#like whats happening right now. what am i doing about it instead of trying to do something out of my control about the nature of being

[maxisodenoth]

Oops, forgot to block.

But anyways, it seems like you don't understand.

Let me put it like this for you.

You have been provided links with proof [that I'm sure you didn't even touch.] And instead of bringing up any point related to them you stick to your same arguments.

I asked you a simple yes or no question, and you seem to have taken it personally. It doesn't matter to me what you think the answer is, because the answer is always no. An infertile woman is just as much of a woman as any other. We are what we want to be. Your words mean nothing to me, and other peoples identity. [which let me remind you *again* that you've been provided links in the comments which explain this stuff better than I ever could]

[And let me tell you something. Just because we can't have kids right now doesn't mean it'll remain that way in the future. I believe that something will be figured out later in the future that will allow trans-people to be able to reproduce with their new reproductive apparatuses. Whether that takes years or decades doesn't matter. It'll happen.]

You used word meanings as "arguments". May I remind you that, words were created far before any research was done on this matter? [Not exaclty sure when or how much words change but I'm almost sure it's a pretty slow process, so they might be a bit or alot outdated. Not sure though.] And that maybe instead of etymology, you should be looking at psychology, and biology? [Links in the comments~] Trying to use words meanings as arguments doesn't really work out that well when we're not talking about words but people.

[And by the way. Where is your evidence? You've been provided links explaining this stuff, yet when pressed, you only choose to go to ... a dictionary? Really?]

[Also, since you've stooped into insults let me get in on that action.]

Why do you care so much? Like really. Why does this matter that much to you? Are you that miserable that the only joy you get is by hating on other people being themselves and happy?

Look, I know it's hard to find a purpose in life, or a job, but it'd be alot easier if you stopped being a prick and just let people be themselves. There's no reason to hate people who literally don't affect you in any shape or form. They're just being themselves. Cope. [Your final reminder that there are links in the comments!~]

Or do you just refuse to grow up and understand that it doesn't matter what you say. People will be themselves and happier than you will ever be?

I am not a debator. I'm just some angry penguin on the internet. I have left my piece here. And I won't forget to block this time. May this be the last time I see your miserable blog on my feed.

And for everyone else who comes across this post, trans or otherwise. Your identity is Valid. You know yourselves better than some stranger on the internet. Or anyone who's not you. Because it's Your Identity. Not these peoples.

Do not let the hateful words of bigots make you feel bad about youself. You are the only one who can choose your identity. Not some idiots on the internet. You. And let me say this again Your identity is always valid. No matter what others say. ❤️

Goodbye. 👋

[Even if you reply to this, I'm not wasting anymore of my time on you John. You've been given links, read them. The same goes for any asshole who wants to start another argument. I do not care for you. Find someone else to deal with your bullshit.]

Facts matter. #VoteBlue

[revelboo]

This is all your fault. 🤣 They have been so much fun to put together!

I am loving all your stories, especially Everything is Alright. The boys are such asshats! I'm looking forward to Reader putting them in their place.

The Blokees are adorable, especially the minis. I kind of want to just accrue them and let them ride on my dash. And reader is definitely not happy with any of them right now, but is beginning to realize they have leverage

Everything Is Alright Pt 124

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Starscream expects you to yell some more. To get angrier. Instead you just offer them a flat, empty smile and make a show of looking over the edge of the berth. And a whisper of fear twists through his spark. Wings drawing tight to his frame, Starscream isn’t sure what that expression of yours is, but he doesn’t like it. Hadn’t meant to just say all that in front of you, but it’s out there now. Had meant to hurt Megatron, not you. And Soundwave is slowly approaching you, frame tense. What is he picking up from you?

• “It occurs to me that you two need me a lot more than I need you. And I’m just one little, helpless human, right? You can bully me into whatever you want and there’s nothing I can do.” Heart racing, you keep an eye on Soundwave. Because he’s clued in to your mindset and he’s edging closer in slow movements like you’re a stray he’s trying not to spook into running. Star’s wings flare out slightly with your words, but Megatron is just frowning at you. “But lots of things can happen to me. I could fall off of here. It’s a long way down, isn’t it?” Ignoring Star and Soundwave, you focus on Megatron. Watch those optics narrow. “I don’t think I’d cope very well if something happened to my world and my people, you know? But nothing’s going to happen, because you’re going to leave my world alone. As a wedding gift.”

• Wedding? A human thing? “You think you can make demands of me?” Megatron ask, fighting to keep from smiling as you stare him down. Why is your anger so appealing? Makes him want to provoke you just to see how far you’ll go, because he doesn’t believe for a moment that you’ll actually try anything. There’s your equally helpless sparkling you saddled him with to worry about. It’s an empty threat and maybe it bothers him that you’re scared enough to make it. Because you are right about one thing. Anything could happen to you and his life depends on you staying safe. And despite himself, he’d prefer you to be happy, so tired of fighting all the time and don’t want to fight you.

• “Not a demand. A present for your bonded mate,” you say, glancing at Soundwave as he stops short of you and holds out a hand. Asking you to come away from the edge, because he’s afraid you might accidentally fall. That Megatron might push you into something rash. “For our sparkling,” you add, look up at him, not Megatron. And it’s a relief when you place that little hand in his and let him pull you to him. Wishes you wouldn’t try to push Megatron, but understands why you’re doing it. “Because this is their home, too.” Understands the game you’re playing and doesn’t like it. And he’s the outsider here now, not bonded to you anymore because of Starscream. The first bond had been all need and desire. He hasn’t considered the consequences of his actions if you’d accepted him, but he still wants it. Still wants you. Even if it’s just this, trapped on the outside acting as mediator to keep you safe.

• Crossing the berth to you and Soundwave, his wings drop, flicking guiltily when you look at him. Knows you’re mad at him, too, but can’t stop reaching for you. And his spark aches when you take a slow breath and catch his hand, tugging him to you. “It’s a reasonable request,” he says, knowing it’s not his call to make, but he’d give you this if it would make you happy. Hadn’t really cared about this mudball beyond that you’re on it. Wants to ask what a wedding is, if it’s some kind of bonding ceremony, but he just looks at Megatron in challenge instead. Watches the warlord vent in exasperation at the three of you, optics fixed on you.

