle and Erik walking into court. When I was watching it I felt they really looked and acted like the brothers at that moment. And the fact it’s surrounded by such garbage is sad. It really felt disconnected from the other episodes and scenes because of how much I enjoyed that little moment. And they weren’t even talking or anything.

There’s only like one word I could use to describe a lot of the scenes, especially the sexualization scenes, which is: unnecessary.

Gotta be honest, I really wanted to like this show! Thought it could bring back attention on this case again. Show empathy towards them. But no, I had to watch two actors portraying real life traumatized brothers kiss each other.

I am seriously wondering now if Ryan Murphy wanted two actors with romantic/sexual chemistry casted on purpose for what seems to be some sort of fantasy of his.

I started this show YESTERDAY, I am halfway through episode 7 right now. I wanted to see if it’d get better, and it just never did. But honestly? It’s my fault. What did I fucking expect from a Netflix series that’s directed by the guy who made GLEE? I’m still mad now, but I can’t even describe how even more upset I was yesterday watching it.

I legit could probably go on for days about how disrespectful this show is, and good on Erik for not being afraid to call it and the directors out.

It’s in vain to say this, because obviously they’ll never see it, but: Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan you two are pieces of utter dogshit. What about any of this was a good idea? You guys deserve to be sued for thinking this was okay. You deserve it for making Dahmer, and you deserve it for making this. I don’t even wanna SAY all the horrible things I think about you guys. All i hope is nobody ever hands you two a god damn camera again. Sincerely go fuck yourselves.

I know I’m being a dramatic little bitch again for the 100th time but this is truly horrendous. This isn’t just a story you can add shit to and get creative with, guys, this is their LIVES. These are real human people with dignities and families that care about them. They’ve been disrespected enough, the fact that they were sentenced to life in general just shows how little people empathized with them.

This audacity of this being made. This very serious story of trauma being turned into this weird comedy show.

what is this RPF, Ryan Murphy? ARE YOU BORED??? How about you go make a actual fucking difference? Cause you know what, Erik and Lyle are, and they’re the ones who’re incarcerated!

that’ll be all.

[marycorcaroli]

sub!luffy x fem!reader

dom!fem!reader with sub!luffy? hmmm..

req ♡ : sub!luffy getting fucked silly by another captain of a rival crew who's also trying to find the one piece, and luffy being all needy and stupid.

mary ♡ : thanks for the request and sorry if it was too long ! 💌 i hope you enjoy everything, i tried really hard ! love luffy too much <3

english is not my first language, i apologize for my mistakes ♡

rules ; masterlist

your hips keep pounding against luffy's thighs, ignoring his pleas to stop, because he can't cum anymore, but can he? his cock is throbbing inside you, and legs are trying to pound into you themselves to fill you all over.

"y/n, please make me feel good, only you can do that, ah-h" luffy tried to say something intelligible, but nothing came out, it felt too good that his brain refused to think. he didn't remember how many times he had cum, three, four or five? you clouded his mind, he could only think about you and your soft cunnie that was so right for his big cock.

you picked up your pace with each passing second, realizing that you were close to orgasm, but it wasn't your plan to show that to luffy, you just needed a map and some information about the one piece, but instead you were bouncing on some strange boy whose cock surprised you as much as he did.

"your body was made for me, wasn't it sweetie? i know just what to do to make you cum like you've never cum before, hehe." your lips descended on luffy's nipples, leaving wet kisses on them and lifting up to his chin "just tell me anything i want to hear and i'll even let you cum inside me, isn't that a gift, darling?"

when you stopped you felt luffy's hands grasp you sharply and his eyes became glassy, he started to cry and tried to make you resume your pace, but you continued to sit and wait for the answer to your question, running your finger over the places where you had left your marks for everyone else, with your claw you left the name of your team, that's how everyone would know whose slut luffy really was.

yours.

he was your whore from the first moment you met him, at the bar, the night you sought out zoro and offered to join you, but he was a son of a bitch and left you to your own devices until a strange guy came along and tried to hit on you.

"you want zoro? join my team and he'll be with you all the time." his cocky grin threw you off balance, but it was time for luffy to get scared as your hand grabbed his cock through his clothes and began to massage it gradually.

"yes, i want zoro, but now i want to destroy you even more." your hot breath on luffy's neck gave him goosebumps, he was lost in space and didn't realize what was going on, but he knew one thing for sure, he wanted you to fuck him in the dirtiest way possible.

as you replayed the memories in your head, you didn't hear the pleading along with luffy's whimpering, he was like a little kid, but wanting your cunnie very badly.

"y/n? p-p..lease i'm.. begging you, s-start moving and i'll tell you everything you want, i'll let you get to the one piece, j-just, fuck it all out of me." his eyes were like puppy dog eyes, it was impossible to refuse them, but you didn't want to, did you? after all, when else would you have just an obedient boy who would do anything for your pussy.

your gentle palm touched his cheek and slowly traced down the whole side of his face, and your eyes stayed on luffy's eyes, you wanted to see how pathetic he'd become in just one night and you were the reason why.

with a quick motion you planted luffy and slowly began to move in time to his hips.

"you look great when you're begging for something, all sweaty and red eyed, i'm going to make you feel good baby, but after this you're not likely to be able to walk or think properly." throwing him back on the pillows and squeezing his fingers tightly, your pace began to quicken again, and luffy's moans grew louder and louder.

it was a delight to your ears, knowing that he was only like that for you, only you see him that way, but or not really....

you didn't notice zoro with his red cock in his hand, he was watching you and jerking off, but he also wants to feel himself inside you or luffy, he hadn't decided yet, but he knew that you and him could destroy luffy with your dirty words and endless orgasms.

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on. 

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress. 

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa. 

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch. 

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone. 

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him. 

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him. 

“Logan!” 

And then he turned around. 

And now they're here. 

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman. 

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch. 

His breath catches in his chest. 

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety. 

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep. 

“...Wade, please.” 

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep. 

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again? 

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not. 

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.” 

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic. 

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–” 

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small.  Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now. 

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

[ilikesillythings]

" To my darling baby; " Vox x reader TWs ;; Yandere themes, Vox in himself is a tw (If you squint enough Al stole Vox's bitch) Requested by ;; @everywherebut

"Two weeks.", Vox angrily muttered to Valentino, who, clearly wasn't listening as much as the TV-headed demon assumed he was.. or at all. But, in Vox's mind he had every right to be upset at the moment! Not only had you broken his electrical heart - he hadn't seen/heard from or of you in TWO WHOLE WEEKS! It felt like Vox's world had come crashing down!! And he only got even angrier when Val finally spoke up, in a bored, uninterested tone, "Uh.. Voxxy- isn't {Y/N} at that hotel? Y'know.. the one with the Radio demon? Thought I saw her outside it one time on one of your cameras."

This didn't sit right with Vox. His precious {Y/N}, at that shitty hotel? With radio fossil trash? This could not be happening. With quick movements, Vox ran out of the room, straight into the elevator, hands frantically pressing the 'down' button.

You, on the other hand, had been having a great time. Charlie was welcoming, when she had seen you at the doorstep, in your nightly attire, tears filling up your eyes, she had immediately taken pity upon you, ushering you inside. After two long years with Vox, you had grown to hate him. He was arrogant, loud, rude, and never spared you a glance anymore.

Running away was hard enough, as you knew very well he could spy on people through the TV screens he had displayed, the electronics from his brand, and cameras. But the Hazbin hotel was the one place you felt to be safest. Yeah, the Radio demon was there, one of the most dangerous overlords, though his reputation smudged into old tales after his absence, and yes, the princess of Hell, Charlie, ran it, but she seemed like nothing more than a harmless puppy. Alastor, on the other hand, was in fact scary as fuck,

But, he never made an attempt to frighten you, to harm you. Nor did he ever demand information on his 'rival', despite having heard about your past affiliations with the demon. He was a sort of gentleman, to most at least.

Maybe if you were someone else, you'd be eternally paranoid, for good reason, of course. You had broken up with a powerful overlord, who had many souls, and a lot of power at his fingertips. If he wanted to; he could find you. Yet, he hadn't. You were safe at this dingy hotel. Somehow you had managed to be safe.

Or, that's what you had thought up until now. To be completely honest, you had forgotten all about your ex. Until he showed up at the hotel's door.

You could hear him shouting from outside, unluckily for you, it was only you and Nifty at the hotel. "{Y/N}! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! BABY- PLEASE, I'M SORRY!" he screamed, voice sounding strained, which made sense when you realized he had been shouting for about two hours now. Not wanting to talk to him directly, you made your way upstairs, to the balcony, and leaned over the edge, annoyance evident on your face.

His electrical face lit up, digital eyes widening with awe. Perhaps for you, this was an irritating encounter, as you had been hoping to simply relax all day, still dressed in last nights clothing from when you had gone to bed. For Vox?

It was like he was Romeo, and you his Juliet. An angel sent from above to grace this poor, poor sinner. "Oh- baby! There you are!" he exclaimed, relief evident in his strained voice, "C'mon, get down from there, and we can-"

He paused as you raised your hand, "I'm not going home with you, Vox." you sternly stated to the annoyance below you, who in tern, stared at you in shock. Before guffawing, shaking his rectangular head, "You've always been so good at jokes!" he praised earnestly, clapping his hands, "But, now it's time to go home!"

For a moment, you scowled at him, before turning on your heels and walking back inside, ignoring the loud protests from Vox, begging you come out, begging you to come back to him.

[tallochar]

Just got hit real hard by a drive-by idea where Flashpoint doesn't happen and Dick just takes a few months off to chill (read: Donna shows up and drags him off to have adventures now that Bruce is back in town and everything seems status quo again)

And when he comes back it initially looks like that set up so many fandom fics have where Tim has been isolating himself / been left to his own means and only works with the others out of politeness.

And the moment Dick clocks that that's what the others think is happening, he can straight up feel the grey hairs trying to show up, because while he had phone calls with Tim (who seemed to be coping better with everything that went wrong in his life) and Damian (with whom Dick did not talk about anyone outside of Damian and, occasionally, Bruce, which was already hard enough on Dick without bringing the others in) he had also thought that things had sort of started settling back into what Dick used to think as normal before Bruce "died" on them.

Except Damian and Jason don't know how to pick up on that sort of thing, Cass is still doing her Hong Kong / Journey of Self Discovery Thing as far as anyone seems to know / Bruce is CLEARLY (to Dick and Alfred and absolutely no one else) still communicating with Tim because he's on an even keel but also he must have done something to piss off Tim because Tim is doing the Politely Co-Workers Thing at Bruce (with Alfred's approval and support so Bruce must have fucked up REAL BAD) and it's stressing Bruce out so much that Dick can practically see the tension lines heading to a breaking point in the man why is no one else seeing the tension lines.

Plus Barbara and Dick were still on not-so-great terms when Dick split from Gotham, so he's not had much luck talking to her and some desire to call her but not enough to actually call her a lot, just some, which hasn't made Babs less pissed at him, so he's not getting information on that side and of course if Barbara is pissed at him and Tim is pissed at Bruce and Dick wasn't around for Tim to bitch about Bruce in person (and Tim would NEVER on a phone line, not even a secure one) then Dick is 1000% sure that Tim and Barbara have been having a shared and supportive bitch fest for however many weeks / months Dick was away that has just solidified them in a block of their own.

All of which means that Dick's little brother has been left unbothered, unnoogied and unsupervised for all the time Dick was away and like, sure, some people would think Dick would feel horrible for that and want to octopus-grab him and cuddle him but those people would be wrong because Dick is now honestly terrified to find out WHAT Tim has been up to without supervision and limits.

Between YJ, his civilian friends, his other friends in the superhero community, whatever new people Tim for sure rustled up, the lack of supervision on who Tim teams up with and for what, all the villain-frenemies he might have decided it was worth cooperating with, Tim being pissed at Bruce enough to keep a physical distance if not a communication distance...

And then, just as it is hitting Dick that, of course just keeping track on the phone was a bad idea to begin with why did he think that was a good idea and that what with Barbara and Tim in agreement and both Tim and Barbara at odds with Bruce and Alfred firmly entrenched in his usual If-Tim-Is-Handling-Master-Bruce-I-Will-Not-Hear-A-Thing-Against-The-Lad british politeness artillery position, this means that no one who would not enable him in the Wrong And Not Dick Approved Ways has been actually keeping as close track of Tim as he should have been kept track of (because *will smith hands memes* TIM!) ...

