#real talk though i wonder if it’s because i already have an account and the website is just shitting itself

[marshmellowtea]

why are you not letting me create an account 🙃

[ellecdc]

Can I request a Remus Lupin x single mum!reader fic please where they're best friends, completely in love with each other and remus is practically acting as your child's father, and while everyone around you know this, you and remus have no idea. Thank you 💝

I actually had a lot of fun with this one, thank you for the prompt! I hope I did it justice <3

Remus Lupin x single mum!reader who's maybe not as single a mum as she thought [1.8k words]

p1 | p2

CW: kid fic, reader and remus are oblivious, fluffy and hopeful ending

“Moony!” 

The little girl’s squeals brought an instant smile to Remus’ face, and in record time he was crouched down with his arms open wide as she collided into his chest with an ‘oomph’.

“There’s my girl!” He cheered, stamping a kiss to her head. “How are you, cariad?” 

“Mummy said if I was good, maybe we could have a sleepover?” Isla asked, folding her hands under her chin and tilting her head at Remus in a way he knew he’d never say no to, though hoped to all hell she never figured out.

“Well that should be easy, yeah? You’re always good!” He replied, earning him more excited squeals before she went running into the living room to play with Harry and Luna.

“Cut the shit, Lupin.” You muttered fondly as you hung your daughter’s jacket as well as your own, shooting him a wink.

“You cut the shit; claiming my girl is anything short of perfectly well behaved always.” He volleyed, quickly accepting your friendly peck on the corner of his mouth before you moved around the room to do the same to the others. 

“Oh yeah,” you muttered dryly, “she’s real perfect when she throws a fit in the middle of the frozen section at the shops because I deigned to tell her we had ice cream at home already.”

“No, again?” Remus tsked. “She must have just been having an off day - growth spurt, perhaps?”

“Yeah there’s gotta be an excuse, Trouble, Isla’s perfect.” Sirius called, shooting Remus a playful smirk from his seat across the table. “Moony raised her well.” 

“Like we should expect anything less of Remus’ daughter, yeah?” James agreed, earning a round of laughter from the table. 

You rolled your eyes  at the usual teasing with a shake of your head as you sat down, though Remus thought he noticed a small look of bashfulness cross your face as you refused to look at him. 

“I can’t take any credit; she is her mother’s daughter.” Remus argued. 

“S’probably why you like her so much.” Lily taunted as she brought the drink in her hand to her lips. 

“Who?” You and Remus parroted, both smiling shyly at the other. 

Regulus snorted. “Take your pick.” 

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Remus finally demanded, looking around at his friend skeptically. “What are you all on about?” 

“Cut the shit, Lupin.” Sirius taunted, echoing your earlier sentiments. “The two of you are practically a married couple coparenting that kid. The only thing either of you fail to do is admit how terribly in love with each other you are.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You offered primly, crossing both your arms and your legs as you leaned back in your seat and looked at Sirius defiantly. 

“No? How often do you and Remus have sleepovers?”

“Remus and Isla have sleepovers.” You corrected.

“And where do you sleep on these ‘Isla Moony’ sleepovers, hm?” James queried, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Is it, perhaps, in Moony’s arms?” Sirius continued when you refused to provide an answer.

“That was one time.” Remus argued then, accounting for the time that you and Remus had fallen asleep in each other’s arms on the sofa after putting Isla to bed, only to be found the following morning by Sirius who showed up wondering why the sod wasn’t answering his texts. 

Sirius made a ‘hm, kay’ sound that sounded nothing short of disbelieving as he shared a look with James that screamed ‘can you believe this guy?’ 

It’s not that Remus didn’t love you or your daughter with his entire being. But it's never what you had needed from him; it’s not what you needed him to be.

You’d found out you were expecting and the father [or, as Remus referred to him, the donor] wasn’t interested in being involved, and you needed a friend; Remus was that for you. 

He helped you move into your own place, but so did Sirius and Lily. They all threw you a baby shower. They all took turns helping you once Isla was born, though Remus admittedly ended up taking more “shifts” once you healed and formed a schedule with the wee bairn, but that was only because James and Lily had their own, and Remus had the most flexibility with his job. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

But he did sort of love you and Isla. He loved your determination and perseverance. He loved that you were ready and capable to do it on your own but were also willing to accept help from the people who cared about you, and did so with no shortage of grace. He loved the way you were steadfast in your mission to ensure your daughter was surrounded by no shortage of love. He loved how you managed to lead with kindness always but never hesitated to put any of them in their place when they needed it. He also loved your eyes and your smile and your hugs and the sound of your voice. But he mostly loved the way your eyes fell soft when they looked at him, or how your smile seemed to widen whenever you caught him smiling back, or how you seemed to put an impossible amount of yourself into your hugs when you could tell he needed to be held just a little tighter, just a little longer, and he loved the sound of your voice the most when it was directed at him. 

He loved that Isla was completely and utterly you, from the way she looked to the way she spoke. She was your little doppelganger through and through, but he also loved getting to watch your little mini-me grow and develop into her own little person, too. He loved learning her opinions and preferences, he loved watching her interact and play and even fight with Harry and Luna. He loved getting to teach her how to read, he loved gently rocking her to sleep every night as a babe whilst he read Goodnight Moon. He loved that - though he didn’t name her - she named him; Moony. 

But had he really been so obvious? This entire time? 

“Whatever you guys say.” Sirius relented as he raised his hands up in mock surrender. “But the longer you two hold out, the more money you all make me.”

“You bet on us?!” You and Remus chorused again, and Regulus actually let out an inelegant bark of laughter at that.

“Christ, the two of you are so predictable.” Lily giggled as she stood to go see what the squabbling among the kids was about in the next room.

“Yup.” James agreed shamelessly. “Peter bet that by Isla’s first birthday that the two of you would have at the very least been living together already.” 

“Marlene bet that the next pregnancy announcement would be Y/N’s, and that you’d have been the father.” Sirius continued, and you choked on the sip of water you’d just taken just for something to do.

“Fuck off, the lot of you.” Remus muttered as he pulled you over to him by the leg of your chair before rubbing on your back consolingly until the coughing passed. “You’re gonna kill the girl.” 

“Can’t have that.” Regulus smirked, turning his body preemptively when he heard little feet padding their way over to him, though he kept his mirthful gaze pointed at Remus. “I bet that you’d be official by the end of the year.”

“It’s December already.” You guffawed, and Sirius shrugged his shoulders.

“We still have 25 days.” He replied breezily. 

“I told him he’s not s’posed to shove.” Luna tattled as she climbed onto her godfather’s lap, causing James to sigh a tired “uh oh” as Lily came into the room with a teary Isla on her hip and a little hand in her free one attached to a rather contrite looking Harry.

“What happened, lovie?” You cooed at your upset daughter, though Lily responded first. 

“Why don’t you tell them what you told Auntie Lily in the living room, hm?” Lily asked Isla whilst keeping a somewhat predatory gaze locked on you. 

