#motherfucking brilliant

[tevanbuckley]

BRILLIANT MINDS | 1.12 vs 1.13 ↳ or the duality of wolfnichols

[theerurishipper]

Damian Wayne is not a biter. He's a distinguished lil lad and would never let his teeth touch anyone else's greasy skin. Bruce is the biter. He'll bite anyone, from a random goon who captured him to fucking Superman (the only person he won't bite is Joker, because obviously there's some disease on that man's skin). Damian is constantly ashamed of him and takes every opportunity to roast him about it, which only makes Bruce double down. Bruce once tried to bite Ra's Al Ghul in front of Damian just to fuck with him. That's when Damian began designing his new costume.

[theprinceandthewitch]

[fennecswife]

The way that David was talking to Ellie it seemed like he was trying to make her believe that

‘This is just a one time thing, we were starving I was protecting them that’s all’

Which obviously a big fucking lie

But like having joel in the boat house/ shed thing, he saw three bodies

I feel like this was another way to show instead of tell David’s manipulation and evilness

He’s been doing this, it hasn’t just started. And we as viewers (if we didn’t already know) are kind of finding out how evil he is as joel and Ellie are.

This man has been feeding his followers humans for a while, it wasn’t a one time thing, it wasn’t just to help them, it wasn’t just because that was the only solution

Which obviously this is all revealed very plainly as it unfolds but I just thought it was a really good touch in the showing us that this man is fucked up, and he’s been fucked up he’s not going to change

[gammadoppler]

jimin hendrix.

[spooky-scary-slasher-hoes]

why bring out a new thanksgiving themed horror movie when the cinematic masterpiece of shit thankskilling (2007) already exists

[lady-madoona]

Wait, what? STEM people are the ones falling for conspiracy theories? Is this actually a thing? They, of all people, need to show pretty much all of their work, and the resources they used are peer reviewed. STEM people are not supposed to "believe" anything!! They can only accept facts when they cannot prove them wrong. Who are these STEM geniuses that are clearly failing at their jobs?

Also, while, English (or whatever your mother language is) classes are super important because you learn literary elements and reading comprehension which everyone needs so much and everyone should learn it without whining, BUT even without that, you are not supposed to just take anything at face value in science!! It goes against the structure of your work. You are supposed to scrutinise your findings and only move forward when you fail to prove otherwise, and you have to have other scientists check that you did stuff the right way.

Which is why I find it hard for a STEM person to be susceptible to conspiracy, unless they know it's wrong and perpetuating misinformation on purpose because they are dishonest, which is so much more dangerous.

[kuroganesbigyabbos]

I am sooooo normal about scum villain's self-saving system guys

[banditomojado]

Welp. That's it. Trump is gonna win this damn election. Fucker missed and now that stupid picture will be in your kids history books.

[nickbutnodick]

i am filled with the rage of a thousand burning suns

[starmocha]

but grandma i love him! (and him and him and him and him) [Sylus/Reader, Xavier/Reader, Rafayel/Reader, Caleb/Reader, Zayne/Reader ★ 2808 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] 5 times Grandma Josephine meets your boyfriend + 1 time she meets your boyfriends. Or: AU where everything is the exact same, but Grandma Josephine lives, but wishes she didn’t so she doesn’t have to know how much of a hoe her granddaughter is. A/N: I wrote most of this, days before Sylus’ myth dropped as a way to cope with the impending and inevitable pain (and oh, was there so much pain with his myth…). I suddenly remembered this a month later, so I rushed to finish it before Caleb comes home again. This is very, very silly and full-on crackhead energy :’) Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia @lavlynyan 【 request to be added 】

Josephine had lived a long life, far longer than she would have anticipated for herself. When one lived as long as she had, mistakes were made and regrets inevitable. That was just life.

She knew that, of course, having pocketed many pearls of wisdom as she had navigated this long road, but that still did not make her feel any less foolish for her recent mistake.

It had seemed so innocent. So pedestrian, really.

How could she have realized that asking to meet her granddaughter’s boyfriend would be one of her greatest mistakes and biggest regret of her life?

one.

“Grandma, this is…Skye,” you said with a forced smile as you gestured to your partner.

‘Skye’ stifled his chuckle and extended a hand to the elderly woman. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” he said politely with a charming smile, “Your granddaughter talks fondly about you.”

Josephine smiled in delight, never imagining her granddaughter would bring home a very attractive man. It was like she was looking at a work of art created by God Himself. She shook the young man’s hand happily. “Come in, come in, dinner is ready. We can chat as we eat.”

As dinner progressed, the conversation remained lively. This Skye certainly had a way with his words, his charisma was so radiantly brilliant. Josephine had also never seen her granddaughter as happy as she looked now, noticing how the two would often share sweet whispered secrets when they both thought the old woman wasn’t watching.

Oh, youth, Josephine observed with wistful envy.

After dinner, Josephine left her granddaughter alone in the kitchen to do the dishes as she went to her bedroom to retrieve a family photo album to reminisce over. Along the way, she unwittingly walked in on Skye having a private conversation on the phone in the hallway. She was about to turn away before he noticed when she paused, hearing a peculiar comment from Skye:

“Hm, so they had thought I would be there to be ambushed, did they?”

Ambushed? Josephine furrowed her brows in concern.

“Never mind, I trust you and Luke had taken care of things, correct?”

Taken care? Josephine went pale.

“Hm, they should know that Onychinus does not take betrayal so kindly.”