... Red Robin swings by, Azrael in tow, clearly going after Lynx.

And it's not that new Azrael that they had, which was still an Azrael but wasn't the Worst of the Azraels.

It's fucking Jean Paul Valley, who is supposed to be dead and clearly did not have the goddamn grace to decide to stay dead.

Dick, internally while outwardly having a BSOD moment: Tim. Tim you had just told Dick you were going to check out a couple of leads tonight. Tim why are you swinging from rooftops with JPV in tow. Tim why is JPV ALIVE. Why did you NOT tell Dick about it, TIM. TIM.

[c0llisiion]

Cr. _3aem on twitter/x for the pic

★pairing : gojo satoru + fem!reader

★genre : smut , slight angst , fluff(?)

★: clan leader!gojo , mean dom!gojo , dubcon/cnc , lots of crying, name calling, degrading, choking, slapping, gojo is a douchebag towards reader in the beginning, fluff at the end, aftercare — lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 861

A/N: saw the comments under the first gojo post SO I WROTE A REDEMPTION 😍☝️ gonna be going on a break till the end of feb so 💔 i have so many clan leader gojo headcanons hehehe anyways enjoy!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

“Shit- fuck- look at you. So pathetic. Crying and whining. You better stop before I smack some sense into you.” He said, harshly as he thrusted into you from beneath. He had you bouncing on his long, thick cock while your hands clawed at his chest and shoulders. Head low, and hot tears fell on his broad chest. His hands tightened around your hips, keeping you in place while he pushed up into you at an inhumane rate.

“I told you to stop crying. What is the reason to cry? Is the dick too good?” He said darkly with a chuckle, landing a harsh slap on your reddening ass. This time, Satoru was particularly rough. And it was making you uncomfortable. You had no desire to do it. The feeling alone was making you feel weird. But you, of course, couldn't say anything because you were scared he would lash out at you, so you kept silent, letting your tears do the talking. Tears were staining your face. You looked like a mess, but that wasn't the concern at the moment. You yell in pain and shake your head. Satoru looked at you, amused. He knew something was off, but he ignored his intuition. Through tear-filled eyes, you glanced at his face. His face had a stern look. He scowled at your lack of response and tightened his grip on your hips, guaranteed to form bruises as he thrusted up into you harshly. He pulled you off his dick before slamming you back with great force. mouth flung open and eyes wide, choked-out cries slipping from your lips every second. “You wanna be all bratty right? Im gonna make you regret it.”

The pleasure quickly turned into pain as he continued fucking into you. Satoru now had you on your back, his hand wrapped around your neck, in a tight grasp as he pounded into you. He seemed to not get the signal that you weren’t enjoying it. “Gojo..!” You cried out as his cock hit a specific spot. Your hands were around his wrist, trying to push him away. “Quit resisting, bitch. I know you like it. Better stay still before I do something bad.” You shook your head, tears running down the sides of your face. Satoru slapped your face, which made your breathing stop for a second. “Take it, you stupid cunt. Take it. I know you can.” He said smoothing over your cheek. You nod out of fear and let him keep pounding into you.

After a moment, you reach your breaking point. It was just too much, and you were getting really uncomfortable. “G-gojo..” Your voice was soft and hoarse as you called out to him. Satoru was too immersed in the pleasure and ignored you. You call out to him once again. “Gojo.. i-i dont-“ “shut up.” That was all he said as he increased his speed. You cried out. “Gojo..! P-please..!” With every word you said, his pace and strength increased. “Satoru stop! I don’t like it! Stop it, please!” You screamed out, bursting into tears, making Satoru stop and look at you, astonished. You were not expecting his next move. Satoru immediately wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you closer to his sweaty body. He held your shaking body tightly towards himself. You were too out of it to process the embrace and just cried into his chest. His hands smoothed over your lower back. “Shh..shh..” he shushed you, kissing your forehead softly. This was the first time he ever showed you affection. His grip tightened. “Its fine.. you are safe with me. Dont cry. Im sorry..” he whispered into your ears. You couldn’t help but cry into his chest more. “Im gonna prepare us a bath… will that be okay with you?” He asked you tenderly. You nod and feel his warmth leave your side. He quickly wrapped you in his haori, put his pants back on, and walked out of the room. You heard him ordering his servants to prepare a bath immediately before he returned to your shared room. He sat in front of you and pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly. “Its alright.. You are okay..” He kissed your head before picking you up in bridal style.

He slowly placed you in the warm water before getting in himself. His hands wrapped around your waist gently, pulling you closer to his chest. Your head lay on his chest as you sniffled and cried. Satoru was gently stroking your hair, not wanting to make you even more uncomfortable. “I..im- im sorry.. g-gojo” you managed to mumble out. Satoru shook his head, pulling you in closer. “No. Im sorry. I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me you were uncomfortable?” He asks you with concern. You nod. “I- i… was scared. Im sorry. Im sorry i was not able to-“ “shh..shh.. its alright. I'm glad you are feeling okay. That's the only thing that matters right now."

You nuzzle into his chest, loving the warmth of his body wrapped around you. Satoru sighed and kissed your forehead. “I love you.” 

A/N: HEHE THANK YOU FOR READING!!! Sorry if it seemed too rushed 😭 More clan leader gojo headcanons? 🤫🧏‍♂️

[pantheresssy]

Good Hurt (Abby Anderson/ Reader)

Part 2 here.

Synopsis: Abby wanted to keep it casual. You didn’t. Drowning in your feelings for her, you had no option but to try to get away from her sight. That’s when you meet Ellie Williams.

warnings: slightly angst and fluffy ellie, probably ooc!els too.

Everything should be different in college. You would live the life you always dreamed of. Studying what you love, being responsible and no longer depending on your parents for anything. Your golden years.

All that matters for you was learning and getting the best out of classes, to really learn what you liked. And in the first months, that’s exactly what happened. You were a great student, always having great grades and fell in loving more and more with where you was at every day. But someone showed up, — someone that made your perfect little world collide.

Abby Anderson, a student that you had heard about but never really saw. She studied on the other side of the campus, your friends had told you about how she was beautiful, giving you details of her that you never thought it was possible to see. It took you a while to figure out for yourself if she was everything people talked about; smart, hot, beautiful, a bitch. But when it happened, your expectations were proved.

She hadn’t liked you at first. The looks she gave you were prove enough that, if she didn’t hated you, she had some sort of problem with you. Abby didn’t had as many friends as you did, always walking around with a guy named Owen that took classes with her. Your friends had told you that he was the only one she trusted, and that’s why she was all skeptical every time someone new came close. So you tried to be the best version of yourself until she looked more… open to talked to you more than the usual ‘good morning’, ‘i’m fine’ and ‘have to go’.

It took you a full month to get close, and one more for her to make sure you were someone cool. Abby was sweet after she let go of her protective barrier. She helped you with your homework and you did the same for her. She gave you the best conversations you ever had and seemed to be truly interested in what you had to say. Even though it took more than smiles and introductions for her to consider someone a real friend, with you it wasn’t the same. Since the day you made an effort to talk to her more, you had considered her one.

Something had changed along the way of this kind-of-friendship. You didn’t know when, only realizing it when she was sitting by your side and you looked at her, noticing every trace of her. Her nose, the freckles that fit on her cheek and spread across the rest of her face, her eyelashes, her chin. You had never looked so carefully at another person as you did at her in that moment. And when she turned to look at you, what had changed inside you came out. Your first kiss with her. Abby. The girl who didn’t like you at first, every girl's desire. Your newly discovered friend. Happened.

From that day on, she became all you could think of. Abby wasn’t complicated. She treated you better than any of your previous girlfriends had and was genuinely interested in you, not in what you could give. At least you thought so.

In your mind, what you had with her was real. She was your girlfriend, even without her ever asking you to be. The way she looked at you and the way you looked back told you that her feelings were as strong as yours. The kisses and the way she adored you showed that her love was as deep as yours. Your euphoria grew each time; you couldn’t get her out of your mind and body. She was everything you ever wanted and, at the same time, everything you never had. Until you were confronted by the circumstances.

You were having lunch with her, looking and listening to her as if she held the world. And she was doing the same. Flirting was common to you, something you two developed over time, and you knew she liked it if her smiles were any indication. But when Owen arrived at your table, she changed. It was like turning a key in a closed door. In a second, she held nothing but indifference. She had never acted that way before, so cold and distant all of a sudden. Not even when she first met you she was acting so rude. But you let it slip, thinking that she wasn’t ready to show any type of affection in front of anyone yet.

Whatsoever, your hopes were crushed when, not long after, she did it again. It became common: every time that someone showed up, she acted like nothing was happening. Later, you noticed that it was even more common when Owen was around.

You could hold quiet until a certain point and when n she reached it, you felt it was time to start to make questions. “You’re seeing things where you shouldn’t,” You were doing it, trying to take from her something other than empty answers.

“Shouldn’t I?” You asked, your voice going up with your indignation. Abby’s shoulders tensed, knowing what it meant. “Every time someone’s around you change. Especially when Owen is.”

For the first time since you started to questioning her, she turned around. Now face to face, you could see the anger in her eyes and her white fingers of squeezing the pen she was holding. “What does he have to do with your paranoia? You're not making any fuckin' sense.”

“Every single time he’s around you change, Abby. I know you don’t like to be so close to someone around others but… when it’s him,” You swallowed, your eyebrows frowning with anguish. “It’s like going back to day one.”

Abby crossed her arms. “Again, you’re seeing things where you shouldn’t. This is fuckin’ bullshit, Y/n. Stop being such a baby.”

You rubbed your hands on your face, squeezing it against your eyes until you saw stars. “I’m trying to have a real conversation here, Abby. Just tell me…”

“I just did it! You want to keep creating those stupid situations so you have a reason to do this.” She pointed between you.

The indignation you felt only increased with every word she said. “To do what? Trying to fix something I think is wrong? Trying to find answers for what I saw?”

Abby went silent for a second and her eyes met yours. You kept staring at each other for a few moments before she said anything. You were tired of fighting with her. “Nothing is broken. I’m not broken. But if you keep doing this, Y/n, it will be.”

You sighed. “I’m sorry for thinking that you’re ashamed of me, that you don’t want anyone to know what we have.”

She was looking for something on your face, taking her eyes to your mouth and back to your eyes. Trying to read you, that’s what she was doing. “Nobody need to. I’m not your girlfriend.”

It was like a stab in your stomach. Reminding you this caused more pain that you imagined. “Because you don’t want to,”

“And still you keeping putting names and wanting things that I don’t feel the need to.”

Three. Four. Ten stabs. This time in your heart.

You nodded and pressed your lips together, looking away from her. The purse you brought was thrown on the floor and you were quick on picking it up, wanting to leave there as fast as you could. “I’m sorry, Abby. I’ll never made the same mistake again.”

And then you left, beating the door behind you and promising for yourself that you’d never go back there again — but complying would be more difficult.

——————————————

“She’s not here, Y/n. Calm down.” Dina, your friend, told you while handing a glass for you. You knew she was right. Abby wasn’t someone to go for college fraternity parties, but you still feared that she all of sudden changed. She did it with you, she could do it now.

Letting your worries go away, you relaxed against the counter and kept staring at your drink, taking a few sips at now and then. You weren’t in the mood for drunk people and loud music, being too focused on your mind. Dina thought it was the best for you and you gave her this vote of confidence. When you arrived there, however, you regretted it at the same second. It was too loud, too bright. Even though it was a place for your mind to be filled with so much information, you couldn’t stop looking at the crowd secretly hoping to see her.

You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you were trying to let her out of your mind and heart.

As the days went on, you found yourself sinking even more into your studies. Your world started revolving around your classes again and you were happy to have something to distract yourself until bedtime. That’s when everything got more difficult.

While lying in bed with your eyes closed, trying to chase sleep, your mind spun with thoughts. This was the worst part of the day — where you had nothing to worry about, leaving room for anything that wanted to show up. Since that day, it’s been Abby. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t control it. She was all you had for so long, the one who was by your side and shared everything with you, from your bed to your meals.

