#morals on sundays

[gimmethatagustd]

morals on sundays | myg

You're still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

○ Pairing: BFF!Yoongi x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Friends with benefits, angst, smut, fluff

○ 6 / 100 Drabble Challenge (FWB)

○ Word Count: 2,177

○ Warnings: MC's boyfriend cheated on her, post-breakup blues, questionable decision making, fingering so good you'll try to run away from it, pussy eating, too much tongue sucking probably, Yoongi is a boob guy, they have matching Spongebob and Patrick coffee mugs so why aren't they married?? Idiots

○ Notes: Shout out to @sailoryooons for also writing about a daegu boy eating pussy tonight 😌 And, as usual, I wrote this with scrambled eggs for brains and didn't proofread it, so if you see any errors, no you didn't

○ Post Date: January 22, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? Imported - Jessie Reyez ft. 6LACK

Lately, you’ve felt like disappearing – not into a crowded city street in another country or down an unlit dirt road into the unknown, but into the warm folds of Yoongi’s hoodie. You’re already halfway there, with your fingers interlaced with his, shoved into the large front pocket, and your face tucked into his shoulder. 

“Fuck, I hate taking the bus,” he curses, his words turning into a cloud that disappears into the cold air. 

“How much time do we have?” 

Yoongi turns his head, and his lips briefly touch the cold curve of your ear. 

“You’re mumbling. What’d you say?”

“How much time until it comes?” You squint up at him, cheek still pressed against his shoulder. It’s too warm here to want to move. 

“Can’t check the app on my phone unless you give me my hands.” 

“No.” 

Yoongi chuckles and jostles your head by bobbing his shoulders. 

“I thought our date would cheer you up.” His complaint is playful, eyes sparkling in the streetlights when he returns his gaze to the empty road. You should have gotten a taxi. 

“I’m gonna die alone. Doesn’t matter how much late-night pizza I eat or how many stupid action movies I watch,” you grumble into Yoongi’s shoulder. 

“Even when the action movie lead has a super hot sex scene that’s poorly timed and irrelevant to the plot?” 

“Nope.”

“Even when the coolest guy on the entire planet was the one who took you?” Yoongi smiles cheekily, his gaze back on you. He wiggles his shoulders again, hard enough to bounce your head. 

Annoyed, you straighten up, hands still shoved in his pockets. The movie wasn’t that bad. The pizza was actually great. You’re just depressed. 

“I didn’t think it would take this long…” You whisper into the little space between your body and Yoongi’s. He knows you aren’t talking about the bus. 

Yoongi squeezes your hands inside his hoodie. The rest of you might be freezing in the winter night air, but at least Yoongi keeps your hands warm. He keeps your heart warm, too, with his sincere gaze when he looks at you. 

“You were too good for him.” 

Yoongi’s right. He’s always right. 

You’re sufficiently frozen by the time the bus finally arrives. Yoongi pays for you both because he’s trying to make life easy. No bumps in the road, no unnecessary stress. He lets you sit in a window seat so you can stare out at the blurry night scenery and have your sad main character moment for as long as it takes to get to your apartment. 

Once you arrive, he follows you inside and heads straight to the kitchen while you slump down the hall to your bedroom. The cold seeps so deeply into your bones that the sweatpants and sweater you change into barely help increase your body temperature. 

Maybe it’s because the sweatpants and sweater are your ex-boyfriend’s, and the universe wants to keep your body as cold as his heart was. 

In the kitchen, Yoongi uses a wooden spoon to stir hot chocolate in a small pot, your favorite kind that comes in a block of chocolate that melts with milk. It’s likely been years since Yoongi has made you hot chocolate. Cozy winter nights indoors were once commonplace, the two of you alternating between apartments to make each other snacks and treat cuddles like currency. The appearance of your ex put an end to the comfort you shared with Yoongi. It put an end to most things that brought you comfort. 

As you expect, Yoongi has two mugs out on the counter. You reach for yours, twisting it in your hands as you wait for him to finish. 

“Remember when Spongebob tried to become best friends with Squidward instead of Patrick?” Yoongi asks, turning off the stove. He uses a ladle to pour hot chocolate into his pink mug, then pours some into your yellow one. 

“Yes.” 

“He was Squidward. I’m just mad I didn’t get to blow up his house–” Yoongi laughs and nearly spills his drink when you smack him in the arm, “–with bubbles! With bubbles. I’m not homicidal.” 

Rolling your eyes, you set down your mug next to Yoongi’s, both drinks too hot to drink quickly. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, hooking your finger into his hoodie pocket and tugging lightly, the action absentminded. You keep your eyes cast downward because you don’t want him to see your tears if they run. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a shitty mood. I know it’s been a while, but, it just… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, and everything fucking hurts…” 

Yoongi slips his fingers under your sleeve and circles your wrist, pulling your hand away from his pocket so he can lace your fingers together. They’re so much warmer now, defrosted by the heat blasting through your apartment and Yoongi’s hot chocolate. 

“Maybe you could start by not wearing his clothes?” Yoongi offers quietly. “Can’t imagine it’s easy to get over someone when you keep them on your body like that.” 

You sniffle and nod. Again, Yoongi is always right. 

“Easier said than done…” you mumble, giving him a weak smile when you finally meet his eyes. There’s something there in his expression, something that seems different. 

You don’t move away when Yoongi steps closer, even when he has you backed against the counter, even when you feel like you’re going to swallow your heart. 

“I could take them off for you,” Yoongi says softly. He lets go of your sleeve to pinch the hem of your sweater, tugging it lightly. “If you can’t do it, I can.” 

“Yeah?” You feel out of breath, maybe because you suck in your stomach when Yoongi’s fingers brush against it. 

“Yeah,” he echoes, fingers sliding along your ribs as he pushes your sweater up. “So you can get over him.” 

It’s a terrible idea, but your stomach flutters when he looks at you with sleepy eyes weighed down by the late hour and lust. He bites his bottom lip, and you feel your resolve slip as easily as Yoongi’s fingers do beneath your clothes. 

“I want to.” The declaration is desperate, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare into Yoongi’s eyes with an all-consuming sadness that eats at your insides, gnawing on bones and biting holes into your lungs. “God, Yoongi, I want to.” 

Yoongi touches his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes because he’s too close and you’re too much of a coward. 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His voice is as gentle as his hands on your bare waist, his thumbs caressing your sensitive skin. 

You raise your arms for Yoongi to pull off your sweater. He’s confident when he squeezes your tits, doesn’t even seem caught off guard when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under the sweater. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples as he leans in to kiss you, his tongue tasting sweet from the hot chocolate when he flicks it against yours. 