Motherfucking Onychinus?!

Josephine immediately raced back to the kitchen, not noticing ‘Skye’s’ amused smirk.

You were just finishing the last of the dishes when Josephine grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you immediately and making you nearly dropped the plate you were holding.

“Dear, you have to break up with that man!”

You stared wide-eyed, feeling completely blindsided. “B-but why? I thought you liked Skye, Grandma!”

Josephine looked at you nervously, swallowing slowly before she spoke in a hushed tone, “Dear, I…I just heard him having a conversation…I…I think he’s part of…that notorious group…Onychinus.”

“Oh,” you said flatly.

Josephine stared, confused. “‘Oh’?” she echoed back, flabbergasted. “Dear, I don’t think you understand. Onychinus is a very dangerous group.”

“Uh, yeah, dangerous,” you agreed, tone flat. “Super dangerous…”

Josephine started to get annoyed, not understanding why you were behaving so flippantly about this bombshell news she had just dropped. “Dear, Onychinus is wanted for many crimes. Its leader—”

“Sylus,” you said.

“Right—wait, you know his name?”

“She should.” Josephine heard ‘Skye’s’ deep, smooth voice as he stepped back into the kitchen. “She is dating him.”

Josephine felt like her brain had just short-circuited as she watched this man walked over and leaned down to kiss her granddaughter on the lips.

“Did you even try to be discreet?” You scolded Sylus with a frown after he pulled away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I saw her from the side,” he admitted, adding, “And I don’t like being kept a secret so…”

“You—mmph!” Sylus immediately kissed you again before you could scold him.

Josephine watched this exchange uncomfortably, feeling like she was having an out-of-body experience as her brain tried to comprehend that her sweet granddaughter, one of the top hunters in Linkon City, was in a relationship with a notorious wanted crime boss.

“I…I need some tea…” she managed after a pause.

“Oh, I’ll make some for you, Grandma!” You pulled away from Sylus immediately, rushing to the cabinet.

At that moment, Sylus’ phone rang. He took a glance at the screen and apologized. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”

Once he was out of the room, Josephine immediately rushed over to you, pulling you to the side. “Dear, do you realize what you are doing?”

“…making tea?”

“Don’t get wise with me, young lady,” she chided you instantly with a strong glare, “You know what I am talking about.”

“…Sylus?”

“Haven’t you thought about how problematic this relationship could be?”

“He does have a strange obsession with crows…”

Josephine looked bewildered. “What does that mean—never mind, I meant that he’s a felon!”

“A little bit, yeah…”

“Dear, is dating a criminal your way of getting back at me for not getting you that pony when you were eight?”

“N-no! Of course not!” You protested. “Besides, Sylus also has this amazing horse, although if I have to be honest, I prefer riding Sylus—”

Josephine had decided that was the perfect moment to black out.

“…motorcycle?! Grandma?!”

two.

Grandma, I have someone I would like you to meet! :)

Josephine felt relief when she had seen that text message her granddaughter had sent. It seemed Sylus was no longer in the picture, she thought, a little worried about any repercussion that could come from splitting with a dangerous crime boss.

As she glanced at the message again, the little smiley face at the end of the sentence calmed the old woman instantly. There was probably nothing to worry about. You seemed pleasant. Cheerful, even.

This was a good sign.

The following Saturday afternoon, Josephine was positively thrilled to meet her granddaughter’s new boyfriend, Xavier. She was immediately charmed by his princely appearance and soft-spoken and polite way of speaking. He truly looked like he had stepped out of a fairy tale.

After introductions were made, you had excused yourself from the group after receiving an urgent phone call from Tara. The other woman was in such an overly anxious state, ranting something about her cat? It took you nearly ten minutes to finally calm your friend before you were able to hang up and return to the group.

Stepping into the living room, you were surprised to see only your grandmother sitting in her chair. You furrowed your brows, feeling a strange knot forming in your stomach. Nervously, you stepped over to your grandmother.

“Wait, where’s Xavier?”

Josephine smiled. “In the kitchen,” she answered, not noticing your face was paling. “He mentioned he wanted to heat up the dish you both brought over in the oven—”

“In the oven?!”

“Yes, the oven—”

The fire alarm blared as dark thick smokes billowed from the kitchen, but thanks to the bravery and promptness of the men and women of Linkon FD, the fire was put out in less than fifteen minutes.

Josephine remained in her chair, face covered in soot, her voice peculiarly neutral. “Dear…”

“Insurance will cover this, don’t worry, and if not, I will buy you a new—”

“I don’t even like tuna casserole.”

“I told you we should have made chicken potpie.”

“Xavier—that’s…that’s not the issue…”

three.

When her granddaughter mentioned bringing an artist over, Josephine had some doubts. She worried about her granddaughter having to support a struggling artist until he could make a name for himself, but even if she did voice her concern, it would most likely have the opposite effect and just make that man seem even more desirable in her granddaughter’s eyes.

It wouldn’t do. She didn’t want to meddle, but she hoped things would just naturally end on its own terms.

Her worries instantly disappeared when her granddaughter sent her a photo of the young couple at an art exhibition. Josephine’s eyes caught the name of the artist as well as the face of the young man with his arm around her granddaughter’s waist in the photo.

Wait.

Rafayel.

This was The Rafayel.