“I- I want my… my Moony.” Isla whimpered before breaking out into a sob, and Remus thought his heart might have actually split in two. 

“Well for Christ’s sake, Red, give her to her Moony, then.” Sirius scolded, looking between Remus’ outstretched arms ready to embrace the child and Lily’s teasing smile with furrowed brows. “S’even breaking my heart.” 

Isla wasted no time in tucking herself underneath Remus’ chin as he cradled her to his chest, leaning his cheek against the crown of her head as he looked at you. 

You held his gaze. 

“Haz, my man, what happened?” James asked his son.

“I’m sorry…” Harry pouted from his fathers lap. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“We’ve talked about this, yeah? You cannot shove or push; I know you get excited, mate, but we don’t want to hurt our friends.”

“M’sorry.” The boy repeated.

“Did you say sorry to Isla?” James asked, even though Lily was nodding from her place where she reclaimed her vacated seat. Harry nodded too. “Should we maybe apologise again? Offer her a hug, too?”

Harry agreed and jumped down to stand beside Remus. “M’sorry, Isla. I shouldn’t have shoved you.” 

“That’s a good lad; good apologising. What do you say, lovie?” Remus asked Isla who sniffled, looking up at Remus for guidance before she nodded and accepted a hug from the little boy. 

Appeased, the three kids went back to playing under the promise that there would absolutely be no more shoving.

“See, if she had been my kid, she probably would have shoved him right back. But no, of course Moony’s kid would be lovely and sweet and forgiving.” 

“Alright you know what?” You started with a good natured smile on your face as you stood; moving to the bar behind you to pour yourself a drink and sharing a lifted eyebrow with Remus before pouring one for him too. “You’re all a bunch of tossers.” 

“Listen, if you want me to raise your next one, just say the word, Trouble.” Sirius laughed. “But it seems like you and Remus have that all sorted out.” 

You didn’t grace Sirius with a response, but as Remus went to accept the glass you’d poured for him, you held onto it a moment longer, murmuring something that sounded an awful lot like ‘yeah, I think we do.’ 

There was going to be a lot to discuss at your Isla and Moony’s sleepover tonight.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Demon Children Are Multiplying

This idea is still stuck in my head, and I might even end up writing something out of it, but for now, I just thought of something equally really, really stupid and really, really funny.

What if I combine that idea with Al Ghul Twins. I don't know how. Maybe Talia was cautious about Ra's not wanting to keep two kids for a position of Heir, or maybe she staged Danny's death, or maybe something else entirely happened. But anyway, Danny is Damian's twin.

Then, Dani is the same age as Danny in this AU. And Dan is de-aged to be the same age as both of them.

Now behold an absolute train wreck of a situation where Bruce attends a Gala hosted by Vladimir Masters. Together with Damian, of course, and maybe other batkids are there too. They all part their ways to make their rounds or whatnot. And they all keep seeing Damian wherever they go. Just everywhere.

Dick is talking to someone, and Damian walks past him, not paying him any attention. Which is not surprising, but a little rude, and, wait, wasn't he wearing a red tie? When did he change it to green one?

Tim is just going on the top floor to greet a lady he recognizes from some other event, and Damian all but storms in the opposite direction, only letting Tim catch a glimpse of his face. But when Tim turns around, he is really confused: the person running down the stairs is clearly a girl, albeit she is wearing a suit. Her long hair is up in a complicated braid. Why did he even mistake her for Damian?

But the ultimate confusion happens when Bruce is talking to Vladimir Masters, and a very familiar voice calls, "Father". Because both he and Vladimir turn to face the boy and ask, "Yes?" at the same time.

Damian is standing there, looking between Bruce and Vlad. He looks a little off somehow, but before Bruce can figure out why, the boy blinks and focuses on Vlad.

"We've been looking for you," he tells the man, and, wait, when was Damian looking for Masters? Furthermore, who is we?

But then another child comes closer. And-

That's Damian.

That's two Damians.

Wait, no, none of them are Damians.

"What is it?" Vladimir raises an eyebrow, not paying too much attention to Bruce's blanched expression.

A third child comes towards them, and this one also looks like Damian, only this one is a girl.

"Template's duplicate is here," she says, and Vlad frowns, turning to the Damian lookalike in the middle.

"Have you had another incident that I don't know of?"

Whatever answer the boy wanted to give is cut off by a n o t h e r child who looks like- no, this is real Damian, thank God, Bruce had started to wonder if the champagne was spiked with hallucinogens.

"Father-" he stops in his tracks as the three other children turn to him, and the four of them just stare at each other for a long moment. Then the one in the middle takes a sharp breath in and stage-whispers:

"Quick, do the meme!"

And all three not-Damians start pointing at each other.

Bruce is going to have an aneurysm. Judging by Vladimir's face, he is also not far from one.

Just my ramblings under the cut

I think you all know what meme I'm talking about, but I'm still gonna add it

This is so fucking hilarious to me, I'm sorry, I just can't

Danny is not missing this opportunity of a lifetime, even though Vlad specifically asked all three of them not to cause a scene. And yes, they all call Vlad "father" just for the spite of it or for shits and giggles. I'm going with Bad Fentons idea here, although I'm not sure to which degree they are bad, but anyway, Vlad is their legal guardian, and he is redeemed.

Yes, Dick took a picture. Yes, it's already in the group chat. Yes, other batkids are going wild.

Damian is greatly confused because, first, he thought there was a clone of him at the gala, but apparently, there were three of them, and second, why are they pointing at each other? Should he join them? He is under the assumption his brother is dead (he's not exactly wrong on that account), or he doesn't even know he existed.

This is as far as I got now, feel free to add anything!

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

"Told him go put my name on his account

because when I need money, I ain't tryna wait"

Sugar daddy!König x stripper reader. First time you met at the stripclub, he was so nervous to talk to you that he didn't know what to do with himself. He was dressed in a button up and slacks, perfectly tailored to his long limbs and not a wrinkle in sight. He just kept handing you 20s every couple of minutes while you talked to him, sitting on his thigh. You just kept rambling on and on about the newest outfits you've bought and your skincare routine. His jaw was clenched hard while he focused on listening to you, trying to ignore his painfully hard dick tucked up into his waistband. It made him feel so special when you gave him your number. Of course it was a fake number you gave every customer so you can let them know when you're coming to work. But he didn't know any better. He lost it when he got a text from you the following week,

"Working today! Come see me?❤️"

He didn't know you were just clicking through the list of customers on your texting app and sending the same message. He got at the club two hours before you even stepped into the changing room. He'd awkwardly shoo away other dancers away saying he was waiting for you. It was the same thing every time you worked; sitting on his thigh talking about frivolous things while he handed you 20s. He didn't even get a lap dance from you until a solid two months of coming to the club. And when it finally did happen, you could see the deep shade of red his face turned even in the dim lights. He didn't even properly say goodbye before leaving the club. Practically sprinted to his car, desperately undid his slacks and aggressively fucked his fist in the parking lot. Every detail of you vividly emblazoned in his mind despite how dark it was. Slammed his hand down his aching shaft repeatedly, imagining it was your perfect ass bouncing up and down on him. Wondered if your skin tasted as good as it smelled. He spills a hot thick load on his button up, whimpering. Staring at the ceiling of his car; he's thankful for the tinted windows on his Range Rover.