• Heart still racing as you lace your fingers with Starscream’s servos and glare defiantly up at Megatron. Still angry at all three of them, but Star and Soundwave are at least taking your side. Or they just don’t want you angry with them and are trying to get back in your good graces. It’s hard to tell with them sometimes. “You really are more trouble than you’re worth,” Megatron growls, shoving off the berth and striding to the door. “Mining and refining energon will continue as planned.” And your breath catches, fingers gripping Star’s servos as Megatron hesitates, back to all of you. “But I suppose this world could be declared a protected nature reserve. Since our species are compatible and I’d hate to wipe out any potential resources.” That’s sort of a victory, right? Why doesn’t it make you feel better, though? Because you might have saved your world but accidentally turned the Decepticons loose on your people to save their own declining race. Well, shit.

Previous

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 111: Anya's Mama

So many things for such a little chapter, don't you think?

We saw baby Anya and we finally caught a glimpse of Anya's biological mother.

Something to notice is that they're both wearing hospital gowns, which makes me think they were in the lab and, because of that, we can solidify the theory about Anya being born there. It could be that her mom was pregnant when captured or that they experimented on her and she got pregnant while in that lab. A secret third option is that Anya's mom actually volunteered for the experiments (maybe she was a scientist herself or a family member coaxed her into doing it), although I find this unlikely due to her comment about the butterfly. Either way, I have a feeling we won't know for a very long time.

Mindreading or no mindreading?

Endo chose not to let us know about that explicitly. However, look at this panel:

I don't think Anya's mom is talking here. I think she's thinking this. Because of that, I do suspect Anya can read her mama's mind. She doesn't fully understand it but those words are inside her memory.

However, as you can see in the panel below, we don't see her classic mindreading sparkles. So, it' could also be that she saw her mom getting sad or nostalgic and she wanted to hug her. Kids are very perceptive of their parent's emotions.

If you ask me, I think she was born with that ability. Either her mom was also a telepath who was being studied during her pregnancy or she was experimented while pregnant and gained and passed her abilities to her daughter.

All this makes me consider that maybe Anya wasn't experimented on like many of us believed for a long time. Maybe those scientists were just studying her/observing her in order to understand and try to replicate her abilities. I'm really hoping Endo will go this route, it's less cruel. In any case, keeping someone so young as a case study is still wrong and I don't think Twilight and Yor will like this.

Anya's Mama

I'm talking about Yor, of course.

First of all, I think Endo summed up what motherhood is about in this panel:

It's not exactly that a mom can read their kid's mind, but it's something close. As a mom you get to know your child inside and out. When you take care of them, see them grow and love them with all your heart, you simply learn to "read every part of them."

That's how we know that Yor loves Anya and that she is her mom.

I don't know what happened to Anya's biological mom; she could be gone or still be alive. I'm sure we'll find out eventually. However, no matter what happens, I think Anya will always have that unconditional love from Yor.

There's a prevalent theme about motherhood in sxf: a mother as a safe place. Yor has mentioned it several times; she knows her job is to protect Anya and Anya feels safe when her mama is around (even Twilight notices this.)

I think the bond between them will get stronger as the story moves forward. Come on, it's pretty obvious Anya is Yor's baby, she's already head over heels and she decided she wanted to be a good mother since day 1. Also, a big theme in the story are bonds that are forged, and chosen family. In the story, blood ties sometimes are complicated (look at the Desmonds, for example.)

I'm not fluent in Japanese, but I am aware that Anya calls Yor and Twilight, Haha and Chichi, which is an English equivalent of "my mom and my dad", instead of just "mom and dad." In case you are wondering, Anya did call her biological mom, the right way: "mama."

At some point in the story, I think we will see Anya call Yor and Twilight, mama and papa the right way. I suspect this will be the moment when they will realize they're no longer a pretend family, but a real one. And it'll be simply beautiful 💖

A Few Questions

Whenever we learn something about one of the Forger's past, we are usually left with even more questions like:

Where's Anya's mom now?: I think either she's still a prisoner somewhere or she's dead. And if she's alive, does she know Anya lives?

How did Anya escape? She was so little! She must have had help from someone.

Who is Anya's dad? Maybe a scientist? A prisoner of war? Or was artificial insemination possible back then?

Is Anya her real name? I'm wondering if her mom called her differently. Here are some theories about her name. I suspect this will be important and I wouldn't be surprised if Anya is not her real name, almost as a foil of Twilight's name and story.

And also, there's a gap between that scene/memory and when Anya gets adopted by Twilight. We know thanks to Franky that in the year before Twilight adopted her, she was previously adopted by four different families, however, there's still a chunk of time missing.

I estimate she's probably 2 years old in that memory, she was 4 when she was adopted by those other families, and 5 years old when Twilight became her dad. That leaves 2 full years blank. Where was she during that time?

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

bar hopping •·.·''·.·•

summary: you take lando to a desi club.

‹𝟹 ln x desi!reader ⊹ ࣪ ˖

‹𝟹 fluff + humour ⊹ ࣪ ˖

masterlist ☾☼

lando had been to his fair share of clubs around the world, whether it was ibiza, or monaco, or even vegas. but honestly, nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for what he was about to experience in what you called, a "desi bar."

you had told him once during one of the many clubs you went with him after a race that while you loved partying as much as he did, the essence of a desi club was just completely different. so, he insisted that you drag him to a hidden gem of a bar in the heart of the city to prove your point. and, you did. it was a place you had sworn up and down would “change his life.” he had nodded along, expecting the usual—maybe a few neon lights, a decent dj, overpriced drinks.

instead, he was in a whirlwind of color, sound, and pure, unfiltered energy.

the bass thumped through the air, not with the usual edm beats he was used to, but with the unmistakable opening of kala chashma. the moment the first notes hit, the entire crowd erupted in cheers. glasses were lifted, voices shouted in perfect synchronization, and then—lando’s brain short-circuited.

because everyone, literally everyone, started doing the same dance moves.

it reminded him of the cowboy bars that daniel used to pull him to back when they were teammates.