As old as she was, Josephine kept up with the news. She recognized both the name and the face of the artist. She laughed heartily to herself, tickled that her pretty granddaughter managed to catch the eyes of a well-known artist such as Rafayel.

Her worries eased, knowing her granddaughter had just secured her future being entwined with someone as successful as Rafayel. She immediately started planning a wedding. Maybe even a guest nursery in her home for when the happy couple would visit with hopefully numerous great-grandchildren.

From this moment all the way to the next Sunday for brunch, the old woman had an extra pep in her steps. As she exited a taxi, Josephine found herself at a well-known restaurant, popular with brunch for the younger crowd. It was typically packed and hard to get in, but Josephine supposed someone as influential as Rafayel would have no problem securing a table.

“Grandma, over here!” you rushed over to hug your grandmother. After kissing her cheek, you sighed playfully, “You know Rafayel and I offered to pick you up. You didn’t have to take a taxi.”

“Nonsense, an old woman like me is perfectly capable of getting around by herself,” she chided you gently. She patted your hand reassuringly as you both walked arm linked into the restaurant. “This is so exciting, darling. I have been looking forward to meeting Rafayel all week long.”

“Wonderful!” you exclaimed, beaming, “He is really the sweetest, Grandma. You will love him. He gotten us a table outside. It really is beautiful out there.”

Well, Josephine can check off meeting a famous artist on her bucket list.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” Rafayel greeted the older woman with a charming smile. “I have heard so much about you from this cutie over here.”

“Ra-Rafayel,” you protested with a blush and then whispered harshly under your breath to him, “N-not in front of Grandma…”

He smiled, shrugging. “Sorry, cutie, force of habit.”

“You did it again…”

Josephine laughed and reassured her blushing granddaughter. “You two really are the cutest thing ever,” she said, smiling in gratitude as Rafayel helped seat the older woman.

The time passed with a lot of pleasantries and sharing stories over a delicious array of food. Smoked salmon, quiche, waffles, fruit salad, and bellinis filled three happy bellies. Just as Josephine was already planning on speed-dialing a wedding planner, she noticed Rafayel’s face did a complete 180.

“Rafayel? Are you alright, dear—”

“M-m-m-monster!”

“Excuse me?” Josephine glared when Rafayel pointed at her.

“N-no, Grandma, it’s not you,” you quickly protested, standing up and rushing to Rafayel when he stumbled out of his seat shaking in fear. “Rafayel, calm down! It’s just a—”

“Meow.”

“Oh!” Josephine laughed when an orange cat leapt onto the table, purring happily at the plate with some leftover smoked salmon. She laughed and started petting its head as the cat greedily licked the plate and ate the remaining morsels. “Where did you come from, little one?”

The cat purred happily amid Rafayel’s screams.

“Rafayel, ca-calm down!” You trailed after Rafayel as he backed away.

“Get that monster away from me!”

“Rafayel! Come back!”

Josephine sighed.

After filling its belly with some delicious salmon, the cat napped in the old woman’s lap, purring contently as its ear was scratched. At that moment, the waiter walked over and placed the bill in front of Josephine to her surprise.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she griped once she realized her granddaughter and Rafayel were both gone.

four.

“Oh, dear, I am so excited to meet this one,” Josephine said, meaning every single word, “The way you described him makes him sound like quite a catch.”

Tall, handsome, intelligent, and with the added bonus of being good in the kitchen! There was no way this one wouldn’t be a perfect match for her sweet, darling granddaughter, who, after all, deserved only the best in life.

You laughed. “Grandma, what are you talking about? You know him.”

Josephine blinked, confused. “…I do?”

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Where’s my favorite pipsqueak?”

You gasped as you felt an arm wrapped around your waist, easily lifting you up. You blushed. “Caleb!”

Josephine laughed. “Caleb, you didn’t tell me you were coming home to visit.”

Caleb looked confused as he settled you back down to the floor, but his arm remained wrapped around your waist. “I thought Pipsqueak mentioned it to you already?”

Josephine frowned. “I don’t believe so,” she said, adding, “But what bad timing, we’re having a guest tonight and—”

She paused, suddenly noticing how Caleb’s arm still remained wrapped around your waist and the way you leaned in close against him. You were all giggly and blushing like a schoolgirl.

“…and…”

“Um, Grandma,” You started feebly, “Caleb is my boyfriend.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Uh, yes, he is.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Grandma—”

“No, he’s not.”

“Caleb!”

“Gran, I—”

“I am taking a nap!” Josephine declared, determined to wake up from this surreal dream she was having.

“Caleb—”

“Shh,” he quietly shushed you. “Gran is taking a nap…”

You glared at him, sighing in defeat as Josephine sat in her chair, blanket over her lap, and she closed her eyes, cursing whatever deity who had decided she needed to deal with this weird-ass situation at her age.

five.

Josephine smiled serenely as she watched you and Zayne make dinner together in your kitchen.

Finally, a good man.

Zayne was always the sweetest little boy, and it pleased Josephine to see he had grown into a kind and caring man with a successful career and highly-respected reputation among his peers. Zayne had effortlessly ticked off every single box in Josephine’s list of criteria for a grandson-in-law: intelligent, kind, patient, respectful, charming, handsome, successful, loving. There was not a single flaw in this young man.

“My love, come taste this,” Zayne called out as he held up a wooden spoon.

Oh, my. Even Josephine couldn’t help but blushed and felt her heart fluttering at witnessing how sweetly affectionate Zayne was with you.

“What do you think?” he asked.