“Yoongi,” you call out with an airy sigh that harmonizes nicely with the sound of him sucking open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums against the base of your throat, the vibration sending a tingling sensation straight to your clit. He keeps one hand on the counter beside your waist, caging you in, while his other hand cups your pussy over your sweatpants. 

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands immediately finding Yoongi’s firm shoulders when he starts rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers lower to press against your entrance, soaking the fabric. 

“These are his, too, right?” 

“Y-yes,” you moan as Yoongi pulls down your sweatpants, taking your underwear with them. 

You can’t say you never thought about how attractive Yoongi is; it’s hard to ignore. It’s just that Yoongi is your best friend. If anything were to happen between the two of you, you don’t know if you’d be able to survive losing him, too. You love him. 

But you also love your ex. 

It’s hard to think about that, though, with two of Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. They’re long, reaching deeper than your own can when you finger yourself, always late at night when you’re lonely. It never feels good after. The clarity always seems to hit too quickly, like being dunked in a pool of ice water. 

Three months. That’s how long it’s been since another person touched you, since you found out your ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you. You didn’t realize how much you missed it until you’ve got your head thrown back and your thighs quivering as Yoongi fucks you with his fingers. You nearly climb up the counter, both wanting him to touch you more and trying to get away because it’s too good. 

Your ex never searched for the spot that would make your legs shake, but Yoongi does. He curls his fingers against your front wall and keeps up his rhythm, moving with your body when you can’t control where it goes. 

“Fuck, right there.” You’re burning up, veins turned to lava that’s rushing toward your core as Yoongi fucks you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re on the verge of tears because you haven’t been touched in so long and you’re so lonely and you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough. 

“Wanna make you cum,” Yoongi groans, deep and gravelly, between licking a stripe up your tits and sucking your nipples. 

“Please,” you moan, “Please, I’m so close.” 

Your arousal gushes around his fingers, slicking them up and making your pussy squelch when Yoongi flutters them inside you. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, almost too hard. It stops you from bucking your hips, but you can barely stand as it is. 

Yoongi’s lips are back on yours, red from sucking your nipples until it hurt. He whispers against your lips and opens his mouth to let you suck on his tongue with a pathetic whimper. 

“Not yet, though.” 

“Wha– Yoongi, no–” It’s embarrassing how loudly you cry out when Yoongi slips his fingers out of your pussy. You feel the fire in your core simmer until you’re left with a painfully throbbing clit and your juices smeared on your inner thighs. 

“Shhh, you know I always take care of you.” Yoongi shuts you up with a bite to your bottom lip. He leans down slightly to squeeze the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto the counter. “Lean back.” 

The cold marble counter sends shivers across your body, but it can’t keep up with the heat of Yoongi’s mouth on your pussy. He kisses your lips so gently that you think you might actually cry before he pushes your thighs back, opening you up. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan as Yoongi goes straight for your clit, sucking on it as he swirls his tongue around it. You dig your hands into his hair and tug the strands hard enough to make him moan into your pussy. “Use your, use–” 

Yoongi laps at your clit in quick, consistent bursts that fall in line with the tempo he’s fucking you to with two fingers again. His free hand presses against your lower abdomen, keeping your body taunt so you don’t buck into his face or curl inward. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop your legs from shaking when one rests on his shoulder and the other drapes over the crook of his arm. 

It’s messy and loud, Yoongi licking and sucking your pussy like he really is trying to empty your mind of everything but the way the tip of his hot, wet tongue feels swirling your clit and the stretch of his fingers when he slips a third inside you and focuses on massaging the sensitive part of your walls. It’s working. He completely consumes your senses, down to how gorgeous he looks staring at you from between your thighs. 

Your Yoongi, fingerfucking you and sucking your clit like you’re his favorite meal. 

You try not to bang your head against the counter when you finally cum, instead focusing the overwhelming energy into pulling Yoongi’s hair to keep his face in your pussy.

He continues fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, to the point that you can’t lie still any longer. 

“Yoongi, oh my god, Yoongi, it’s too much,” you whimper and gasp, thighs closing around his head until he finally eases his fingers out of you. 

Strings of your arousal connect his lips with your pussy until he swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, cutting them off. His bangs are pushed off his forehead and his hair sticks up from you pulling on it, but his eyes sparkle and his cheeks are just as rosy as his pink, slicked-up lips. 

“Shit,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning over you on the counter to kiss you. He shoves his tongue in your mouth and lets you suck your juices from it. 

You think you taste better on Yoongi’s tongue than on your ex’s. 

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here. 

@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae

[milksnake-tea]

sunday x gn!reader || a stellaron hunter sunday series !

✩ SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ GENRE : mildly hostile coworkers to friends to lovers, slice of criminal life, humor, angst & fluff, slow burn

✩ INCLUDES : stellaron hunter sunday au, canon compliance except for the beginning, possible medical malpractice, sunday has ocd, stellaron hunters as found family, struggling at making space lore, religious trauma/guilt, profanity, violence, questionable life decisions, illegal activities, bad posture, don't try this at home kids

✩ STATUS : ongoing, no update schedule

✩ TAGLIST : @dr-felitas, @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax (send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !!)

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : banner art by @/waternaeng, dividers by @strangergraphics-archive !! i haven't done a series in a long time so we'll see how this goes ... cross posted on quotev, wattpad, and ao3

✩ CHAPTERS ✩

00. welcome to hell

01. new life, new eyes

tba...

© milksnake-tea ; do not copy, repost, modify, or translate.

[mikkeneko]

Don't want to put this on the post itself for risk of derailing it, but that post the other day about Terry Pratchett's early work really stuck in my mind. OP had sent in an ask saying that they heard some of Pratchett's earlier works had problematic elements (not unusual for a male english writer in the 80s) and they weren't sure whether to go ahead with reading the work anyway.

What I really want to ask that person, or indeed all persons who are hesitating over whether or not to read problematic works or works by imperfect authors:

What are you worried about happening, if you read a work with problematic elements?