As the months went on, he would bring gifts to the club; watches, earrings, bags, even skincare products that you brought up when you first met. Your coworkers oohed and ahhed, talked about how lucky you are to have such a hot guy be your top client. How it was even better that he barely talked.

One day he timidly asks for your real name before handing you a fat stack of 20s, promising he'll keep it a secret. You were gonna tell him either way, but the money didn't hurt. You even gave him your real number. You already liked him, you were just afraid to complicate things. He promised he would keep it simple. Just let him take care of you: How could you say no?

So you went on your first date together. Met up right outside the restaurant. Both of you got a better look at each other now that you weren't in a dark club, it was so weird seeing him for the first time while not wearing a skimpy bikini. You still had the same effect on him though: the dress you wore made him so hot under the collar, he could melt right then and there. Also, he was used to you being...taller? It was probably the impossibly tall shoes you donned at work. But there you were, in normal heels (even they were high, though). He still towered over your either way. He was somehow even hotter in this light, subtle scars across his face and sleepy eyes that were accentuated by annoyingly long lashes.

You were the only people in the restaurant which was unexpected because of how popular it was. (He had bought the whole place out, of course. He just couldn't imagine being distracted by other people while trying to impress you on your first real date.) As usual, he smiled when you touched his arm or laughed at your own joke. As usual, you were the one leading the conversation. As usual, he only spoke when you asked him a question.

At the end of the date, instead of calling a cab to take you home; you asked him to drive you. Then you asked him to walk you up to your place. Then you asked him to come in for tea. Then you asked him to rail you over the kitchen island. He turned a darling shade of pink that made you giggle.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to..."

He stood awkwardly in your kitchen, shifting uncomfortably.

"No, I really want this. I promise."

You assured him, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. He swallowed hard, and blinked. He felt so guilty because he didn't want to take advantage of you. But God did he want you in a way that was downright wicked. You tugged at his collar and kissed him as he was in the middle of fighting with himself. Your lips were so soft, the softest things he ever kissed. God was it divine.

In the blink of an eye, you were leaning your elbows on the counter with your legs open. Of course he wanted get waterboard by your pussy first but you looked too fucking good bent over in that dress that hugged your curves so well. The way your heels have you standing on the balls of your feet, accentuating your legs and making your ass stick out, he was literally drooling. He slid your dress up and moaned when he saw how soaked you were. Pussy so fat it almost ate up the small thong you were wearing. He gently slid it to the side and got weak in the knees seeing your pretty lips for the first time. He quickly undid his pants, giving himself a couple tugs enjoying the way you swayed your hips. He teased his way inside, swiping his tip through your slick to lube himself up. Almost came right when he stuck his thick tip in. He didn't even slide himself all the way in; afraid to hurt you, no matter how much you begged. It took everything in him to not release until you did. He grit his teeth so hard trying to control himself he gave himself a headache. He made the sweetest moans and whimpers.

"Mein Engel, mein Engel~"

He'd repeat. It was honestly the most noise you've ever heard come from this man. He was obsessed with the way you gripped him. You looked back right into his eyes and begged for him to give you every last inch. He couldn't help himself, he slammed his hips against your ass. Knocked the wind right out of you. His fingers dug into your hips as he lost control of himself; repeatedly digging into you with his fat shaft. Every pump was a bruising kiss to your cervix. It hurt. It was heavenly. Your legs started shaking so bad your knees gave out and he held you up by the hips, just lifting you enough to make your stand on your tiptoes. Fucked you right through your orgasm; he held off for this long, might as well make the most of it. Every pump after that just sent you more into a stupor until he finished inside you, you didn't even realize you were begging for him to do that. Just dick drunk and hypnotized.

You didn't take the cash he offered before he walked out, that would make this whole moment feel transactional, cheapen the moment. You weren't having sex with him because he gave you money. You were having sex with him because you liked him, because he took care of you. And you wanted to take care of him. Oh and you knew after having sex he'd probably give you every cent in his pocket anyway.

As you closed the door you squealed to yourself , God how did you get so lucky? You were just happy wanted to get off to the real thing after touching yourself for months to the thought of him. To be honest, you've wanting to fuck him since you first met him. Saw his hard dick the very first time you were sitting on his thigh.

He paid you to take a day off, then a week off, then a monthly allowance. You quit to just get taken care by him. Never saw a bill, he just paid for it. Gave you enough money to feel secure if you ever split up. He made you an authorized user on his credit card so you could build your credit. Even with the age gap, you looked like a perfect couple walking down the street arm in arm.

Might do a more nasty part 2 LMAO

[grison-in-space]

Currently rereading Eric Flint's 1632 and reflecting on just how influential Flint was to me and my approach to both praxis and politics as a teenager. I found Flint when I was about thirteen or fourteen, around the time I found Pratchett I think, and he's left an equally wide thumbprint on my soul. Isn't that the most wonderful thing about stories, that people you've never met can help shape our adult selves? Mother of Demons I often recommend for its SFF worldbuilding--Flint built a species with at least four genders, only some of which are reproductive, and associated "normal" sexual orientations, and then proceeded to write in a textually intersex character and queer the hell out of it.

1632, though, is the one where a little West Virginia town in 2000 gets picked up and dropped in the middle of Thuringia, Germany in the eponymous year--right in the middle of the Thirty Years War. The local United Mine Workers of America chapter plays a major role, particularly its head.

As I write this I'm listening to the scene where the little town of Grantville, having admitted after a few days that they are probably not ever going home, is crowded into the high school gymnasium listening to the mayor lay that reality out and suggesting an interim council to help the town set out a sort of constitutional convention so they can work out what on earth they're going to do moving forward--especially since there's a bunch of displaced refugees collecting in the forests nearby. Sensible of them, really; the Americans murdered the shit out of the local soldiers that displaced them, on account of how the shaken mine workers that went out to figure out WTF happened not being super down with suddenly running into a bunch of fuckheads raping the locals and torturing people to find out where their valuables might be. After that, said Americans proceeded to retreat into the town boundaries and gibber quietly to themselves. I would go lurk in their woods, too.