You pondered, licking your lips lightly. You smiled. “Maybe just a little more soy sauce?”

Zayne nodded. “Okay,” he said, “Could you grab the bottle for me then?”

“Of course, Zaddy—”

You froze.

Zayne froze.

Josephine stared.

“Za…Zaddy?” Josephine questioned from across the kitchen island.

“It’s…nothing,” Zayne said, his ears turning red, “Just a silly nickname.”

Josephine nodded, seemingly accepting his weak explanation. “How long until dinner is ready?”

You swallowed nervously and barely managed to rasp out: “An hour…maybe?”

“I’ll just take a quick nap if you two don’t mind—oh, don’t trouble yourself, dear.”

“Okay, Grandma, you can nap on my bed…” You said feebly, a little perplexed by how…calm she seemed.

Josephine nodded again and walked to your bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out her phone, searching up ‘Zaddy’ online.

She wished she hadn’t.

+ one.

This was a dream.

A motherfucking dream.

And not even a good one.

Josephine stared at all of the tall, handsome men—and Caleb—towering behind her granddaughter.

“…Dear, I thought you were dating Zayne.” She glanced at the young doctor who looked away in embarrassment.

“I am,” you answered nonchalantly, confused by your grandmother’s behavior.

“…Didn’t you break up with these other young men—and Caleb?”

Caleb blinked.

“No,” you said slowly, “I didn’t want to bombard you with all of them at once, so…I staggered their introductions.”

“You’re…dating…five men…at the same time?”

“Grandma, you are acting like I am banging them all at the same time!”

“Dear, I am sorry, it’s just—”

“We’ve only done it once.”

“…Excuse me?”

“It’s actually harder to coordinate an orgy with everyone’s busy schedule,” you explained thoughtfully, not noticing Josephine’s horrified expression. You continued flippantly, “Zayne has so many surgeries lined up for the next three months. Then Rafayel has an upcoming art show he needs to prepare for, and Sylus—”

Josephine walked away in the middle of the conversation, heading to her bedroom, leaving you flabbergasted.

You looked behind you at your five boyfriends and they all shrugged and scratched their heads, just as lost as you were. Worried, you followed after her. “Grandma? Is something the matter—"

You panicked and shrieked.

“Zayne, Caleb! Grandma is smoking and drinking!”

Josephine mentally sighed as she sat in her bed, leaning back against some propped up pillows as she stared at the ceiling with a bottle of brandy resting on her chest.

Surely, dying in an explosion would be better than this fuckery, right?

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I am STILL just a casual fan if I've watched: one full concert (Big Country at Pinkpop in 1984), various live performances of my favorite songs off of The Crossing, and found and listened to/streamed several live recordings also of my favorite songs off of The Crossing. Look, I haven't even ventured to listen to any of Big Country's next albums...I'M STILL A CASUAL FAN.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕧𝕖: ℝ𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕤

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙰𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: mean!rafe, swearing, degredation, choking, bullying (both), the reader slaps rafe twice but he likes it, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v, rough sex, changing positions, ownership kink, fighting mid sex

📖 this was a mix of two anon asks and a third ask from @inthelibrarybtw 💋 I did put my own twist on it! Lovers -> enemies -> lovers. The reader puts academics first + Rafe puts college life and hockey first. After a rough week between the two at school, Rafe catches the reader talking with a brilliant engineering student and everything goes up in flames.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

You look around, feeling the bass from the party thump through the floorboards. The old house is hot and packed—thick with the scent of cheap beer, cologne, and hockey gear, but your friends insisted that you come and take a “study break.” After this week from hell, you weren’t gonna fight it.

Turning the corner, you step into a quieter space for fresh air; so far, so good—no sign of Rafe. You roll your eyes at the thought of your ex-boyfriend and current nightmare, who was still at the top of your shit list after the stunt he pulled on Tuesday.

You grit your teeth as your blood boils, thinking back to your presentation—the presentation— the most important assessment of the entire course. It was crucial, and that fucker knew that. You had spent weeks preparing, perfecting each slide until it was flawless, from your polished thesis statement to your hand movements. It was rehearsed masterfully.

Rafe? He stumbled in late, reeking of the drinks he had slammed the night before. He didn’t apologize… He wasn’t remorseful, just a lazy smirk plastered on his lips. He didn’t look at the notes. Not once. He winged the whole thing, and it was so evident that he was talking out of his ass.

To your horror, it worked… a part of you wanted to bomb it all, so he knew how reckless he was, playing with your future like that. The professor praised you both… Her only note was that ‘when you aren’t presenting, you should focus on what your face is doing, y/n. You seemed a little uneasy. You want to exude confidence…’

After class ended, you clawed at his shirt, dragging him into the first empty classroom you found, unleashing on him completely. And what did he do? He smiled… That motherfucker smiled the entire time.

“Relax, princess… We nailed it,” he drawled as he thumbed through his phone, walking to the door. “Fix that face of yours. Huh? Lookin’ a little uneasy-”

”Fuck you, Rafe,” you punched out the words with your fists balled by your sides, heat pooling in your cheeks.

“M’Already late, sweetheart. If you wanna fuck me, you’re gonna have to wait…” He lets out a sleazy laugh as he turns the door handle, pushing it open, looking back at you before rolling his eyes.

“This is a big deal,” you clip, the emotion behind your words making your voice break.

He scoffs and sucks his teeth. “… You’ll live.”