Dina realized your problems and suggested several solutions that eventually stopped working. That’s when you saw no other way out but to go with her to that party in a desperate attempt to prove to her that nothing would work, that you just needed to be left alone to recover. She was the best friend you had, but her stubbornness knew no limits.

While you were there, feeling pretty bothered about the situation you were in, you didn’t notice when she left your side. You only saw it when she returned with someone holding her hand. “Y/n, this is Ellie,” She said, pulling the girl closer by the wrist. Ellie smiled.

“Hey,” You said, trying to return the smile but it came out as a grimace, your lips pressed. You knew you might seem a little rude, so you tried to make up for it with words. “Nice to meet you. Wanna sit?”

Ellie let go of Dina’s grip and sat by your side. She wasn’t looking directly at you, but you could see the corners of her eyes blinking to you. “You’re not enjoying this, are you?”

You laughed. "Yeah. Dina really wanted me to come, she wouldn't give up until she made it happen." Taking a sip of your drink, you continued, "I'm just... dealing with a few things that are bothering me."

Ellie bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to ask why, but she didn’t know if she would get an answer or a 'fuck off'. "Do you have classes with her?"

"No, I'm studying journalism," You replied and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What about you?"

Ellie adjusted on the bench, leaning one of her arms on the counter. This way, she was facing you with the upper part of her body. “English language and literature. I’m a writer.”

You looked at her with more interest. “What do you write? Book’s or…?” She shook her head no.

“Songs.”

When she told you that, you realized. She looked like someone who would write songs, those romantic ones that could make any girl fall to her knees if one of them were inspired by her. Ellie had soft features, with eyes that were gentle, the kind that could make anyone fall in love at first sight.

You locked eyes with her and gave a more genuine smile this time. "It's a surprise, although you seem like someone who would write them. Are you some kind of Taylor Swift type of writer?"

She made a face. "No, no. I compose all kinds of music. Romantic, pop, anything."

Squinting at her playfully, with a hint of disbelief in your eyes, you replied, "That, I can't picture."

Ellie laughed and shrugged, looking at her hand hanging off the counter. "Why's that?"

“I don’t know, you just seem like someone who wouldn’t do it.” You said, running your eyes up her body stopping – again – on her eyes. “I imagine those songs like the clichés that are on the soundtrack of movies.”

You and Ellie faced each other for a second, the moment being broken when you turned your attention to your almost empty glass. "I'll show you my notebook then, if you want to."

Silence, and then your response. “I do, yes.”

As she continued to talk about her work, asking you about what you like and genuinely listening to what you had to say, you forgot about Abby for a while. Ellie was involving you in a conversation where you were really enjoying every word you said. And for that, you felt grateful.

Good hurt. That’s what Abby became on that few moments. A good hurt that would grow again once you were left alone.

And part 01 of ‘casual’ is finished!

i wonder if ‘English language and literature’ is right, in my country it’s a different word. I’m sorry if this is wrong or anything else is, my english is not perfect (yet).

plsss tell me what you think abby would study!!

taglist: @pinkpanther-44, @elsmissingfingers, @sofi4v13.

[bonefall]

Honestly I kind of. Like. When a character has to grapple with the fact they still have some love for a person despite that person being a complete piece of shit that hurt them and other around them. Remembering the good moments they had despite the hatred they feel, not being able to replace them entirely by what they think they should feel.

Basically I wish Berryheart died a death deserving of the cunt she actually is, but I was soooo hoping Sunbeam would have character growth of going from "I loved her even if she was a bitch she was still my mom" to trying to paint over that love with righteous anger for what she did to her siblings and father, and not just "my mom was actually great she just had hate in her heart but she was a good mom :((("

(Ok no, I kind of also want Sparrowtail and Spireclaw to have worse consequences but this is not about them)

Anyway, that's what also disappointed me. What about you Bones? What's the Berryheart stew brewing like so far?

(note: it's hollowspring, not spireclaw, but i know what you meant)

Our stew is the same stock. I LOVE complicated parental relationships, imo, it's one of the most interesting types of connection to consider. But I don't think it's so interesting because it's "magical blood connection" the way the Erins seem to

In fact, I don't think it's really the genes you share that tie you, at all-- it's that a parental bond is irreplaceable. You're only a kid once and you WILL model your caretakers, so these people inevitably teach you how to approach life. Whether the person who takes on that role is a relative, a guardian, or a peer who never should have had that responsibility in the first place, that connection (or lack thereof) gave you that first impression of the world.

It's just a shame, at the end of the day. They had an incredible opportunity here to have Sunbeam unpack the fact her mother was toxic, experience firsthand what it feels like to be part of a supportive family in the Firekin, show Berryheart doing the selfish and violent thing over and over... and STILL have Sunbeam struggling with the fact she loves her.

She can try and quash it with righteous fury. Play back the memories in her mind and understand that many of those "jokes," those "good times," were thinly veiled cruelty. See her mother for the fearful, angry person she truly was... and still not be able to change the desperate pit of longing in her stomach.

(Sunbeam: "...It's like that show, BeckerClan. You know, with Teddansonheart?")

I don't know if Berryheart's Redemption Death was because of the Erin bioparent worship, OR because they didn't want to have Sunbeam contradict Nightheart's feelings about his own mom, OR just their unhinged amount of sympathy towards bigoted characters... but, we had three fascinating setups here, and each one ended in the worst possible way.

I think that makes it PRETTY clear what my intentions are there. There is no chance in hell I'm keeping Berryheart's Tom Moment.

I flatly refuse to end the arc of a character whose most noteworthy action was attempting to hatecrime her in-laws with "awww she loved her daughter." Get OUT. I'm making her WORSE.

[strangersatellites]

It had all started in Photography 101. 

All he had needed was one more elective added to his schedule for the fall semester to be considered a full-time student. It was Robin who had suggested photography.

Steve had never had that great of a memory to begin with, the numerous blows to the head from juvenile high school fights certainly doing him no favors. Sometimes the amount of time it took to jog Steve’s memory surpassed the time it would’ve taken to simply tell him the story as if he hadn’t been there himself. 

He was always able to grasp the memory eventually, but sometimes they were slippery in his mind. 

He and Robin had found that his memory was ten times better if he had something to look at. Sometimes that was a souvenir from a trip, sometimes it was a takeout menu with his order circled in red pen, sometimes it was a physical scar on his skin from some silly injury. But most of the time it was pictures. 

Steve took to taking photos of everything. His friends, his food, the landscape, a book with a pretty cover, anything he wanted to be able to remember.

The walls of his room grew to be covered with polaroids and prints, some staged, most not. Many blurry and out of focus, but in the moment just the same. 

So when Robin suggested Photography 101, Steve saw an opportunity to take something he did for his own benefit and turn it into something he really enjoyed, something he was good at. 

The semester was a breeze and Steve flourished under the attention of his professor. He was constantly drowning in compliments about the movement in his photos and his eye for composition. 

(Robin would tell him on several occasions that she had never seen him enjoy something this much.)

By the time the semester was coming to a close, he was left with one final project. The professor had been intentionally very vague in her description of it throughout the semester, so Steve was a little on edge. 

Sitting in the front row of the small classroom, he twirled the strap of his camera around his fingers while he daydreamed. The room slowly filled and the professor settled in behind her desk. 

About five minutes after class was supposed to have begun Steve noticed they were all still sitting in silence. Glancing at the professor he saw her brows furrow and a frustrated lilt to her lips as she looked at her watch.

What are we waiting for? 

She stood and dusted off her pants before clapping her hands together.

“Well,” she began, “I guess we can go ahead and get start–”

The door at the back of the room swung open and knocked against the wall with a resounding slam.

“Shit! Fuck! So sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

Steve is so caught off guard by the man who just burst into the room that he barely even registers the words he’s saying. 

He’is tall and all lanky muscle, dark curls and jewelry, tattoos and the smell of smoke, chains and leather and everything Steve’s not. Everything nobody in this class is.

He’s even more caught off guard when his professor laughs and pulls the man into a tight hug. There are only five other students in this class, surely he’s not the only person confused.

He keeps an arm around her shoulders as she introduces him to the group.

“Guys, this is Eddie. He’s a family friend and he’s going to be your subject for your final project.”

Steve’s own eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand how this was the project she has been keeping under wraps. They’ve had plenty of portrait sessions this semester, with models and subjects of their choice alike.

The guy, Eddie, claps a hand to his chest in a dramatic show of faux humility. 

“Thank you for having me, Joyce. It's such an honor to be here.”

She smacks at his arm and carries on.

“So, Eddie is your subject and you have no parameters. The only requirement is that he is the inspiration for your shoot. This can look like a standard portrait session, this can be contemporary urban street photography, whatever you like. Eddie does not even have to be in the photo! He just has to be the inspiration for it.”

Steve's brain is already running a mile a minute, conceptualizing shots faster than he can keep up. 

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But one idea sticks out from the rest. As Steve lifts his eyes to Eddie once more and meets his own twinkling with mirth and smirking back at him he makes his decision.

He’s going to take his mugshot.

*****

“I want to take your mugshot.”

They’re at the campus coffee shop. Joyce had scheduled a few hours for Eddie to meet with the other students during their class time so they could talk through their projects.

Eddie barks out a laugh. “What, man?”

Steve twirls his straw around his drink and tries not to bristle at the reaction.

“Look,” he starts, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I don’t really know where the idea originated but once I had it, it stuck. I just saw this vision of the shot in my head and it was sick, dude.”

Eddie leans back in the booth, one of his boots knocking into Steve’s foot under the table. He crosses his arms and tilts his head. 

“Thought this shoot was supposed to be inspired by moi,” he says, gesturing a hand towards himself. “You saying I look like I should be in jail?”

Steve groans and puts his head in his hands. “No. I already told you I don't know where i got the idea–”

But that’s a lie isn’t it. He knows exactly where he got the idea. It was somewhere between the chains dangling from Eddie’s jeans and the handcuff belt he was wearing the day they met.

He put his hands together on the table between them. “Okay. No, I’m not saying you look like a criminal, Eddie. I’m saying I think you want to look like one.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment before his face breaks into a slow smirk. He huffs a quiet laugh and leans closer. “Guilty as charged, Stevie. Besides, I was arrested once actually.”

Steve gawks while Eddie laughs. He is unfairly attractive when his dimples pop and Steve is going to have such a hard time holding it together behind the camera. 

*****

Steve takes his shoots very seriously. Every detail has to be perfect, even the ones not relating to the subject of the photo.

So it is wildly convenient that his professor happens to be married to the chief of police back in Hawkins. 

One quick phone call from Joyce and Steve and Eddie were granted access to the booking room at the police station. You know, for the sake of realism. 

Steve’s setting up his tripod while Eddie takes a chalk marker to the placard and writes up his own booking ID, a long series of random numbers with E.M at the end. 

Steve would be lying if he said Eddie’s choice of clothing wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. 

He’s wearing a ratty, old band t-shirt for some group Steve’s never heard of. There’s his usual black leather jacket and the silver chain around his neck. His ripped black jeans and fingers covered in rings and black nail polish. 

It's perfect for the shoot. But Steve’s sanity is struggling.

He gets the camera and the lighting set up just as Eddie steps into place in front of the height measurement wall. 

Steve puts his hands on his hips and gives instructions.

“Okay, so I know you’ve done this before–”

“Hey! It was one time!”

“So you know how this goes. We’ll do one forward and then one to each side.”

Eddie shakes out his hair and rolls his shoulders back. He holds the placard up in front of him and levels the camera with a dead-eyed stare.

He looks good. 

Steve is less than shocked that he looks even better on camera.

He lines up his shot. Click.

Eddie turns to his left. Steve gets a little distracted by the line of his jaw.

Click.

He turns to the right and of course only now does Steve notice his ear piercings. 

Steve takes a deep breath and focuses.

Click.

Before he can even look through his shots Eddie is dropping the placard on the desk.

He’s halfway out the door before he grabs the frame and leans back in. “One second pretty boy, I have an idea.”

He’s back before Steve snaps out of his stupor at the nickname. This time, he has a pair of handcuffs swinging from his index finger.

Steve snatches them out of his hand. “Where did you get these?”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. “I know a guy.”

He rolls his eyes. 