I'm worried that if I read this art, I will run across hateful images or words that will shock or upset me

I'm worried that I will spend money on a work of art that then financially supports a bad person, and that thought makes me uncomfortable or upset

I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and comment or react on them, and other people will see what I am reading and will think less of me because of it, or will assume that I hold the same bad beliefs as the author

I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and I will enjoy them, and the author will find out about my enjoyment and feel emboldened to do bad things because of it

I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and their badness will contaminate my way of thinking and make me a worse person in turn

Because these are all different answers and some of them are more actionable than others

[finalgirlfae]

that miles smut was so good omg🤭🤭

pls write moree💕💕

thank you! ask and u shall receive ;)

sunday morning, miles morales

DISCLAIMER: miles is aged up to 19.

pairings: miles morales x afab!reader

summary: it’s sunday morning, and for breakfast miles is craving you.

tags, warnings: unprotected sex, soft sex, praise, teasing fingering, slight body worship, oral (f!recieving), miles using his webs🤭, uhh i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything!

you slowly opened your eyes with a quiet yawn and rolled over to the other side of the bed. the sunrise was climbing the sky and peaking through your white curtains, landing on miles’ face.

the golden yellow rays hit his featured perfectly. a small smile found its way on to your lips as you admired how peaceful your boyfriend looked. he was sound asleep, bare and toned chest rising and falling slowly with each breath he took. you took another moment to admire miles before turning away and deciding to get ready for the day. you pushed your self to the edge of the bed, feet not even getting a chance to touch the floor before you felt something sticky grab at your arm, immediately pulling you back into bed.

“miles!” you let out a soft shriek and turned to face your boyfriend who was laid on his side, arm propped up to hold his head as he stared at you with a soft smirk. “how many times have i told you not to web me from behind!”

“how else am i supposed to get to you stay in bed with me?

“ask.” you narrowed your eyes at him, only pretending to be mad.

“ok.” miles sat up. “i want you to stay in bed with me.”

you scoffed. “that’s not asking me that’s telling me.”

miles sucked his teeth at you. he moved his hands to your legs, grabbing you by your ankles and making you yelp again when he pulled your body closer to his, sitting you in his lap to straddle him.

“what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he smiled. “i didn’t use my webs this time.”

“shut up.” you cupped hands on either side of miles face, pulling the boy into a kiss. he immediately kissed back, pushing his lips into yours softly and nibbling at your bottom one.

soon his hands trailed up your waist, slipping under the t-shirt you wore and tracing over your back. “this is my shirt actually, and i want it off.” he muttered against your lips. you pulled away from the kiss. “oh yeah? come and get it bugboy.”

you slid off his lap and moved to the head of the bed, pressing your back against the pillows and looking at him. he sucked his teeth again and crawled over to you. “stop playin’ with me.” he put his arms out and pressed down on his palms, sending two webs to attach to either side of your shirt and pulling it off in one swift motion. you only laughed.

“i’m gettin’ good at that.” miles winked before attaching his lips to yours again. his hands hands cupped your boobs causing you to moan. he pinched the one he knew was most sensitive and began to roll it between his thumb and middle finger, after that he moved to kiss your neck, beginning to nibble and suck at your favorite spot. “perfect.”

“miles.” you whined at the compliment, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer.

he took his hands off your boobs and lips off your neck. miles looked at you for a second, rolling his plump lips together. he played with the band on your underwear. “take ya panties off.”

as if you could get any wetter right now.

you followed his order, taking off the gray cotton panties and tossing them somewhere in the room.

he gave you another quick kiss before laying you down on the bed. miles began to kiss your chest before trailing down to your stomach. he pressed kisses and sometimes little nibbles against your pelvis before laying down and spreading your legs, placing them over his shoulders.

he made eye contact with you, pressing a kiss on your inner left thigh before immediately beginning to roll his tongue on your clit. a moan fell from your lips and you threw your head back. he sucked your clit gently, bringing a finger to your pussy and pushing it in.

your legs clenched for a second at the sudden feel as the tip of his tongue swirled your clit. he added a second finger, beginning to pump a little faster and slightly curl them.

your hips bucked into his face and you reached a hand down, grabbing a fist full of his coils. “shit, keep doing that.”

he half listened to you, keeping the exact same swirl pattern on your clit but choosing to add a third finger. you immediately clenched around his fingers, letting out a very loud fuck. he pumped his fingers into you a little harder, curling them and making you scream a bit as you came around them.

he slowly pulled his fingers out and made eye contact with you asked he sucked them, letting out an almost pornographic moan. your jaw dropped at his actions and if it was possible, you were even more turned on.

“miles.” you whined out. he smirked at you and brought himself closer, using a hand to hold your jaw while he began to kiss you.

his let go of your jaw and slid his hands over your breasts again, squeezing each of them in his large hands.

the two of you melted into the kiss, hands moving all over each other but suddenly you were very aware that you were the only one fully naked. he still had on his blue flannel night pants.

you trailed a hand down miles stomach, tracing your finger tips over his abs before reaching down and palming your hand his large bulge. you gave his dick a gentle squeeze and miles let out a groan before grabbing your hand. he webbed one of your wrists above your head. “stop playin with me.” he muttered the warning against your lips.

you kissed back, “unfair advantage.”

“shh, you love it.” he leaned back, swiftly pulling off his pants and boxers. you glazed eyes over his body and found a small smile place on your lips. miles was so beautiful and his body was absolutely perfect to you. his arms and chest were so toned. you didn’t get mych time to admire him before his hands were back on your body. he grabbed your legs, pushing them back and putting you into a breeding press. he liked this position the best because like missionary; he could still see your face and kiss you but he had more control.

“look so pretty folded f’ me.” miles muttered to you before he began to trail hot and wet kisses down your neck. a large gasp left your lips as you felt something long, thick and hard slide into you. he went back to your lips, laughing at the gasp you let out “yea, its big. i know.” he whispered, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you let out of muffled moan as miles slowly started to thrust into you. his dick before the bite was already kind of big and after it grew an extra two inches so it’s safe to say you were more than satisfied with your lover.

a curse slipped from your lips when miles gave a particularly deep thrust. he had set a medium level pace that felt good for both of you, not too sustained but also not too rough for morning sex. he was right in the middle.

he leaned up, taking one of his hands and pressing down on your stomach. “fuck oh my god.” you could feel everything now. every ridge, vein and every curve on his dick. miles gave you a small smirk, licking his thumb before circling it over your clit. your body jerked at the sudden stimulation and your tried to grab at his hand. he immediately grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours before moving both your hands above your head.

miles now had all the control. he body was pressed against yours, hips beginning to snap at a ruthless pace while your legs trembled and pussy pulsated around his dick. his tip began to brush your g spot with every roll of his hips.

“miles-”

“i know, i know baby.” he whined. “you feel so fucking good, fuck.” miles’ breathing became a bit heavier. he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, beginning to bite and suck at the hot skin.

his hands gripped yours tighter and a muffled moan fell from his lips as your wrapped legs around his waist. it drove him crazy when you did things like that, little actions that let him know how much you wanted him, how much you enjoyed the feeling between you two and the sensation of his body on top yours.