And after that comment, you haven’t spoken to him since.

“Calvin?” You smile brightly as you reach the top of the stairs.

“Y/n? Hey,” he greets you sweetly, looking down at you with a bright smile. You swoon a little. It's not that he’s particularly handsome, but he’s brilliant. The highest GPA in the engineering department, a full ride to the university for academics alone, all while working as the hockey team’s student manager. “What are you doin’ here?” He flirts as he hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you in for a half-hug. “Didn’t expect to see you out of the library.”

“I could say the same,” you smile, recalling your run-ins with him during the week, how he sweetly brought you a coffee out of nowhere on a hectic day, sharing his scone with you after you told him you hadn’t had time to eat.

Calvin is sweet, kind, thoughtful, intelligent…

Everything Rafe isn’t.

He moves a little closer, lessening the space between you. You feel chills run down your spine as he leans in to tell you something he could clearly say aloud—he just wants to get close. Your heart flutters as his hand brushes over the top of yours.

“Oh, shit…” You hear Rafe’s deep voice boom down the hall. Calvin turns toward him, his demeanor shifting in a second. “Well, look who it is.” His presence cuts through the tension brewing between you and Calvin like a knife. “This your type now?” He asks generally, looking between the both of you, purposefully trying to make you both uneasy, waiting for an answer.

“‘Course…” Calvin’s voice comes out meek, not knowing the situation between the two of you, feeling the weight of it nonetheless.

“Ain’t talkin’ to you, Shaffer. M’talkin’ to you,” he looks at you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip as he walks closer.

“Go away, Rafe,” you mumble.

Calvin glances between the two of you, clearly getting uncomfortable with Rafe’s presence as he continues to close in on you both. Calvin draws a shallow breath, the corners of his lips quivering into a submissive smile. “I… Uhh umm… I should probably—”

“Yeah, you should,” Rafe interrupts him with his eyes locked on you.

“See you tomorrow,” Calvin breathes, making Rafe’s brows tug together in confusion that Calvin’s still entertaining the thought of you in front of him.

“The fuck you are, Shaffer,” your ex lifts his voice lightly like he’s talking to a friend—his eyes cutting into Calvin like he’s looking at an enemy—making Rafe look absolutely insane... “Have a nice night,” Rafe slaps Calvin’s back as he walks past, saying goodbye, but his heavy hand causes Calvin to cower at the contact.

You shove Rafe, glaring up at him as Calvin clears the hall fast. “Are you serious right now?” You hiss.

Rafe shrugs in reply, leaning back into the wall, staring you down. “The fuck are you on about. Huh? M’Just lookin’ out for you. Shaffer couldn’t handle you. Aight?”

“Handle me?” You snap. “Handle me?” You point to your chest before walking forward, shoving your finger into his strong chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I just think you deserve better, is all.”

“Like you?” You narrow your eyes on him.

“Exactly,” he smirks, the cockiness oozing off of him.

You blurt out a laugh, throwing up your hands as you walk down the hall. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Me? I’m unbelievable. You think you’re so fuckin’ perfect. Huh?” Rafe sneers. “You used to be fun. Remember that?” He shouts behind you as he walks a little faster, trailing you close. “N’when did you get so smart anyways? Thought you were just hot, princess. Stick to that.”

You lift your hand as you reach the top of the stairs, flicking him off, not giving him the pleasure of your focus. But before you move any further, he snatches your wrist, pulling you back.

“I’ve always been smart, you fuckin’ asshole,” you shout as you fight your way out of his grasp, making him laugh.

“You know what your problem is, pretty? You’re too uptight. You always have to be in control,” he chides as he pushes your back against the wall, caging you in. “Why don’t you take that stick out of your ass. Huh? I got somethin’ that would feel a whole lot better.”

“You’re a pig.”

“You’re in college… college…” He drags out the word condescendingly. “Stop actin’ like that little incident on Tuesday was the end of the fuckin’ world. It’s not that deep. You’re actin’ psychotic.”

“Yeah? And you’re actin’ like a reckless, arrogant jerk, Rafe. What the fuck is new?” You seeth, your face just inches from him, the two of you breathing hard between jabs. “You’re insufferable,” you whisper as Rafe’s eyes lower to your lips, licking his own.

“Rich comin’ from you.”

And then, like a match striking, he kisses you. You gasp against his lips as he pushes you to the wall, stealing your breath as his tongue glides between your lips.

“This is a mistake,” you whisper between messy kisses.

“Probably,” he agrees with no effort to stop, walking with you a few steps toward his bedroom before the two of you stumble inside, tugging off clothes hurriedly.

Rafe’s teeth clash against yours; the bickering failing to stop as the two of you argue back and forth about school, expectations, each other, everything and anything as your tongue slides against his.

“You think you’re better than me,” Rafe grunts as he backs you against your door, pulling you effortlessly into his arms. “Calvin got here on academics. ‘He’s so smart, Rafe.’ Blah. Blah. Blah. We fuckin’ get it… I got here, too. He’s not the only one who earned his spot. They’re fuckin’ payin’ me to be here, princess. The hockey team ain’t shit without me.”

“I am better than you,” you shoot back, yanking him closer by his neck.

“You fuckin’ wish,” he mutters against your mouth before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth.

“I hate you,” you hiss.

“Sure you do,” he hums. SLAP. The sound of your hand cracking his cheek resounds through his room. A wicked smile spreads on Rafe’s lips, your act of violence carrying the opposite effect, leaving him craving more. “Were you gonna fuck Calvin?” He asks disgustedly.