Anyway, the mayor sets up this proposal, everyone agrees, and a CEO who was visiting for his son's wedding at the time steps forward and says: look. I know how to lead, and I'm probably the most qualified person here. I lead a major industry corporation effectively and I did that after my time as a Navy officer. I put myself forward because I'm qualified. Now, we're going to need to circle the wagons to get through the winter, tighten our belts, but we can get through this. We can't support all these refugees, though; we'll have to seal the border so they can't bring disease--they're a drain on our resources we can't afford--

and the UMWA guy, he gets really mad listening to this. There's this Sephardic refugee woman he's real taken with who got swept up in the town first thing, and she's sitting in and listening; he's thinking about throwing her out, thinking about how much she knows about the place they're found in, and he's furious. But he gets a good grip on his anger and he marches up and he says, look. This dude has been here two days and he's already talking about downsizing?! You're going to listen to this CEO talking about cuts, cuts, cuts? Nah. Trying to circle the wagons is probably impossible, it's stupid, and if you think my men and I are going to enforce that, you can fuck off. That proposal is inside out and bass ackwards. We've got about a six mile diameter of Grantville here; how much food do YOU think we're going to grow? How about the soldiers wandering around, do you think we're going to be able to fight armies off on our lonesome? Look at the few refugees we already have in the room, they'll tell you how those armies will treat you! We could do it for a while, the amount of gun nuts here, but so what? We don't have enough people to shoot them! Not if we're going to do anything else to keep us going! We have about six months of stockpiled coal to keep going, and without another source or getting the coal mines working, we're screwed. We have technical strength but we don't have the supplies or resources we would need to maintain it. Those refugees? They're resources. We need people to do the work we will need to keep ourselves. The hell with downsizing; let's grow outwards! Bring people in, give them safety, see what they can bring to the table once they've had a moment! He invokes: send us your tired, your poor!, and the CEO yells in frustration: this isn't America! so he yells back "it will be!"

And of course everyone cheers. I love Flint for many reasons but he is unapologetic about affection for the America of ideals--ideals, he freely admits, that are often honored in the breach rather than the observance, ideals that are messy and flawed, but nevertheless ideals that can work to inspire us to become the best version of ourselves. For Flint, history is as valuable as a source of stories to inspire ourselves as it is a repository of knowledge, and on this I tend to agree with him. We must learn from our moments of shame but equally we must learn from moments that show us how to be our best selves.

It's been twenty three years and the text is now an interesting historical document in its own right, hitting points and rhythms in beats that are sometimes out of place today. It's not perfect. But the novel contains a commitment to joy and to emphasizing the leaps of faith and understanding that regular, everyday people make every day to try and support each other that I routinely try to match in my writing.

Anyway, one of the strengths of the novel, I think, is its gender politics: it's a very ensemble kind of novel, lots of characters, and it's preoccupied with positive masculinity in a lot of ways. There's a lot of these hyper masculine characters--Mike Stearns perhaps more than anyone else--and--and...

... And Flint's characterization of Stearns, as he sketches out who the man is--his pivotal American leader, ex boxer, working class organizer, big man.... well, it lands equally on "he is delighted and astonished to find a local woman who quickly assesses how the cushion of air in tires works," and "he considers who to set up a Jewish refugee in the middle of Germany up with and he thinks to ask the Jewish family he grew up with to host her and her ill father because he thinks she'll be most comfortable there", and "he views people as potential assets rather than potential drains." A younger man asks him for advice on whether to pursue a professional sports career because of the boxing and he says no, you're in the worst place of not being quite good enough and you'll blow out your knees without accomplishing safety. He frames that interaction such that he allows his own experiences to make him vulnerable and invite the younger man to understand when a struggle have worth it.

It's actually a really deft portrayal of intense masculinity that also makes a virtue of a bunch of traits more usually associated with women: empathy, relational sensitivity, the ability to listen. As a blueprint for what a positive masculinity can look like, vs the toxic kind, it's very well done. I think sometimes when we look at gender roles in terms of virtues, and when masculinity is defined in terms of opposition to femininity, people get lost by arguing that virtues assigned to one gender are somehow antithetical to another gender. In fact that's never been the case: virtues are wholly neutral and can appear in any gender. What the gender does is inflect the ways we expect that virtue to appear in terms of individuals' actions within their society.

Gender isn't purely an individual trait, basically; it's a product of our collective associations. Two characters with different genders can display the same virtues and strengths, but we imagine them expressed in different ways according to our cultural expectations around gender. And I just think that's neat.

[wonysugar]

need sugarmommy wonyyyy

i need her too anon, i need ha tew..

okay but genuinely talking,, sugarmommy wonyoung would be so elegant? the rich, cold, collected and intimidating classy ceo that everyone knows and admires? yeah, that’s her. her name, jang wonyoung, would ring in your ears everytime you heard it. you’d grin just from spelling it out in your own head.

but that’s just because you admired her for other reasons.

the way you met her was truly unexpected but so very welcome though, you created an account on some local sugarmommy finding app that liz showed you a girlie’s gotta get her bag somehow. it was fairly average from the start, couple of matches here and there, but nothing really clicked.

that is, until you matched with her, of course.

you already knew who she was beforehand, which kinda made you wonder if this was the real deal? her texting habits made it clear to you, however, this was really her. she was just so eloquent with her words, so.. assertive? you felt hypnotized by simple pixels on your cellphone’s screen, your eyes slightly widening as she called you fancy nicknames like darling and sweetheart during casual conversation. she was so persuasive, you just wanted her to take complete control of your life from the get-go.

and to nobody’s surprise, that feeling just grew stronger each time you went out with her.

she’d always walk into the restaurants, expensive handbags and rings in hand, all because “coming empty-handed to a date would simply be ill-mannered of her”. hell, wonyoung even asked you which country you wanted to visit so she knew where to fly her private jet to next. she spoiled you rotten, really, and she didn’t even ask anything of you for the first few dates, and remained patient and attentive with you. she simply wanted to make you happy.

up until around 5 dates later.

she finally offered to bring you back to her mansion, after confessing that she secretly bought some lingerie she thought would suit you, and that she’d just love to see you try it on for her. yknow, a silly excuse to get you to see how big her house was.

you later figured out that her house wasn’t the only thing that was big!

this woman surprisingly had the most kinky objects in her possession, handcuffs, flogs, ropes, you name it. christian grey style, if you will. wonyoung, so composed and charming when it came to important meetings, yet so animalistic and rough when it came to sex. of course, she started slowly, asking you if you were ready for what was about happen, letting you know of a safe word, etc.

once that was done, she immediately got to work. planting rough kisses all over your body, muttering about how you were her pretty little thing and how nobody else could have you. you were hers, and she made sure to let you know of that.

i mean, you understood that pretty quickly when she roughly pounded your cunt with her probably-expensive-as-shit strap on. you didn’t even know rich people had those, and she didn’t even care if it hurt you. she wanted to fuck you good, and that’s what was bound to happen. her fingers rubbed on your throbbing clit insanely well, you could tell she had an insane amount of experience from the way she leaned into your ear and whispered praises into it. she’d treat you with unlimited amounts of respect anywhere else, but definitely not when she’s in her giant bedroom, stretching you out<33

oh and also, can we please talk about how stern this woman would be? you’d be begging, pleading her to go slower and she’d say something like “i don’t remember telling you that you could speak, love.” LIKE OU?? yes ma’am i am silent

or even in your day to day life?? bringing you to some expensive ass store that sells dresses with price tags that look like they could pass as math equations, you’d try and convince her that it’s too much and that she could you always buy you something cheaper elsewhere and her just shutting you down immediately going “nono, pick one, y/n, i absolutely insist.” like FUCKCK??

