#ngl i felt clever for this

[brandnewcouch]

may i present to you: the MBTI of sickies

Extrovert vs. Introvert: extroverted sickies don’t mind everyone knowing they’re sick while introverted sickies want to keep it to themselves

Sensory vs. Intuition: sensory sickies can tell they’re getting sick by piecing together little observations while intuition sickies just “have a feeling” they are getting sick

Thinking vs. Feeling: thinking sickies make decisions on taking care of themselves based on logic while feeling sickies make decisions on taking care of themselves based on emotions

Judging Vs. Perceiving: judging sickies plan how they are going to navigate their illness the second they start feeling sick while perceiving sickies take it day by day

so… what’s your fav’s MBTI???

[pondhue]

MAKING HIS BOXERS LOGO THE NAME OF UR PAGE WAS SO GENIUS OMG!!!!!

thank u

[chisungie]

.

[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 7 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond realizes he messed things up with you and attempts to reconcile at the summer carnival.

word count: 5.5k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, exhibitionism, oral (fem-receiving), fingering, kissing

note: im starting to become obsessed with them ngl 🧍🏻‍♀️

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected ❤️

AEMOND POV

Aemond knew he had fucked up.

Royally, fucked up.

Something he finds himself doing quite often. It had been several days since the hot tub incident. Several days since he’d last spoken to her. Aemond glances at his phone again, watching the time change as Helaena hurries down the stairs.  

“Morning,” she calls, tossing her phone onto the couch and stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh.

“It’s noon,” Aemond tells her.

“Where’s Y/N?” Helaena asks, sliding onto the couch next to him. 

She lets her feet hang off the edge of the armrest, her neck straining over the cushion as though she’s about to topple off of the sofa altogether. It looks quite uncomfortable, and wildly different from Aemond’s rigid posture as he frowns over his phone. 

“How should I know?”

“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Helaena muses, playing with a strand of her hair, “You usually have your companions over more frequently, if I recall.”

Trying to, Aemond thinks to himself, his jaw clenched. If she’d return my calls.

“She’s upset with me,” Aemond admits, tossing his phone to the side. It’s always been hard to keep the truth from Helaena.

Helaena makes a noise of contempt.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll fix it. You’re clever that way,” Hel encourages, “Perhaps a grand gesture of sorts? Something Austen-esque.” 

A phone buzzes on the sofa. Aemond checks his anyway, though he knows it’s Hel’s as she reaches for it. 

“It’s whatever,” Aemond lies through his teeth, “Plenty of girls around for the summer.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Helaena says, twisting her body so she’s upright on the couch, “Can you calm down the fuckboy-sona for five fucking minutes?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aemond says, shrugging.

Helaena rolls her eyes. 

“Okay Egg,” she says with a sneer, “Manwhoring doesn’t look good on you Aem. It’s not in your nature. Doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Suits my cock just fine,” he says, causing Helaena to make a face of disgust. 

“Gross,” she says, nose still scrunched, “It’s not you.”

Aemond doesn’t answer. Just glances at his phone again. The time greets him, but no other notifications. He opens Instagram, trying to avoid Helaena’s piercing gaze. As the app opens, he notices your profile picture, signifying you’ve posted a story. He shamelessly clicks on it, revealing you were at Seasnake Scoops seven minutes ago. 

Perfect. 

“Are you in the mood for ice cream?” Aemond asks, changing the subject and rising from the couch. 

Helaena’s frown deepens. 

“Aemond-”

“Hel, unless you’re saying yes or no to ice cream, just drop it,” he snaps, moving quickly to leave the room. 

“Oh fuck you,” Helaena says, rising from the couch and following him, “You’re just scared Aemond! Fucking scared.”

He hears every word, though he pretends he doesn’t as the front door slams shut behind him, leaving Helaena alone in the house.

 The last time Aemond Targaryen was in Seasnake Scoops it was not a pleasant experience. He’d been around thirteen years old at the time, and Aegon had assured him that Cece Lannister was waiting, expecting a date with him. 

Aemond remembered how nervous he felt. Though Cece wasn’t his cup of tea, she was beautiful, smart, and held the social status and respect that Aemond craved. A date with Cece was sure to turn the tide for him.  

He’d waited all afternoon for her. Seated at a table, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves. As people wandered in and out, the lady lion never made an appearance. It was Rhaenyra who found him as the sun began to set, seated on the curb outside the ice cream shop.

It had all been a joke, he’d realized once he entered the house. Aegon was in stitches until his mother smacked him upside the head and yelled at him. Aemond had stayed solemn, walking straight to his room without speaking.

They are always going to laugh at you, he thought to himself. 

Standing outside the ice cream shop left a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Seasnake Scoops was unopposing in itself; it was the memories that haunted it. A small ice cream shop with some tables outside, with blue and white umbrellas offering some shade. There was indoor seating as well with air conditioning. 

Aemond stared at the people in line to order, scanning the small crowd for you. The nervous feeling returned being surrounded by all these people, remembering Cece.

Until he saw her.

She had turned her head, reaching for some napkins as the cashier handed her a soft serve twist in a cone covered in rainbow sprinkles. She smiles politely, thanking them before licking a stripe up the side of the frozen treat. There’s something so sweet about the way her eyes light up, Aemond finds himself smiling as she licks her lips. 

She turns to leave the line and his eye meets hers. It’s as though someone switches off the light behind her eyes completely. 

Cold is the only way to describe the look she awards him, as her mouth falls into a straight line. Aemond only holds her gaze for a moment before she looks towards the ground and begins to quicken her pace. But Aemond is faster.

“Y/N,” he calls, blocking her path back up the stairs inside. 

She sighs, avoiding his gaze, assessing whether or not she can squeeze around him.

“Move,” she tells him.

“You’re not answering my texts,” he says, confusion evident in his voice, “Or my calls.”

“Yeah,” she says, “Maybe you should take the hint.”

“I haven’t heard from you all week.”

“I’m trying to eat my ice cream Aemond,” she tells him, “What are you stalking me now?”

“Viewing an Instagram story is hardly a punishable offense,” he tells her.

“Just a reminder to block you later,” she tells him.

Aemond’s heart sinks at her words. There’s no playful banter in her tone, no note of excitement. She’s deadly serious. 

“Goodbye,” she tells him, moving past him.

You’re losing her, he realizes. Do something. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Aemond says suddenly, “Y/N, I didn’t mean what I-”

“You know what, Aemond?” she says, her gaze icy, “I don’t care what you meant or didn’t mean. I care about what you said.”

Aemond’s chest tightens at her words. She’s standing tall, the ice cream beginning to drip down the cone between her small fingers. She ignores it if she even notices, but Aemond’s eye follows the sticky river beginning to form. He gets a sudden urge to lick the mess from her hand and pull her towards him covering her in sticky kisses. 

Seven hells. Stop it. 

Aemond blinks as she turns away, before giving him one last lingering look.

“Will is waiting for me,” she tells him, and the ache in his chest grows.

“Will?” he asks, the one-syllable tasting like poison on his tongue.

“Yes, Will,” she says, annoyance in her tone, “People who like each other go on dates. They date each other. I know that must be a foreign concept to you.”

Aemond says nothing, just clenches his teeth so tightly together his jaw begins to ache.

“Maybe give Floris a ring or one of your other friends. I’m sure there’s someone convenient for you,” she says, turning and walking away. 

Aemond lets her go, watching as she goes inside Seasnake Scoops, the door slamming shut behind her. The second time in his life he’s been left alone there. 

READER POV

“You can’t do this!” Baela’s voice calls from the hallway, “You can’t make me!”

You quickly leap out of bed at the sound of your best friend’s distress, opening the door and flying down the stairs. After your run-in with Aemond, you’d returned to your room to sulk for the majority of the afternoon. 

Baela stands below, arms crossed, tear tracks running down her cheeks. Rhaenys stands in front of her, hands folded, a stern expression on her face.

“Baela, it is one dinner-”

“It’s always one dinner,” Baela says, through her teeth, “One dinner, then another, then ‘we have to all go together Baela, as a family’,” she deepens her voice to the likeness of her father, “Like I want to go to that stupid gala and pretend everything is fucking fine!”

Rhaenys moved forward, taking Baela’s hands in her own.

“You’re angry,” she says to her softly, “You have every right to be. But don’t shut him out, dōna jorrāelagon (sweet love). Not when he’s finally trying.”

“For her,” Baela says, quietly, “He’s trying for her.”

“Rhaenyra is trying as well,” Rhaenys assures her, “You are not replacing your mother by letting her in.”

Baela yanks her hands away, angry tears spilling from her eyes. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I can’t forgive him,” Baela insists, “I can’t do it. I can’t forgive her either.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Rhaenys says, “I’m asking you to try.”

“This is me trying,” Baela snarls, “Staying away, letting them play happy family! That is me trying!”

Rhaenys purses her lips.

“Laena would-”

“Don’t,” Baela warns, shaking her head, “Don’t you dare.”

Her voice has dropped to a whisper. Rhaenys sighs, looking toward the floor. The tension between grandmother and granddaughter could be cut with a knife. Rhaenys looks back at Baela, drinking in her angered expression.

“You’re so much like her,” Rhaenys muses softly, before reaching out and stroking her cheek, “Full of so much fire.”

“I’m not going,” Baela insists.

“You are,” Rhaenys says, “I’ll hear no more of it. You can go to the carnival after.”

“Y/N will be all alone!” Baela says, pointing at you.

Rhaenys gives you an unimpressed look, but you nod quickly. Anything to help your best friend. 

Though Rhaenys doesn’t look like she buys it for one second.

“I’m sure Y/N will be fine for a couple of hours,” Rhaenys says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“She’s going to get lost,” Baela says, and you agree. 

Rhaenys gives you a stern glance, one only a grandmother can deliver. Baela loops her arm through yours, holding her chin high. You crack first under Rhaenys glare. 

“I’m sure I’ll be okay for a little bit,” you say quietly. 