“You’re jealous… He-”

“Ain’t me? No, he’s not,” Rafe cuts you off.

“… He’s better,” you smile viciously.

”Bull-fuckin’-shit,” he growls— his ego bruised as you strike a nerve. “I’ll show you better,” he groans as he pushes his big body against you. “You’re mine. Aight? You’re not his.”

“I’m not, Rafe. You don’t own me.”

The corners of his lips curl into a little smile. “Well, we both know that ain’t true. Is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re such a dick, Rafe,” you moan breathily as he bends down, capturing your nipple between his lips, swirling as his big hand palms the other.

“These fuckin’ tits,” he mumbles drunkenly against your chest as he continues to play. The other hand reaches down, skimming up your inner thigh. A thick finger glides through your folds, toying with your entrance. “You hate me. Huh? You sure about that?” He laughs against your hot skin as he kisses his way back to your mouth.

“You treat me like shit. You’re a fuckin’ dick. How could I not hate you, Rafe?” You whisper when he reaches your lips. “You’re a disrespectful asshole, and your only positive quality is your dick.”

He smiles against your lips—a deep laugh rumbling in his chest. “A compliment? Well, now I’ve heard it all,” he taunts before thrusting himself in fully, making you gasp.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you whimper as you take every inch.

“Mmm… Mhmm. Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Rafe draws out, thrusting rougher, making you whine as you feel him fill your pussy to the brim. He wraps his arms around your ass, picking you up again, making you fall deeper onto his length, crying in pleasure as he ruts roughly. Rafe pumps into you quickly, the sounds of your wet cunt filling the room.

He tugs you off the wall, carrying you to the bed, kissing messily before laying you on your back. Rafe grabs your thighs, yanking you to the edge. He wraps your legs around his shoulders, taking his dick in his fist again, pumping fast as he looks down at the wet mess between your thighs.

Rafe runs his long cock along the length of your soaked silt, gathering your arousal before bullying himself in nice and slow.

Your breasts bounce with each clap of your ass against his toned hips; Rafe looking down at you like he’s on cloud nine. Taking your ankles in his hands, he yanks them straight up in the air, using them as leverage to drive deeper. ”Shit, baby,” you cry, feeling the pressure of his fat cock stretching you wide.

”Baby?” He stammers as he watches you get closer and closer to the edge. “Using nicknames again... You giving in, sweetheart? Thought you were ‘smart’… look at you goin’ dumb on my dick.”

“Shut up.” SLAP. You smack him across the face again, making him growl in pleasure. Rafe reaches for your wrist, pinning them against his mattress. “You gotta stop slappin’ me, or I’m gonna fall in love with you all over again,” he smirks.

Rafe raises his arms, looping them around your body before tossing you higher on the mattress. He spreads your thighs widely, spitting on your aching clit before stuffing his throbbing cock back inside.

His body claps against yours, hand greeting your greedy pearl, rubbing small circles as your back arches off the bed. Your pussy tightens around him, causing Rafe to throw his head back in pleasure.

“Whose pussy is this?” He moans breathlessly. Your eyes roll back in your head, lip bitten as you hold back the words he’s longing to hear. ”Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?” He snarls as his large hand wraps around your throat, picking up the pace—an unrelenting tempo as you feel your pleasure near its peak.

“Fuck you,” you spit. Rafe’s hold tightens, a smile spreading on his lips as he tilts in. You can feel your pulse under his hand as your eyes flutter shut. “Yours,” you whimper against his lips.

“Good fuckin’ girl… Want me to cum in this tight cunt? Make you cum? Breed this fuckin’ pussy? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He taunts as his lips brush yours.

“Yes. M’gonna – Fuck, Rafe,” you cry.

Rafe moans your name as he floods you with his climax, panting through jagged breaths as he continues fuck into you, pushing his cum deeper until you’re coming undone. Rafe’s eyes shut heavily as he feels your body relax around him.

He wraps himself in you, nestling into the crook of your neck. The two of you reach for a breath, hearts hammering against each other.

Rafe draws back not soon after, his blue eyes flickering to yours, that same smirk setting on his kiss-bitten lips. “Still hate me?” He asks breathlessly, scooping his bangs off his sweat-glistened forehead.

“Yes,” you whisper, knowing that means nothing now. You hate him… You like him… You hate that you fuckin’ like him. “I can’t believe I’m here with you,” you mutter.

Rafe chuckles, running his hand through his messy hair again as he lounges back in bed, his cut ab muscles flexing with each deep, panting breath. “Yeah, yeah… You fuckin’ love it.”

You step away from the bed, and he reaches for you, but you dodge his advances, making him huff in frustration. “This doesn’t change shit, Rafe.”

He watches you with a smirk as you put your bra back on, stepping into your panties, his eyes shamelessly roaming your curves. “Right…”

“Right,” you mock his voice this time, giving him the finger again, and he laughs.

“Goddamn… Can you just be fuckin’ nice for a change,” he sighs as he throws his hands behind his head, his big arm muscles flexing unintentionally.

“Rich comin’ from you.”

“I’m so nice… In fact, I’ll see you at the library tomorrow. I’ll bring you that coffee thing you like-”

”Fuck no,” you cut him off as you zip up your dress. “That’s the most important test I have this week, Rafe.”