“what—what is happening?!” he yelled over the music, eyes wide as he watched a sea of people drop their sunglasses onto their faces in unison and break into the hook step.

“this song is a bop,” you shouted back, grinning. “and this is just the beginning.”

safe to say, lando was slightly afraid.

lando spun around, watching in disbelief as strangers moved like they’d rehearsed this a thousand times. everyone was weirdly in sync, as if everyone had been to the same dance class to learn the same dance steps to the song. he swore the bartender was grooving while making drinks as well.

before he could even fully process it, you grabbed his wrist. “come on, norris. time to earn that reflex training of yours.”

he barely had time to protest before you pulled him into the middle of the crowd, seamlessly slotting the two of you into the choreography. you moved effortlessly—hips swaying, hands snapping into perfect formation, feet gliding across the floor with precision- as if you had been doing this since you were a child. meanwhile, lando? lando looked like a baby giraffe trying to separate its legs.

“why does everyone know this?!” he gasped, fumbling through the steps.

“it’s in our blood, love,” you teased, before you continued screaming the lyrics again.

to be honest, lando was sure that almost everyone at the bar was a bad singer if he heard them individually. he knew his girlfriend definitely was. but hearing them sing collectively, it sounded so harmonious, he had half a mind to record it and send it to martin for inspiration.

but, lando was not a quiter. so, lando huffed, determined now more than ever. he was a formula 1 driver. he had lightning-fast reactions, could handle a car at 300 km/h. surely, surely, he could handle some synchronized dancing.

…he could not.

he most definitely could not.

“left, lando! no—your other left!”

“i am going left—wait, no, never mind!”

his attempts were tragic but earnest. the crowd around him was equal parts entertained and encouraging. a group of aunties on the side cheered him on, while a group of guys dramatically mimed his worst mistakes, cackling. but he was committed now. he refused to be defeated by bollywood.

just as he managed to vaguely get a move right, the song switched.

“oh, you’re not ready for this one,” you grinned mischievously.

the opening beats of ghungroo started, and suddenly, the energy in the room tripled. the crowd seamlessly adapted to the new choreography, the transitions smooth as butter. lando really only had one question. how??? lando barely had time to breathe before he was swept into another whirlwind of movement.

and then—you taught him the hook step, gesturing for him to “break” the ankle bells like hrithik roshan had done in the official choreography.

lando blinked. “i have to—what?”

“just trust the process!” you laughed, and continued with the steps.

with the focus of a man attempting a daring overtake, he did it. he did the hook step. and for a moment—just a moment—it felt like the entire room cheered just for him.

by the end of the night, lando was sweaty, exhausted, and hooked. all he wanted was to go back inside and dance all night. he wanted to learn every choreography possible. he briefly wondered if jon would allow him to train by dancing instead of his usual weights and stuff.

as you both stumbled out of the bar, he turned to you, breathing hard. “that… was insane. i loved it.”

“told you it would change your life,” you laughed, handing him a bottle of water.

he took a sip, still dazed. then, suddenly, his face broke into a grin. because really, there was no stopping him now.

“so… same time next weekend?”

you laughed. “you’ll have to learn naatu naatu next time.”

lando groaned. he knew the song. he had watched the music video way too many times. it usually played on youtube on their tv when the two were cleaning. he knew just how many times he stopped and stared, transfixed at the speed that they danced. “oh god. i might need a pit stop halfway through that one.”

later, videos of lando attempting to dance to bollywood went viral. and all that people said was, "how to find a white boy in a brown bar."

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

this has been on my list for soooo long, and im sooo happy i finally got to write it. anyways, i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[nylauninterrupted]

OP81 x Reader [Let's Get Out of Here]

before reading: this is a repost, since I am desperately trying to learn how to manage posts and format them, thanks for your patience! (I am currently open to requests and slowly working through them<3)

summary: You thought Oscar was your enemy, yet things seem to change after a party, when you're not feeling so well.

content warnings: smut, dom!Oscar, kinda rough at times

word count: 2357

You've known Oscar for a couple of months now. You first met the driver at a casual party of a mutual friend. And for some reason, unlike everyone, you seemed unable to hold a civil conversation with him.

Maybe it was the way he looked completely uninterested when you came up to him to ask a simple question. Or how he was always calm, no matter the situation, no matter how you felt. You truly didn't know.

But the fact is, every chat, every even slightly pointed glance, the smallest interaction would ignite flames and fighting. And you didn't understand it. You didn't understand yourself and your feelings.

There you are, sipping a cola on ice, in a slight haze, as your eyes take in the stuffy room of a friend's apartment. The movement of the people dancing around seems slowed and a bit blurry.

You're not drunk at all, but rather detached. You've had a bloody awful day after you had an argument with a family member. You wish to forget, to take your mind off things, to think about only the pleasant things.

It's honestly a perfect situation to get drunk and forget, yet you hold yourself back, knowing that this isn't the thing you should be doing. Moments like that always end up the same, with you barely able to walk, stumbling to your cold, empty apartment, having to clean your own puke the next morning, with a massive hangover.

The world around you seems to swirl, the seconds tangling together into minutes, as you sit alone, swirling the liquid in your glass. You exhale shakily, placing your heavy head on your hand. You close her eyes tiredly before opening them and looking up, just in time to see him walking through the door.

You want to scoff seeing Oscar, his unnerving calm expression present on his face as always. His eyes meet yours, as if feeling your stare... Or were you glaring?

He raises an eyebrow at you, his face nonchalant as if in a challenge. You straighten up, pulling out of your haze, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you vulnerable.

Oscar almost rolls his eyes at your gesture, reading it correctly. His eyes soften slightly as he approaches you slowly. You don't take your eyes off him, having to look up more the closer he gets.

"Piastri," you say coldly, though your voice cracks slightly, indicating your slightly shaken state.

He observes you closely, his eyes narrowing knowingly, figuring out that you are not feeling too good.