Rhaenys smiles at her success as Baela drops your arm with a groan. You give her an apologetic smile, knowing you’ve doomed her to another dinner with her father and stepmother.

You arrive at the carnival just as the sun goes down. It’s already crowded with people, the lights from all the rides making everyone glow with neon colors. The smell of fried food and the sound of laughter fills the air as you wade through the sea of people. You decided on a simple baby blue sundress, styling your hair off of your shoulders. It’s been so hot recently, you can’t stand the feeling of having your hair down.

You glance at your phone, though Helaena has yet to respond. You promised you’d meet her at the main ticket stand. 

The minutes tick by and you’re still standing with a rope of red tickets when your phone buzzes letting you know that Helaena had fallen asleep after losing track of time. You sigh, checking your other messages. There’s one from Will asking to meet up later paired with an emoji of a Ferris wheel. 

You want to smile, but your stomach turns instead. You can’t help but think of Aemond. Will is nice, very sweet, but it was evident after your ice cream date that you don’t have much in common. And there’s no spark.

When you told Baela, she’d raised an eyebrow at you.

“Spark?” she questioned.

“You know,” you tell her, talking with your hands as you tried to explain, “That feeling just, deep in your gut. Like being pulled to another person. Something that just feels…..right.”

That wasn’t there with Will. And you couldn’t fake a spark.

You sigh, tilting your head back and looking around, trying to determine what you should get to snack on while waiting for Helaena. A booth advertising fried Oreos piques your interest before a tall silver head catches your eye.

Something in your gut tightens with an intense need as you watch Aemond say something to Aegon. He’s wearing all black, as he often is. It’s as though Aemond is allergic to color. He hasn’t seen you yet, and you don’t know whether you hope he does or doesn’t.

You need to be firm, to hold the boundary you set with him. He doesn’t get to disrespect you like that. No matter how attracted to him you are. You may like Aemond- you may like fucking Aemond- but you love yourself more. 

His head turns and you look away before meeting those violet and blue eyes. You don’t know how strong your resolve will be if he looks at you again.

“Having fun?” a voice calls, causing you to turn and meet the sapphire eyes of Floris Baratheon.

She looks gorgeous, though you can’t imagine a time when she doesn’t; clad in a skin-tight green dress with her dark curls pulled into a high ponytail. You force a smile as she walks closer, a concerned look in her cobalt eyes. Classic mean girl, Helaena had called her. She certainly looks the part but then again, all beautiful people do. 

“Not really,” you admit, feeling your chest tighten.

“Me either,” she agrees, smiling softly, “Ellyn ditched me to hook up with Eddie Karstark behind the tilt-a-whirl. Can you believe?”

“That sucks,” you tell her. You hadn’t met Ellyn, but you’d seen her around the country club.

She gives you another small smile, following your gaze and landing on Aemond. Her smile drops as her lips form a tight line.

“Is he giving you the run around too?” she asks, looking back at you.

You can feel your cheeks warm with embarrassment.��

“Something like that,” you admit, letting your eyes fall to your feet. 

“I’m sorry,” Floris says, “Seriously. It fucking sucks.”

“It’s my own fault,” you tell her, “I made things messy.”

“Aemond makes things messy,” Floris insists, “I don’t think he can help it. He’s emotionally stunted.”

“I think you’re right,” you agree. 

Floris grabs your hand.

“C’mon,” she says, tugging you along.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Funnel cake,” she says, leading you through different booths, “We need funnel cake and then we need to shoot something. Or throw darts. Or both.”

You giggle and nod in agreement, letting her pull you along.

After eating all the funnel cake your body can handle and playing several rounds of balloon darts (something Floris is scarily good at) you make your way toward the Ferris wheel. It’s huge, the largest attraction at the carnival, with roomy compartments holding small groups of people.

Floris stops in front of it, glancing at you nervously. The change in demeanor makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

Floris’s cheeks turn a bright pink as she sighs, wetting her lips. 

“Have you….heard any rumors about Aemond and me?” she asks, “or Aemond and my sisters?”

No of course not, you think to yourself. Cause that would be crazy, an incestuous orgy of beautiful girls and the ethereal man who fucks like a god? No fucking way.

You’d tried very hard not to think about that.

“No,” you tell her, shaking your head, “What rumor?”

Floris seems unconvinced by your white lie. 

“People are gross,” she says, cheeks still darkened with blush, “Look nothing happened. It’s just-” she sighs, “The Ferris wheel is a very romantic spot.”

“Okay,” you tell her.

She nervously chews her lower lip, batting her lashes up at the Ferris wheel. 

“So Aemond invited me to ride with him last summer,” she says, shaking her head, “And he kissed me because guys do that when they take you on the Ferris wheel.”

A kiss. An innocent, sweet little kiss. That’s all it was. Your heart hammers in your chest thinking of Aemond asking Floris, the romantic gesture of it all.

“That’s really sweet,” you tell her, smiling.

“It was,” she agrees, “Until I found out he did the same thing with Cassandra, Ellyn, and Maris.”

Oh. Well, there it is.

“Well, I mean Maris didn’t end up kissing him,” Floris corrects herself, “But Cass and El did. And do you know what Aemond told me when I confronted him about it?”

You shake your head.

“He said I was the best kisser. And if I wanted to be friends with benefits for the summer, that would be cool,” she says, crossing her arms, “I was so naive. So fucking flattered that of course, I agreed. I mean, who says no when Aemond Targaryen says he wants to fuck you?”

She bites the tip of her tongue, as though reminiscing just what fucking Aemond entails before shaking her head. 

“Aemond Targaryen holds his own private kissing contest, and now I’m stuck with the rumor I had an orgy with my sisters,” she groans, “Fucking perfect.”

Damn. You can’t help but feel bad for Floris. That’s a skeevy thing Aemond did. She’s looking up at the Ferris Wheel as though she wants to melt it with lasers shooting from her eyes. You’ve begun to like Floris over the course of this evening. She could’ve been rude to you, mean even. You were fucking her ex-situationship after all.

But instead, she’d seen you upset and spent the rest of the evening with you. It’s your turn to return the favor. 

“Ferris wheel orgy,” you say, matter-of-factly, “If anyone believes that, they’re fucked in the head. Totally not enough room in those carriages for all that” You wave your arm around for emphasis.

Floris bursts out into a laugh, reaching to cover her mouth with her hand. You can’t help but laugh along with her. Floris Baratheon is a-okay in your book. 

“It’s fucking ridiculous,” she says snickering, “Guys will believe anything.”

“They’ve got holes in their brains,” you assure her.

Floris continues to laugh, shaking her head and wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. It feels good to laugh with her and forget about the drama surrounding you for a moment. 

“For sure,” she agrees, “Ugh. Do you want to go on? I promise no kissing, and no orgies.”

You laugh again at her joke. 

“Sure,” you tell her with a smile.

You walk up to the operator of the Ferris wheel and hand him your last two tickets. Everyone has exited the Ferris wheel, so you get in the first compartment. You move forward scooting onto one of the benches as Floris digs in her purse.

“Shit, I’m out!” she says with a groan, “I’ll go grab more, be right back!”

She flies down the stairs, hurrying over to the ticket booth. You glance at the conductor, knowing you must be holding up the line.

“Do you mind waiting?” you ask.

The twenty-something-year-old looks as if he’d rather be diving headfirst off a cliff than operating this ride, but he sighs dramatically and nods at your request. You clasp your hands in your lap when someone else enters the compartment and sits in the seat across from you. 

Aemond.

“Out,” you tell him, frowning, “Seriously, Aemond I thought I was clear.”

“We need to talk,” Aemond insists.

“We talked at Scoops, I have nothing left to say to you,” you insist, before changing your mind, “You know what? Actually, I do. Kissing Floris and her sisters? Really?”

You swear Aemond’s cheeks flush, and he glances away momentarily, before reaching out and snapping toward the attendant. 

“$50 to send us up now,” he tells him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fifty-dollar bill. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Aem-”

“And $50 more to stop us at the top. Fifteen minutes, tops,” Aemond finishes, adding another fifty between his slender fingers. 

The attendant’s eyes bug out of his head as he takes the money, shutting the door of the carriage. 

“No!” you say, watching the attendant return to the podium, “No! Dude, what about my friend? We have to wait for her!” Your voice is several pitches higher than you like, but it's due to being alone with Aemond. 

The attendant raises an eyebrow at you.

“Got fifty bucks?” he asks.

Your eyebrows lift in shock.

“No!” you squeak, panic bubbling in your throat.

The attendant shrugs, throwing the handle forward making the Ferris wheel begin to move. Your jaw drops as you slowly begin to ascend and watch in horror as Floris returns, her expression mirrors yours as she notices Aemond in the carriage with you. You clutch the edge of the compartment, leaning over the edge as you start moving farther from the ground.

“Asshole!” you yell down to the attendant before sinking into your seat and crossing your arms and legs. 

Aemond sits silently, though you know he must be gleeful about getting you alone. The compartments below you are empty, you’ve been sent up alone. 

“Y/N,” he says, but you don’t look at him. 

You just look over the side of the carriage at the rest of the carnival as everything begins to grow smaller and smaller. You can see the country club, the golf courses, the tents being set up for the gala. The lights from Driftmark and Dragonstone are even visible in the distance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

That gets your attention. You whip your head towards him, watching him leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You still don’t speak. Too angry, too hurt, too humiliated to say anything. Your brows are knit together, lips pressed into a tight line. No tears tonight, you cried enough over him. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I never should have spoken to you that way, or said those horrible things. It was disgusting and inexcusable.”

Aemond wets his lips. The Ferris wheel comes to a stop as you reach the top, the compartment swinging gently with the force of the brakes. You uncross your arms, steadying yourself. 

“I haven’t been that vulnerable with anyone in a long time,” he admits, “That’s not an excuse, believe me, that doesn’t excuse what I said, but I-” he runs a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words, “You were right.”