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Gamyga Debut: Super Smash Bros. Brawl

Hey! I want a turn on the "talking about Subspace Freaks"! Gimme! Gimme! Subspace was like, one of my formative Weird Enemy Experiences! How have I NOT talked about any of these guys yet?!

Gamyga has always been one of my favorite Subspace Emissary enemies, and you wanna know why? It's because I have good taste, that's why! I mean, this is a really visually striking design, if you ask me. The trophy description it has in Brawl describes it as looking "like an avant-garde work of art from some young art-school grad." That's awesome. You KNOW I love things that are weird and abstract and artsy and pretentious! Gamyga is right up my alley!

I'd say this enemy was made for me, but it was more-so made for the purpose of having a really tall enemy that can serve as a road block that can shoot lasers at you from above while you take it apart piece by piece... That is, unless you are brave enough to take out the mask first and watch the whole thing fall apart all at once!

Of course Mod Hooligon likes the abstract, multi-segmented enemy that you can slowly dismantle or alternatively attack the head of to deal with it instantly. So what? I have a type! Don't judge me! I see no difference, love is love!

As I said, this thing is tall, which probably adds to the visual-strikingness, especially when combined with the fact it pops out of the ground without warning when you get near it! No wonder this thing left such an impression on me. I mean, imagine if you were just taking a stroll in the park when this thing appeared in front of you without warning! How would you feel? Gamyga Jumpscared? Or perhaps Gamyga Pleasantly Surprised...?

Well, no, you would feel "in pain" on account of the Gamyga Laser Blasts.

Sometimes, springs or platforms will be placed nearby that let you jump over Gamyga, or alternatively you'll be playing as a character like Kirby or Pit who can just fly over it. Otherwise though, this thing is going to block your path and soak up a ton of damage. But hey, if it's gonna do that, it may as well look good while doing so!

Man, I spent so long talking about the Whole Enchilada that I haven't even gotten around to talking about the Gamyga Bases on their own! That's right! With every Gamyga, you get Five Guys for the price of one, with One (1) mask and four of These Things! Could a Gamyga be considered a form of colonial organism like a siphonophore...? You don't need to sell me on this thing any more than you already have!

Though maybe it'd be better to analyze these as being something mechanical, given their stiff movements, and how every time they wiggle their arms, it sounds like someone moving a pinball flipper. I almost feel this design would be more interesting if it was biological, but there's something enticing about describing these things as being like "a robotic siphonophore". I honestly don't know which interpretation appeals to me more.

The posing of the arms and the hollow facial features almost remind me of the haniwa statues Gyroids are modeled after, but the presence of pupils and Teeth here makes them look considerably freakier, which as far as I'm concerned is only a good thing. Watch out! Gamyga Base can BITE YOU! Not in the game, mind you. I'm talking about real life.

Gamyga was one of the Subspace enemies they decided to give a trophy in Super Smash Bros. for Nintendo 3DS, for some reason. It's not in Smash Run at all, so I guess whoever was deciding on what things to include as trophies in this game just believed Gamyga was an absolutely vital part of Nintendo history that people needed to be aware of.

They were right, for the record.

[tgmsunmontue]

I never knew I was missing you 2/? WIP

Jake is just trying to find a connection. Shame the guy he connects with the most is lying about his identity online; because he sure as hell isn't A-list Hollywood star Bradley Bradshaw.

ONE

CHAPTER TWO

                Despite everything, PinballWizard is funny, dry and sarcastic with his humor, but definitely a nerd of the highest order. As well as being able to talk about pinball machines, he also knows a lot about naval aviation, can rattle off facts that even Jake hasn’t heard before but when he goes and looks them up, they check out. Jake assumes it’s how it ties into the model plane making. Obviously the guy is a fan of Bradley Bradshaw, imitation being the highest form of flattery or whatever it is, but Jake is wondering whether he can get an actual photo of him.

                He’s not too proud to admit that he’s a little vain, or a lot vain depending on who you ask. They’ve been chatting for a week now and Jake can’t believe how much he’s actually been enjoying it. Getting to know him, learning that he apparently lives with his two closest friends that he’s known since high school, enjoys swimming to keep fit but will do other things if he really has to. Grew up in California and has been coerced into doing all sorts of things because he loves his friends and would do anything for them. Jake has talked about being in the Navy and flying, both of which he seems incredibly knowledgeable about, which just makes him more convinced that it’s definitely not actually Bradley Bradshaw. Because while Jake doesn’t consider himself a huge fan, he’s pretty sure he’d have remembered if Bradley Bradshaw had any ties to the US Navy.

>>If you don’t believe me then why do you keep talking to me?

>>Well, even with your weird hobbies I find you more interesting than the people who are just sending me dick pics or only want to fuck.

>>Great to know what your priorities are.

>>Hey. Just telling it like it is.

>>Just be glad I’m not reporting you to the police for pretending to be someone you’re not.

>>I’d like to see how successful you are with that.

>>More successful than you.

>>Why are you talking to me when I don’t believe you?

>>Because I enjoy talking to you.

>>Yeah well, ditto.

>>What would it take for you to believe me?

                Jake sighs, because they’ve gone around this in circles once already, PinballWizard sending a new photo which Jake is pretty certain is simply stolen from the deep recess of the internet, somewhere like Pinterest or something. And sure enough another photo comes through and it’s definitely a candid shot, the stubble isn’t something he’s used to seeing in pictures, just the moustache, which he’d grown for a part and then found he liked it enough to keep it. Jake’s glad, he’s a fan of the moustache for sure. It does disappear for some parts, but Jake is always relieved when he sees it growing back. This photo though has an almost beard, and not a closely trimmed one, patchy in places and he wonders if maybe PinballWizard actually has access to Bradley Bradshaw’s private Instagram account or something.

>>You just grabbed that off the internet. It’s fine. Whatever.  Don’t send me a proper photo. You’re probably some pot-bellied guy in his 50s living in his parent’s basement mending your little machines…

                He knows he’s being an asshole, but he’s hoping to provoke him into at least something real. Knows what he’s typed out is at least half lies, PinballWizard talked about his friends too easily to make Jake think that they weren’t real, and he’d have to live with other people given the cost of rent. Then his phone chimes and the next photo that comes through makes him choke and cough, because holy shit, definitely not pot-bellied or in his 50s. There’s no face this time, but written on a piece of paper, very clearly, is Fuck you Brad2lover andif he’s not mistaken it looks like the guy is trying to give him the finger. His arms are nicely muscled, and his stomach is flat and there’s a hint of abs and he doesn’t think PinballWizard is even flexing. Holy shit.