"What's with the sour expression? You look unhappy; it's definitely not just because I'm here."

"Maybe it is." you mutter, but your eyes relax a little as you give up on looking tough, knowing that he's got you figured out already. "Why do you suddenly care?"

Oscar pulls out a chair and sits right in front of you without looking away for even a split second. He takes in the way you're dressed, your expression, your hair, and every single inch of you that he can see.

"Dunno. Maybe I just feel curious." He shrugs, with absolutely no shame, studying every single movement of the muscles of your face. "So? What happened?"

You exhale, giving up on trying to chase him away, knowing that while he usually looked like he didn't care about anything, once he settled on something, he stubbornly kept to it.

"It's not a good day for me," you say quietly, finally showing slight sensitivity, meeting his eyes, which soften slightly at your words.

"And so you chose to go to a party instead of taking care of yourself at home?" He asks, and although his tone sounds a bit scolding for some reason, for once it doesn't make you want to punch him in the face. His questions came off more as his way of showing concern.

You would like to keep believing he doesn't care. That he is completely insensitive to everything you feel, maybe even enjoys it when you're miserable. But in this moment, he's anything but that. Even though his words are reserved, the way his honey brown orbs follow yours makes your heart flutter a bit for some reason. His lips suddenly look more full than usual, and oh, did he always have such a nice nose?

You open her mouth a bit, a little overwhelmed by those sudden thoughts. You quickly shake them off, trying to focus on forming a coherent response.

"I really don't want to be alone right now. The loud music and people are still better than sitting in my empty apartment right now. Even if it's not the best setting." you manage to say, taking a deep breath. "I didn't have any better ideas."

Oscar keeps looking at you, actually taking your words seriously. Seeing how you sit here, trying to handle your heavy heart, makes him soften. He gets up and holds his hand out to you.

"Come on. You shouldn't spend an evening like that at a party. You can stay with me tonight."

Your eyes widen at those words. The guy who'd show disinterest in everything you said, who you'd fight with all the time, saying something so sympathetic? It feels unreal.

Your face heats up a bit, soft hints of a blush barely visible on your cheeks. You blink quickly, trying to calm down a bit, not able to look away from the man standing in front of you.

"We won't do anything you don't want to do," he says quickly, noticing your subtle reaction to his words. "I promise."

To hell with it.

You carefully take his warm hand and get up, stumbling a little, even though you are completely sober. Oscar immediately catches you, steadying you and looking down to meet your eyes, which are still wide.

Still in a slight daze, you let him lead you out of the party and walk down the street with you in the chilly evening air. You shiver a little, as you didn't bother to take a jacket with her.

Without hesitation, he takes his large hoodie off and helps you put it on carefully, not saying a word. His scent immediately envelops you, as the fabric warms you up almost instantly.

He takes your arm gently and walks you through the empty streets. You press your lips together, utterly confused by the whole situation. Why did he start taking care of you like that?

"Thank you," you say quietly, not wanting to be ungrateful. A few hours ago you'd probably say that you hate his guts, but now... His actions leave you confused.

You walk in silence for a while before finally stopping in front of his apartment door. For some reason you feel nervous, never having been to his home before. The whole evening made you doubt yourself and every single emotion you ever felt. Even though none of the things Oscar did were that big, they made you feel like a whole different person.

He glances at you and opens the door for you, actually acting like a gentleman for once. Or maybe he's always been one, and you were just too busy focusing on his faults to notice? You really didn't know anymore.

He helps you to a seat, even though you are perfectly capable of walking by yourself, and kneels down, carefully undoing all the little straps of your shoes. You feel her face heat up once more, looking down at the man on his knees before you, helping you with everything, without you even having to ask.

"Why are you doing this?" you whisper softly, looking at Oscar, who just got up and sat down in front of you. Your eyes are shining in the dim light; you are almost fascinated by the man and his doings.

"Because you need to be taken care of." He answers softly, looking back at you, with something resembling determination in his eyes. "And I'll provide anything you need so you can feel better."

Your breathing slows down a little, while your heart speeds up at that.

"Anything?" you whisper softly, your body almost aching to touch him, feel the warmth of his hands on your skin again.

Oscar nods his head, and before he can say anything else, you lean closer, gently supporting his chin, while your lips touch his. Without hesitating, he puts his hands on both sides of your head, tangling your hair in his fingers as he takes the lead of the kiss.

You lean back after a few seconds, your breathing shaky, making eye contact with the Aussie.

"Just tell me what you want me to do," he whispers to you, his eyes full of affection and warmth you didn't think he was capable of showing.

"Just... Make me forget about it. I want to feel you. Just you."

"Do you want me to be gentle?" he asks, assuming that you need only care and affection.

"The opposite," you whisper, making Oscar's breath hitch slightly. He gets up and lifts you up from the couch, twirling you around a bit, before rather quickly making his way to the bedroom with you. He didn't want to have you on the couch for the first time. This had to be more intimate.

He throws you down on the bed a bit roughly, crawling on top of you. You're still wearing his hoodie over your silver party dress, which honestly turns him on quite a bit.

"My beautiful girl," he murmurs, breathing in the sweet scent of your perfume, as he buries his head in your neck. "All for me to have." 

He places soft kisses on your jaw and quickly moves lower, to your collarbone, progressively getting rougher. He nibbles and leaves hickeys all over you, marking all the sweet spots that make you whimper and moan.

"O-Oscar." You stutter, gripping his muscular back a bit, before immediately releasing it as the sensations continue.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He asks quietly, a small smirk on his face, "Tell me how it feels, honey."

You bite your lower lip softly at the nickname, not expecting him to get this intimate so quickly, but definitely liking it.

"Feels... amazing," you whisper, which makes him continue. He takes his hoodie off of you before lifting up your party dress. His lips curl at your underwear. It's a simple lacy set, nothing too fancy. He doesn't need anything fancy, though.

"Light green, interesting choice." He teases slightly, undoing your bra and sliding it off, careful not to scratch you with the clip. He'd rather leave all the marks himself after all.