You want to remain silent as that violet eye watches you. Surely you can sit for fifteen minutes of silence. You cross your arms once more, trying to remain strong. 

“About what?” you ask, cursing yourself.

The corner of Aemond’s mouth twitches, and something tugs in your chest as it does. You dig your nails into your bicep, trying to ground yourself. If you look at him too long, you’re afraid you’ll float away. 

“About you growing on me,” he says softly.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You don’t know when this started, really. But since the hot tub something changed. Something inside you clicked, and suddenly you can’t look at Aemond Targaryen without wanting to kiss him.

“I don’t like…feeling out of control,” he admits, lacing his fingers together, “And you make me feel…fucking crazy.”

You want to believe him. You do. But Floris is on the ground below, and she was in the same position you were. Believed Aemond cared about her. As Aemond’s walls begin to let some light in, you can feel your own going up.

“How am I supposed to believe that?” you tell him, arms still crossed, “You said it yourself, you fuck, you talk like that, but you don’t get feelings. It’s one of your rules.”

“I’m figuring out none of those rules apply to you,” he says, observing you carefully.

You shake your head. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” you tell him, “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“I haven’t been the best person,” Aemond admits, “I’ve hurt people because I was hurting. I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

His fingers are laced together and he braces his forehead on his clasped hands. 

“I can’t,” you tell him softly, “Aemond I can’t.”

You don’t want to get hurt. Don’t want him to hurt you more than he already has. If you let him in deeper, it’s going to be so much more painful than it already has been. Aemond looks up, resting his chin on his hands. His gaze is soft, and a breeze rolls through causing you to shiver. 

“Let me show you,” he says softly, “Please. What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

Aemond’s hands are outspread, a pleading gesture. How could he prove himself? If he really wants to change, for the better. 

“Apologize to Floris,” you say suddenly, “She deserves it. All her sisters do.”

“Done,” Aemond answers immediately.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “I don’t know if I want to do this with you anymore.”

“Let me show you how sorry I am,” he says, kneeling forward on the floor; the compartment shakes with the movement.

Your cheeks flush when you realize what he intends to do.

“Aemond-” you say as his hands brush over your thighs, pushing your dress up.

You look over the side of the compartment, eyes wide. You’re all the way at the top, looking over everyone else. No one can see, and yet you’re dangerously exposed at the top of the Ferris wheel. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and your heart beats wildly in your chest as Aemond’s fingers curl along your panties. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmurs, dragging the fabric down. You lift your hips to assist him.

It’s almost unconscious, the way your body reacts to him. He plays your body like an instrument; every touch has you melting into him, bending to his wishes. Aemond removes your panties, placing them in his pocket for safekeeping. His violet eye watches you, waiting for what you say next. You bite your lip in desperation, trying to ignore the feeling of his hand under your ass, keeping your center propped off the seat. 

He holds you with ease, letting his other hand slip under your opposite thigh. It’s driving you crazy. He’s driving you crazy. 

“Y/N,” he says, voice a desperate whine, like it’s taking everything in him not to bury his face in your pussy. 

You’re already wet, you can feel it. There’s no use, you can’t ignore the feeling in your chest, the desperate ache between your legs. You want him, you need him so bad you feel like you might go insane without his lips on you. 

“Please,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it, “Please Y/N.” You can feel his hands trembling against you, as though he’s ready to snap.

“Yes,” you tell him, and with a desperate growl, he dips his head below your skirt.

His mouth glues itself to your dripping slit, tongue diving between your folds as you bury your hands in his hair. You sling your legs over his shoulders, desperate to push him deeper, and harder against you, especially as his tongue moves to circle your entrance. 

“Fuck,” you mewl as the warm, wet muscle dips inside of you, and Aemond moans-fucking moans-as he moves it in and out. 

Your heels are digging into his toned shoulders, nails raking against his scalp but if it pains him, Aemond doesn’t let it show in the slightest. He’s simply devouring you, groaning with every shudder and stifled moan you award him. With every movement of his head, his nose rubs pleasantly against your clit, sending waves of pleasurable warmth coursing throughout your body. 

Aemond pulls away suddenly, his mouth shining with your arousal, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and begins sucking on them. He meets your eyes before dipping his head down again between your thighs, fingers replacing his tongue and stretching into you. He curves them upwards against your tender, spongy walls, and your spine arches off of the seat, mouth falling open in pleasure. 

“Fucking missed this pussy,” he groans, lazily fingering you before bringing his mouth to the apex of your thighs.

His tongue swirls around your needy clit and you can feel your stomach tightening. 

“Forgive me,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on top of your clit before swirling his tongue around it once more.

“That’s not fair,” you answer, breathlessly, “Oh my fucking-oh.”

You can feel Aemond’s smile against you, feel him flatten his tongue on your clit before rubbing steady circles with the warm muscle of his tongue. He strokes your sweet spoke with his fingers effortlessly, your legs trembling on his shoulders. 

“Please,” he says with a groan, “Please, I can’t fucking stand it-”

“Oh!” your nails dig into his scalp as you clench around his fingers, your release barrelling through you.

Aemond slowly removes his fingers, pressing them between his lips and licking them clean before you grab him by the shirt collar pulling him towards you. Your mouth is on his in an instant and it feels like fireworks have gone off in your brain.

He kisses you ferociously, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and anchoring you against him; the other wraps around your waist, pulling you off the seat and holding you flush against him. Your legs are straddling him and you can feel how hard he is underneath you. You’re kissing him desperately, it's all clashing teeth and gasps as you press yourself against him harder. You can’t be close enough, can’t be held tight enough. It's not enough, not enough. 

The Ferris wheel begins to move, slowly but surely beginning its descent and you pull away, gasping for breath. You’re both breathing heavily, so close you can feel the brush of his lips against yours with every exhale. 

“I can’t stand it,” he whispers, voice breaking as he strokes the back of your head.

“I know,” you whisper back, kissing him softly.

You untangle yourselves from each other as the Ferris wheel comes to a stop, pushing yourself back onto the seat to avoid suspicion. Thankfully, your dress is long enough because there was no time to put your panties back on and you’d rather not have your bare ass on the seat of the Ferris wheel.

The attendant opens the door, none the wiser to what you and Aemond were up to in the middle of the air. 

You exit the compartment on shaky legs, turning back to Aemond.

“Forgive me?” he asks, watching you.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him, walking down to Floris, who is now holding a half-eaten fried Twinkie.

“Dude, that took forever,” she tells you, “What did you even talk about-”

“Floris,” Aemond calls, walking over.

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, cheeks darkening as he approaches. But Floris Baratheon doesn’t back down. No matter how she feels about Aemond, she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eye.

“I owe you an apology,” Aemond begins, “For everything.”

Her chin tilts higher in the air.

“I was cruel to you when I shouldn’t have been,” he continues, “And I should have shut down those rumors when I heard them. I shouldn’t have treated you or your sisters that way in the first place and I’ll be telling them that as well.”

“Well Maris is in Oldtown,” Floris says cooly, “She stayed for the summer to do research.”

“Next semester then,” Aemond agrees.

Floris looks him up and down.

“Thank you,” she says and Aemond nods. 

Her phone buzzes in her chest and she hands you her twinkie as she reaches between her boobs to grab it. She frowns.

“El needs rescuing,” she says, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure her, “I’m good, really.”

“I had fun tonight,” she tells you, “Let’s hang out again.”

“We could always use more help on Seasmoke,” you tell her.

“Cool, later Y/N,” she says, “Bye Aemond.”

As Floris leaves you turn to begin walking as well. Baela should be here by now and hopefully, Helaena has found her way down here. Aemond grabs your hand, stopping you.

“You won’t forgive me?” he asks.

“I said I’d think about it,” you tell him, still being cautious.

“Y/N-”

“Look, there’s something here,” you tell him, “Definitely, but…” I’m scared.

You can’t finish the sentence but you read it in his eye too. 

“Go with me,” he says suddenly, “To the gala and the auction.”

“What?”

“As my date,” he says, “Be my date.”

“You don’t date.”

“I do now,” he argues, his voice insistent, “I date….I want to date you.”

He steps closer, taking your other hand. There’s that feeling again. Deep in your gut, pulling you toward him. A fire ignited within you, sparked by his touch. 

“Come with me,” he says softly, “Please.”

You stretch up onto your tiptoes capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s the only answer you can give right now, but the only answer he needs.

OLS Taglist: @talesofoldandnew, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

@grungegrrrl, @melsunshine, @helaenaluvr

@m1ndbrand, @herfantasyworldd, @sunna-fangirls, @carriellie, @elle4404, @fan-goddess, @jamespotterismydaddy @shessthunderstoms @carriellie @sunna-fangirls @dancingqueen0

bold means tumblr would not let me tag!

[hamletshoeratio]

didnt she also say something nasty about the queen when one of her kids had just died

Yeah here's part 2 of this

The way she talked about the death of Queen Charlotte's granddaughter; Princess Charlotte, who was historically only twenty-one when she died in childbirth. The Lady Whistledown commentary in QC is just outright cruel, it's clear Queen Charlotte in the off-season (QC present day timeline being set in the Winter/Early spring break between season 2 & 3) becomes Penelope's biggest target in the aftermath of her fallout with Eloise. There's no other way to describe it.

Ngl the above is really disturbing to me. She's angry at Eloise, has lost access to info from the Bridgertons because of her falling out with Eloise, and she's angry at the Queen for getting angry at Penelope's own words as LW, and trying to discover LW as a result. And so she spends the off-season insulting and attacking a grieving Queen Charlotte. I mean that's one way for a flower to bloom I guess...

Theo, one of the only working class characters in the show, nearly lost his job because of lady whistledown and may have lost it in the aftermath of the season.

A lot of her general commentary as Lady Whistledown isn't clever or witty; it's just outright cruel.

The way she talks about the Bridgerton family, a family that trusts and cares for her, is horrible. Particularly, the way she wrote about Daphne in season 1.