“shit,” miles spoke, snapping his hips against your faster. he was close and you could feel him throbbing inside you. miles moved his free hand down to your clit again, rubbing figure eights and immediately making you clench around him. the feeling of him thrusting inside you, rubbing your clit and kissing your neck was entirely too much and it didn’t take much longer before you came around him with a loud moan.

miles smirked to himself, pulling his face from your neck and pecking your lips before he pulled out of you. he began to stroke himself, tossing his head back and letting out a moan as he came all over your chest. when you came down from your high you looked at your wrist that was still webbed to the bed. “..gonna let me go now?”

miles gave you a laugh. “for what? we not done.” he moved your legs to lay flat, kissing down your stomach again and across your pelvis. “far from done.” he muttered into your skin. it was going to be a long morning.

•••

i need him so bad.

tags:

@multifariousqueer

[sp00ky9]

(Hsr 2.2 spoilers)

Villain so good ur like oh shit he’s got a point

[finisnihil]

Some people need to learn the difference between like/disliking a character on a personal level v. a writing level. I dislike some characters on a personal level but I do love their writing and characterization on a meta level and any of my bullying of them is mostly for jokes. Meanwhile there's also characters who I adore on a personal level but abhor the writing of because it feels like their concepts or potential as a character were squandered.

I've said it before i'll say it again when you let your personal bias on a character infect your analysis of them you get mischaracterization. Part of media literacy is seperating authoral intention from reader response and thinking about if anything about the character or their interactions can cloud your judgement of them on a surface level.

For example, in the 2.1 quest of HSR I saw some Aventurine lovers absolutely jump on a hate train for Sunday because in their eyes, Sunday was villainous for his actions against Aventurine and deserved to be put down for it. But, when you stop bastardizing Sunday in an effort to validate and sanitize Aventurine's motives you see the two are actually equally complicit in hurting the other. Sunday did try to turn Ratio against Aventurine and he did cast the whole Truth or Die spell but when you actually critically analyze Sunday and his role in the interaction he is more sympathetic and he makes more sense.

Aventurine was going into the interaction, an interaction regarding the IPC's increasingly aggressive attempts to recolonize Penacony after losing it as a prison planet, bragging about using the horrific murder of Sunday's sister to exploit him. Aventurine has never once hid his intentions, he's sympathetic but that doesn't change the fact he's trying to rip Penacony's freedom away for the IPC. We've seen what the IPC does to planets, no matter how corrupt the Family is, the IPC will be worse without a doubt. Aventurine is a morally grey character, he took the gamble of lying under the spell and he understood the stakes when he did it. Trying to bastardize Sunday in order to try and act like Aventurine didn’t have the autonomy to fuck around and find out is really disingenuous to both characters.

As for Sunday, Sunday is incredibly sympathetic too. We know he’s under crushing pressure by everyone around him to hide things for the sake of public image and we know he’s sacrificed a ton for his sister. Sunday is reverential of Xipe but we see him being actively wary of the Family. He knows there’s a traitor, he knows the Family is rotting with ill intent, he knows Death is on the loose. Robin and him are doing their damndest to handle these problems within their circumstances and we’ve seen their notes! They aren’t ignoring the problem, they’re even trying to get outside help from both the Astral Express and Aventurine. We see the Lightcone of their childhood in an otherwise clinical and impersonal office, one where he built her a toy stage and became her first audience. He cares about Robin more than anything and you see his rage and grief being suppressed yet slipping here and there and causing him to make sloppy mistakes, such as using the Truth or Die spell to lash out at Aventurine when he feels cornered with no control over the situation. When he confronts Gallagher he finally cracks and just… breaks. You see him lose it to the point he doesn’t even notice Death behind him until it’s too late. Despite being likened to songbirds, Robin and Sunday both died quietly in their gilded cages. They are the canaries in the coal mine.

Sunday and Aventurine are meant to parallel each other, they both lost their sister in a gruesome event outside of their control because they couldn’t protect her. Sunday couldn’t protect her from the cage he let himself be trapped in so she could fly free and Aventurine couldn’t protect her because he was too small and too young and too lucky. One is a younger brother and one is an elder brother.

The only major difference between them is who we experience the story through. Aventurine is our eyes for most of 2.1 so therefore Sunday is the one put in the antagonistic role. Antagonists are characters who’s motives and goals oppose the protagonists. Because of this, we have to flesh out Sunday’s character via subtext because we don’t have the luxury of his POV to be blatant like with Aventurine. If the roles reversed, if Sunday was our eyes, I bet Aventurine would be the one getting the flack instead.

[starleska]

i see this opinion echoed across the Doctor Who fandom: that we really enjoyed Maestro, and love the idea of The Devil's Chord, but feel like the episode was lacking a little something in the writing department. so here's my suggestion: they shouldn't have killed off Timothy Drake 👀🎶 hear me out:

from the start, we're introduced to Timothy Drake as a deeply talented individual, and one disgruntled with his position in life. his passion and genius have been squandered, and he's been relegated to teaching his craft to disinterested schoolboys. but we learn he has a darker interest...Timothy is a scholar as well as a composer, and he decides to spice up his day by telling his pupil about the lost Devil's Chord. and then, Maestro erupts onto the scene...and they are everything that Timothy has never been able to be. Maestro is loud, and flamboyant, and unreservedly powerful: every glittering gem on their body screams you will look at me, and you will listen. and while Timothy's polite-society conditioning and time-typical bigotry are his initial response, we can tell that Maestro intrigues him. in return, Maestro doesn't just talk to Timothy, oh no. Maestro all but seduces the man, by speaking aloud all of Timothy's most private thoughts: that he's a misunderstood genius, and that it isn't his fault he never got that break. in this way Maestro manifests as a Devil figure, luring Timothy into an unspeakable Faustian bargain. here he is, wasting his life and talent and songs away in some stuffy school...when he could have so, so much more. like Maestro, he could be powerful. he could be who he wants to be. and most importantly: he could make people listen to him. i would've loved a version of The Devil's Chord where Maestro manipulates Timothy Drake into drawing out the music of others, thereby killing them, and feeding Maestro in the process. perhaps there could have been a caveat to Maestro's power: as the Essence of Music, it could be that Maestro has to operate through a living being, much like a demonic muse. not only could Timothy get all of the attention he ever wanted, finally being recognised for his musical brilliance...but he could exact revenge on those who said he'd never make it. wouldn't this have been a fascinating parallel with The Beatles? what if we'd seen an increasingly power-mad Timothy Drake, rising to stardom in an alternate timeline where everyone is devoid of musical inspiration, leaving him as the sole musical genius in the world? what if the Doctor and Ruby's horror at a devastated world included the theme of creation for creation's sake, as opposed to the manic pursuit of adoration which Timothy so clearly desires? perhaps i have lost my mind. perhaps i am reading far too much into the way Timothy looks at Maestro in the latter half of the clip above. but i think the terror of Maestro would have come through even more if they'd kept Timothy Drake around, and trapped him in a Phantom of the Paradise-esque doomed narrative with Maestro whispering in his ear and helping him take control of his destiny 🎶🔥

[morallyinept]

Okay, this right here is giving me some lazy Sundays with Frankie vibes:

NSFW thots below the cut 🫠

A late Sunday afternoon, after a long lay in with you this morning, where he kissed all over your body, and spent almost an hour with his face buried in between your legs. He can still smell and taste you in his moustache. He hasn't showered today deliberately for this reason, Frankie vibes.