>>Holy shit PW, why are you lying about who you are when you have a body like that?

>>Not lying, but you won’t believe me so we’ll just have to agree to disagree.

>>Damn you’re stubborn.

>>Yeah.

>>With good reason.

>>So are you.

                Jake laughs and shrugs, despite the fact that no one can see him.

>>My name’s Jake.

>>Share your name at least.

>>Call me Brad.

                Jake rolls his eyes.

>>Fine.

>>Brad it is.

…            …            …

                “Your flyboy checks out,” Ron says, taking a sip of coffee and Bradley looks up.

                “What?”

                “I did a background check. Plus I asked Ice to have a look. He’s squeaky clean.”

                “I didn’t ask you to do that,” Bradley states, even though he understand the necessity of it, he doesn’t have to like it.

                “No, you didn’t. You shouldn’t have to because it’s part of my job and I’m not letting your delicate sensibilities of wanting to find out about the person organically put you at risk again.”

                “Yeah. Fine,” Bradley says with a sigh.

                “I’m not telling you anything else. Just… you can trust him. Open up and share things.”

                “Well, he doesn’t believe it’s me he’s talking to anyway, so it doesn’t even matter.”

                “Huh. That’s not a problem I thought we’d have.”

                “Yeah well. It’s the problem I have.”

                “You like him?”

                “Uncle Sli, it’s hard to like a guy who thinks I’m lying to him.”

                “Taking that out of the equation, do you like him?”

                “I’ve been talking to him every day all week.”

                “Am I meant to extrapolate my own answer from that?”

                “Fine. Yes. I like him. Happy now? He makes me laugh. I don’t think he’d care about the fame, if he actually believed it was me. But he doesn’t.”

                “Hmm,” Sli hums, his eyes narrowing and Bradley shakes his head.

                “No. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but the answer is no.”

                “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

                “Do? Maybe not. But you can’t say anything either. Not to Mav, and not to Ice.”

                “Well, too late. Ice already knows, because he wanted to know why I was asking.”

                “Of course he did,” Bradley says, rubbing his forehead. God. This is going to turn into a huge mess. Maybe he should just cut his losses and stop chatting with Jake. “Please tell me you haven’t mentioned it to Mav at least…”

                “Nope. I haven’t. But you really want me keeping secrets from my husband?”

                “I want you to remember who pays you and that you’ve got a confidentiality clause you’re meant to stick to.”

                “You know very well he’s exempt…”

                Bradley sighs, because he’s right, because Mav decreed that he should know everything. Which of course has led to Bradley trying to keep even the smallest thing from him, and Ice lording it over him if he ever finds out something first.

                “Please. Don’t share anything with him. There not yet anything to share. He has no self-control, so please don’t tempt him with it…”

                “You know him so well.”

                “My whole life,” Bradley mutters, used to this refrain between them and prepares himself for the sappy rejoinder, ready to pull the face Sli expects him to make despite the fact that he wants what him and Mav have.

                “And the rest of mine.”

                “Gross. Go visit him. I’m not going anywhere.”

                “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

…            …            …

                Jake isn’t sure why he’s persisting with Brad, and he wonders if he should maybe do a little digging, but isn’t sure whether he can do about Bradley Bradshaw, or about Brad. He isn’t tech savvy enough to hack into anyone’s account, but he can ask harder to answer questions. Maybe see if he can get something concrete.

>>So, real talk.

>>Worst relationship?

>>Creepy stalker woman.

>>Any relationship that ends up having to involve the police is the worst.

>>Well shit, I was just going to say getting broken up with while deployed.

>>Yeah. That would suck.

>>Yeah. But still better than getting cheated on. Cause that sucks worse.

>>Ouch. Yeah. Been there too.

>>When did dating or finding someone get to be so hard?

>>I know my parents didn’t have it this hard.

                Bingo. Jake knows that Bradley Bradshaw is an orphan, his father dying when he was young and then his mom when he was a teenager. How has never been covered, questions deflected away carefully, but Brad is talking about his parents.

>>I mean, I can’t ask them, because they’re dead. But even my godfathers seem to have had it easier.

                Well shit, the guy clearly knows Bradley Bradshaw pretty well. Back to the drawing board it is.

THREE

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could I request a reader who has an espathra. Espathra is from Reader's grandma who used to be a model and singer. Espathra is walks like a diva but is an absolute sweetheart. Reader joined the academy as a student and told the trio (Arven, Nemona and Penny) the reason why I joined the academy was because I never liked those private schools as I was always bored and hated dealing with the others as the students tend to annoy reader or be mean.

Arven

Tbh when he first saw your Espathra strutting down the streets of Mesagoza, he rolled his eyes.

He's well aware of how sassy and aggressive wild ones can be, but he assumes that even those tamed by trainers aren't any different (and sometimes a Pokémon's personality can rub off on them, too).

Once he gets to really know you both, though, he quickly realizes how friendly your Espathra is around people--even Mabosstiff.

Ofc they're still sassy, although they don't have a single mean bone in their body and don't try to reach across the table to steal his sandwich ingredients.

During lunch, you share how they once belonged to your grandma--who used to be a famous model and singer until she retired, deciding to leave her treasured partner in your care.

Arven never watched much TV growing up, so he never saw her performances. He just shrugs and says "that's kinda cool, little buddy."

But he grows concerned when a random kid intrudes on your picnic, asking about your grandma and wanting to pet the Espathra.

Suddenly the psychic type makes them shut up by immobilizing them on the spot....as he sits there wondering why tf you allowed them to do that.

You explain that's exactly why you transferred schools--specifically from a private one in another region to the Academy here in Paldea.

The students there kept bugging you, asking for your grandma's autograph and getting angry when you refused to take something they wanted her to sign or deliver fan mail as though you're some messenger Noctowl.

In short, they only ever talked to you if they wanted to contact her...and that made you feel quite bored and lonely, never gaining any real friends.

Luckily, Arven was already your friend long before he knew any of this.

He can definitely empathize with people constantly bothering him because of his connection to his "famous" parents.

Nemona

Not only has she obsessively watched the gym leaders' battles on TV, she also followed each of their social media accounts for years.

And on Tulip's page, she discovers that both her and your grandma did a collab for a new makeup brand inspired by their Espathras.

At the time, she didn't know you at all, but after hearing your last name and seeing your main partner Pokémon--she pulls you aside after class, eyes sparkling.

"So [y/n]..you're related to THE-?"

"Yes." You brush her hand off your shoulder, already knowing where this was going. "If you want an autograph, go to her retirement home and ask for her. I'm not your messenger."

You storm off, your Espathra giving Nemona a soft apologetic look, before they follow you, hair swishing gracefully.

However being the stubborn girl that she is....she eventually catches up to you, huffing and puffing and apologizing endlessly.