Betraying Eloise's trust for two entire seasons because it didn't start with the Theo situation. She listened to Eloise's frustrations about Daphne and then used LW to attack and belittle Daphne. Speaking as a sibling, I will rant about my sisters until kingdom come to my friends but the minute a so-called friend starts publicly attacking my sister, it's over. I would not be in control of my actions. Like over the course of two seasons, she's attacked and nearly destroyed the reputations of Eloise's eldest sister, two of her brothers, her first love, and the entire family as a result. Judging by the Bridgertons were born to shine line in the trailer, I doubt Francesca will make it through the season unscathed.

She hasn't felt real remorse. Despite nearly causing Marina's death (as she tried to miscarry in the aftermath of LW revealing her pregnancy), she ends season 1 smirking about being LW. Hasn't written or contacted Marina to see how she has been since, got jealous Colin went to see her and still probably hasn't written or visited her. Not to mention her "I least did something. All you did is talk" speech at the end of season 2 to Eloise. A speech that wasn't even accurate as Eloise had been to meetings, listened to speeches and debates, debated with Theo, shared and read and discussed different political leaflets with Theo, Eloise had grown intellectually from the beginning to the end of the season. It's because of Penelope that that came to an end.

Outside of rescuing Daphne from her betrothel to Berbrooke in s1, what good has her work as LW actually done? It's ruined far more lives than it's helped, and intervened countless times when it didn't have authority to. Many secrets weren't Penelope's to tell.

I could honestly keep going but I genuinely don't know how she's supposed to get redeemed in eight episodes because the character we have at the minute in no way deserves a happy ending. LW didn't really matter in the books as it wasn't as active a plot point as it is in the show. By expanding the LW concept to give Penelope a more complex arc, they've unwittingly robbed her of what made people like her book counterpart and as a result created a villain that they have no intention of trying to redeem, because they don't believe she needs to be redeemed.

[kairismess]

Hello! I see that you're opening request right now, may I request about tsukishima's s/o who cries every time she comes home from work, and she ever moved from another company, but the company was also toxic, and this company she's in now is toxic too, so she's been stressing out and cries every night...

Hsshhshss I'm very sorry if this is hard to understand T u T thank you so much! 💖

OH NO WORRIES ANON !! i honestly like this idea, I HOPE I DID IT RIGHT THOUGH :'))) ngl tsukki would kinda suck at comforting if he forced it, but him just being all real with you when talking to you about it ... he weirdly gets super comforting, and he doesn't even realize it.

it's not lame at all. — timeskip!tsukishima kei x fem!reader

🏐 genre: fluff and a tall glass of comfort

✒️ word count: 975

💭 summary: kei usually doesn't find it hard to be blunt about matters like these... but he can't help but want to see you smile again, so he'll try his hardest to let you know that your feelings are valid.

another grueling day at your awful workplace, and nothing has changed from the past few places you've worked at. it's like you're destined to keep landing at poor workplaces that have a knack for treating their ordinary employees that don't stand out like you so horribly. you could only take so much mistreatment, and to think that you none of your friends nor superiors could really do anything to help you... it was like you were drowning–and nobody was out there to save you in that vast ocean of helplessness and despair that you felt.

your only relief everyday was being able to make it home in one piece, and on a good day, you'd hold in your tears until you were behind closed doors, free to weep and bawl about the misfortunes of being an adult. however, you still had to keep it down, even in the comfort of your own home–your boyfriend was going to be over that evening, and you didn't want him thinking you were dramatic over such little things, right?

by the time you got to your home, kei was already waiting for you by the your door. he looked up from his glasses, his honey-colored, wide eyes greeting scrutinizing your obviously exhausted figure. you managed to smile up at him, but for someone as clever and sharp as kei, he senses something's off about you. he furrows his thin, light blonde eyebrows at you and asks in a soft voice, "did something happen today?" and that's all that it took for your facade to crumble, and for the tears to start rolling down your cheeks in spite of your seemingly sweet, yet forced, smile.

kei walked over to you and with his bandaged fingers, took your bag from you and asked for your keys. he was going to put everything away for you, he was here quite often, and he memorized where all your essentials should be, so it wouldn't be a problem for either of you. he took your hand and led you inside, and you felt a little more ashamed that your boyfriend was leading you into your own home, as if you were a child who didn't know any better and had to rely on someone more put together than you were.

kei sat you down on the couch and got a few tissues from the coffee table, wiping away at your tears, murmuring to you to remember to blow your nose as he handed you the tissue. "...do you need some tea?" he asked you as you nodded, blowing your nose into the tissue. he disappeared into the kitchen, preparing a kettle for the tea, while thinking hard of what to tell you to comfort you. when he came back with the piping hot cup of tea, he kept gulping back the lump in his throat, he was too anxious, and that was always the case with him whenever he'd get too vulnerable with you. "um... i know these days have been... less than desirable, but, you..." kei began, struggling to find the right words, looking away from you ever so often.

he sighed, feeling frustrated with himself for holding back his true thoughts on the matter; but he wanted to sound sweeter, to comfort you. but the way kei comforts is not all sunshine and rainbows; he wants you to remember we live in reality, not in a world where everything works the way we want to just because we persevere and work hard. he looks at you and gently takes your hands in his, and takes a deep breath, hoping his words won't hurt you.

"...you deserve better." he mutters, looking into your eyes, the light in those honey-brown eyes of his had a genuine glint to them, and you could tell he wanted to help you, even if his means weren't very conventional. "i'm sorry you're being treated like that, and it makes me so pissed to know that those guys are getting away with taking advantage of you like that. but... that's reality. workplaces can be fun, and some can be downright abhorrent; but at the end of the day, you're a person who works from 9 to 5 to make an honest living—and that alone is a struggle to do, every day." he utters in a soft-spoken tone.

his voice isn't snarky nor does he hope to sound like a smart ass; he honestly wishes to help you, but to keep you grounded. he rubs the back of your hands and sighs. "...i could help tender you a resignation letter, and while we're doing that, i'll help get you a job at the place i'm applying for in the summer. i'll keep you safe, as much as i can; you've gone through too much already, and i... i want to be there for you, to make up for all the times i couldn't do anything about your suffering." he confesses, his grip on your hands tightening a little.

you felt your second tidal wave of tears coming, and you rushed for the tissues, with kei patting your back, in hopes that his touch would comfort you somehow. he can't really tell you that everything will be okay, he isn't the type to sugarcoat and lie that all will be fine—he loves you too much to build your delusions up, only to be thrown back down by the disappointment of the real world. though, kei loves you so, so much that he'd help you escape those crappy workplaces and help you both land jobs at the same place together. so even if the next one will be just as crappy, or even worse... kei's got you, and he'll make sure you won't waste another precious tear on people who aren't worth crying over; because you deserve so much better.

🦕 tags !! @emptybrain01

[multifandomimagin3s]

Pornstar Dancing [Soap MacTavish x Reader]

Summary: Taskforce 141 are assigned an undercover mission - (R/N) has to use 'equipment' which the military didn't give her. Her friend, Johnny, likes what he sees...

A/N: I was sitting listening to 'Pornstar Dancing' - My Darkest Days, and an idea came into my head. Ngl, this is basically p*rn without a plot but hwg~ *Also peep the Supernatural reference hehe*

mature themes, smut, minors dni. reader is AFAB

This was without a doubt one of the craziest things you've ever had to do for a mission - and that was saying something. 'Crazy' comes with the job, being part of 141 was never going to be a walk in the park and you never expected any less.

When Laswell had given you your file for the mission, you let out a laugh, thinking that she was joking. Spoiler alert - she wasn't. Your role was to go undercover to spy on the target - a Kingpin, no less - at a club, distracting him and his cronies to buy the rest of the team enough time to disable the security, get into position, and capture him. Now you may be thinking, "that doesn't sound too bad." "Oh, what type of club?" you may ask. A Strip club. Yep, tonight, you had agreed to be a stripper. On stage. In front of hundreds of people. In front of a Kingpin. And, in front of your team-mates. And it was safe to say that you were absolutely shitting yourself at the prospect of it.

So here you were - clad in a royal blue bra, panties and garter belt littered with sparkly diamantes. To match, Laswell had given you a set of clear Pleasers, with blue glitter throughout the heels and platforms of the shoes. It had to be said, the outfit did look good on you, which gave you a bit more confidence. But felt naked - in the literal sense, and given the fact you couldn't carry weapons on you that weren't pocket-sized. Can't hide a glock in your bra.

As you fluffed up your hair, one of the managers came over to say that you were up next. You gave her a tight-lipped smile and a nod, as she ushered you over to the side of the stage, just hidden behind the curtains. As if she were psychic, she brought over a tray with a shot glass and a bottle of tequila perched on it," Here you go - calms the nerves."

You thanked her, throwing the shot back, cringing slightly at the cool, burning sensation. The DJ picked up his mic, voice thick with exaggerated enthusiasm as he gave your queue, "Alright everyone, please welcome to the stage 'Bella Donna.'!"

"Belladonna? Like, the pornstar?" Soap questioned, curious as to why, out of all the names that you could have picked out, you went for that one.

Ghost rolled his eyes," The poison - Deadly Nightshade is also called Belladonna." His tone was clipped. He was used to Johnny's antics by now, they'd been working together long enough. But it didn't mean that it didn't get on his nerves any less.

"Hm, clever," Soap nodded - your codename whilst on the battlefield was in fact 'Nightshade' - you were given that mantle before your transfer to the 141 taskforce, given your skills on the battlefield; deadly. The song began, booming through the speakers. Johnny's gaze shot over to the stage, his jaw dropped as you sashayed down the runway towards the pole," Steamin' bloody Jesus..."

Johnny's eyes raked over your form as you swung gracefully around the pole in time with the music - the song was actually one of his favourites. Speaking of favourites, the underwear set you had on was in his favourite colour; the longer he looked the more he could feel his cock twitch in his trousers, and if he didn't look away soon he'd end up with a problem. But he couldn't look away.