Snuggling with him in his favourite hoodie, that he hasn't washed for at least a few weeks, despite you reminding him where the laundry basket is. But it wafts with a pleasant blend of mint from his gum, that oaky scent of his skin and the mixed spices of his cologne and sweat so you don't mind, Frankie vibes.

Not giving a shit that he can't find his cap and needs a hair cut soon, but he's just going to let those fluffy curls run wild down the nape of his neck and behind his ears, because he loves it when you pull and tug on them, forcing his tongue deeper into your cunt, Frankie vibes.

He's had four cups of coffee to contain the shakes he has now residing, what feels like permanently, in his fingers from the previous coke addiction. He's doing so well, almost ten months sober and he's reapplying for his pilot's licence. He can't wait to fly again, and take you up and show you his world in the sky, Frankie vibes.

Now he's ready to kick back with you in his arms for the rest of the day, bingeing a show together on Netflix, and with holes in his right sock that you giggle at as his pinky toe sticks out of it and he wiggles it, snorting with you, Frankie vibes.

Then, as soon as the first episode is over, and you suggest watching another, he's rolling his broad body onto yours, crushing you into the couch cushions as he slips his hand down inside your panties and fills you up with two thick fingers that make you gush, whilst he tells you in filthy Spanish grunts how much he wants to bend you over the couch and fuck you really hard, Frankie vibes.

🖤

[heythereimashley]

🎉🎉🎉 SUNDAY RANDOMS 🎉🎉🎉

[wayward-wren]

I'm hoping episode 3 let's Ruby see the dark side of the Doctor. I feel that adds a very important dynamic to a Doctor-companion relationship, when they see how dark he can be and still choose to travel with him early on.

Rose watching Nine drag Cassandra back to die. Eleven yelling at Amy "Nobody human has anything to say to me today!" Donna begging Ten to stop drowning the spider babies, and then again to go back and save someone in Pompeii.

Fifteen has been FUN and I know he can do emotional range, I've seen his fear and his tears already. But I want to see him dark, and I want to see Ruby respond to that. I think it would add a LOT of depth to their relationship and is something missing.

Plus showcasing the Doctor's flaws (selfishness) will make him a much more interesting character. I want to see some conflict between the Doctor and Ruby.

[meemrasmus-stash]

random doodles yippie

im learning how to draw em

[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : After speaking with Elio, Sunday comes out to join the rest of the hunters - that includes you.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 3.4k

✩ TAGLIST : @dr-felitas , @vxnuslogy , @https-mika , @greyrain23 , @red-ninja15 , @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio (send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! if your name is bolded, it means i cant tag you)

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : COUGHS OUT BLOOD why was this actually hard BYE. not too happy w this one but yall will be the judge of that .... i hate this chapter's title but i genuinely have no idea what to name this chapter. maybe ill change it one day. one day… ALSO I HAVE. PICTURES. FOR THE CHATROOMS BECAUSE. I DESIRE SILLINESS. i have alt descriptions if yall need it xoxo. unedited.

<< previous ||series masterlist || next chapter >>

“Despite the recent reverberation in the Dreamscape, the Family reports that Penacony remains mostly unaffected, much to the relief of many Dreamchasers. The Charmony Festival is set to resume on the Radiant Feldstar with Miss Robin conducting the opening ceremony. As for the now fallen Oak Family, reports say that the former head is currently-”

With a click and a hiss, small blue flames flare to life. You hum absentmindedly as you set down a wok, pouring in some cooking oil, and then throwing in onions, rice, egg and other ingredients needed to make the only food you really cooked regularly: Cosmic Fried Rice - or at least, your rendition of it. Soon enough, the kitchen is filled with the savory aroma of your favorite comfort food.

Footsteps tapped lightly behind you, uncertain and uneased. 

Having been in the Hunters for quite some time now, you know each Stellaron Hunter’s footsteps like the back of your hand, and these are unfamiliar. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“I’m assuming your discussion went well?” you say knowingly, mixing in soy sauce into the rice with your spatula.

Elio leaps onto the counter soundlessly - he never makes noise when walking, even on the rare occasion that he chooses to present as human. When you’d first joined, you’d thought him creepy for it, but now, you’ve grown used to it. You flash him a smile as he comes up to you, giggling as he butts your arm playfully with his head.

“Does the great Seer wish for a place?” you tease. Elio only meows in response and sits down with an expectant look in his eyes. “Alright, alright. And what about the princess?”

You don’t have to see Sunday’s face to know he’s giving you a less than pleasant look.

“I will not be needing any, thank you,” he says flatly. You raise a brow, glancing back at him as you open the cupboard in search of bowls.

“Are you sure? My food apparently has somewhat of a healing effect. It might help you feel better.”

He shakes his head, his expression filled with nothing short of exasperation. “No, I’ll be fi-”

Growl.

Sunday’s cheeks bloom into a rosy hue as his wings stiffen in embarrassment. Elio tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in mild amusement. You, on the other hand, are not so subtle and have to kick yourself to keep from laughing for Sunday’s sake.

“Okay, that’s a yes then,” you chuckle, ducking your head so that he couldn’t see your face and busying yourself with grabbing a third bowl.

Sunday coughs into his fist, his smile tight. “My apologies. As I spend most of my time in the Dreamscape, I’m afraid it has been a while since I’ve had my last meal.”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” Elio speaks up suddenly. He is by no means a loud man, but when he speaks, you can’t help but be compelled to listen - much like your senior, Kafka. “I assure you, we have all seen worse. [Name] here just likes to tease.”

“...If you insist.” The chairs scrape against the tiles as Sunday takes a seat (Elio stays on the countertop, what for, you don’t care enough to ponder. Probably just wants to make sure you actually make him a bowl).

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure. Elio follows you off the counter as you make your way to the dining table. “I always make extra in case hungry little birds like you or Elio come running around. Just dig in.”

You set down a steaming bowl of fresh fried rice in front of Sunday, the lap cheong sizzling and gleaming and the rice itself darkened from the soy sauce. Sunday nods his thanks, placing his hand on his chest before taking the spoon you offered him.