All she wanted was a simple battle with your Espathra (she almost called it your grandma's Espathra but quickly corrected herself--something you appreciated her doing).

It takes you by surprise, but you listen to her wishes and end up defeating her final Pokémon with a brilliant Lumina Crash that lit up the night sky.

After the battle's won, you explain that her attitude when you first met reminded you of the kids who bothered you back at your old school--which became the reason you transferred to Paldea to begin with.

You found her annoying.

Now? She was slightly less annoying since she genuinely wanted to befriend you, and not because you're related to a retired celebrity.

Penny

Team Star's had their fair share of feisty Flittles invading their outposts, always having to chase them out or risk being attacked just for gathering berries for their Pokémon.

Arceus forbid an outbreak of Flittle ever happened...

Because of that, Penny's always been skeptical around that evolution line, convinced that most Espathras are hostile.

The ones down in Area Zero's caverns especially made her nervous.

However, yours is a special case as they showed no aggression towards her, Arven, or Nemona.

You really owe it all to your grandma, mentioning how your Espathra used to be her partner in concerts and modeling for magazines.

They enjoyed being by her side and were content with retiring to Paldea after she ended her career on a high note.

She always talked about how they've adored singing since they were a little Flittle, and that they inspired her to keep going whenever she felt overwhelmed by the paparazzi and self-doubt.

How you wish you had her confidence at the private school you used to attend...but it became too much to handle after so many kids annoyed you simply because you're related to her.

You begged to be transferred out of there--for your sanity and for Espathra's, too.

After telling Penny all these stories, she definitely sees a different side to the Flittle line now, realizing that maybe not all of them are aggressive sassy berry thieves.

But when a grunt comes over (only overhearing that you're related to somebody they used to watch on TV all the time), Espathra just immobilizes them on the spot.

It frightens Penny, but the ostrich just smiles calmly at her.

You laugh and pet their beak, reassuring her it's nothing to be scared of--that kid simply won't remember ever asking you for your grandma's autograph.

From there on, she sends a message to all of Team Star not to make the same mistake that grunt did.

[am000risbest]

Hay! Heh, I am a fan about your post, and i was wondering if you can do a bakugou x y/n post where they are 25 and have a 6 year old son named kanji that looks and acts like bakugou, and they are at a grocery store and kanji sees a toy and makes a BIG tantrum embarrassing Y/n, and bakugou let's out his strict father side, aka bakugou is 1 hero, so... yeah.... rich.. THANK YOU 😭

Yeah for sure! And thank youvsosososo much,I really appreciate it. As always,have a good read and enjoy!

You,your husband and kanji,your angel of a child were doing regular grocery shopping before passing the toy section.

Kanji would then go over to grab a toy or two and bring it back to you.

“Mama look,can I have these? Pleaseeeee?”

Kanji would then proceed to give you the so called “puppy eyes” but you knew good and well they didn’t work anymore on you.

“No kanji,sorry bud,maybe next time,me and your papa are real busy and can’t spend time or money on toys”

sure you guys were rich but you or Katsuki didn’t want kanji to be a spoiled child that was entitled.

So you both kept him without knowing just exactly how much money was in your back account,and referred from spending so much on toys,as kanji had a box full of them.

“Mama please! I’ll be good I swear! I really want them! I don’t have these all might toys yet!”

“Sorry kanji it’s a no.”

“Mama! Please!”

“Kanji I said no,stop asking.”

“I want them!”

“I know you do,but it doesn’t change the fact that neither me or your dad will not be buying them.”

Kanjis eyes began to tear up and he slummed onto the ground still holding the little toys he had in his hands.

“No! I’m not leaving until I get them!”

“Kanji,stop making a scene and put them away.”

“No!”

kanji then began to sob,flinging his arms around as if there were no tomorrow.

“Kanji tetsu bakugou you get up right now.”

Kanji knew that when you said his full name he was in trouble,but he didn’t care,not when there was an all might trophy toy in his grasp.

“Noo mama! I want them!!”

Kanji was persistent with his cry’s,and Katsuki was already on his way to get his little devil child to calm down.

Katsuki was busy getting produce from a few aisles away before hearing cry’s and little distant yells from you.

“Ah shit,bet he’s acting up again.”

Kanji had almost gotten out of the “toddler crying stage” even though he just turned six,he still sometimes acted like he were 3 years old.

Katsuki put the items you had made him get before a random girl walked up to him and asked for his number.

“Hi dynamite! I was wondering if I could get your number?”

She looked eccentric,but that was quickly shut down by his rbf.

“I have a wife,and kid. I don’t know where you’ve been but if you don’t know that then I obviously don’t talk about them enough,outta my way.”

Katsuki then left the girl alone with a surprised look on her face before leaving.

Katsukis steps were steep,walking fast but not running,because if you guys were in trouble he knew you could handle the both of you and kanji.

“Mama ple-ease!” The hiccups were now apparent and in kanjis way of speech.

“Kanji,I said no.”

Kanji didn’t look at you,just staring at the all might toys he cry’s for.

“But mama!!”

“Get up and put em away”

“Papa I want them,can I have them please?!”

Kanji looked desperate and he definitely looked as if he had a tantrum over it.

By the time Katsuki had reached were you both were,people were already staring.

“No,now get up,clean your tears and put those stupid toys away.”

Kanji didn’t say anything,looking intimidated by katsukis “dad stare” and his deep,rasp voice.

Kanji then got up and walked to where he had gotten the toys from,and walked over before cleaning his tears with his long sleeved shirt.

“Atta boy,now go get us some eggs from the dairy section okay?”

“O-okay papa.”

Kanji stumbled a bit before walking over in sights view,grabbing the eggs and walking back,handing Katsuki the eggs.

“Good job,now I want you to say sorry to mommy for making a scene okay?”

“Sorry mama..”

“It’s okay baby.”

Although he had often tantrums like this,you just couldn’t handle these like Katsuki could.

Kanji then proceeded to jump into the shopping cart,this was a thing he’d do when his tantrums would get stopped,so you and Katsuki didn’t mind because he was right in front of you and in safe sight.

“Dad mode huh?”

“Just doing my job,you know that.”

“Either way,thank you. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“It’s me,I was the same way with my old ma. Always throwing tantrums.”

You and Katsuki both look at kanji,a spitting image of Katsuki.

“Two peas in a pod.”

You said as you looked into katsukis eyes with a sense of wonder and curiosity as to how you got so lucky to have a good husband.

And a great child,even if he doesn’t act like it sometimes,you were still truly grateful.

You and Katsuki continued to do your grocery shopping this time,hand in hand.

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

I was wondering if you could write crackle from Carmen sandiego x reader! My whole account is dedicated to him and I'm hopelessly in love with him 😭🩷🩷

Maybe flirting on a mission ? Or just being on a mission in general! I enjoy him being portrayed as a bit more rude, he doesn't mean to be but he is...