“Rafe? Well, it’s baby to you now…”

“Shut up.”

“You think I’m gonna stay at the library?” He looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Some of us have practice to go to… I can’t just hang out at the library doin’ god knows what with god knows who…” He smirks.

“God knows who?” You laugh lightly, teasing him for being so transparent.

“If Calvin shows up to the library, I’m throwin’ hands, no questions asked,” Rafe mumbles as he pulls out his phone, trying his best to act unfazed at the mere mention of someone else.

“Whatever, Rafe,” you laugh as you slip on your shoes. “Think he’s still downstairs? Maybe we could finish our conversation that you ruined.”

“You wouldn’t,” he mutters as he plays with his phone, flicking his finger, but there’s still a hint of worry in his tone. You shrug your shoulder as you grab your purse, pulling open the door before shutting it behind you.

Standing there for a moment, you listen with a smile as you hear his big feet against the hardwood, moving fast, no doubt clambering for his discarded clothes.

And a moment later…

“Shit,” Rafe huffs as he opens the door, looking down at you surprised, completely caught in the act.

You rise on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss onto his pillowy lips, lingering for a moment, feeling him melt into you. You draw back slightly, and he smile against your lips.

“… you drive me insane, you know that?” He whispers the words raspy and low.

“You fuckin’ love it.”

[boatswainscall]

WARFRAME 1999 SPOILERS AHEAD

I quickly referenced the Voidtongue glyphs to refresh myself on their associated stanzas and I was able to translate the ones from the countdown screen at the end of the quest

Fass, Netra, (????), Lohk, Vome, Xata and Jahu

"Roiling, moaning, this realm of ours / In madness lost shall die Carrion Hordes trill their profane / Accord with Eldritch Plans (????) From brooding Gulfs are we beheld / By that which bears no name To cosmic madness laws submit / Though stalwart minds entreat Its heralds are the stars it fells / The Sky and Earth aflame Corporeal laws are unwrit / As suns and love retreat"

So Drifter reversing time deleted the "in madness lost shall die" but the remainder are in the same order as before - unless their head is blocking Fass (which is possible)

Which leaves of course the motherfucker Khra OR Ris as the one missing. Aka "To cosmic forms from tangent planes / We end as we began." or "In luminous space blackened stars / They gaze, accuse, deny"

Here they go again spelling out the plot with the Reqiuem murmurs

The Reqiuem Mods and their poem stanzas + associated Voidtongue terms might be the single most brilliant addition to Warframe's lore, added in an update completely fucking unrelated to the Void and BEFORE Albrecht was introduced as a character. God I love it.

[solbaby7]

Can I have a margarita with a salt rim? Neat please 🤪

warning: alluding to smut bc sometimes actually writing the smut is boooringggg 🤭

-> BLURB BAR <-

[ “got quite a mouth on you. someone should teach you how to use it” + smut + az ]

Trouble had a funny fucking way of finding you.

You weren’t sure how you were going to explain your way out of this. It was just supposed to be some light training—testing the limits of a power within you that had only just began manifesting itself. Eris had been perfectly clear, voice calm and even as he coached you through what to do. “Slow your breathing and close your eyes. Picture where you want to go then reach for it.”

He should’ve been more thorough. Should’ve specified picturing a place within Autumn Court. Maybe if he had, you wouldn’t be here; wherever the fuck that was. Never once had you seen the sky so dark, the stars shining that much brighter against its canvas of murky oblivion.

It’s rather soothing, if not oddly familiar—like you’d been here before or had seen it once in a dream.

There’s no time to decipher the near-debilitating deja vu when you hear the heavy thud of a soldiers boots against the cobblestone. He’s a little drunk, steps sloppy and laughs loud as he jokes with a friend, arm digging into his side. You only catch a glimpse of his companions handsome face—and it’s memorable; all perfect angles, dark ink and smoldering shadows. Brilliant wings stand proudly behind him, shoulders stiff, hair mussed and full lips pressed into a thin line. A wisp of darkness curls around his ear and every muscle locks in place when eyes meet. “You!”

That’s your cue, his voice snapping you back to the present and your feet are taking off before you’ve even fully comprehended the siphons he wears. The color leathers he dons. The inky tattoos branded against the cut of his jaw. Descriptors you’d heard your brother prattle on about it time and time again, hateful worlds about a temperamental shadowsinger for the Night Court.

Fuck.

Of all the godsdamned places to winnow for the first time.

Thank shit you’re somewhat properly dressed, riding pants tucked neatly inside knee-length boots. Hair braided back and out of the way, a savior when dashing through the streets, weaving and bobbing through street vendors and small businesses. Its instinct to keep to the shadows, blending into nothingness until the sound of following footsteps fades.

Stopping to catch your breath would be your downfall, heart hammering and chest heaving too rapidly to notice the hankering figure looming behind you until sentient shadows sneak out like a limb and wraps around the tail of your braid in an iron grip. “Motherfucker!”

Azriel wishes he didn’t notice your beauty but he swears he recognizes it.

Hates the way his eyes scan over such pretty features, memorizing the plush of your mouth and the burning fire that erupts behind your iris. Curiosity grows when he realizes he’s seen them before, when the day is done and his duties are left at the door. When his head hits the pillow and his eyes close—foggy glimpses of your face is the one he sees.