Elio hops onto the chair that’s seated directly across Sunday. The Halovian in question gives him an inquisitive glance, but before he can ask how Elio is supposed to eat as a cat, the seer begins to warp in form. You smile knowingly.

In the blink of an eye, the black feline is gone and in its place is a young man with hair the color of pearls and eyes a blue so bright you’d honestly thought he’d dyed them. You often joked that Elio had the fashion sense of a sickly Victorian child, and he wouldn’t be proving you wrong today. With ruffled sleeves and collars, an asymmetrical ribbon tying his rattail of a hairdo, and a big bow tied on his chest, he looked as if he’d come from a period several Amber Eras ago.

“I should’ve known Destiny’s Slave wasn’t a mere feline given intelligence,” Sunday observes, a tinge of intrigue and awe in his voice. Elio laughs elegantly, his voice like a bell.

“Naturally, no,” he hums, blowing lightly on his food before taking a bite. “Who knows how long it’d take to write the scripts if I were.”

“You could always do voice-to-text,” you suggest, taking a seat next to the seer. Elio contemplates it, but ultimately shakes his head.

“Technology hasn’t progressed to a point where that method is efficient, unfortunately,” he laments. You nod sympathetically.

“Truly a shame.” Across the table, Sunday still regards his food with some hesitance. You tilt your head, opting to throw him a little encouragement. “I haven’t drugged it, princess.”

“That’s… not what I was worried about.” Although now, he does look a little concerned. “Are you sure it’s alright for me to eat this?”

You sighed. “I wouldn’t have given you any if it wasn’t.”

Sunday stares at his spoonful of rice one more time before he finally takes a bite. He braces himself for… something (you don’t know what it is and frankly it’s better for your ego that you don’t find out), but surprise and delight washes over him as the flavors begin to settle in.

“Not bad, right?” You can’t help but beam in self-satisfaction; the joys of watching someone enjoy something you made were second to none, except maybe free-falling off of a skyscraper while being chased by the local law enforcement.

Sunday nods. Despite his controlled movements and dignified demeanor, you can see a little bit of childish eagerness that managed to slip through and reveal just how much he liked the food. The pair of wings that lay right behind his ears flapped for a few seconds, before Sunday notices and immediately forces them to behave. You bite down another giggle, but can’t stop the corner of your lip from twitching.

“It’s delicious,” he finally manages, swallowing. “You have quite the talent.”

You chuckle. “Thanks.”

Before you go and eat yourself, you quickly pull out your phone to text and alert the rest of the Hunters, who are either out on a mission (Firefly, Silver Wolf), brooding (Blade), or doing who knows what in who knows where (Kafka).

Fondness warms your heart as you read the two’s replies. Silver Wolf has always been like a little sister to you, annoyance-inducing and all, and Firefly is your closest friend - although you’ll like to say that you’re close with all of the Hunters, even Blade. You wouldn’t be lying if you said that they were the closest thing to family you’d ever had.

You glance up at Sunday, who is now chatting amiably with Elio. His clothes are still the same ones as when he’d arrived from Penacony, meaning that they were somewhat dirty and roughed up.

Oh, right. You looked back to your screen. He probably doesn’t have any of his personal items - Kafka just snatched him and left it at that.

“Are you not going to eat?”

Sunday looks at you curiously from across the table. His bowl is almost finished, you notice - he wasn’t kidding when he said it’d been a while since he’d last eaten. Elio has disappeared without a trace, his bowl lying neatly in the drying rack.

“Yeah, I just have to text the others first.” You set your phone down. “What, worried for me?”

“Hardly,” Sunday scoffs quietly. “I simply didn’t want to see a hot meal go wasted.”

“I mean,” you take a bite, “were you going to eat it if I didn’t?”

You receive nothing more than a rolling of the eyes from the former Family Head in response. He’s more expressive than you anticipated - from what Firefly had told you, Sunday was more on the dignified, honorable, and refined side. But it’s a welcome change - you don’t know what you’ll do if you had another Blade on your hands.

Still, going back to the clothes… It’ll be a while before Silver Wolf returns with Sunday’s belongings (the script comes first, after all), and you weren’t going to let him run around in the same outfit for who knows how long.

You turn over your phone and click a button. Instantly, holographic screens pop up around you displaying all sorts of information, such as the spaceship’s current location and any planets floating around nearby. One of these planets in particular catches your eye.

“Well, aren’t we lucky,” you muse to yourself. Sunday raises a brow. You tap lightly on one of the many screens. It enlarges, showing a holograph of a popular tourist destination - Euphrosyne, a famous shopping and entertainment planet owned by the IPC. “Looks like you’ll be getting a new wardrobe sooner than expected.”

“Pardon?”

You lean back in your chair and dismiss the holograms. “Silver Wolf can only bring so much back from Penacony for you, and she’ll likely only be bringing back casual clothes or pajamas. You aren’t expecting to wear the same old uniform forever, are you?”

Disgruntled, Sunday looks away. “You’ve given me enough kindness by saving me. I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“Yeah, that’s the funny thing with gifts. You don’t ask for them, they just kinda appear.”

“You know what I mean.” Sunday lets out a tired sigh. He stands up and goes to wash his bowl. You shrug.

��There’s a tradition among us Hunters.” You stand up as well and make your way to Sunday’s side. Leaning in towards him, you smirk at the side-eye he gives you. “Whenever we get a new member - which is rare, mind you, we give them gifts as a welcoming ceremony, to help them get used to their new lives.”

“Is that right,” Sunday says dryly. He reluctantly pulls off his gloves and turns on the water. “And am I to presume that this new wardrobe of mine is your gift to me?”

“You could think of it as that.” You turn around to lean against the counter leisurely. “But it’d be more efficient if you were to come with me to Euphrosyne. I mean, unless you want me to take your measurements up close and personal-”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.” Sunday abruptly shuts off the water from the sink. He’s turned his head in a way so that you can’t see his expression and his wings raise to further block your view. But, much to your amusement, he can’t hide the redness of his ears.

You trace the counter with your gloved fingers. “So… are you coming or not?”

“I… I’m not sure,” he says. “I am currently a wanted criminal. Wouldn’t it be unwise for me to walk in plain daylight, much less this soon after my conviction?”

Heels click from behind him, interrupting your conversation. You immediately brighten at the familiar footsteps, stepping away from the counter to greet your favorite senior.

“Webs!” you call out warmly. Kafka, the elusive wielder of the Spirit Whisper smiles demurely as she walks up to you and Sunday. “What’re you doing here? Last I heard, you were out near the Montour System?”

“Well, I heard there was food here, so I naturally had to stop by.” Kafka looks Sunday up and down, her smile growing as he stands his ground against her piercing gaze. “So, Birdie, you’re finally awake.”