His hands move to your now-exposed breasts, kneading them in a painfully slow way, before taking one of your nipples in his lips, sucking on it, and teasing it with his tongue.

It makes you moan, which causes him to smirk against your breasts.

"Eager, are we?" He mutters, his head buried in your chest. Without moving his face away, his hand goes lower, sliding under your panties and feeling your already wet core.

His lips curl at the fact that he makes you so wet, but he doesn't comment on it for now, slipping a finger into you, making more beautiful sounds come out of your mouth. He attacks your chest with his tongue and grazes it with his teeth occasionally, all while working on your slit.

It doesn't take long before you are close. Your mouth opens slightly as you let out another whiny whimper.

"Oscar... I'm..." she stutters out, looking down at the man who's busy pleasuring her body.

"I know, pretty girl." He smirks. "But I can't let you yet." He pulls away, leaving your hole empty for a moment.

He takes his shirt off, making your eyes drift to his muscular stomach. He can see you enjoying the view, which makes him smirk again. Soon enough, he is completely naked, just like you. Still on top of you, he positions himself in front of your entrance.

He leans closer, his mouth close to yours. His dick is of regular size, maybe just a bit bigger than most. Still, you observe him a bit carefully, knowing that you asked him to be rough.

"You can take it; I know you can, baby." Oscar whispers and begins pounding into you. His movements are quite quick, cutting your breaths short, as he thrusts away. You both pant and moan, feeling pure bliss. You never would have thought having sex with him could feel so exquisite.

"God, you're taking me so well," he murmurs, going faster, which makes your moans grow louder. "That's right, let me hear your filthy whines."

You both finish at the same time, breathing heavily. He collapses on top of you, making eye contact.

"You did so good for me, pretty girl," he whispers into your ear and rolls to the side, lying next to you, as you catch your breath.

You look at him, your eyes turning watery. You suddenly feel even more vulnerable after sharing this intimate moment with Oscar.

"Why wouldn't you ever look at me? Why were you always so cold?" You whisper, not able to stop yourself from asking the question that keeps disturbing your peace of mind.

He looks back at her, his expression soft but serious; he wraps his strong arms around you, hugging you tightly.

"Because you intimidated me. I don't think I have ever seen a woman more enticing than you. I don't understand it myself, but I cannot keep my thoughts away from you. And it scared me sometimes."

You don't say anything to his words. You didn't need to. You let yourself sink in the warm feeling of being cared for. You look up to meet his gorgeous brown eyes and peck the tip of his nose, making him smile widely. He immediately responds with a soft kiss, only on your lips. You nuzzle up against him, breathing softly.

Neither of you say anything, simply finding comfort in each other's presence. Soon enough, your eyelids start feeling heavy, and you feel yourself dozing off in his arms.

[cloverapple]

Thank you for posting! Reading your stuff is a lot of help, and your shifting method is awesome sauce i've been using it for the past two nights (the reasons for why I didn't shift i'm self-aware of and will proceed accordingly, not writing it down here because i feel like it's unneccesarry and don't think you can say much abt it) what I was curious if you could give advice about is: fear of shifting? Don't get me wrong i really want to shift. Been on this journey for years for a reason! And i think soon i'll finally do it, as i've never been as consistent, putting in actual work, as I am and as I do now. Last night, when body was truly asleep and it was just only me, I did my thing trying to shift. And suddenly this weight settled on me, as if the world was too big and too heavy, and i immediately thought "I can't do this" and rolled over with the decision to just simply sleep. Today i talked with a friend about this, and he said it's probably "a fear of shifting, a fear of responsibility", and honestly I agree with this take. Of course I will try again tonight, and will keep doing so until I can push through this feeling and actually shift, but i was wondering if you had a word of advice? Thank you <3

• The way I see the fear of shifting is like: that fear you felt right before the shift wasn’t a failure, it was a sign you were right there.

• Think about it: why would your mind suddenly scream "I can’t do this!" and slam the brakes when you were on the edge of what you’ve been working toward? It’s because, on some level, your subconscious knew shifting was about to happen.

• It accepted it as real, as possible, and that’s exactly when the fear kicked in. That fear isn’t about shifting being impossible, it’s your mind clinging to the familiar, trying to protect you from stepping into something that it's your current reality. Our brains are wired to favor what we know, even if what we know isn’t what we want. It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff with a parachute—you know the parachute will open, but the ground beneath your feet still feels safer.

• So, no, you didn’t fail. Don’t look at that fear as a blockage because it’s not. It’s a precedent to progress, a signpost that you're on the brink of success. Fear is just your mind’s way of saying, "This is real."

To work through it: First, understand that fear is just another form of anxiety—and anxiety, at its core, is the same physiological response as excitement. The only difference is the story you tell yourself about it. When you feel that fear creeping in during the day, don’t shove it down. Let yourself feel it, but flip the script. Visualize the moments you’re genuinely excited for in your DR. Happy, comforting, exciting things that make you want to shift. Feel how easily that fear morphs into anticipation. Emotions are malleable, and once you start associating that tension with excitement instead of dread, you’ll find it easier to move forward.

What you really need to do if fear is your issue, is let go. Stop putting shifting on this towering pedestal. Yes, it’s amazing, but it’s also normal. The more you treat it like this huge, mystical event, the more your mind will see it as something to fear. Shift your perspective. Talk about it like it’s just another part of your day, think of it as routine, affirm it as something natural. Trick your brain into seeing shifting as regular and unexciting, and it’ll stop resisting. Because at the end of the day, shifting isn’t some impossible feat. It’s just you becoming aware of another space you already belong in.

• But let’s go even deeper, to stop that freeze response from hijacking you the next time you’re at the doorway to your shift. We’re going to eliminate the fear before it even has a chance to rise. (yes I'm giving you optional homework because I'm the worst 😁)

The "Normalize Your DR" Exercise

1. Document Your CR Routine. Write down your current daily schedule in your CR. What time you wake up, eat, work, study, relax, everything. Create a schedule.

2. Now create a parallel schedule for your DR. You could do this for the day you're going to wake up in your DR, or next day, depends on what you scripted and feels better for you. What are you doing at each hour? How does your morning routine look? Who do you see? Where are you?