A misty apparition turned tangible and now that he’s got you in the flesh, he refuses to let go. “Got quite the mouth on you.” He’s wearing gloves you notice, one hand reaching out to grip at your jaw, forcing you to stare at him head on. You pretend not to be affected by his strict surveillance and the way it takes in every inch of your face. Dragging down the slope of your neck long enough to acknowledge the attire that certainly isn’t sold at any stores near here. “Someone should teach you how to use it.”

“So, someone else will. Now let me go.” That’s the wrong answer but surely, he can feel it too—this tension that’s built on blind yearning and nursed by one hell of a chase; the kind that gets Azriel’s blood pumping and pants tightening from the satisfaction of catching such formidable prey.

Of having such a pretty reward for his efforts.

One that feels so familiar—so right.

“Not until you tell me how you got in.” A destructive fire eats away at your restraint when the rough cadence of his voice reaches your ears. It’s smooth like aged whiskey, the aftertaste a pleasant burn that warms your blood and melts your marrow to mush.

Maybe that’s why you answer with such little resistance, wonder still lingering around the edges of your syllables. “I winnowed.”

“Right through the wards?”

“There were wards?” Az doesn’t even bother trying to mask the breathless laugh that emits, disbelief leaking from every pore and you’re absolutely positive that alarm bells have been sounded—proper authorities alerted of a breach in their city. Your stomach turns, nerves frayed with worry when you realize just how deeply you’d fucked up. “Look, I meant no harm. I don’t even know where I am so if you’d just let me go, I can return to where I’m supposed to be.”

“Oh honey,” Breath catches at the silky tone he adopts, one arm braced near your head. It’s difficult not to notice the strong chords of his muscles jumping in your peripheral. “You’re exactly where I want you to be. Fat chance I’ll let you go now.”

[lafiametta]

Just saw Anora and got so obsessed w Igor its not funny i need to see more posts about him 😭😭😭😭

Igor’s on such a journey and I love it.

Can you imagine: it’s your birthday and you get a call from the Armenian guy you work for to pick him up at a baptism so you both can check on his boss’s boss’s rich-ass useless son and see if he has or has not married a prostitute. You understand the job — look tough, provide a little muscle if the situation calls for it — and once it’s done you can go return your grandmother’s car from where you borrowed it and visit with her for an hour or so before maybe heading out for a lowkey night to celebrate.

Instead, the rich-ass useless son runs away and you end up having to make sure the girl he married — who takes great offense to being called a prostitute, by the way — doesn’t take off too, and because she won’t stop throwing things and hitting you in the face and screaming you don’t know what else to do except restrain her with a phone cord.

And then she bites you and breaks the Armenian’s nose even as you’ve got her in a hold on top of you.

It’s not exactly what Igor had in mind for the day, is all I’m saying.

As an audience, we also get our expectations turned on their head: Igor, who at first just seems like your standard Slavic hired goon, turns out to have a heart of gold, or at least a soft spot just big enough for a beautiful, foul-mouthed erotic dancer with an impressive left hook. (Although he’s no slouch either, considering how he wields that aluminum bat.) There’s something about her that he really likes, even from the beginning, and you can see him looking out for her and trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to make up for what he did to her back at the house.

I think he admires her brashness, and the way she’s determined to fight for the Cinderella dream that a life with Ivan promised her. In both the courtroom scene and on the tarmac with Ivan’s mother he secretly smiles as he listens to her argue and threaten, even against people far wealthier and more powerful.

(There also seems to be a class element, at least where her conflict with the Zakharovs are concerned. Igor probably doesn’t love the fact that he’s employed by these rich assholes and Ani saying that she’s going to take half their money has him silently cheering her on, because, yeah, fuck them. And when Galina Zakharov winks at him after threatening Ani’s whole existence, he has to look away in shame, because he still works for them, and they think that means they own him.)

I’d love to know when he decides to steal the ring from Toros. Maybe at some point on the plane, after he can see that part of her has given up. It’s a brilliant display of rebellion, made even better by the fact that he waits until the very last minute to give it to her. (Would we have heard all that shit about “hunchback weirdos” and “rape eyes” if he had surprised her with it the first moment they were alone? But Igor is secure enough to take all her insults, and probably likes the fact that she feels safe enough to keep roasting him again and again. “Touché, motherfucker?” she says, and all he can do is giggle.)

Which brings us to the car scene.

The ring is an act of atonement, something to make up for what she’s been through over the past two days — some of which he knows he’s responsible for — and one last fuck you to the family that humiliated her. Igor thinks he’s evening the score before he says goodbye, not realizing that Ani sees it as a gesture she needs to pay back to keep feeling like she’s in control. So she gives him what she thinks he wants — what all men want from her.

Igor’s an adaptive, street-smart guy, but he wasn’t prepared for what she ends up doing. He doesn’t resist, though, taking initiative only once she’s fully on top of him and then just to take her face in his hands. Does some part of him know this is transactional? Does some part of him want it to be real the way Ani wanted Ivan to be real? He wants to pretend at least, and tries to kiss her, only for Ani it’s too real, too much, and she’ll fight to make it stop, like she fights for so many things in her life. But the emotions bubble up anyway, and even through the haze of sex Igor can see she’s in pain, so he pulls her in close and lets her cry, steady and silent as the sobs wrack her body like waves.

It’s a scene that neatly mirrors the one from the living room — him holding her as she’s on top of him — now cast as an expression of vulnerability and care rather than fear and aggression. He’s always been strong enough to hold her, but it’s only at the very end that Ani is willing to be held.