He struggled to suppress a groan as you hung upside down on the pole, clutching it between your thighs. When and where you learned how to pole dance, he had no idea - but holy shit, you were good. He had to bite down on the knuckles of his clenched fist, trying to wish his growing hard-on back down.

"Focus, Sergeant," Price spoke concisely through his ear piece - with a subtle hint of amusement behind his words. Everyone in the task force knew that Johnny had a thing for you - he was hardly subtle about it either but had yet to make a move. He was your friend - he thought you wouldn't see him any other way, and didn't want to ruin your friendship if you didn't return his feelings.

Johnny cleared his throat, trying to make his words not sound s as strained as he felt, " Sorry, Sir."

Ghost chuckled slightly, so quiet that the music completely drowned it out. Oh, he was absolutely going to take the piss out of him later.

The Kingpin stood from his seat as the song was coming to an end, coming to stand at the end of the stage. Playing along with the facade, you pressed your back against the cool metal of the pole, spreading your legs slightly as you dropped down into a sort-of squat. You inwardly cringed at his appearance - a sweaty, greasy-looking creep.

He placed a large stack of money at your feet, giving you a salacious wink," Give me a private dance, Sweetheart."

I'd rather dance on your head, you prick. "Of course," You gave him a smile, picking up the wad of cash before standing to full height, towering over him. As the target turned to his cronies, you looked to the back of the room, seeing Ghost give you a nod - good to go. Your eyes met Soap's as he fixed you with an expression that you hadn't seen before.

"Lead the way, hot stuff," The voice of the slimy kingpin cut through your daze, as he held out his hand to help you down the steps at the side of the stage. Oh, what a gentleman, you thought sarcastically, taking his hand. His cronies stayed behind, dispersing into the crowd to go and do as they pleased while their boss was 'occupied.' Perfect.

The situation escalated rapidly after that. As soon as you got the Kingpin into one of the private rooms, Ghost was already there, hiding in the dark corner. He pounced, quickly punched the target out before he could let out any sound of alarm, tying his arms behind his back and a cloth gag over his mouth," Good work, Sergeant."

You nodded, letting out a breath that you didn't know you were holding.

"Bravo 0-7 to Bravo 6 - target has been neutralised, over."

"This is Bravo 6 - good work, bring him out."

With apparent ease, Ghost lifted the unconscious male up, checking the coast was clear outside the room before dragging him to the fire escape. Pushing the door open revealed Gaz and Price, ready and waiting, as the target was hauled into the truck. The cool night air hit your exposed skin, your arms folding over your chest.

"Here you go, Darlin'," You jumped slightly, turning to see Johnny behind you, holding a bundle of your clothes out to you," As nice as you look, it's baltic oot there, you'll be freezin'."

You smiled slightly," Thank you, Soap -"

"Call me Johnny," He smiled slightly - his eyes wandered down to your chest briefly before quickly flicking back up to meet your eyes. There was a beat of silence, as that unreadable expression fell over his face once again, before he cleared his throat," Get yourself changed - I'll wait out here for you."

-----------------------------

The mission was a complete success which meant the team was allowed to head back to base. Thank god, you thought. A hot shower, takeout and a decent night's sleep were definitely in order and they were going to the first order of business as soon as you got back. Or, well, that was the plan.

It was as if Johnny had read your mind, as he showed up at your door not even half an hour after having gotten through the front door, a plastic bag containing Chinese food in his hand. He smiled," Got the goods."

Shower forgotten, you let him into your room. You had actually just been unpacking your duffel bag when he knocked, random items scattered across your bed; Johnny clicked his tongue," Question?"

"Shoot."

"How the fuck did you walk in these?!" Johnny asked incredulously, turning to face you, your heels suspended on the end of his finger.

You laughed at his reaction, he always had a bit of a flare for the dramatics. "A bit of liquid courage helped - and no, they weren't comfortable."

"Ohh, drinking on the job? Bad girl." He winked with a smile, his pearl white teeth practically sparkling. Bad girl. His words caused a pool of heat to build in your lower stomach, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. There was no denying that he was an attractive guy, and he had a great personality - and maybe you did have a bit of a crush on him. A big crush. But you were friends, surely he wouldn't feel the same way?

"Okay - it was one shot of tequila," You rolled your eyes, trying to will the blood to dissipate from your rosy cheeks," The Manager must have noticed that I was nervous, she gave me it before I went on-stage."

Johnny's brows knitted together, as he placed the heels back onto the bed, coming to stand no more than two feet away from you," Nervous? You were amazing on that stage, didn't know you could move like that - that wasn't the tequila that did that, that was all you, Darlin'."

Darlin'. You looked to the floor, feeling your cheeks heat up at his praise. Johnny tilted your chin up with two fingers under your jaw," Hey, I mean it - you looked really good, hell you probably made a fortune into the bargain, putting the pros to shame."

His light-hearted tone always managed to make you laugh; you met his soft gaze as he smiled, letting out a chuckle. His pale blue eyes stared into yours, falling to your lips and back up again. The tension was rising, he shuffled closer. You bit your bottom lip, his thumb pressing on it gently to release it from your teeth. He swallowed - now who's the nervous one?

"I - I'm just going to come out and say this," Johnny looked into your eyes, gaze unwavering even with his hesitance," I like you...as more than just a friend - I've fancied you for ages, but I was too scared to tell you in case you didn't feel the same."

You were gobsmacked, which must have been evident on your face as he quickly continued without missing a beat. "I think you're beautiful and well, tonight... I couldn't take my eyes off of you, I wanted to be the only one to see you like that... and I know that makes me sound like a selfish prick but -"

You cut him off, connecting your lips in a soft kiss. He went rigid for a second, as if processing that this was actually happening, arms wrapping around your waist as he reciprocated the kiss. He pulled away slightly, nose touching yours; his eyes were closed, a smile slowly making its way onto his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly with joy, as he pulled you into a deeper kiss. And another. And another.

Johnny unzipped your hoodie, you shrugged the material off your shoulders to the floor, arms wrapping around his neck. He groaned lowly as he noticed that you were still wearing the lingerie from before," You look so fucking sexy - in my favourite colour too, you're going to drive me crazy." His favourite colour is blue? Noted.

His large hands slid up your ribcage, firmly cupping your breasts through the cups of your bra. He hummed lowly, leaning down to press hot open-mouthed kisses across the expanse of your chest. You let out a soft gasp, as his kisses trailed up the side of your neck to your jaw, sucking lightly," The whole time you were on-stage, all I could think about was how much I wanted to fuck you."

You moaned lightly, as his hand wandered down to slip underneath the waistband of your sweatpants, rubbing over the front of your panties. Your knees buckled slightly, leaning further into him for support. He smirked, pressing his fingers directly onto your clit, your breath hitching at the contact. You cupped his bulge through his trousers causing him to grunt," Two can play at that game, Sergeant."

You dropped to your knees, unbuckling his belt, tugging his jeans and boxers down his legs; he stepped out of them, kicking them off to the side. He let out a hiss as your hand wrapped around his semi-hard length, stroking slowly from base to tip. You bit your lip to hide your smile, licking a bold stripe along the underside of his cock.

"You're really good at this." Johnny gathered your hair into a ponytail with one hand, the other cupping your cheek. You sucked the tip into your mouth, tongue circling the sensitive head, before taking his entire length down your throat. He groaned, eyes fluttering shut briefly. You repeated the action, before pulling away, pumping his length, laving your tongue over his balls," Fuck."

He gently tugged you off him, pulling you up into a sloppy kiss that was all tongues and teeth. He dipped down, briskly pulling you up into his arms, hands firmly grasping onto your ass. He walked you both backwards, turning to place on the edge of your bed; you quickly pushed all the items littered across your bedspread to the floor, you'd deal with the mess later. Johnny draped himself over you, pulling your sweatpants down your legs and over your feet, tossing them to the floor - revealing the matching panties and garter belt. He groaned lowly. "Fuckin' hell."

Johnny leaned down, pressing kisses down the column of your throat, between your breasts, down your navel to the band of your panties. You moved to peel them off, but his hand gently grabbed your wrist," Keep them on - want to fuck you in them." He grinned, ripping his shirt over his head, throwing it away to the corner of the room. Johnny dipped down, hands rubbing over the insides of your thighs; he had spent so many nights dreaming of being in this exact position, fucking into his clenched fist, imagining it was your pussy. He pulled the cloth of your thong to the side, humming as he blew cold air across your wet folds.

"Stop teasing me, Johnny," You whined, nails scratching across his scalp. The sound of his name - not his call-sign - coming from your lips in such a sinful way made his cock twitch. He placed his hot mouth over your clit, closing his eyes as his tongue swirled in small circles around the bundle of nerves.

You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the sheets. You bit your bottom lip as his hands secured over the front of your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. He pulled away slightly, fingers rubbing over your folds before he sank his index finger into your pussy. His middle finger joined soon after as he kitten licked your clit, fingers curling to hit your g-spot.

"Johnny," You cried out, writhing in pleasure, making his free arm fold around your hips as he held you in place. He groaned, turning his head to suck a hickey into the soft skin of your inner thigh." Feels so good - want you to fuck me so hard," You cooed as this thumb rubbed circles over your sensitive clit.

He pulled away, hands spreading your thighs," Such a pretty pussy." crawling over you body to kiss you hard, teasing your folds with his hard cock.

You let out a gasp as he slowly sank himself inside you, inch by inch. "Wanted to do this for so long." He kissed you deeply, groaning as you took his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled lightly. Your mouth fell open, crying out as he began with slow, deep thrusts.

Your brows knitted together as his length pressed into your g-spot. "Right there, yeah?" He asked in a slightly teasing tone, hand coming to wrap around the front of your throat, grasping gently. He thrusted into the same spot again, humming when you let out a squeal at the stimulation. He gave a heavier thrust, swallowing your moans with a kiss.