He’s already picking up the placard and setting up some detail shots when Eddie grabs his wrist and stops him. He freezes for more than one reason.

“Hey, uh. Not to step on your toes or anything, but I actually have another idea.”

Steve is about to start on his spiel about ‘not messing up his flow’ when Eddie rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist. Gentle and reassuring. 

“Do you trust me?”

Honestly Steve has no reason to trust him, he’s basically a stranger.

A pretty one. His brain supplies.

But he does. Trusts him enough to let him take Steve’s creative liberties and throw them out the window apparently.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is blinding. He turns Steve’s hand over and drops the handcuff key into it.

“Don’t lose this big boy,” he says as he snaps the cuffs around each of his own wrists.

Steve laughs, loud and shocked. He waggles his eyebrows at Eddie. 

“Well, now didn’t this take a turn.”

Eddie rolls his eyes this time and lifts his hands as much as he can.

“Don’t try to sexualize my creative prowess, Steve. I am a professional.”

He nearly trips on his way back to his place in front of the wall and Steve has to hide his laugh into a cough.

Steve’s back behind the camera, hands back on his hips when he asks, “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Eddie smiles and says, “You just shoot, Harrington. I’ll do the rest.”

He leans down to finalize his camera settings and line up his shot. When he finally looks through the viewfinder his jaw drops. Because while Eddie was clearly joking about being a professional, if Steve didn’t know any better, this shot would have him believing it.

Eddie’s got both of his pinky fingers tucked in the corners of his smile, tongue bitten between his teeth. His thumbs are raised along with his middle fingers, while he’s got his nose scrunched and one eye squeezed shut. The cuffs hang right under his chin and accentuate his silver jewelry in a way Steve never would have anticipated.

Click.

Click. 

Click.

The next is a close-up of the booking placard between his teeth.

His hands twisting to unlock his own cuffs.

He’s a natural, and Steve’s camera roll can attest to the fact.

It wouldn’t be until Steve was reviewing and editing the shots that he caught on. The booking ID on the placard looked long because it was. It was Eddie’s number.

*****

Steve got an A. 

He got an A, an endless stream of compliments from Joyce and a dorky hot boyfriend. 

The rest of the class went the route Steve expected them to.

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But Steve’s mugshot series stood leagues above the rest.

Later in their lives, when one of their friends would see the photo in Steve’s wallet they would ask when Eddie got arrested and why.

It quickly became a game between the two.

He’s been arrested in high school for selling drugs (True.)

When he was twenty for public indecency.

At twenty-two for arson.

Thirty for contract killing. This one was followed up with the claim that he was in witsec and was now going to have to change his identity and flee the country.

But the real when and why Eddie got arrested is because when he was twenty-one Joyce told him there was a nice boy in her class that she thought he should meet.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

I hope you don't mind me asking this, but why do you like Celegorm? I love that you're vocal about how stupid the Feanorian woobification in this fandom is because people who claim that they did nothing wrong or that they're not villains clearly hasn't read the Silm, but while there's still a level of sympathy to most of them, Celegorm is just genuinely the worst and I can't figure out what there is to appreciate about him lol. I'm sorry if this comes across as a bad-faith question, I really want to know how you like him while not ignoring, trying to deny, or worst trying to justify (which I have seen FAR too many people doing) his canon actions

you're totally good anon! i'd be happy to answer this. just want to preface, i perfectly get where you're coming from and why people hate celegorm, because he is, as you say, the worst. he's horrible. he's done awful things to countless people -- and by no means is he the only feanorian to have done that, obviously, but celegorm's actions in luthien's story make him a type of squicky that's unique even among the brothers. he, hm. how can i put this. he deserves nothing. and yes, people who try to justify him are just wrong. stop reading the silm if you want a mass murdering sexual predator to be glorified ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

that said! the succinct answer is that it's all about the vibes lol. all the feanorians are awful people, but celegorm is, imo, that particularly entertaining kind of awful. there's a certain interplay between his successes and failures that i find unbearably endearing (derogatory). he is canonically charming and magnetic and charismatic enough to sway people with his rhetoric, and i love that. i love that he's opportunistic, clever, and sly, and pounces on the chance when he spots it. the fact that his speech in nargothrond is explicitly paralleled with feanor's before the flight of the noldor says a lot. i find it compelling that while, in many ways, celegorm is the most distant from his family -- friend of a vala, a great woodsman and hunter which are two things that neither his father nor his brothers are ever even mentioned around -- he is the only one among the sons of feanor to be directly, textually compared to feanor, and feanor during one of his most pivotal and infamous moments, no less. the guy must be a force of nature when he really wants to be. yet at the same time, he's endlessly reckless, arrogant, and shortsighted, and he does not get to get away with his actions. his plans flop (just like he will continue to flop until his karmic and also really fucking funny death in about thirty years' time, i'll get back to that), his intentions are discerned, and he gets thrown out in disgrace for treachery with the embarrassing declaration "a maiden had dared that which the sons of feanor had not dared to do" following after him. it's that particular blend of hyper-competence followed hand-in-hand by prompt abject failure and humiliation that makes him so appealing to me.

oh and. another thing about celegorm is that he has the added charm of being a fucking sore loser and a petty bitch -- trying to kill luthien even though she spares his brother's life when she'd be justified throttling him and curufin with her bare hands and i just. he's sooo funny. what is wrong with him. so many things are wrong with him. tfw you kidnap and tried to rape this woman and she does you an untold, absolutely herculean grace and kindness that you know damn well you do not deserve and your reaction is to try to kill her for daring to show you compassion. he's insane.

then. then then then then. he gets chased by own dog and runs away "in terror." you know you've messed up when your dog finally has enough of your bullshit and runs you down because he's fed up with all the terrible things you've been doing. not to mention his dog also dies fighting next to a man that he hates, using his last opportunity of speech to say goodbye to said man. like. beren and luthien's story leaves celegorm, as skilled and magnetic as he canonically is, in absolute shambles and it's hilarious. how does one recover from that you may ask. and i answer one does not recover from that.

but that's not even all. after that saga of blunders he hangs around for about three decades doing absolutely nothing of note, then in his attempt to regain some relevancy winds up having the most mortifying death ever. my dude you were the "let's ambush doriath guys" spokesperson. you campaigned for that shit. this was your desire. this is what you wanted. and you walk in there and the guy who's *checks notes* THIRTY-SIX compared to your one-thousand-something KILLS YOU. elves are not developmentally matured until they're a hundred. your killer is like thirty. this is, generously speaking, about an eight year old by your standards. a fucking eight year old kills you. yes i know dior was not actually a child at the time but the fact remains that celegorm quite literally has more life experience than the entire human race and he's done in by the son of a human. then to add second insult to first insult to extreme injury, two of your brothers are also killed in this battle and in the end you all don't even achieve what the fuck you came there to do. THIS WAS YOUR PLAN. how do you lose that badly. holy hell. if i were him i'd stay in the halls of mandos forever out of pure embarrassment. you simply would never see me again. you think i'm walking out into society and showing my face around the block when an eight-year-old ended my life? nah. no sir not me

plus well. on a more serious note, dior is luthien's son. luthien, whom celegorm thought he could control, whom he saw as an object to further his aims and to lust after. he's killed by the son of the woman he tried to rape, and there's nothing more fitting than that.

so! there you have the basic rundown of why i like what's explicitly laid out about celegorm in canon. he's an objectively horrible man, it's just that i find the way he goes about being objectively horrible extremely funny. but i also think he is ripe for exploration in the realm of speculation -- and that speculation enhances what we do know about his actions during b&l and after until his death. aside from the kinslaying at alqualonde wherein all the sons of feanor participate, we see him and curufin acting unambiguously villainous a good bit before the rest of their brothers -- at the very least, they are clearly more willing to do horrible things at the point of time of b&l when compared to the likes of maedhros and maglor. like, they are out here committing actions that no sane person can rationalize as being anything other than abhorrent. it's clear that they've already given up on the idea of being "good"; they've already given up on keeping their hands clean and they've already shed whatever qualms they might have had in the past.

my thoughts on why? this is by no means canon, but tolkien does seem to like giving the legendarium's major villains some sort of arc and some type of insight into what they become (melkor gets history, sauron gets history, maedhros and maglor get history), so i don't see why celegorm should be any different. and for me, celegorm and curufin, especially celegorm, give the impression that they fell into despair and disillusionment far before the other feanorians did. and their response was to accept that they have no way of going back to the people they used to be, that they've already been rightfully damned, and if they've come this far they may as well do whatever they can to achieve what they fell so low for, because what does it matter anymore? it's part of why i think celegorm sees maedhros trying to look at beleriand and the war against morgoth from a larger perspective than just the silmarils, and both disdains and pities him for it. they've already been doomed and they already can't hope to make amends. they should do what they're here for -- and while, in celegorm's eyes, maedhros isn't willing to do what needs to be done, he is. i think that sort of mentality is fascinating. in a way, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy -- maybe if celegorm thought there was any meaning to him being better, or even just any meaning in not being nearly as awful as he resolved to be, then he wouldn't have stooped so low. but he did believe there was no hope for him, he did believe that he could never be forgiven -- and in believing that, he did go past the point of no return, beyond which he truly, legitimately couldn't hope to be forgiven. also, i just personally like the "well i'm a terrible person so i'm going to act like a terrible person"-type villains better than "oh no i'm a terrible person it makes me so sad and full of despair"-type villains (looking at you, maglor). again, none of this is canon, but it's my reading of celegorm's character, and i think it sheds some light on why he's so awful in b&l and afterwards. in his mind, it's already over for him anyway.

i hope this answered your question anon! i like celegorm, and i enjoy his character, because there are shades of a sad tale behind his descent to being the worst, he's entertaining while he's being the worst, and most crucially of all, he gets his comeuppance for being the worst in an extremely satisfying way. i definitely wouldn't like him (or the silm at all) so much if he'd been, like, successful in anything -- but thankfully he is written by an author who knows full well what an utterly reprehensible character he is. and boy does tolkien not spare him from that karma. he is simultaneously a singleminded and relentless fallen prince, a repulsive monster, and the story's laughingstock (one of them anyway). honestly, none of the feanorians tickle my brain quite like he does. i love him and i would beat him with a shoe

[ivys-garden]

I, like many of yall, have noticed a vocal minority of people showing there support for Wilbursoot, going as far as to attack shubble and her supporters. In this post I'll go through the main points I've seen them argue with and explain why I believe that they are all wrong.

“Shubble was the real abuser” - No. If she was, William would have spoken up. There is no evidence for this, well, that isn't faked or saying one thing is another (like the guy saying a pic of will crying was because of shubble or the guy trying to pass a stream of a completely different girl of as shubble abusing will… live. On stream. Yah, think we would have heard of that before now.)

“She has no proof” - genuinely fuck of. In domestic abuse cases there won't always be hard proof, that's one of the reasons the police struggle to do anything about it. If a wife is struck by a husband and it leaves no mark that doesn't mean it didn't happen “why didn't she show the bruises” have you guys ever been bruised? Bruises heal quickly, and she doesn't have any to show since the allegations came out after their break up, all the bruises would have healed. “Why didn't she take photos at the time?” Look at it this way, if I punch you across the face you will have a lot of thoughts, none of them will be “I should take a photo of this so people belive me what I say it happened”

(Also don't pretend that people wouldn't just say the evidence was fake if she did have pictures)

Oh and she does have evidence, the fact William admitted to it.

“She just did it for attention” - bitch, shubble doesn't need attention she was doing great. Just because you never heard of her didn't mean she was some underground indie youtuber, she didn't need to lie to get attention. Also lying about domestic abuse is not a good way to do this since it's really easy to disprove. The other party would come out instantly to tell everyone the truth. William didn't do that because shubble WAS telling the truth.