“You must be Kafka,” Sunday nods politely, a tinge of wariness in his voice. “I’ve heard much about you.”

“Really now?” Kafka languidly crosses her arms. “All good things, I hope?”

Sunday smiles. “That all depends on whose perspective you’re looking from.”

“Ha!” Kafka raises a hand to her lips. “You’ve got quite the attitude, don’t you? That’s good. You’ll need that in our line of work.”

“Thank you,” Sunday says, putting a hand on his chest. His gloves are back and his hands have dried.

“I heard a bit of your conversation earlier,” Kafka hums. “So you’re heading off to Euphrosyne, huh? Seems like everyone’s going on vacation nowadays.”

“Sure am,” you reply nonchalantly. “His Highness over here needs a new wardrobe.”

“Is that right.” Kafka chuckles at your nickname for Sunday, while the man himself throws you another unamused look. You stick your tongue out at him playfully - everyone in the Hunters gets a stupid nickname from you, and he sure isn’t going to be an exception. “Well, don’t let me keep you for too long. I’m only here for the food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave her off. “Anyways. To answer your question, princess, we have a way of getting around security. But,” you cross your arms, spinning on your heel to fully face him, “we will need to do something about that fancy outfit of yours. You’ll look too out of place for our trinkets to work properly.”

Sunday steps out of the way for Kafka to pick up some rice of her own. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

You tap your chin a few times, thinking. Then you snap your fingers, suddenly enlightened with an idea. “I know just who to find. Webs, do you know where the old man is?”

“Bladie?” Kafka recalls. “Last I saw him, he was sharpening his sword in the training room.”

“Thanks.” You beckon Sunday to follow you as you make your way out of the kitchen. “Can you put the rice away for me? The girls will want some when they come back.”

“Sure. Have fun, you two~ Don’t get into too much trouble.”

There’s a skip in your step as you stride down the hallways. The walls of your mothership are covered in all sorts of things, ranging from Silver Wolf’s graffiti drafts to Firefly’s stickers, giving it a homey atmosphere.

“I should probably give you a mini-tour, huh.” You slow down your pace so that you can walk side by side with Sunday. “Where we’re headed into is the residency hall. Training room’s just beyond that, with our other… facilities.”

“I see.” Sunday chuckles at one of Silver Wolf’s graffiti, that one depicting a K.O. of a random NPC. “Your base is more comfortable than I’d expected. It’s almost cute, in a way.”

“Were you expecting a more intimidating setup?”

“I’m sure anyone would,” Sunday reasons.

“Fair point.” 

You pass by the various rooms of the Hunters, each with their own distinct style. Silver Wolf boasts a retro-style door that bears a resemblance to ancient arcade machines, while Firefly’s is decorated with various flowers and fairy lights. Kafka’s room is marked by a simple yet elegant mahogany door with gold accents. A classical string melody always plays from behind it. Blade’s dark grey door has no decorations at all - and truthfully, that’s how you know it’s his.

And then there’s your room, distinguished by the various polaroid pictures strung along the top of the door frame, accompanied by an assortment of flowers you’ve picked up from your travels. Some were more carnivorous than the rest, and others more poisonous. One of them even snaps at you as you pass (Sunday barely manages to hide his flinch). You’ll have to feed it when you get back.

“This’ll be your room.” You gesture vaguely at the sterile white door that lies opposite from yours. Its barrenness matches its interior - you know from experience. “We have some basic furniture in there for you, but other than that, how you decorate is really up to you.”

Sunday doesn’t reply. You pause from your tour to see him staring blankly at his future home. His expression doesn’t change - you imagine years of serving as the Oak Family’s esteemed dog have trained that into him - but his eyes are tormented by conflict, uncertainty, and, most of all, guilt.

He really does have a lot on his mind… The poor thing. You know that he’s going through a lot right now, but perhaps you’re going a little too fast.

“How about this,” you pipe up. Sunday glances at you warily, and you almost laugh at that. Looks like he’s already started to distrust you and your ideas, like any other one of the Hunters. Except Kafka. You love Kafka. “We can save the trip for tomorrow, let you get situated a bit before heading off.”

The Halovian’s shoulders stiffen. “I’m quite alright, although I thank you for your concern.”

You huff good-naturedly. “I’m a doctor, princess, even if I don’t act like one. You’ve gone through a massive change. I’d be more worried if you were perfectly fine like you said.”

His gaze lowers. “...alright, if you insist.”

You gently pat him on the shoulder before heading off down the hall. Behind you, Sunday stays there for a bit longer, before he inhales deeply, the breath rattling in his chest - proof of his exhaustion. His sterile white door opens without so much as a creak, and then he’s gone.

As for you…

“Hey, old man?” You call out, your voice echoing eerily across the walls as the doors to the training room open with a quiet hiss.

Silence is all that replies.

“I’m stealing some of your clothes for the new guy, okay?”

Still no answer.

“This means that you’re not getting them back until we get him new clothes tomorrow.”

Nothing.

“Cool. Thanks. Great talk. Amazing, actually.”

And that’s it. You turn on your heel and walk back to the residency hall so that you can raid your senior’s room.

When you finally return to kick open the door to Sunday’s room, you’re greeted with a very judgemental Sunday. He sits stiffly on the bed as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself - although that changed the second you walked in.

“I heard your conversation - or should I say, your lack of a conversation,” he says slowly. “Are you sure this… ‘Bladie’ is fine with this?”

“Well, he hasn’t stabbed me yet,” you say cheerfully, setting down the various clothes you’d grabbed from Blade’s closet. “In his language, that’s a yes.”

“That’s- What if he hadn’t heard you?” Sunday continues to press nevertheless. He reminds you a lot of a scolding mother. “If it turns out that he hadn’t and he becomes angered, I won’t-”

“Who do you think is the senior here?” You narrow your eyes challengingly. Seriously, this guy talks way too much. “I’ve worked with the old man for at least an Amber Era. There’s no way he couldn’t have heard me - he’s ancient, not deaf.”

Sunday doesn’t look convinced. You heave a heavy sigh.

“Look. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re going to have to.” You take a look around the room. Yep, it’s as boring and honestly, as mind-numbing as usual. Elio always did like his poetry, and looking at this room, which had as much soul and character as printer paper (along with the color, too), it didn’t take a genius to guess what he meant by it. “There’s underwear and pajamas in there, along with some casual wear for if you want to roam. Blade’s bigger than you, but it still should fit relatively well.”

“...Thank you.” He sounds like a broken record.

“Don’t mention it.” You begin to leave the room, but stop just before you pass the doorway. “Oh, and princess?”

“Yes?”