" Harder - fuck me harder," You stared into his eyes, challenging him. He quirked a brow, pulling your legs up to rest over his shoulders, palms pressing your knees down towards your chest. The change of angle allowed him to reach deeper than before, as he rammed into you, groaning as your walls squeezed tightly around him. Your hand covered your mouth in an attempt to suppress your moans, mindful that you two weren't the only ones on base.

Johnny peeled your hand away, linking your fingers together with a grin," Let them hear, Gorgeous - fuck - let them hear how good I'm making you feel." Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself nearing your climax, reaching between your legs with your free hand to rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

"Fuckin' hell," Johnny slowed his thrusts as he felt your walls clenched around him as you came, arms wrapping around the back of his neck. He groaned into the crook of your neck; you thought he was about to cum but he didn't. He gave you a languid kiss, before slowly pulling out of you," Want you to ride me."

His hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you up with him as he laid on his back. You blushed slightly as you swung a leg over his waist, reaching down to guide his tip through your folds, sinking down on him slowly. Johnny grinned up at you as you swivelled your hips, his cock digging into your g-spot. "Shit," You cried, placing your palms on his chest as you began to thrust down onto him. He bit his lip with a smirk, hands smoothing down to grasp your ass as he watched your tits bounce. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a heated kiss; he thrusted up into you, smiling as you moaned into his mouth.

"Cum for me, gorgeous," Johnny's length twitched inside of you as you tried to meet his thrusts," Come on, make me cum." He cooed, groaning as he felt your walls tighten around him, your hips stalling against his. His arms wound around you tightly as he came, hugging you to his chest.

You lifted your hips off him, rolling to lay beside him as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. You turned your head, meeting his adoring gaze with a smile, turning to cuddle into his side. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, arm wrapping around your form, holding you to him.

"So...I take it you fancy me too then, Darlin'?"

[corvusblackk]

where i shifted to last night

(i used this method.)

about this dr:

i call it ‘futuristic dr’, i got inspiration from one of my favourite asmr lol, it’s this one if you’re curious.

when i woke up:

it was still night and it was raining outside, and it was strange because it was coming from my right side and I have the window above me in void reality, then I could smell a different type of scent like orange, but I kept my eyes closed because I was tired. at some point however, I don't know how much time passed, I felt a weight on my chest and a slap on my face that made me open my eyes and I found THIS BALD CAT (don’t get me wrong, i love sphynx cats) on me and it started meowing. I was weirded out because I was saying what the fuck does this guy want at this time of the night, so I got up to feed him and at that point I realized "what the, I don't have a sphynx" so I connected the dots, in fact it wasn’t even my house, that is, it wasn't my CR's, and I wasn't me, because I was fucking tall and when I complained about the cat I heard a low damn manly voice so yeah i was like that ain’t enea. since it was night, i had the time to recollect everything and remember. the house was very cool, a small apartment with big windows on each wall to the sight of skyscrapers and damn flying cars. it was chill.

about me and other stuff:

my name was Neo, a very tall 27 years old guy, I'm not sure how much tall, maybe 1.90m or something like that, literally a pole. I had very pale skin and short black hair, visible veins on my eyelids and temples, brown eyes with some big dark circles because of my job shifts. I was pretty introverted and doubtful of ppl, but very independent and mature, intellect and cleverness was a big trait i had (in fact coming back here with this small brain was a bit ehm) and I've noticed that I caught lots of stares from many beautiful women (i’m just telling you, even tho nobody asked about this detail, i was just very hot ngl, in fact my appearance was similar to the picture above, that’s the closest i found). and I had this bad habit of smoking every day, like as soon as I woke up I immediately smoked cigarette (i don’t smoke here). i had this long black leather coat that i wore everyday.

I worked as a bartender at this chic flying hotel called Hotel 47, a subunit of the Skyward Heights chain (like in the asmr). I worked the night shift, from 10pm to 4am, in fact I basically sleep until the afternoon and am always tired and sleepy.

I owned a flying black motorcycle with some silver and blue trims. I've only bought it recently, beforehand I had a smaller one that I practically grew up with, I bought this new one with my savings since my job pays me decently. I'm not super rich, but I'm good, I can afford everything I need easily.

I didn’t have many friends because of my stick-up-in-ass personality, but I had some good close ones that were very different from me. there was this guy with yellow spiked hair and he was literally the opposite of me, he was high-key hyperactive and dumb (/jk) and the other guy was funny, he made me laugh a lot gotta admit. and then there was this girl, similar to the one in the video, with long pink hair, and there was something going on with her, don’t know how to call us, but there was something indeed (which was weird because i’m hella gay here hello???).

and that’s some info about this dr, i have to eat dinner now.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

oh yeah i saw your reblog of togami fun fact and i think i followed you because you chew on him so well. do you have posts of your thoughts on togami's backstory? (you can answer privately btw)

i straight up don't remember if i've ever posted in length about my byakuya backstory headcanons (if i ever did they'd be catalogued under '#my thoughts' probably, that's the tag i use for my fandom posts) but! just for you i will list a few that i have off of the top of my head

i liked the concept of the togami novel and ended up perceiving the heir struggle as like. not a necessarily organized competition (what with heir prospectives trying to assassinate each other or otherwise blackmail, threaten, or force each other out of the running) but more a survival challenge with occasional tests of cleverness, strength, etc. and byakuya managed to win by manipulation and sheer force of will, and doing things that might be considered 'underhanded' or 'shameful' (see: polaris p polanski) -> testament to ambition

byakuya says something cringe in thh like 'im perfect in every way. wits, ability, and body' which always pissed me off but as a result i ended up seeing him as like. above average in athletics, maybe good agility and reaction time? and capable of self-defense, but definitely nowhere near professional levels, and not in a way that's obvious from looking at him

re: physical ability and 'perfection', i don't think he's an 'ultimate' anything aside from 'ultimate progeny'. like he's not the ultimate stock-broker or the ultimate viola-player, but he can do both things pretty well. more of a jack-of-all-trades master-of-none kind of talent. maybe that eats at him a little, the fact that he won't ever be truly outstanding in one single field until he becomes togami head

also re: physical ability, he gets his blue eyes from his mother's side, so he's more sensitive to light. but his mild near-sightedness and need for corrective lenses is from his father's side. he doesn't know this though, so he blames his mother's genetic for all of it

he was planning to get lasik after becoming head of the family but. well. lol

he's half-french. his mother is french. i dont think ive ever posted about mamagami but ive definitely made mention of her in my fic, though at this point she's more of an oc than anything since there's like, no canon info about her at all. but she's a french sculptor who did not want a child and does not want any relation to the togami family other than having them as like. art clients. a cool lady very dedicated to her profession and could have been the ultimate sculptor, but kind of a emotionally neglectful mother ngl

there probably is some more canon info on papagami , aka kijo togami's character but i haven't really bothered looking for it. instead i made him into a sad little man who kind of hates his role as togami head and would've preferred a more mundane life (like as an architect - i actually did make a post about this somewhere), but he won his generation's heir competition because he felt like he had to, not because he necessarily wanted to. for reasons yet unsaid

byakuya spent the first part of his vulnerable youth being emotionally neglected at his mother's villa/art studio in france (hence the bilingualism hinted in the canon). when he left to join the heir competition after one too many assassination attempts he got one of his mom's business partners and former exes (a guy named 'polanski') to shelter him

byakuya's impressions of his parents: his mom sucks (fair i suppose) and his dad lacks real ambition and isn't suited to his role. or at least, he could be surpassed very easily. byakuya plans to make himself the greatest heir ever seen because of his shit parent combo

byakuya's known pennyworth the butler since birth. i have this idea that each togami kid gets just one togami family servant to help shape them into their roles. pennyworth happens to be the oldest of the roster but also the most experienced, and is kind of a shifty old man (i.e: very cunning and more loyal to the family than the child he's been assigned to, though that changes as byakuya gets older)

byakuya's also probably a girl and bisexual but he''s trying to take over the world through his shitty family's conglomerate and then survive a murder game apocalypse so she doesn't really care about that rn

[tipsynight0]

In the dark he finds her

Paring: Eyeless jack x female reader

Trigger warning - blood, stitches, hunting of people. Ngl mostly fluff honestly <3

Word count - 750

synopsis - (y/n) falls in the mud and needs stitches

Authors note: first time actually writing Jack, I love this man and I just wanted to give you guys some fluff so enjoy <33

The forest floor was treacherous, slick with mud as the autumn rain fell harder, drumming against the canopy of trees. Crisp, damp leaves littered the ground, masking the sharp rocks and roots beneath. Those leaves, innocent as they seemed, had nearly taken Y/N out a few times during their hunt. It was a game they often played—hunter and prey—but tonight, the game felt more intense, the stakes higher.

Y/N and Jack had tried to establish some rules before venturing out beyond the mansion's tree line, but the thrill always led them to push boundaries. Jack, though blind, was far from disadvantaged. His other senses compensated, his awareness sharp. His concern for Y/N's safety was the only thing that made him hesitant. The mansion was a place they had to guard from accidental intruders, and passing time like this made the nights a little less lonely.

The faint scent of vanilla and lavender perfume clung to the air, guiding Jack toward Y/N. She thought she was clever, hiding behind a tree trunk, her breath shallow as she tried to remain unseen. Jack’s lips curled under his mask. He didn’t want to catch her just yet. No, he wanted her to believe she’d outsmarted him.

His fingers adjusted the mask on his face, the blue plastic cold and damp from the rain. He moved silently, stalking, then pounced, grabbing what he thought was Y/N—only to find himself clutching her hoodie. His sharp, furrowed brow creased under the mask as he realized she’d slipped away. Smart. Very smart.

"Got you!" Y/N's triumphant voice pierced the quiet as she lunged from behind him, tackling Jack with a gleeful laugh. Her laughter echoed in the clearing, and Jack’s strong arms instinctively wrapped around her waist as she peppered kisses against the cold surface of his mask. Her joy was infectious.

“You’re getting better at this,” Jack rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. Despite the game, there was pride in his tone. He reached up, wiping raindrops from her forehead with surprising tenderness.

“Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold,” Jack said, already planning to escort her back to safety. But Y/N had other plans, her mischievous grin widening.

“First one to the porch wins!” she declared, taking off at full speed through the mud. Jack’s lips twitched into what could almost be called a smile under his mask. He loved the chase, the adrenaline coursing through him as he pursued her.

Y/N’s breath quickened, her shoes struggling against the slippery terrain. She nearly made it when—crash—her feet gave way, and she fell hard. Sharp rocks scraped her arm, tearing through her skin as she winced in pain.

The metallic scent of blood hit Jack’s nose, and within seconds, he was beside her, concern lacing his voice. “Jesus Christ, Y/N. You need to be more careful.”

Jack’s hands were careful as they trailed up her arm, his fingers skimming the soaked sleeve until they found the gash. It was deep, deep enough to need stitches. His nostrils flared with the scent of her blood, but he pushed the hunger back. She was more important. With a quiet growl, he helped her to her feet and they made their way back to the mansion, rain still falling in heavy sheets around them.

Once inside, Jack guided her to his room, where the familiar scent of medical supplies mixed with the musky wood of the walls. His fingers quickly found his kit, the motions practiced, though he couldn’t see. Y/N sat on the bed, watching him silently as he prepared the needle and thread, cleaning them with alcohol.

“Next time, try not to make me worry so much,” he said, his voice softer now as he sat beside her, resting her forearm on his lap. His touch was surprisingly gentle, careful not to cause her any more pain as his fingers traced over the wound, feeling for where the skin had split.

His fingers guided the needle, stitching the wound with an almost eerie precision. Though he couldn’t see the wound, Jack felt every slight twitch of Y/N’s muscles as she tensed under his touch.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” Jack murmured, his gravelly voice low and comforting as he neared the last stitch. “Almost done.”

He tied the thread, securing the final knot. With a tenderness few would expect from him, Jack lowered his head, licking the now-sealed wound gently. His lips brushed against her arm in a lingering kiss, sealing the moment with something more intimate than words.

[primopinku]

Hello! First off, your work is gorgeous! Secondly, If you’re still taking sketch ideas, could you maybe do a few of Astarion saying some sassy things about the other famous DnD vampires? (Strahd and his brides, Union of Eclipses, Kanchelsis, etc.) I’m still laughing about him making a comment in the game about Strahd.

Aw thank you!! Also I love that comment as well! def one of my favorites of the game. Here are some good ol' fashion pencil an paper sketches I did. Ngl the hardest part of this was trying to come up with and fitting lines in. Seeing as 1. I'm not really funny or clever lol and 2. DnD def needs to expand more on vampire lore imo.

"I like to think I'd make a better God than.. let's say., Kanchelsis. All that power squandered just to play king rake"

"... Well I want a seat on The Union of Eclipses, but we don't get what we want do we hmm?"

(whispering or thinking) "I wonder if this is how Escher felt.."

(This last one was a specific scene I pictured if your Tav/Durge etc was smooching everybody else but him.)

[melrosing]

ngl jace's feelings kinda came out of nowhere cuz like in s1 he seemed to understand harwin was his biodad and reassured luke that it didn't matter what people said about them, but suddenly he's furious with rhaenyra and is insecure? i know the watsonian explanation is they needed him to hate the dragonseeds for whatever reason but there was absolutely nothing indicating jace ever had these insecurities. he had only been frustrated with rhaenyra coddling him. what gives?

I think it would’ve been fine if in peacetime where his inheritance feels like some distant thing he puts it to the back of his mind and yet in wartime it feels urgent and disturbing and consumes his thoughts, but I do feel they failed to show the journey between point A and point B. the problem w hotd s2 for me has been they haven’t really been showing effective character or plot development, there’s a lot of telling and not a lot of showing and it doesn’t make up for all the times the characters have felt static and unresponsive to the situations surrounding them. and Jace is v symptomatic of that imo. they are trying which is more than I can say for D&D who thought skipping over character development was a clever sleight of hand so that when the character did something wildly OOC they could say ‘aren’t you surprised!!’

but I think the hotd team have one thing really working against them here and that is that the source material requires them to make shit up, and so naturally results in audiences drawing contrast with GRRM’s own character craft in his main series. in F&B the characters largely lack arcs or interiority, and it’s meant to read like a history rather than a story, so the hotd team don’t have the character templates that D&D did (and still managed to fuck up lol) and lack a plot with appropriate arcs and beats. so they have to change a lot. but ASOIAF is known for its remarkable character work and plot twists and GRRM is a generational talent and you’d need some pretty strong writers to pull off something that measures up or even comes close. and I think the craft has been way off this season so. now we have characters like Jace who just feel like every interesting thing about them has come too late and underwritten at that

[siflshonen]

Hi, I love your analyses and your fics! 💕Especially that Eureka Seven AU man ngl it lives in my head and starts playing in my local theaters every other night at 2 AM, but *clears throat* I'm getting off topic lol :D do you have a bakudeku fic/authors rec list?

I'm honored you read the Eureka Seven one!

Good Bakudeku authors... the truth is, there are SO MANY. Just in general, and so many that are really, truly excellent. I have begun consuming more and more fic lately as I feel the itch of the subtext of what's happening in the manga rapidly becoming text and just plain consuming me, but many of the individual stories I've read can be GREAT as a story but perhaps not so great as a canon-faithful representation of Bakudeku - so I'm not entirely sure what kind of Bakudeku you're asking for ("fun and good story" versus "horny vignette" versus "that's totally Katsuki and Izuku.")

Also, like, for several of these authors, their Bakudeku portrayals evolved as the series progressed and we all learned more about these characters and the varnish of what BNHA pretends to be (superhero stock shonen!) peeled off to show what it actually is (The newest generation of something that should never have been domesticated now outgrowing the limits of the modern genre.) This is always good to keep in mind when looking at the dates of each work published.

Um, it's hard to pick just a few, and even harder when there's no specific direction about what TYPE. So here's a scattershot off the top of my head:

Me. My work. Read Mundane Crimes, Public Displays of Affection and I Want What I Don't Deserve. Those actually have some substance to them. The rest are kind of whatever, but you may still find them fun.

Kickass AUs and All-Rounders

chymerical is my favorite author on this list. They can do anything. I care about sports now because of chymerical. There's your fuckin' fadeaway.

young_crone - some are truly Bakudeku and some are just great stories that are using familiar names. Read all of 'em.

SmartiMart - Variant Edition is a sweeping epic and fascinating enough that the Bakudeku isn't actually its primary draw for me. Please also read Where in the World is Marigold? It's not Bakudeku, but I love it. SmartiMart is clever, inventive, and sometimes so much of a romantic that it makes me go, "woah, now! That's a bit much!" but in the best way.

iphido - this author has only one work for bakudeku, and it is worth it.

nicc - bite-sized sweet scenes, though many are very NSFW. Consistently excellent.

pikahlua - Dragonheart. this is your kick in the pants to finish those scenes, Pika.

Romantic Comedies

qodqodqod - Cringe comedy where love always, always, always prevails and bakudeku can't out-stupid their way out of it. Great job of not making the miscommunication, or lack of communication, a bore or overdone past what it needs to be.

heartsinhay - the cringe comedies are named that for a reason.

Darker Stuff

rironomind - apparently published something new earlier this year and I missed it??? DAMN! Existential, experimental, melancholic, high concept, fantastic. Rom's work is mostly in this category because it tends to throw curveballs at the reader. This is the category that just felt the most right by its vibes.

bkdkink - Lemonhead specifically.

Roadtripwithlucifer (read their new stuff too) - horny, but focused and full, full, full of ennui and anger and love and grief. It's the confidence of handling the last four that makes these works shine.

Surveycorpsjean - hit or miss for me personally, but always well done.

majjale - always great work; sometimes hit-or-miss for me personally on the bakudeku.

[batsplat]

omgg i started following you because i loved your motogp posts and i did not expect to get emotionally attacked about my tennis fave like this. you've lit expressed everything ive felt abt tennis lately like daniil's return game has developed so well these last few years if only his shoulders were still functional he wld be soo unstoppable (i remember like last 2 year-ish when his serve suddenly went to shit and i was like wtf is going on?? but then it turned out his shoulders don' work anymore😭😭😭) ngl i did not expect him to make it to the ao finals this yr at all but then he did and i started getting hope again and then well uk what happened next... (i actually went to bed when he was up 2 sets because i alrdy had premonitions for what was abt to happen and i didnt need that experience twice 😭) anyways i finally quit watching the men's tour reguarly middle of this yr-ish because mostly because my biggest opp started winning big tournanments/slams consistently and i cld not take it anymore (part of why i got into motogp ig, i needed a new thing to fill in the hole)

also ur thing being having to be the chosen one in men's tennis is soo true but i wld argue it cld even be broadened down to being in the chosen generation... every 90s born player doomed to be seen as the weak links of the sport, both forever destined to be surpassed by those who came before and those who came after...

anyways mostly i also just wanted to thank you for writing all your super information motogp posts!! not only is ur writing style super informative/consistent, all the topics u've written abt feel super unique like i doubt i wld ever randomly stumble elsewhere. i'm not that good w/ words so idk how to fully express my appreciation, but your posts are the main reason i started delving into more past motogp races and interviews instead of just sticking to current ones which has 1000% made my experience of becoming a motogp fan more enjoyable!