“Her story changed” - no. It didn't. Even the idea that she changed whether or not wilbur bruised with the bites or made her bled (both of which are still bad, btw) is made up, she never said that, as was clarified by shubble herself

“She encouraged death threats” - She openly decouraged death threats. Saying she was like: “everyone go and tell people to kill themselves” is literally putting words in her mouth

Also, this by no means goes for everyone, but arguing about death threats while, wilbur hasn't told his supports not to send death threats and that wilburs supporters have been saiding threats to shubble and her fans while condemning the few shubble fans who sent death threats, is kinda stupid

(Also this is by no means the main point but I have seen people who support wilbur literally begging for death threats, soooooooo)

(Oh aslo I was mistaken in the early version where I said shubble had implied that she didn't belive wilbur could change, that was another misconception and I'm sorry for spreading it. Shubble does belive that people can change IF they put in the work to do so)

Also remember, William has not been shown to actually change yet. He still hasn't even given shubble an apology that takes proper accountability, when he does that, apologies to everyone else he's wronged, and puts in the effort to actually be better moving forward, then we can forgive him. But at the moment he has not shown that.

So until then: support shubble. Belive victims. Raise awareness for these issues in the gaming space (this has been going on for a long time). And don't engage with people who make up evidence to support there parasocial relationships, don't send death threats (obviously, because that's wrong) but also don't engage in any other way. This will be my last post on this subject. Move on from William and the support for him will die down when they realise there's no one to disagree with, and then William, Shubble and all of us can move past this and into the future as a (hopefully) better space

[roeroe-world]

her.

starring: ryan destiny as juno, method man as himself

set in the memorable summer of ‘95 in Atlanta.

warning: detailed smut warning , use of profanity and drugs, very long scene ahead

Sweat beads drips amongst his caramel coated skin as he tosses a close by dry towel on top of his slightly nappy braids. Exhaustion yet adrenaline pouring over his 6 foot 3 frame, returning backstage. Mef had just finished a show and more than ready to return to his hotel room, hearing the bed calling—screaming his name. Although the crowd still going wild knocked the calling out of the park by a long shot.

“Yo! We killed that shit!” His friend and fellow artist, Redman, shouts while breathing intensely before the two would dap one another up.

Not only did Mef perform but a few artists performed beside him as well. Wu-Tang Clan members joined to perform a couple tracks together. Redman wasn’t exactly scheduled to perform though Mef decided to bring him out anyway. As a result, the fans loved it.

Mef was sweating bullets, breathing as heavy as ever, and physically tired. He desired to give his fans a great show— no fuck ‘great’ — he wanted his set to be amazing. Mef crowd surfed, brought out his group members and Redman whom was making a ton of noise on the streets, gave the audience his 110 percent of energy… now he needed to chill.

“Tryna hit up a club?” Redman’s inquiry earns a chuckle from the rapper as he takes a hit of the blunt he’s passed. “Nigga, I ain’t tryna hit nothin’.” Seriousness within his raspy, deep tone while observing his crowded surroundings with a head shake. Backstage was heavily crowded tonight.

“Shit…” The fellow rapper kisses his teeth, the two walking alongside each other. “I don’t know ‘bout you but I’m definitely tryna hit something before I leave tomorrow morning. I saw some fly ass bitches in the crowd.” He caught himself staring at a plethora of women passing by. Atlanta was filled with beautiful women. Not only were they gorgeous but their bodies were out of this world.

Maybe it was the Southern meals. However, whatever, they were stacked. Ranging from big to small, nonetheless, the women were captivating.

The women flocked at Mef’s every direction. It was no secret that he’s a chick magnet. Women loved him and he loved them too. Though he’s surrounded by a fish of captivating beauties with perfect bodies. The only chick on his mind is his current on and off girlfriend, Tamika. No matter how many women threw themselves at him, she’s all he ever thinks about often.

His love life was no-one’s business so therefore he hardly ever spoke about her publicly. She isn’t involved in his lifestyle, doesn’t want a damn thing to do with it. Currently, they’re having issues and not exactly on speaking terms at the moment. But as far as he’s concerned that’s still his.

Self-medicating himself with drugs and alcohol kept him afloat as he did his shows, although it didn’t help much. He didn’t really want to express his girl problems to his homies because their issues were absolutely none of their business. But he knows bottling his emotions weren’t healthy.

Between the pressure of maintaining his booming rap career and remaining in a committed relationship, it was growing a bit overwhelming. He has a lot of pent up frustration built that he possesses no clue of what to do with it so until then… he would continue to self-medicate.

After turning down yet another girl, an unopened bottle of Cristal found its way into his masculine large right hand— the moment it’s open he engulfs the alcoholic beverage as he welcomed himself near a table which was seated backstage.

“Damn, you good?” A sultry feminine southern accent meets his eardrums though he continues to drink not ready to meet eyes with the random voice just yet. “The only time a person drinks like that is when they going through somethin’.”

Suddenly, he drops the bottle from his lips and averts his low gaze into the woman’s direction before being immediately taken off guard by her beauty; Her skin coated a beautiful clear shade of brown. Dark irises shaped like an almond, similar to a siren. Her round face fit her perfectly as well as the short pixie cut she’s sporting.

The woman’s lips began moving though he wasn’t exactly paying attention to what was exiting them. He just knew the pair appeared very plump and juicy, adorned by red lipstick with a little gloss coat. It wasn’t long before he snaps out of his daze, catching, “The name’s Juno. I noticed you over here by yourself and decided to bless you with my company.” Redman had left awhile ago to tend to his needs for the night.

She wasn’t nervous, afraid, nor inappropriate. Her almond shaped eyes peered into his as she spoke clear enough for him to hear.

Confidence. He loved that shit.

A friendly grin forms across his lips, sneaking a quick glance of her outfit. Which happened to be a lace choker surrounding her neck, a crop top showcasing her belly button ring, a pair of short denim shorts as well as a pair of Air Max ‘95’s. She had a few tattoos too.

“I’m straight. ‘Preciate you for your concern.” Not to be cocky but he didn’t really feel the need to introduce himself if she came out to his show.

“If you don’t mind me asking… how you get back here?”

Chuckling to herself, “Backstage pass.” She motions to the pass in her hand and he nods, lifting the bottle near his lips. This time his eyes closely but slowly eyeing her frame. He definitely liked what he saw. “I don’t mean to talk your ear off but I really enjoyed your show tonight. You did your thing especially with your album.”

“Preciate it, shorty. What’s your favorite joint on the album?” More than likely, he was expecting it be the All I Need Remix with Mary J. Blige. The track was a huge success.

“Tical. That’s my shit.” Genuine smiles etched across both of their lips, finding themselves staring at each other.

“You smoke?” His inquiry earns a playful scoff, giving him a look, “Nigga, I’m the blazing queen. I bet my rolling skills better than yours.”

“Yo, what? Hell nah…” Mef laughs aloud, “You know what? We just might have to see ‘cause that ain’t possible. What you finna get into?”

————

A limousine ride and several drinks later, the two arrived to the Four Seasons. Mef would be residing there for the night. Underneath his long eyelashes, his squinted dark irises analyzes the rolled blunt closely. As much as he wanted to find a flaw… he couldn’t. Damn. He thought to himself, slightly impressed.

“Shit, you cool with me.” He places the perfectly rolled blunt between his lips, throwing his hands up in defense. “Told you.” The woman sticks out her tongue teasingly, grabbing her lighter out of her purse and sparking up the blunt for him.

Juno watches as the smoke blows smoothly between his lips, his gaze low and slightly dead. The side of his canvas showcasing red lipstick stains due to her kissing him on the cheek multiple times during the limo ride. She couldn’t help but to run her hair over his nappy cornrows, a slight grin etched upon her mouth as the smell of marijuana engulfed the spacious hotel room.

Her exposed left leg rests on top of his thigh while he caresses her soft skin gently. The pair sat on the edge of the bed, enjoying the peacefulness of the atmosphere and one another’s company.

“You should let me rebraid your hair.”

“Unh, unh, I’m tender headed, shorty.” He passes the blunt to the young woman, eyeing her once more. “You can massage my head though.” Neither of the two broke eye contact as she took a hit, exhaling slowly, blowing out o’s.

“Which head?” She quizzes boldly and Mef immediately catches on to her sexual innuendo.

“Which ever you feel comfortable with.” Mef’s low intense gaze immediately makes her nervous so she glances away, very intoxicated though shocked herself that she’s in Method Man’s hotel room with Method Man.

Juno loved the fact that he didn’t push himself on her or made any sexual advances. She’d heard a lot of rumors about rappers but Mef doesn’t appear to be that way. He was chill, nonchalant, hilarious and quite charismatic. And to mention… very fine. She always believed he was handsome from the moment she laid eyes on him upon seeing a photograph of him in the Source Magazine.

His roughneck look fit him perfectly. Now that she’s up close and personal, she could definitely see why the women went crazy. He was a pretty boy with a raspy, deep New York accent that could make you melt.

The moment Juno breaks their eye contact to avert her gaze downward, he finds himself looking away as well. Silence falling between the pair. Tamika’s face racing through his brain yet again. It was an ongoing thing the entire night though he’s in the company of a striking beauty.

“You hungry?” Her inquiry began to remind him, he’s starving. Not only that but he had the munchies. Of course, he’s hungry. He hadn’t ate much after the show and that was hours ago. Now it’s peeking on two in the morning. “Yeah, room service doesn’t sound too bad, huh?”

“Yeah, no…” She stops him from reaching for the phone with a laugh. “I know a place way better.” His eyeballs fell upon her plump backside as she crawls across the bed, sitting on her knees while the satisfying sound of her mid-length French tip acrylics meets the dialing pad. Her vanilla scent danced in and out of his nostrils the entire night, though, he couldn’t lie; a woman with good hygiene turns him on.

Mef finds himself traveling from the edge of the bed to plop his head on a nearby pillow, continuing to smoke the blunt Juno rolled moments before. Feeling a dip on the bed as she places their order, she turns to see him lying on his back comfortably. More importantly, in the bed wearing shoes.

Raising a brow at the sight, the call ended and the young woman sends a light smack to his bottom leg. “Boy, if you don’t take them damn shoes off.” Laying closely beside his being, snatching the blunt from between his lips and planting between hers instead.

He kisses his teeth playfully, “This my fuckin’ bed but since you told me to take my shoes off, I will.” The rapper sits up to do as told. “Happy?”

“You had a show tonight too so don’t take this wrong… you should freshen up— I’m not saying that you stink ‘cause you don’t. I’m just saying.” She shrugs, blowing the smoke through her nostrils.

The slight annoyance of her demands quickly subsided due to her looks.

“Coming in my hotel room and telling me what to do… you lucky you fine.” He speaks truthfully with a head shake, heading for the bathroom for a much needed shower.

————

“Taste this.” She scoops a good amount of sweet potato pie onto the plastic spoon, bringing it to Mef’s lips. He hums as the sweetness enters his taste buds. “Good ain’t it?” A wide grin falls upon her captivating face as he sends her a nod as a response.

Awhile after Mef’s shower, their food arrived. It was a nearby Soul Food restaurant. The food was delicious and he couldn’t deny it. The next time he would come to the A, he would definitely be eating there again.

“I got a question.”

Putting their plastic containers to the side, she retorts, “Ask away.”

“You ain’t got a man?” A chuckle passes her lips at the question. “As good as you look I know some nigga wanna lock you down or got you locked down.”

His statement made her mentally scoff. “If a nigga had me locked down, I wouldn’t be in this hotel room with you.” Her love life isn’t a topic she’s too enthralled in discussing. She didn’t completely answer the question because she doesn’t feel obligated to.

“Word.” He nods.

“You got a girl?” Almost in an instant, he stops nodding but tries to play it off. Juno is really good at reading body language so she knew instantly. “You love her?” Mef doesn’t bother to meet eye contact, telling the young woman everything she needs to know.

Silence falls amongst the pair until the rapper breaks it, “…just some issues going on right now.” He doesn’t want to talk about it. Juno could hear it in his tone.

“We don’t gotta talk about it. I ain’t tryna pressure you.”

There was sudden mood shift. Both of them could feel it. Juno instantly regretted asking the question because it seemed as if he was still in his feelings over the woman.

“If that’s a dealbreaker for you then… you can leave if you want. I’ll be aight. I enjoyed your company.” With a sigh, he stands to his feet and prepares to walk off to another direction of the hotel room.

Silently, the young woman mentally contemplated whether to leave or not. He had a whole woman at home which whom he’s in love with. Sure, they were having their problems, but what relationship didn’t? She just knew that if she was in the other woman’s shoes, she would be crushed to find out her man is in a hotel room with an another woman being fed.