3. Sync CR Time with DR Time. Match your CR schedule to your DR schedule. For every hour in your day, mentally check in with what you’d be doing in your DR at that exact time. This repetitive syncing normalizes your DR in your mind. It becomes part of your routine, not some distant, unreachable dream that your mind fears shifting to.

4. Visualize Throughout the Day. As you go through your CR, take moments to pause and visualize your DR. The more your mind gets used to the idea of being in your DR, the less foreign—and therefore less scary—it becomes.

I hope you can take something from this. Good luck! 💚🩷🫂

[sleepy--anon]

It's My Job

Reblog first, like later please, reblogs do more

Here's who I write for

In-ho is 35 and Jun-ho is 19 here

Most people would assume that siblings with a 16 year age gap wouldn't be that close but Jun-ho practically glued himself to his big brother and In-ho absolutely adored Jun-ho from birth. They obviously still had their fair share of sibling quarles but ultimately, the two were inseparable for the most part.

"You work too much!" Jun-ho whined loudly, half hanging off his brother's bed, In-ho rolled his eyes as he continued his paperwork. Jun-ho showed up randomly, wanting to see his brother.

"Considering you're only on your second year of academy I'd assume you'd appreciate the calm atmosphere of us just doing our own thing in peace Namdongsaeng." Jun-ho's eyes narrowed at how his brother didn't look at him while he spoke.

"I came to see my Hyung because I missed him, is it a crime to be upset that he's ignoring me?" Jun-ho turned to sit on his legs and give In-ho an exaggerated pout and the biggest puppy eyes he could muster. He felt a prideful flutter in his chest when In-ho looked at him and visibly melted.

"Nobody said it was, and I am not ignoring you, you just have a completely different view of attention than I do." In-ho got up from his desk, walking over to his little brother, gently cupping his face, smiling softly at Jun-ho's bright smile.

"Well I felt ignored Hyung, you should've known how I feel about your attention." In-ho's eye twitched at his tone, his hands slipping to Jun-ho's shoulders.

"You want attention Namdongsaeng? Fine, I'll give you some damn attention." He quickly shoved his bother back, jumping up to straddle his hips, pressing his wrists into the mattress as he watched Jun-ho process what had just happened.

"Are you comfortable Hyeongje~? Cause you're gonna be there for a while~" Just then did Jun-ho finally realize what was happening. In-ho's change in tone flipped a switch in Jun-ho's brain.

"Noooo come on! That's not what I meant when I said I wanted your attention and you know it!" He whimpered, trying to worm his way out of his scarily effective hold. When Jun-ho was 6 his brother had graduated from the same police academy he was currently in, which meant In-ho knew all the little tricks he didn't and boy did he use that to his advantage.

"Its no use Little One~ You might as well accept your fate~ You practically asked for this anyway~" Jun-ho grunted as he tried to overpower his brother, huffing at his smug face when he barely budged.

"I did not! Can't we just go get food? Or watch a movie? Both of those work as alternatives" Jun-ho felt the pressure of In-ho's knees on his wrists, pulling a long whine of protest from his throat.

"What whiny~? You wanted my attention right~? You now have my undivided attention~" In-ho smirked mischievously as he crawled his fingers from his hips up to his ribs. Chuckling at Jun-ho's strained grunts as he tried to fight the sensations.

"Oh come on Jun~ This isn't a battle, you can let loose~ or do you need a little help~?" In-ho's fingers pressing into a few of his higher ribs, smiling at the bright, childish laughter the began flowing from his brother.

"Nohohohoho! I dohohon't neheheed any hehehehelp! StohohoOHOP!" In-ho hummed as if considering his request.

"I don't know if I believe you~ You've been pouting quite a lot today~"

"I'm FIHIHIHINE! STOHOHOP dohohoing THAHAHAT!" Jun-ho's laughter pitching up and down based on In-ho's occasional flicks up into his underarms.

"Why~? Would you prefer I did this instead~?" In-ho's hands jumped to his brother's stomach pinching and squeezing all over, paying extra attention to the lower portion towards his hips.

"FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!"

"Ooooo~ Jun-ho's using his big boy language now~" He could feel his bed shake from the drumming of Jun-ho's feet.

"LEHEHET MEHEHE GOHOHOHOHO! HYUHUHUNG PLEHEHEHEASE!"

"Oh alright~" He skittered his fingers quickly across his little brother's neck before climbing off him.

"You're way too ticklish to be pulling that kind of shit Jun, you always have been" He teased, pinching his cheek and fixing the pillow under his head.

"Just say you like bullying me In-ho, we know that's the real reason you just nearly killed me"

"Don't be so dramatic Namdongsaeng, you're just a little out of breath, think of it like endurance training. You're welcome."

[nephilimeq]

You Look Good In My Shirt

Prompt: Cooking Together

@bucktommyfluffebruary

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62721625/chapters/160670755#workskin

Buck smiled as he headed downstairs, tugging on the t-shirt that was hanging on the railing, thinking to himself that he had the best boyfriend ever because despite the fact that it was two in the morning, they were both hungry and Tommy didn’t care what time it was, just so long as they could eat. They had been cuddling for the past hour in nothing but their skin, forgoing food after their shifts for quality time, instead, and now they were eating at two in the morning just because.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

With a spring in his step, he checked Tommy’s pantry, hoping that he had the right ingredients for what he was craving…

He let out a crow of success when he found what he was looking for.

Humming under his breath, he raided the fridge and then pulled out the bowls and one of his boyfriend’s oven pans that he was envious of. It was expensive as hell, but it was the only thing he ever wanted to cook with, which was why he found himself spending more and more time at his house than at his own apartment.

Just as he was getting started, however, he heard footsteps.

…and then there was a pair of arms winding around his waist.