🥺🥺 such a nice ask from a fellow sufferer... I actually tried to sleep in for the ao final and managed for like. maybe a set. it's so funny to have a whole fanbase quite literally begging their player not to go up two sets to love, zero hindsight needed I was HORRIFIED by that second set going his way... especially since I noticed the balance of play in the actual games had changed and meddy wasn't winning any return points anymore, just relying on an earlier break to seal that set iirc. and then I started going for increasingly desperate tactics to distract myself when the inevitable happened in the next three sets (including rewatching marc marquez: all in, it was rough man, like I get what you're saying about getting into motogp to escape because generally I too have fled to this sport whenever tennis has most been pissing me off)

and obviously that final was very trauma flashbacks to my definitive sports trauma, a match I'm STILL not over and at this rate have accepted I'll be miserable about until the day I die. but this time I couldn't even BLAME him because it was an insane effort to even get to the final, he'd done such a fantastic job given his tennis really wasn't there at the start of the tournament, he just kept figuring out ways to win... the hurkacz match where he basically ran out of fuel in the fourth, that crazy semifinal where he just refused to know when he was beaten, and then taking two sets off sinner in that final!! the resilience and the grit but also the tactical acumen, like my god when he blindsided hurkacz by radically altering his return position RIGHT AFTER doing that post-match back-and-forth with courier where he explained in detail why he favoured his regular return position. the cleverness and the bravery he showed in clutch points in that semi, something that zverev is completely incapable of (monte carlo 2023 still lives rent free lol), like the psychology of that match slapped. how he took it so sinner, completely caught him off guard by mixing up his game, and it was WORKING. really managed to change the dynamic of that match up... he lost that match first and foremost in his legs. just so cruel after everything. we had the guy who easily disposed of an admittedly rubbish djokovic in the semis on the ropes. and it still. was. not. fucking. enough. one of the best slam final runs in recent memory and it still wasn't enough!! he's already far outperformed what he SHOULD have been capable of in his career and somehow he keeps developing a game style which should have plateaued ages ago and I have so much respect for the work him and gilles have done post-2022... and he really should have more to show for it

anyway yeah I remember the serve decline in 2022, back when I was really in the weeds with analysing meddy's game. and that was also the year it felt like his legs completely deserted him. his deciding set record that year was horrific after ao, very rarely even got it that far win or lose and when he did so almost always lost (karatsev was cramping, let's not talk about the other third set win)

scorelines from the tour finals genuine miracle i did not throw myself into the sea

only one four set match post-ao and he also lost that, incidentally. and obviously that was partly because his brain was fucked, BUT I also wondered whether it was the aftereffects of the hernia operation that year affecting both the physicality and the serve. and I can't remember if he confirmed that anywhere but the theory's certainly cottoned on to help explain the serve decline, even if his endurance obviously has massively improved again. and then add in the shoulder... it's so brutal because it used to be such a key pillar to his game, like the whole magic was tied together by being able to whizz through his own service games while making his opponent's return games hellish

and like,, the thing I really admire about him is that there was a period in 2022 where it did feel like he'd been 'figured out', like there was increasingly a game plan that could be used against him. serve and volley, etc etc. but to some extent, he's managed to resist just being written off when facing elite competition BECAUSE he keeps coming up with ways to throw his opponents off-balance. what he's been doing this year, for all that it hasn't gotten him great results, has been so much fun to watch - really reminded me of his summer/autumn 2019 stretch where he'd played so much he should've constantly been at risk of keeling over of exhaustion but adapted to it by just becoming a completely different player. wawrinka uso 2019 match still goes crazyyyy, one of his most underrated performances. serve and volley in the uso 2019 final I wanna run to u. it's such a wonderfully unique game that's frankensteining all these unique parts together that all sort of shouldn't work but all sort of do, harnessed and constantly reinvented by (let's face it) the smartest top player currently in the game. and it really does piss me off that he hasn't been rewarded more. he's been the best of the rest since 2019, he's absolutely maximised his game for someone who doesn't have that stratospheric big three-level of talent and I WANT it to actually matter. but men's tennis will always see talent triumphing over guile I fear, and meddy has consistently been a victim of poor timing

and yeah, the generational aspect is true, where the entire ''''''''nextgen''''''''' cohort has essentially been doomed - partly because they just weren't good enough, but partly because they arrived at just the right time window to still be thoroughly traumatised by the big three without getting any kind of a break before the next super talents showed up. until 2022 I really did naively believe we were getting a chaos era of SOME kind until that decrepit spanish ghoul showed up in australia to trample all over my soul and give me depression, and then immediately another bloody spaniard started going at it. how can you not be a little bit bitter that alcaraz got to swan to his first slam title without having to face a single member of the big three? idk man like sometimes it really is the magic of sports that the anointed few don't just have talent on their side, they are also fantastically lucky. you see it with how the big three all secured their first slams... things just seem to work out somehow. infuriating and existentially horrifying

anyway. lol. as you can see I do always have a tennis rant in me. will always be a major part of my life, obviously something I have a far far better understanding of than any other sport, still keep up with the women's game fairly closely... where icl it helps that the players I'm most invested in have dropped off SO badly this year, partly due to injury, that I can merrily ignore their existence. plus, and this bit is crucial, I don't loathe the players who actually win things. so I'm in a happy place where I just enjoy the sport and (if anything) want Certain top players to do better than they currently are... but also don't lose any sleep over the results. like, have I been massively frustrated with iga this year? yes, but it's also not made me stare at a wall for five hours. also, it's just been a way better product than this predictable basher servebot shit from the men. women's wimbledon semi day THE best tennis day of the year, prove me wrong. they've had actual classic matches, which the men have been noticeably short on. just sort of been an odd season for the men, with djokovic shrivelling and alcaraz patchy outside of two slams and sinner doing his whole 'I'm not a cardboard cut out I'm a REAL boy' routine on his way to fifty hard court titles and everyone else irrelevant. as I've already said... it's fine. whatever. hope the sport enjoys fifty thousand alcaraz/sinner slam wins as the earth keeps turning around the sun and eventually we all turn to dust. it's fine

and seriously, thank you for everything in the ask... always happy to hear I've made someone's fan experience like. better. and that I add something a little bit different to the mix lol, also literally no compliment I like to read more than anything to do with my actual writing. because this ask was so lovely, here's my personal favourite moment as a tennis fan this year:

still think that australian open title should be restored to us

[xcrowfeathersx]

A’ight. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Let’s talk; I enjoyed it. Screw it, yeah it has pacing issues which were mildly irksome for me. Also it doesn’t take itself seriously but that works for a film like this. You’re not supposed to take it too seriously either, let’s be real. Ahem, spoilers under the cut.

I love the way they got around the issue of Charles’ actor, Mr. Rightfully Not Appearing In This Movie, without recasting the character or just having him be inexplicably gone. The way they showed the flashback using stop motion, again avoiding using the actor, was so on brand for the film and clever.

Keaton carried this whole damn thing on his probably very aching back, every scene with him was a delight. It’s not often films actually make me laugh out loud literally but I was having to stifle quiet laughter fairly frequently. Such a delightful character still to this day who you can’t help but love even if rightfully you should be repulsed by him.

Yeah, some jokes are lowbrow and corny but man that’s Beetlejuice and if you don’t dig it this film was prolly not for you ngl. Dont watch the first one if you’re new to the character and the humour here didn’t hit.

Back to pacing issues; too many subplots, two major plots and not enough time for it all. They should have picked one main plot imo, especially if they were gonna have a lot of little side stories in there too.

The main antagonists were very nothing imo. It’s a good thing most people came for Beetlejuice, rather than them. Delores had a lot of potential, I just wish she got more screen time bruh.

Willem Dafoe looked like he was improvising a lot, and even if his character felt unnecessary honestly it was hard not to enjoy his scenes bc Dafoe just looked like he was having a blast every damn moment he was on screen.

This is long man I’m just really passionate about this character and the original film A’ight.

All in all I had fun with it and enjoyed it but then I’m kinda the target for the film; old and nostalgic af for the original, and just excited to see more Beej. If you’re not that demographic, if you can put aside serious analysis of the film and just enjoy it for the cheesy, funny, insane ride it is you’ll have fun… otherwise it’s prolly not gonna land at all ngl.

Personally it punched me in the left kidney with nostalgia and I was grinning through it like a deranged cryptid.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

I miss GoT. Hell, I even miss s1 of HotD. It wasn't perfect, but it had some meat. Idk what this is. One thing is sure, I felt sorry for Rhaenyra in the book, but I can't wait for her boring af whitewashed show version to die. If she dies, that is, maybe that was also green propaganda. Her scenes literally take more than a half of every episode and I'm tired of it. Also, did we really need that Alicent scene at all? Yes, it was beautifully filmed, but it felt out of place and just unnecessarily took the screentime. And why is the queen mother practically alone in the woods during the war? Why is Vermithor Rhaenyra's dog? Maybe she could have ridden him instead of Syrax since she is a dragon whisperer? Will her cruelty during the sowing be mentioned again and haunt the narrative like the dead ratcatchers have been since ep 2? I guess it's cool when she does it. Anyway, the only good things were Oscar Tully vs daemon, a few seconds of Vhagar and Silverwing's design. Oh, and Jace. I felt sorry for him, ngl. Can't wait for the whole dragonseed thing to bite rhae in the ass. I would bet though that Hugh will only betray her because the greens will kidnap his wife or something. He would never do it otherwise, he's too honorable. Honorable Hugh Hammer, jaehaerys' grandson:D

P. S.

Saera was evil, idc what anyone says, no bad parenting can justify her treatment of Daella, the jester Tom and her own friends. To blame it all on Jaehaerys "misogyny" is ridiculous and oversimplified. I guess Condal and Co stuck it to the old king with having Hugh claim vermithor. Impressive 🙄

Good day/night to you!

I really miss season 1 as well. At least then we had, as you said, some meat - and hopes for a better future.

I am also with you on the matter of so many things being random - and because of this losing the impact they could have had. Alicent enjoying nature - true, beautiful but misplaced (and dragged out). The claiming of Vermithor - potentially cool but also dragged out. And the worst thing is that we get this unnecessarily long sequences at the expense of actual development for some characters.

And Hugh being Saera's son (never liked her either btw) indeed seems like one more point for "team feminism". Especially with Condal practically gushing about it to Kieran Bew. I bet he (the former) feels so clever.

P.S. Young Tully truly slayed, not gonna lie:) But overall I felt like the Harrenhal scene was too long as well.