Though, if she would leave then Mef would still be upset, drinking away his sorrows like how she saw him prior. Deep inside, something made her want to help him feel better. She wasn’t sure how it felt to date him and doesn’t want to know. She couldn’t make him forget about her.

But just for the night, she wanted to make him feel something. She wanted to make him feel good.

She doesn’t owe his girlfriend or whatever she is to him any absolute loyalty. Juno had one of her man crushes in the same room as her so she’s going to take her chance.

Standing to her feet, Juno struts behind his chair, her hips swaying side to side seductively. Mef feels a presence behind him but stays put, thinking nothing of it. Her dainty hands meets the top of both of his shoulders, caressing the pair softly before sliding them along his clothed chest and between his legs.

His attire consisted of a plain baggy white beater and a pair of basketball shorts. Juno didn’t understand why he didn’t settle with the hotel bathrobe because it would’ve been easier access.

Removing her touch, her smooth glowing legs leads her in front of his frame. Mef’s legs were stretched wide, his arms resting on the arms of the chair while his low seductive gaze peered upward in her direction before traveling downward with her sudden movements. Juno was on her knees, pulling his shorts to his ankles to reveal what she’d been aching to lay eyes on for so long.

Mef remained silent, observing her actions closely. It was crystal clear what she wanted and he was going to give it to her.

It was exactly what she imagined. Long, thick, veiny, very well-endowed. He was ecstatic to see her just as much as she was. Without a hesitation, Juno devours him into her mouth and the minute she does, his head tosses backward with a low groan.

His groans would transition into small moans and the moans eventually grew louder. Juno was ravishing him like he was her last meal. Sucking, licking, finding herself kissing it as if it was a trophy. Her right hand wrapped around his phallus, stroking him to perfection. The other down her shorts, playing with herself.

The strapless crop top slid below her perky breasts, revealing the pair due to her hard work. Mef averts his attention onto the beauty giving him the best head he’s ever received. Though, he couldn’t help to notice a name tatted on her left breast that read ‘Dante’ in cursive. He ignores the observation and focuses on her Oscar-winning mouth instead. His hand found itself onto her head, not giving a single fuck about her hair or the fact that she has another man’s name tatted on her.

Her head bobbed up and down, creating beautiful music to their ears. Juno’s mouth reminded him of a vacuum, a beautiful and very skilled vacuum as she sucked like no tomorrow. This wasn’t her first time. She was much too skilled and he had no absolute complaints. He was in bliss. So deep in bliss that he grew close, an orgasm he isn’t ready for just yet. Too quick.

He found himself slightly trying to push her head back, lifting his waist off the chair a bit. She notices before saying, “Don’t run, papa.” Upon quickly going back to work, his toes began curling at the intense pleasure. A plethora of curse words exiting his mouth, “Fuck…”

Moments later after attempting to hold back, he finally let go while she sucked him dry, swallowing every drop. His body shook slightly, a low groan passing his throat. Pools of brown peering into one another’s as Juno took her time to undress, peeling off every piece of clothing one by one teasingly. Initially she was planning to leave after giving him the best head of his life but he was still up at attention, intensely staring in her direction hungrily. Apparently, there was still a job needed to be completed. Who was she to back out of a challenge?

Mef was growing impatient.

No longer seated in the chair, he towers the young woman before lifting her small frame into his arms by her legs while forcing himself inside. His lips crashing into hers. “Oh, fuck…” Her jaw drops at the sudden sensation of him inside her love. Not giving her much time to adjust. Her back was pressed against the wall as he sent the woman powerhouse strokes, arms pinned above her head. His hips circling round and round much to her pleasure.

Her constant wetness and tightness around his phallus kept his top row of pearly whites embedded into his bottom lip. Juno’s eyebrows furrowing together from the pleasure and the pain. The more he had his way with her, the louder she would become. The pair found themselves all over the room, making their mark as well as pushing a few things out of their path, items in which broke. They couldn’t care less about the complaints.

Bent over on the edge of the bed, Juno glances backward at the rapper behind her frame underneath her low gaze. Loud moans exiting her throat. “F-Fuck me like that..” Mef’s head was thrown back, gripping her waist while he gave her his all. He was fucking her so good that she was speechless and she’s usually vocal during sex.

“Mef, oh Mef, oh papa…” Her juices coating his phallus was a hell of a sight. He loved the fact that she was making such a mess because of him. He had her screaming, scratching his back, cursing him out, squirting everywhere, fucking up the sheets, legs wide open as if it wasn’t almost four o’clock. Mef had a flight in three hours yet that hadn’t seem to cross his mind.

Nothing seemed to cross his mind when he had a beautiful woman screaming his name and squeezing around him.

“What, baby?” He quizzes, dragging his tongue across his lips for the millionth time. “Fuck…” Mef couldn’t get over how incredibly wet she was. The sounds were driving him insane. “This pussy so fuckin’ wet for me, mama.” Sending a smack to her backside, she began to throw it back.

His mouth falls agape slightly as he watches her, “Juno, shit.” He couldn’t let her get the best of him again so he flips her over onto her back, pressing her wide legs upon her shoulders, pounding into the woman mercilessly. At this point, she was screaming to the top of her lungs. “Just like that, papa!” Her dainty manicured hands resting on the bottom of her thighs, no matter the pain, she loved it. Not once did she tap out nor push him back. She loved that rough shit.

Juno liked to be fucked like a slut and she was sure that Mef had a lot of pent up anger which she desired for him to take out on her.

Dark brown irises peering down in her direction and suddenly he decided to deepen his strokes before leaning in closer to her face. Both of them admiring one another’s canvas. Her top row of pearly whites embedded into her bottom lip, their eyes meeting instantly. They made a lot of eye contact during their activities but not like this… not in this position.

“You so fuckin’ beautiful, baby.” He compliments the young woman below his being before bringing their lips into a passionate union. “You so perfect.” His dick continuously jabbing at her spot and it wasn’t as rough anymore, it was long and passionate strokes.

Juno wanted to fuck. Not make love nor fall in love.

The dick already had her willing to die for it. The consistent compliments, the dirty talk, the choking, his skillful strokes. Mef knew exactly what he was doing in bed. They were going at it for sometime now and his energy amazed her.

The way he stared at her as if he wanted to do any and everything for her as if he actually loved her. But she knows he doesn’t. He’d only met her a few hours prior. She could never be the woman he was drowning himself in sorrows about. She could never be her. This feeling of his love is temporary. She knew she would never see him again after tonight.

The thought hurt.

Mef’s love brought her to tears, caressing his shoulders and beautiful face to pretend as if she was his girl. As if he was hers. He belonged to someone else. But for right now, Mef belonged to her and she was going to fuck him like no tomorrow.

Regaining her strength, Juno flips the two over to gain control. Bouncing on top of the rapper energetically earning a plethora of groans as he sends several smacks to her backside. Suddenly, his firm right hand grips her neck, thumb sliding between her lips and she sucks on it. “Tell me you love this dick.” He demands, scanning her bare frame and the sight of their bodies colliding together for the millionth time.

“I love this dick.” She does as demanded and though it was a demand, it was the absolute truth. His dick fit her perfectly. “Papa… are you gonna cum for me?” Sucking his thumb seductively, her hips moved in a circular motion, desiring to feel him breed her again. No, she isn’t having his baby. She didn’t want to have his baby. There was no absolute use of protection but she does happen to be on the pill.

Without another word, he nods, completely speechless. She was really putting it on him from her mouth to her everything. For her final move, she leans forward to plant a few sensual kisses along his neck before whispering, “Come inside your pussy,” into his ear. It drove him wild when she called her pussy his. Over the years, she learned that men loved that.

Mef began to fuck her back from underneath the woman, palming her plump backside as his orgasm approaches. His mouth slightly agape in amazement, watching her breasts bounce in his face.

The moment the tip of his dick started to jab at her spot, her orgasm was quickly approaching as well. “Fuck, papa, I’m gonna cum!” His thrusts grew rougher and moreover, the pair found themselves releasing in unison. Their eyes meeting while riding their high, mouths wide open.

For some reason, Mef made sure she felt every drop of his semen. She guessed that it was because he knows it intensifies her orgasms.

“Damn.” Breathing heavily, Mef eyes the woman hopping off of his frame as slow as she could due to her body being sore and slightly limping to the bathroom. A light proud smirk creeps amongst his lips, eyelids shutting to get some sleep.

Light footsteps meets his eardrums yet again so his low tired gaze falls upon a naked Juno whom is getting dressed to his dismay. He wasn’t ready for her to go.

“Leaving me already?”

A giggle passing her throat, she slides on her underwear then came her denim shorts. “You and I both know what this was, Mef.” Her statement results in the rapper’s head to tilt backward in offense, immediately getting out of bed to throw on a pair of the basketball shorts that was laying sloppily on the floor to make his way towards the woman.

“Yeah…” He began. “It was two people who got together and enjoyed each other’s company.”

“Don’t you got a flight to catch in like what two hours?” She found his reaction to her getting ready to leave quite comical. They didn’t really know one another from a can of paint.

“So. That don’t mean you gotta leave yet, shorty.”

Sighing heavily, a captivating smile gracing her lips, “It doesn’t. But after you leave… you have someone to go home to. Never take that for granted.” Sliding her crop top through her head and adjusting it onto her chest. “Not many people have that.” Soon came her socks and shoes.

Juno was unlike any other woman he’d been with sexually. Maybe he was blinded by lust or her looks or the fact that she’s the epitome of cool. He wanted to keep in contact with her, at least. He definitely wanted to link up again.

“Can I at least get your number?”

“Go home to your girlfriend, nigga.” She replies humorously, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. “I enjoyed you, Method Man.” Planting emphasis on his stage name, she pauses through the open door before waltzing in front of his tall frame. Her tattooed arms wrapping around his neck and he leans downward mindlessly, connecting their lips passionately.

One last taste.

Their tongues fight for dominance. Enjoying the taste of one another. Eventually, Mef wins. His hands falling just above her covered backside. Nibbling softly on her bottom lip as she pulls away, sliding her hand down his chest. His intense low gaze peering down at the young woman whom was admiring his half-naked silhouette.

His girl would be dumb to let him slip out of her hands.

Finally, she walks away and he watches her until she’s no longer in his peripheral. The moment she steps outside of the hotel room, her back presses against the wall before tossing her head backward in disbelief.

“Did I just do that?” She mouths to herself.

Moments after squealing softly to herself, Juno saunters for the elevator, feeling like a whole other woman.

[cocogum]

The Great Wave - Chapter 2 Review

‼️ SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER ‼️

I have good news and bad news.

The bad news is, no smexy time here.

The good news is, we get some Yugo and Adamaï moments, AND the SADIDAS are FUMING 😍🥰

But before we see the sadidas, we can’t start this off without addressing Yugo and Adamaï’s interaction at the beginning of the chapter.

Cuz man, I liked it but when @vinillain addressed it and even ANALYZED IT I fell in love with this scene even more 💖💖

Without their perspective on the matter, I would have missed so many details. Here’s the post if you are interested.

So yeah I’m glad I found their analysis on it and I hope you like it just as much as I did ✨

Now let’s start.

I found babes lol (the dot is so tiny!!)

Look at his emo ass just looking gloomy after having a wet dream. My guy is such a drama queen that he decided to sit at the top of the kingdom just to make himself feel better.

(Get down from there you little shit-)

Adamaï swoops in and actually helps? Omg slay? Like you’re doing something helpful while scolding Yugo that’s actually good. Cuz ngl I’ve been getting kinda annoyed that Yugo had just left Amalia to deal with the sadidas’ problems all alone.

If Yugo didn't have nightmares like these from time to time, I could have overlooked his decision to leave her to deal with it on her own. But now that we know he does get them, it’s a pretty big deal.

He confirms it to Adamaï when he tells him that his condition has been worsening meaning that he’s already used to it and yet decides to not say anything to Amalia AND KEEPS LEAVING HER DEAL WITH THE PEOPLE ON HER OWN. Now he obviously doesn’t leave her like that during the whole day. It’s just that there’s a good chance he’s not there with her during the mornings. Like, imagine fucking a dude who keeps having PTSD nightmares every two nights. Now we know why she got pissed in Chapter 1 when he left her on the ground naked like that. Girl just wants to have fun and lead her people let her have her moment-

Also, we all saw this coming folks.