“Oh, so you decided to join me?” Buck quipped, squeezing at the strong forearm that had been curled around his back only a few minutes before, and Tommy nodded against the back of his shoulder and said, “Yep. Thought I could help you out, speed things along…”

Buck shook his head, knowing that as much as his boyfriend wanted to help him out, he would more likely be the one to distract him during the process, as it had happened on more than one occasion that while they had shared a cooking space—Tommy had managed to make him burn a lasagna, a batch of cookies, one pound cake, two separate casseroles, and a lemon pie; the last one he was still a bit salty about, to be honest.

“Nice try. You’re a distraction at best, babe.”

Tommy nudged his nose under his ear and pressed a kiss to his neck and muttered, “Oh, c’mon, I can be good,” and the fireman snorted and shook his head and said, “Oh no. I’m still pissed about last time. You’re not helping.”

“Yes, I am.”

Before he could stop him, Tommy had grabbed at the bowl in front of him and said, “I can mix! I can’t mess up mixing!”

Buck groaned and put a hand out to stop him—but his boyfriend darted backwards…and spilled a third of it over the edge of the bowl in the process.

He glared at him.

“Oops?”

Taking two steps towards him, he wrenched the bowl out of his hands, avoiding the mess on the floor, and said, “How you’ve survived all these years without knowing how to cook for yourself, I’ll never understand,” to which Tommy defensively replied, “Hey! I can cook. Eggs, rice, potatoes, green beans, chicken, steak, and spaghetti. I’m a great cook.”

Buck arched an eyebrow at him as he fixed what had been lost from the bowl and said, “You do realize that three out of seven of those are starches, right? That’s not good for you babe.”

His boyfriend gave him a smug look as he snarked, “Well, it must be, because you say I’ve got the best body of anyone you’ve ever met and you can’t keep your hands off me, so…who’s the one really losing here?” and Buck rolled his eyes and turned back to the dish that he was making, a casserole that required him to premix several of the wet ingredients beforehand to make the flavors really pop. He had referenced an old cookbook that Bobby had lying around in the station kitchen and was determined to put his own spin on it that would make it better.

He refocused on the casserole and watched his boyfriend from the corner of his eye…

…and then was confused when after he watched him clean up the floor, he saw him leaning against the kitchen island with a soft look on his face that he couldn’t quite place.

The thought crossed his mind to ask him about it—but he dismissed it, knowing that he need to pay attention to what he was doing because the timing of the dish was crucial—and Bobby would be annoyed to find out that he had decided to experiment on a tried and true recipe and then failed at it.

Every time Buck had decided to make his own twist on a recipe, Bobby had one rule…

“It has to be edible, kid.”

He would make it work.

A few minutes later he had everything sorted out and in the upper oven—his boyfriend had a dual oven, it was a sweet setup—and he finally turned his attention back to Tommy, who was still staring at him with that same look…and Buck furrowed his brow and said, “Okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

“You look good in my shirt,” Tommy softly replied, and Buck looked down to see that he was wearing one of his boyfriend’s shirts. The tip off should have been how it fit him in the shoulder, as all of Tommy’s clothes hung off slightly wide on him, and he lightly tugged at it and smiled when he saw he was wearing Tommy’s work shirt, the dark blue one that had his name across the left pocket in tiny lettering, feeling an odd sensation rush through him at seeing his name on his body.

“Yeah? I do?” he said, taking a step towards him, and Tommy nodded and reached out to him, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah, you really do, babe,” he replied fondly, and Buck melted into his arms, letting him bury his head into his neck once more.

They stayed like that for a while…

…and then Tommy muttered, “Can I least help a little bit?” and Buck coughed out a laugh, threw his head back, and squeezed his arms around his waist and said, “God, you are incorrigible! Okay, fine, if I let you make the cookies that I’m planning on taking to the station on Thursday, will that make you happy?”

“That’s baking, not cooking.”

Buck rolled his eyes.

“You’re impossible,” he said, not really meaning it, no heat behind his words. “What if I let you slice up some carrots and show you how to roast them up with some garlic, brown sugar, and olive oil?” and was pleased when that earned him a lifted eyebrow. “It’s super yummy, impossible to fuck up, and will be a really good snack for later, too. You can add extra stuff to it if you want, but I prefer it without the extra stuff. No salt or pepper needed, babe…”

“But salt and pepper are the only seasonings I know,” Tommy joked, and Buck leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and said, “That’s why I’m here. I’m gonna teach you all about cooking, and you’re gonna teach me all about Muay Thai. Deal?”

Tommy smiled.

“Deal.”

They shared one last kiss—and then Buck had to pry himself away from his boyfriend’s clinging arms, the oven dinging, saying, “Lemme go! I gotta keep the food from burning!”

“It won’t burn,” Tommy protested, still trying to hold onto him with his strong, unyielding arms, and Buck rolled his eyes a second time and muttered, “Yeah, that’s what you said about the lasagna,” and managed to slip from his grasp and then turn to the oven and adjust the temperature, knowing it wouldn’t be ready for at least twenty minutes. He then turned back to his boyfriend and gave him a look.

“Okay. We have twenty minutes, lemme show you this.”

The two of them spent that time around the stove, where Buck showed the airman just how to make the carrots that always hit the spot on colder days, and he had to admit that there was something incredibly attractive watching his boyfriend follow his instructions in the kitchen, especially since he was also wearing an apron that said, I flexed and half of it fell off, one that he had bought for him as a joke for when he grilled steak out on the back patio.

Just as Tommy turned off the burner, covering the carrots to let them simmer, the oven went off and Buck grinned.

“Perfect timing babe.”

They shared a quick kiss, and then Buck pulled out the casserole with mitt-covered hands, placing it on the trivets on the counter, and Tommy then leaned in and took a deep breath and said, “Oh, god, that smells amazing,” and Buck smirked.

“Damn right, it does. Now, care for a plate?”

Tommy nodded.

Eventually they made their way to the table, both of them still barefoot, the rest of the house unlit in the midnight morning hours, and as they began to eat, the airman said, “I love it when you wear my clothes…but I really love it when you cook in them.” Buck stopped mid chew and Tommy explained, “When you cook in them, the scent lingers for a while and I can remember you and the food you made me while you were wearing it…it’s nice,” he finished, giving him a soft look and reaching out to grasp at his hand.