“You do want to go with me tomorrow, right?”

Surprise flickers over Sunday’s face. Then, another smile washes over him - this time genuine and appreciative, not one of his politician smiles.

“Don’t worry, I do,” he assures, a bit of a laugh in his voice. “It’s been a while since I’ve last left Penacony. Seeing another world after all these years… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit excited.”

You don’t entirely believe him, but he’s sincere enough. “That’s good. See you tomorrow, then.”

He nods, already turning away.

“Yes. See you tomorrow.”

Bonus:

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[couldtransitionsaveher]

MILES MORALES/SPIDER-MAN from SPIDER-MAN (MARVEL COMICS)

JUSTIFICATION:

"dotjpeg has fully convinced me that miles is transfemme!!!" - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

Did you make your daily click today?

[cassowariess]

Just saw someone say "if you actually like any of the characters in Rick and Morty, you're missing the point of the show."

That kind of sounds like you ascribe moral relativity to fictional characters and is therefore a you problem, bud.

[cookieswithay]

"🕸No...no way🕷."

Thee Miles Morales x female reader😜

●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●

⚠️Warnings: Kinda angsty, spelling mistakes, slight cursing and the biggest part of all...

⚠️SPOILERS!!!⚠️

(Well not exactly, but you'll know what I mean when you watch the movie.)

Don't read this, if you haven't watched it, Okay!🤠

●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○

• Y'know, most people would go see parents when they're upset. But Miles, he needed to see YOU. Even though his pops life was soon gonna be at stake, he still needed to cool down. Get his head screwed back on straight. Yes, yes, this was selfish. And reckless. But if anyone could heal a black heart, it was his girlfriend.

• About 5.2 seconds later, he crash landed on your balcony. Normally, that would've hurt, but the adrenaline was still coursing through him. He took a shaky breath, and knocked on your window.

• Please be home.

• Miles chanted in his head. The curtains were drawn. Were you asleep? Godammit. He shouldn't of came here anyway. Knowing that Miguel guy (and everyone else he thought CARED about him) he was probably followed. You did NOT need a bounty on your head just from association. He was ready to hightail it, when he heard the curtains spread.

• "Miles?"

• You barely got the word out before you were tugged into a tight embrace. By...spiderwebs?

• "Um...sweetie pie?"

• You squeaked. What was wrong with him? Silently, he picked you up, and slipped through the window. (Still hugging you, btw) He put you down and sighed.

• "Sorry, Y/N. I...I just been through some stuff."

• "Stuff?"

• You asked, with a raised eyebrow. Sure, he's been scarce for a few days. But the crime was still low.

• "Remember when I said I had to figure out what Gwen was hiding?"

• You nodded slowly.

• "Well, uh...this is gonna be long. Um, listen, turns out I'm part of a long line Spidermen. But every gen, a police captain dies. And just recently, Dad got promoted and-"

• "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Pump the breaks for a sec, handsome."

• Was he talking too fast? Or was this still a information dump? You gave him a bewildered look.

• "You're saying your pops is getting promoted?"

• The chocolate hero nodded. You were at that party. Did you forget the deets already? (Although he wouldn't be surprised, you guys were kissing A TON that day)

• "Honey pie..."

• You said with a confused and now concerned look.

• "You're dad passed last year... remember?"

• Miles blood ran cold. Died last ye- What were you talking about!? He was alive! And he was gonna stay that way! Noticing your boyfriend's panicked expression, you gave him a hug.

• "Aww, Is this why you needed to see me?"

• "You'll be okay."

• Sadly your attempt to comfort him was in vain, his heart was still racing. He was home...right?

• "Go on, hug me back."

• You said into his chest. His arms naturally raised up, but he forced them to stop when he took a look a you. You...you looked really different. Instead of one of the many sweaters he lent you, you had one a tattered jersey with the sleeves torn off. Along with dragon tattoos littered on your arms. Even your iconic hairstyle was different!

• "Y/N..."

• "Hold that thought, let's get outta the dark."

• You said. You let him go and headed to the light switch. Miles watched as you did so, although it was kinda hard. His head was spinning like crazy. What was happening...?

• "Okay."

• You said. You turned on your heels.

• "Back to the kiss and make it bet-"

• You paused. You gave him a shocked look over. What was this new style? You chuckled as you crossed your arms.

• "Jeez, you dip for a few days, and become a whole new person."

• You flicked the lights back off.

• "But...I kinda like it."

• "It's not every day, I see your hair down..."

• Miles tensed as you walked up on him. This wasn't you...well not the one he's dating. You leaned on him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

• "It's nice,"

• You snickered.

• "Kinda gives a Huey Freeman vibe."

• Well, at least you were still clever. BUT, he didn't have time for this! He had to get his family! And protect Brooklyn from that spot weirdo in general! So much to do and so little time. He pulled your arms off.

• "Y/N, listen. I gotta-"

• His words fell when his Spider sense suddenly kicked in. He yanked you towards him, and hopped to the right. Just in the nick of time too. The door blasted in.

• "Y/N!"

• Miles ear rang. That voice...sounded oddly familiar. TOO familiar.

• "Miles!?"

• You shouted. Miles!? Like Miles Morales? The dark figure turned.

• "Y/N!? Oh my god, I'm so glad you're okay-!"

• YOUR boyfriend stopped in his happy tracks A awkward silence filled the room. Miles was now face to face...with HIMSELF. Well, a more tormented kinda intimidating version of himself. Where the hell is he!? Both of the males faces slowly went from shock, to deep frowns. YOU, on the other, was STILL shocked. Who the hell was holding you right now!?

• "Miles or...Miles-es?"

• "Who..."

• They both started, slowly yet angrily.

• "In the matrix hell..."

• "ARE YOU!?"

●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●

HAHA! Bet no one saw THAT ending coming. Except the peeps who watched the movie too. Anywho, gotta finish a ROTTMNT ask. As always, Stay cool!😎

[milla-frenchy]

6 sentence sunday

Thank you for the tag @aurorawritestoescape and @mermaidgirl30 🙏❤️

I wanted to write Frankie for a while, and Jamie's ocean challenge @mermaidgirl30 gave me an idea 🏄‍♀️🌅🚐

Frankie won't be alone 😌

The van was swaying on a bumpy road when Frankie knelt between your thighs, and took off your panties. Then your dress. The way they wanted you was driving you crazy. He turned the front of his cap backwards, and lay down between your thighs. He growled as he licked a long stripe between your folds. “Jesus Christ, Frankie…you lucky bastard”, Joel said.

npt: @corazondebeskar @bonezone44 @covetyou @mermaidgirl30

@mountainsandmayhem @joelmillerisapunk @sawymredfox @604to647 @morallyinept