The blue cows are back.

Bro is trying so hard to be Eva. Look at him trying to visualize and zoom in on the wastes of spaces coming to the kingdom.

Also, I remember how some of us used to think that Aurora was pregnant which is why she might’ve had the balls to come back to the kingdom and try to regain her throne, you know, the very same kingdom THAT SHE FUCKING FLED FROM DURING A WAR THAT COULD’VE WIPED THE WHOLE RACE. The pregnancy theory was a common one to be shared around because the trailer for the manga did not show her stomach. Some of them also theorized that theory because it made the most sense as to why she’d want to come back willingly whether her father wanted her to or not.

Of course, no shade to anyone who thought about this theory before but I love how they tried to justify her stupidity for returning by making up this theory.

Cuz it turns out that bitch wasn’t pregnant after all.

Her stomach is flatter than a washboard and her return happened AFTER FOUR MONTHS (or around that number at least) so her stomach would have at least had a bump but she got none of that.

Judging by Yugo’s expression when he realizes them, he doesn’t look like he’s surprised to see that they’re coming back. He looks like he’s pissed off, annoyed at the fact that they’re coming.

I initially believed that the reason why Yugo looked angry, instead of confused or shocked at seeing them come back, was because the royal Osamodas family might have been trying to return during those few months after season 4. But it turns out that this wasn’t the case because when Aurora manages to re-enter the kingdom, Amalia tells her she didn’t expect her to come back ever again. This means that the royal osamodas family only came back once. So Yugo’s only reason for being angry at seeing them must’ve been because he heard everything the family did through Amalia (including all the times the blue cow tried to marry Amalia off to one of her brothers AND THEN her cousin) which is pretty understandable to be pissed off about.

Finally, after a full week of waiting, the Sadida people make their presence known in this chapter AND IT’S EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED.

We learn that the sadidas are annoyed that the elite eliatropes have not only stayed but that they also shared some of their lands.

I genuinely feel bad for this eliatrope getting criticism from this old sadida. True, they did come here and stayed but they’re not even a lot to begin with. We’re not talking about thousands of children eliatropes here. We’re talking about 30 to 40 eliatropes since these were the bravest to have joined their mother and ALSO completed a lot of missions (that they knew of through the eliaculus) that involved putting their life on the line. So to hear these sadidas claim that they don’t feel at home must say A LOT if 30-40ish eliatropes were able to make such a change. The old sadida man even said that they do not understand sacrifice as the sadidas do.

And that’s something that’s been bothering me since I learned that the sadidas weren’t aware of the eliatropes’ past.

Didn’t Amalia tell Yugo to explain to the sadidas their background?? It sure sounds like he didn’t do anything about presenting his people to Amalia’s. If you’re going to share a land with people you’ve never seen before, you might as well present yourself, no? Because if you don’t, tension and possible harassment are exactly what would happen to the eliatropes if they don’t do anything about that topic.

I also wanted to point out how the people have been behaving towards Amalia in Seasons 1 to the Ovas. This is important to notice because these guys clearly love her and always think of her as a good future queen. We even get a confirmation in Season 4 that a lot of sadidas would rather have her as their leader rather than Armand.

So the fact that a lot of them are now feeling like they’re not at home anymore because Amalia let the elite eliatropes stay makes them think as if they’ve somewhat been betrayed by her.

Translation for 1st panel: “Your father and brother would have never accepted this!”

Translation for 2nd panel: “He’s right! We aren’t at home here!”

Translation for 3rd panel: “These eliatropes are not like us! Your father and brother would have never shared our lands!”

This is a very big shift from what we know. For once, Amalia doesn’t receive smiles or praises.

A lot of them are now siding with Armand and her father, claiming that they wouldn’t have let the eliatropes stay. We know Armand wouldn’t have done that because he confirmed it to Amalia in Season 4 right after the meeting with the Eliatrope goddess ended. But Amalia’s father? No. King Oakheart would’ve welcomed them with open arms. He told Yugo that he had no problem welcoming his people (he said this in Season 2).

The sadidas were right about one of her family members not accepting the eliatropes and I believe it reflects how hurt they all feel about this decision. Because they have no one else to blame this decision on, they are trying to think that only Amalia in the royal family would’ve done that so they immediately point fingers at her.

And then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, the blue cows are officially back. And yes, I’m going to call them blue cows from now on, just like how I addressed them in the beginning too.

Yugo: “Sorry, I didn’t have the time to warn you.”

Also Yugo: has the ability to create portals.

The Osamodas family is even more brain-dead than I thought.

Blue fat cow over here is saying “here’s your legitimate ruler” while pointing at another cow but she ain’t even a Sadida. And then you’ve got Amalia over here who’s obviously royal Sadida blood so idk why tf the blue cow king would think he did something there. The sadidas just said that they don’t feel at home cuz of the eliatropes so what makes him think the people are gonna accept a useless blue cow who’s only not a Sadida but did nothing during the war? The sadidas are already pissed at not feeling like they’re at home, don’t throw more gasoline into the fire by claiming an OSAMODAS is fit for the SADIDA THRONE.

Yugo’s wave where you at?

The Osamodas King lost so many neurones when he stayed in that cave, he should just go back in there with his ugly crusty ass bats.

But it’s alright, I’m not even mad (i’m fuming) because no matter how stupid and dumb the king sounded, if you look at chapter 3’s cover, the king doesn’t look confident and cocky anymore.

Clearly, something must’ve happened in the throne room when he was spewing all this shit about Aurora being the “legitimate heir” because AGAIN, that’s clearly Amalia’s role so I genuinely hope that the sadidas were the ones who made the king frown like that. Because there’s a gigantic possibility that they must have flat-out told the king to sit his ass down and remind him that he and his worthless daughter didn’t do shit when the war happened and now he suddenly wants to rule them?? Of course they’d get pissed by what he said!

The majority of them obviously looked bothered by what he had just announced as well. Everyone in the throne room looked like they were just shocked to hear him talk. EVERYONE.

So yeah, I hope I see this fatass get humiliated. Even the eliatropes are like ‘sir what the fuck are you doing’ type of shit.

[iamjacksragingboner]

Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap - Alternate Endings

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: Some angst but like you'll live, you don't end up with Soap though you're rejecting him like that's the whole thing

Part One: You can find part one with the original, happy ending here. Please read that one first so you're up to speed with the context to these other endings.

A/N: As I was writing the end of the Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap fic, I briefly had the thought to make the reader reject Soap, like bitch oh my god have some self worth you don't need to immediately forgive him for being a dick to you.

Anyway, this alternate ending could go one of two ways.

The Immediate Rejection.

“Why don’tcha come back to mine with me, bonnie,” Johnny coos, and for a moment you almost accept his offer.

Almost.

Sure, the boy you’d spent way too many years pining over and never gave you the time of day finally paying attention to you was great, in theory, but it only took a second of reminiscing to think better of it.

This boy was the reason you spent so many nights walking home alone, cursing yourself for falling for his shallow promises spoken by sugar sweet lips again and again.

"Ah, no. Thanks Johnny, but I'm not interested." It comes out dry, but you hope it gets the point across. He had missed his window of opportunity years ago.

Johnny laughs and jostles your shoulder. "Come on, lass. Just a night! Doesn't have tae mean anythin'. I've missed ye."

You hold strong to your word, as attractive as Johnny is, and always has been, you know you're better than that. "Really Johnny, I'm not in the mood."

His hand skirts up your thigh and you groan internally at his inability to take the neon-coloured hint. "I bet I can change that for ye."

Swallowing your pride, you lean into Johnny and cup a hand to whisper into his ear "I have like three STD's at the moment, dude. I don't think you wanna bump uglies with me currently."

It was a silly lie, but you knew it would be more than enough to get the message through his relatively thick skull. You were right, of course, because as you pulled back to take a look at the expression on his face, you had to fight not to burst into laughter.

Johnny looked as though he'd sucked on a lemon but was trying not to let it show. He'd pulled back from you by at least a foot as well, and kept his hands firmly clasped in his lap. "Ah," he said, and cleared his throat. "Well. Good to know."

"Yup."

Silence. You wondered how long it would take Johnny to get up and scout out a different lady, as you were sure he would after this.

As it turns out, it took a grand total of a minute and a half for him to get up, bid his adieus and walk out of the bar, promising he'd call you soon, and wishing you all the best with your... things.

You downed the rest of your drink with a wicked grin stretching across your cheeks and walked merrily home.

2. The Gradual Realisation of Self Worth.

He only comes to you when he needs you.

Only gives you affection when he knows it'll benefit him.

Leaves you cold and alone in bed.

Tells you you're beautiful, says he loves you, but only when you're actively serving him. Patching his wounds. Sending him care packages. Buying him drinks. Always giving, but never receiving.

The bed is so cold.

You curl in on yourself night after night, but you never cry. You are convinced that surely, one day he will return your affection. One day he'll prove you right and show that he has changed, has given up on his shallow promises. You ignore the voice in your head that tells you he hasn't.

You spent so long trying to fix him, put so much time into trying to make him a better person, telling him to eat better, to keep his room clean, teaching him to cook, teaching this man the bare minimum, only to get nothing in return.

He didn't love you, and at this point you weren’t even sure if you liked him. Did you like him, or did you like the comfort of having someone that could hold you, if he wanted to. There was never a guarantee.

You fixed him, but you didn't get to reap the benefits of your own hard work. You fixed him so he could go an fuck over the next person a little less.

You start rejecting his advances, ignoring his texts asking you to come over for a quick fuck. You stop sending him care packages with home made food and letters telling him about how you've been since he was home. You don't answer the door when he knocks. Quitting him cold turkey.

Eventually, he stops texting, stops calling, doesn't throw rocks at your window.

There is silence; a breath of fresh air.

You bump into him at a bar a few months later. You make polite small talk, and he flashes you that grin that pulled you in the first time, but it falls flat and slips from his face. You move away from the hand that caresses your waist.

"Let's get out of here," he bends down to whisper in your ear, "come back to mine, I've missed ye, bonnie." Johnny's hand creeps up your face, a wolf-like grin stretches and snarls across his cheeks.

Your face turns stony, ashen. "Leave me alone, John."

His grin falters at the omission of his nickname, the name you had always called him. In all your years of knowing each other, not once had you called him John.

"Bonnie," Johnny starts, concern flicking over his face. What a joke. He chooses to care now, when he's at risk of losing his quick fuck.

"Don't call me that," your voice is sharp, cutting through the pollution he's breathed on you for so long. "Do not speak to me as if you've ever given more than two shits about me, because I know for a fact the only thing you see me as is a hole to shove your dick in."

You had passed the point of mourning over what could have been, of what you wanted this 'relationship' to be. You were only capable of feeling anger and distain towards the man before you.

"Now, lass, there's no need for ye think that," Johnny rubs your arm in an attempt of comfort that came all too late. "yer more than that to me, I promise."

I promise.

I promise.

I promise.

"Fuck you and your promises, John," you spit, slapping his hand away from you, creating distance between you, because as far as you're concerned, he lost the privilege of touching you long ago. "You're always promising things, but you never mean any of it, do you?"

Johnny stays quiet, his mouth hanging ajar and his hand hovering in midair, as if he's shocked that his actions suddenly have consequences.

"I have tried for so long to continue to see the good in you, to believe that if I just tried a little harder, you'd actually want to pay attention to me, but I look back on that decision to try and I just feel so... stupid! So utterly stupid for not seeing you for what you are, John. Look I want to wish you the best in your future relationships but honestly I think I'd much prefer if you went and choked to death on a bag of dicks."

As much as you thought it would be cathartic to say even a quarter of what you felt Johnny needed to hear, it honestly wasn't. Johnny was silent as you picked up your things and left the bar. He at least had enough of a brain to not call you, but part of you wished he did. The part of you that still hoped the Johnny you grew up with was in there.

You hugged your arms to your chest and kicked the rocks on the pavement as you walked home alone. Again. You went to bed alone. Again. But it felt better.

Johnny wasn't coming back, and you were glad.

[berryhobii]

Thank you so much for the masterlist!! I can't wait to get home from work and read everything again😄If it's not too much trouble, could you please write about Firefighter Joonie?