Buck suddenly found himself overwhelmed with emotion and slipped his fingers between his, and said, “Then I’ll keep doing it,” and Tommy smiled.

“I’d like that.”

They each ate two servings, with more than enough left to feed the rest of the 118, and Buck mentally made a note to make sure to take the rest into the station on his next shift…but for now, he would enjoy his time with his boyfriend.

After cleaning up—and listening to Tommy go on and on about how good it was—they made their way back upstairs and slid back under the covers, wrapping themselves around each other much in the same way they had been before. Just as Buck was drifting off, however, he heard Tommy say into his ear, “Wanna eat your cooking for the rest of my life,” and his heart clenched.

He wanted to cook for him every day, too.

He hoped he could.

[icelynia]

YES!

That is the perfect way to put it. Mob had so many ideas for this chapter that instead of saving them for either other chapters or games, they decided to shove them in Chapter 4. Honestly if they still wanted to go this route then some simple restructuring could help the chapter a lot:

When we meet Pianosaurus we end up in a chase/stealth section with him that ends in a scripted loss. Doey then comes in and the story proceeds as usual. Doing this allows Pianosaurus to have his big shining moment and get eaten by Doey. Which speak of that, don’t the toys in the Safe Haven not eat other toys? I might be wrong about that, but if I’m remembering right, then Doey eating Pianosaurus is even weirder.

Yarnaby doesn’t die by random combustion on a hook, but rather dies trying to protect the Dr. in a combined boss battle. Some parts of this original section were just too similar to CatNap for me. The Doctor also shows up over the monitors some more, as there are large periods of time without him.

Doey gets introduced the same way, but it’s framed more as him rescuing you and he maybe doesn’t eat Pianosaurus, just kills him? Most of his story progresses the same way, with the last thing I’d like to change being his boss battle. The room it happens in is just weird, so why not have it in a kitchen area? They had to have somewhere to prepare food, so if it was somewhere that had both freezing temperatures (freezers) and stuff to cut him with, then the area should suffice. I’d also change his final boss form, as it looked too much like a Banban character for me to take seriously.

There’s so much room in the 10 years between the Hour of Joy and our Player’s arrival to tell some of these stories. We have never fully learned the total amount of Bigger Bodies toys that got made, so what happened to the rest of them?! How did CatNap and the Prototype kill the rest of the Smiling Critters by the time the game happens?

This chapter should’ve belonged to Harley Sawyer who has been having hype built around him since the launch of Project: Playtime! He’s one of the major forces that caused all of this to happen. He’s the one that started turning kids into toys! He’s an actual monster, not the kids whose hands have been forced by circumstance. He didn’t need to torture children, turn them into something else, and even take delight in the process and the children’s screams for help.

Everyone (including Doey) has a lot of missed potential. They focused on telling the big picture story (all the VHS tapes, notes, lore drops from characters) that they forgot to look at the here and now. What is the story of this chapter? Who are the important characters in it and how can we get the fans excited about them? They misfocused the answers to these questions in the ARG and marketing, which led to the player base getting somewhat disappointed by what we got, as it wasn’t similar to what was advertised.

I’m hoping that at least Pianosaurus gets to come back in the future, since that didn’t look like a Bigger Bodies version. Maybe if they do a game set in the decade we haven’t seen, we can get another (a better) look at these characters and they can all meet their full potentials.

As for Huggy Wuggy, I wasn’t as shocked by him reappearing as there were quite a few clues that he survived, but I am curious as to their plans with him. In a room in Chapter 2 (The Bunzo Box room I think?) there is blood and blue fur leading up into a vent. Huggy is also the only major boss to have a cutout that is still working and not all static; though noticing that is complete hindsight.

Overall, some restructuring of the chapter was needed. They definitely needed to advertise it better to be more in line with the final product aka advertising Doey more!!).

Okay, it was less than sixty seconds but still. WTF Mob!!!!

[forbiddentaako]

more monochrome practice I suppose

[bmpmp3]

post ankle-twisting clarity

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[freebooter4ever]

Sigh. I Hated the guy for his hockey but he's Like That too huh? -_-

also before people start trying to equate sid with what the rat did can i just say that i watched both the 2016 visit and the 2017 visit and sid's behavior was completely different - right up front in 2016, lots of photos, big smiles. Vs 2017 it was very obviously just a formality and sid said nothing. (also also the rat didnt say anything about who he voted for he just parroted the usual southern patriotic line? I dont see why people are jumping to conclusions that he is a diehard conservative from this? I dont think this totally negates the efforts i have seen from the rat in promoting LGBQT rights in a very very red state like florida. Not to defend a guy whose hockey i hate or anything. I just dont think fans should start getting angry at other fans who are willing to overlook this comment, or forget that the rat has said he believes everyone belongs in a hockey locker room during an era in the league where this is not the most popular stance)

(but also blacklisting the rat's name on tumblr works VERY well i should know, lol. Him and the candy cane chicago guy are my two blacklisted names. Its like they dont even exist anymore :P)

(but also i know how hard it hurts to realize that someone you admire from a distance might actually treat you like shit in real life just because of what 'other' group you belong to, so my sympathies to fans going through it right now)

[exltwounds]

Sometimes i hate to be the one who's always right

[blujayonthewing]

so in juniper's campaign we've just found ourselves in a high-stakes situation that I as a player do frankly find stressful and am anxious about, but hey hi also the DM was like 'okay here are the exact mechanics of how this is going to work because I don't want to surprise you with serious repercussions, also here are all the options you will have to try to do something about the situation-- [affected player] what do you think? honest feedback, I don't want it to feel unfair, I want to be clear that I am not just trying to kill your character, and if it ends up being badly balanced we can revisit it down the road' and oh my god I could COLLAPSE and WEEP with gratitude

[snekdood]

Your impulse to believe every last bad thing people say about a guy and then if that guy is victimized by those people or the people who spread the rumors you dont even try to look into if thats even the case, you just assume hes bad by default-- yeah thats incredibly unfair to guys who are victims of abuse.