Reader and him have recently moved in together and she has never seen him come home from work. Imagine him coming in with the uniform, the arms, sweaty, speaking about how he saved lifes... she would ride him into the sunset🥵🥵🥵🥵

Probably one of my favorite asks so far! My thumbs were just blazing the entire time I wrote this. I was on a serious roll. Please enjoy and I hope it’s to your liking!🩵

~

Rising from your midday nap, you stretched your body, groaning as your bones popped and muscles strained. You reached blindly for your phone, squinting at the bright light that radiated off of it.

4PM. Welp, looks like you weren’t washing your hair today. After spending most of the morning cleaning and a little bit of the afternoon catching up on work, your nap was well deserved. The oven needed deep cleaning and October was here which meant you needed to decorate the apartment for the festivities. You actually fell asleep while looking through websites for decorations. All of that was super important.

Excuses. You just didn’t want to wash your hair. Oh well, maybe you’d just go to the salon and get it deep cleaned. Your nails and toes needed a touch up as well. Yeah, a pampering day sounded great.

Standing from the bed, you shuffled into the living room while checking your text messages. There were a few from your friends and parents. They wanted you to come home for Thanksgiving this year since you didn’t go last year due to Namjoon’s work schedule.

Namjoon, your husband, was a firefighter. When he started, his shifts were always very long. You wouldn’t see him for days at a time but now with more people being hired at the station, his schedule has changed. Now, he only worked about 24 hours with 48 hours of rest in between which you absolutely loved. And you worked from home so those 48 hours were spent resting and spoiling him like he deserved.

He’d probably be home around 12AM tonight, long after you’ve fallen asleep but that was okay. You knew he’d wake you up to let you know he was home. That or the sound of him tripping over the table in the hallway would alert you. The first time he did that, you thought someone had broken in and almost clocked him with a bat. Good thing you recognized his voice or you would have broken a bone.

Stepping into the living room, you were surprised to see the very person you were thinking about sitting on the couch. A bowl of food was clutched in his hand, chopsticks in the other to slurp up the noodles.

He noticed you the moment you entered, face turning to you, cheeks puffed out. You wanted to bite them.

He quickly chewed and swallowed, a smile spreading across his face. “Baby, you’re awake. Did you sleep well?” He placed his bowl down and stood to his feet to approach you.

You didn’t answer. Partially because you weren’t really listening.

Not when your beefcake husband was practically half naked on your couch.

A grey, thin tank top on his upper body, the fabric stretching against the curves of his chest. His buff arms, which have held you in a headlock many a time, were a bit shiny from sweat, as was his throat and collarbone. Around his hips was a pair of coveralls, obviously taken off to release some of the body heat and cool down his honey kissed skin.

Oh god……were you still sleeping?

He tilted his head at your lack of an answer. “Baby? Are you okay?” He reached out a large hand to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger. That single touch sent fire hotter than Sean Kingston through your body, your knees almost buckling from the pure control he had over you without even doing anything.

You were a thirsty bitch. Whoever is up there writing your life’s tv show, thank you.

“Huh? Oh, I’m fine.” Your eyes couldn’t even lift from his pecs and the indents of his abs. You’ve felt up every inch of his skin before but you still got so amazed at just how thick and fit he was.

He pouted and it shouldn’t have affected you how it did but your panties were ruined now.

“Okay. I wanted to call you but I dropped my phone and then we got an alert so I ended up stepping on it by accident.” He sheepishly smiled and chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He had recently buzzed most of his hair, even getting a few stylistic lines in the sides. While it was less to grab, that never stopped you from running your hands all over it. You should right now but you didn’t want him to think you weren’t paying attention to him.

You definitely weren’t and believe you, you were trying so hard to focus but how could you when his cute laugh made his abs contract?

“There was a small house fire but we managed to save everyone with no casualties. Isn’t that great? The little girl I saved even said she wanted to marry me. So sweet. I hope they’re doing well.” His smile was so endearing, those absolutely kissable dimples just begging for your attention.

Your brain decided to start functioning again at that moment, your eyes finally lifting to meet his. “That’s great, honey. I’m glad everything worked out. Um….why, why are you home so early?” Not that you didn’t mind but he’s never come home early, especially not in his fire station uniform.

“Oh right. The showers at the station are busted so I came home. I also forgot the lunch you made.” He lifted an arm to rub at the back of his neck, his bicep bulging and screaming for you to bite it.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Have you lost your mind?”

Your sharp tone made him pause, a look of utter confusion spreading across his handsome features. You wanted to kiss it off.

His eyes nervously shuffled around. You weren’t an angry person, not at all. He’s never heard you take that kind of tone with anyone, especially not him. Even when you were really upset, your voice stayed even and soft so this sudden change baffled him.

“Uh…..what?”

You crossed your arms, tilting your head as your fiery eyes squinted at him. “What what? I’m asking you are you crazy?”

He was so confused. “Wha….baby, why are you upset? Is it because I sat on the couch in my outside clothes? I’m sorry, I just wanted to check up on the soccer game and I sat down. I promise I’ll clean it.”

A quick hand reached out, your nails slightly scratching against his chest as you balled up the front of his tank in your first. You yanked him down and he easily folded, actually a little more nervous than before. Were you about to hit him? No, you’d never do that. What was he thinking? But with the way you were sneering at him, a very small part of him thought you might. He knew you hated outside clothes on the furniture and he did it anyway. Damn it, Namjoon.

Leaning forward until your lips were just millimeters from his, you said, “how dare you walk in here looking like this? Like you’re for the streets? Are you crazy?”

Still confused, Namjoon squeaked out a, “I….I don’t-“

You cut him off, “you walk in here like this and you have to nerve to not have your cock down my throat right now?”

Oh. Oh. OH!

He could barely react before you were dragging him back over to the couch. Your hand released his shirt and both worked on unzipping the rest of his coveralls, yanking those and his boxers down in one fell swoop.

You pushed him down on the couch, a light ‘oof’ coming from him. He was still a little dazed from your sudden burst of confidence but his body reacted all the same. You normally initiated sex anyway so this shouldn’t be a shock but you’ve never been like this. Your way of initiating was normally feeling him up, subtly brushing your ass past him, or just plain ole walking into the shower with him.

He’s never seen you quite like this.

Your hand gripped his cock that was slowly hardening up. Gathering saliva in your mouth, you spit on the head of his cock, stroking it to spread it around.

It didn’t take long for Namjoon to get hard, his thick cock standing to attention within 30 seconds of you touching him.

“Baby…..I-“

You cut him off with your mouth, taking him all the way to the hilt on the first try. His head knocked back against the couch, hips jerking from the sudden onslaught of your warm mouth.

Not wasting any time, you began bobbing your head, deepthroating him with practiced ease. Drool spilled out the sides of your mouth to his balls which you happily fondled in your palm.

His hands gripped the edge of the couch, eyes struggling not to close. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of this.

“Oh shit…..baby, your mouth is ssss-so good.”

You hummed around his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you came back up. You slurped and drooled all over it, pursing your lips once you got to the tip to spit on it again.

He already felt close. One of his hands reached out to grab your hair, the coils soft under his touch. He didn’t need to do any forcing to get you to deepthroat him again, just needing something to grip on before he floated away.

Your dark eyes lifted to lock with his. More sweat than before dripped down his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to quench his dry throat. You wanted to burn his image on your brain, tattoo it on your eyelids. Maybe you’d describe it to a sketch artist and then get it blown up and framed.

“I’m cumming…..I’m cum…..oh fuck.”

Feeling his cock pulse in your mouth, you gave his balls a nice squeeze, taking him all the way in your throat once again. That was all he needed to cum down your throat.

You swallowed it down greedily, sucking your way back up his still hard shaft before coming off him with a pop.

He was breathing heavily, chest lifting and rising as he tried to bring air back into himself but you didn’t care about none of that.

Pulling off your own clothes, he barely processed you climbing on top of him until he felt your slick pussy rubbing against his cock.

His eyes, that he didn’t remember closing, fluttered open, catching your desperate expression. Your lips immediately captured his, hands rubbing at the buzzed hair on his head to pull him closer. He reciprocated your kiss, own hands going down to your ass to squeeze and slap it around.

Your lips broke from his, puffs of air coming from both of you. “Take your shirt off.” He couldn’t even comply because you were already pulling it up over his head, tossing it off somewhere. Reaching between your bodies, you gripped his still hard and saliva soaked cock, lifting your hips so that you could line him up.

There was no gradual slide. No no. You slammed your ass down on his cock in one motion, the stretch burning in the best of ways. Your head tilted back at the welcomed intrusion, cock pressed right against every good spot inside of you.

His hands gripped your ass impossibly tight, almost as tight as the way your walls were hugging him. He’s only felt you like this during your ovulation days and he knows for a fact the next one was 2 weeks away.

“Fuck! Baby wait, I can’t.” He already felt like he was about to cum again.

You weren’t hearing it though. Adjusting yourself so that you were balanced on your feet, hands digging into his shoulders, you began riding him like your life depended on it. It certainly felt like it did.

Your pussy gripped him on every stroke, wetness soaking his lap and the backs of your thighs. It was endlessly pouring from you like a fountain. His cock was just too good.

You gripped the back of his neck, pulling his face to your collarbone. You could feel the heat of his labored breaths against your nipples, making the nubs harden even further.

His moans were loud and projected, the hands on your ass forcing you down everytime you came back up.

“Oh my god! Fuck fuck fuck! Ah ah ah.” You haven’t heard him curse that much in years. His hips began canting up to meet yours, orgasm just inches away.

“That’s it, baby. Use that pussy. You’re so fucking sexy.” You gritted out, yours not far behind. You leaned one arm back to rest on his knee, still keeping the same rhythm but now you could really appreciate him.

His abs were shifting like crazy, arms bulging bigger than before. Maybe you should do doggy next so he could effectively choke you with them. You’ll come back to that but first….

“I’m gonna cum all over this thick cock, baby.” You whined, other hand that wasn’t supporting you reaching out to scratch at his bicep. A little part of you soared at the red welts. You couldn’t mark him up as much as you’d like but this was more than enough for now.

The slight sting of pain sent Namjoon straight into overdrive. He yanked you forward, hooking his arms underneath your knees, gripping your ass again and began bouncing you on his cock.

A scream ripped from your throat, vocal cords aching slightly but you didn’t care about that. You’d suck a cough drop later.

Right now, you were only focused on the hot searing pleasure that was coursing through you. Your arms wrapped around his head, one hand scratching at his upper back, toes curling from where they were flopping around.

Each thrust put him deeper and deeper into your velvet walls and you were squeezing him like crazy.

“NAMJOON! I’m cumming!” Your orgasms crashed simultaneously, thick waves of ecstasy flowing over both of you.

Your eyes rolled back, mouth dropping in a silent scream and your arms hugging him just a bit tighter.

His ears were ringing as your walls milked every drop out of him. He’s never felt such bliss before and that was saying something since you put it on him good and often. This time just felt so different, so desperate, so intimate. If it was possible to fall more in love with you, he would and probably was.

After a few minutes of basking, your legs still twitching from the aftershocks, you two rested against each other.

“Baby….that was….”

You mindlessly drew little shapes on his chest, humming to confirm you were listening. “I know. I don’t know what came over me. Just seeing you all sweaty and in uniform just did something.”

“I really thought I had messed up. Why would you scare me like that?” He chuckled, spanking one of your ass cheeks. He’s lucky you were tired or else you’d get horny again. It also didn’t take much for you to get in the mood again anyway.

You breathed out a laugh too. “Sorry. Your face was just so adorable.”

You two sat in silence for a moment longer before he broke it.

“I really need to shower and get back to work though.”

You pouted, rubbing your cheek against his chest. You didn’t want him to go but you knew he had an important job. You probably already set him back anyway. And he still had to shower. Good thing the station is close.

“Okay. Hopefully no one will be bothered that you took so long.”

“Do you see the marks you left on my arm? They’ll definitely bother me.”

You nipped at his skin playfully. “Oh well. You shouldn’t have come home looking so delicious then. I blame you.”

“Yeah? Just wait until tomorrow.”

Needless to say, those 48 hours were spent with you receiving an orgasm for every time Namjoon got teased about the red marks.

You’d do it again too. Not even Namjoon could put out that fire.