I LOVE HIM SO BAD you obviously don't have to but I'd love it so much. He's my favourite ever!!!

SPARKLY MISSION

The city lights twinkled like a million tiny stars against the night sky, casting long shadows on the rooftops. You stood on the edge of a tall building, the cool breeze tousling your hair as you kept your eyes on Crackle. He was a few feet away, checking his gear with the kind of confidence that came naturally to him. Tonight’s mission was like any other VILE operation: infiltrate, extract, and vanish without a trace. But this time, there was a difference—you were partnered with Crackle.

“Ready to rock and roll?” he asked, his voice dripping with that familiar cocky edge. He moved closer, his presence as electrifying as his name suggested. The corner of his mouth curled up in a sly smile that was half tease, half challenge.

“Always,” you replied, your tone calm, but your heart was already pounding a little faster. “The real question is, are you ready to do this without getting us caught in some sort of electric mess?”

He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Where’s the fun in that? I thought you liked a little excitement.”

You couldn’t deny it—missions with Crackle were never dull. His unpredictable nature, his sharp wit, and the way he could make any mission feel like a high-stakes game kept you on your toes. And though you’d never admit it out loud, you found his cockiness a bit…charming.

Crackle moved to the edge of the roof, peering down at the balcony several stories below where your target was located. “So, who’s going first? You want me to show you how it’s done, or are you gonna surprise me?”

“I’ll let you take the lead,” you said, a teasing grin playing on your lips. “I want to see if the legend matches up to reality.”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me a legend?” he shot back, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Careful, keep talking like that, and I might think you’re starting to like me.”

“Starting?” you scoffed lightly, but your heart skipped a beat as you watched him. “You wish.”

He flashed a grin that was equal parts arrogant and endearing. With a graceful leap, he vaulted over the ledge, landing silently on the balcony below with the agility of a cat. He looked up at you, his grin never fading. “Your turn, if you can handle it.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you followed suit, landing beside him with ease. As you straightened up, your shoulder brushed against his, sending a wave of electricity through your skin. It wasn’t just his abilities that could shock, apparently.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer, almost concerned, though the playful glint never left his eyes.

“Perfect,” you replied, trying to steady your breathing. “Just didn’t expect you to actually stick the landing.”

He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Oh, I can stick all sorts of landings,” he whispered, his tone low and teasing. “But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

A flush crept up your neck, but you refused to let him see you flustered. “I’m not here for your... gymnastics skills, Crackle.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn I caught you checking me out earlier.”

You scoffed, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I was just wondering how you manage to fit that giant ego through the door.”

He chuckled again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. “It’s not easy, but somehow I manage.”

Before you could respond, a noise from inside the building caught your attention. Crackle’s hand brushed yours as you both instinctively moved closer to the wall, hiding in the shadows. The contact was brief, but you swore you felt a spark��more than just his usual electric touch.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice suddenly serious, but still tinged with that playful tone. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

“I can handle myself,” you whispered back, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his proximity.

“Never doubted it for a second,” he said softly. “But just in case… you know I’ve got your back.”

You nodded, grateful for the darkness that hid the heat rising to your cheeks. For a moment, you let yourself feel the thrill of it all—of the mission, of being this close to him, of the danger and the flirting that danced between you like a live wire.

Crackle pressed a gloved finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he moved toward the balcony door. With a deft flick of his wrist, he disabled the lock, the faint crackle of electricity illuminating his smirk in the dark. “Ladies first,” he said, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t suppress a smile as you slipped past him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Only when it counts,” he replied, following you inside.

The room was dimly lit, shadows casting long shapes on the walls. You both moved silently, your footsteps perfectly in sync as you made your way towards the display case in the center. Inside was the artifact—an ancient necklace rumored to possess powerful abilities.

“Looks like we’re almost there,” you whispered, but Crackle’s eyes were on you, not the prize.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. “Almost.”

You felt your heart race again, but you focused on the task at hand. With a quick glance around, you nodded to Crackle, who stepped forward, his fingers dancing over the alarm system. Sparks flew, and the system short-circuited with a satisfying pop.

“Nice work,” you said, genuinely impressed.

“Thanks,” he replied, his voice low. “But I think we both know the real challenge is yet to come.”

You arched a brow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Getting out of here without causing a scene,” he said, but his tone was suggestive. “Though, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind causing a little trouble… with you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Maybe,” you admitted, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “But let’s get out of here first, okay?”

“Deal,” he agreed, but as you moved to grab the artifact, his hand brushed yours again, lingering for a moment too long.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. For a moment, the world seemed to slow, the mission forgotten as you stood there, caught in the electricity between you.

Then, with a knowing smile, Crackle pulled back. “Come on, partner. Time to make our getaway.”

You nodded, your heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the danger around you. Together, you slipped out of the room, back onto the balcony, and into the night, leaving the thrill of the chase—and the tension between you—hanging in the air.

As you made your escape, you couldn’t help but glance back at Crackle, who caught your eye and winked.

“Until next time,” he murmured, his voice full of promise.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, a smile playing on your lips. “Until next time.”

���And somehow, you knew there would be a next time—another mission, another dance, another chance to feel the sparks fly.

[kalims]

Oh my goddess, orders are open! Ahem, ANYWAYS— I wonder if I could have an Idia with a fem or gn s/o who is introverted and generally closed-faced, being a sweetheart and even shy with him, pretty please?

• Remember to drink water and take care of yourself correctly, kisses <3

– Mel 🌙🩵✨

dress,

premise.

idia forever thought his cause of death would be the permanent termination of his end game account—which in theory, is now proven wrong at the existence of a brand new thing that just might obliterate his heart.

note. thank you mel <3 you too. i, for one will gladly accept kisses from u and idia (he's downbad here LOL)

idia is having a strangely, familiar sensation.

for example—the fact that his heart is palpitating so fast is making him afraid that he'll get the same sense of doom he frequently gets whenever this happens. like when he's the one that the professor chooses to answer a question up front. just his luck cause it absolutely sucks in real life just as much as his chances of winning that rare character.

but no, there isn't an impending sense of doom that sends him to the edge. no cold sweat forming on the skin of his neck, nor does it protrude from his clammy hands. it's weird, he feels warm rather than the cold it usually accompanies.

he needs to visit a doctor.

he gulps thickly. sending a lightning fast glance at your direction then averting it even faster. oh my god, your hand just brushed against his.. was it intentional? no, no—it mustn't be. you wouldn't waste your time doing that.

but you might even look more tenser than he is.

despite the attempt at flushing down the tightness in his throat, his words still break off into a croaky stammer that just sends his face into a grimace because, did he sound like that? "I'm.. I'm really sorry, you didn't have to do this," he says, looking away with those eyes that just screams a mixture of 'I hate it all.' and 'I'm so scared.'

his eyes in comparison to yours, dull significantly in terms of greatness. cause as rare as it is for your eyes to meet, he'll always marvel at the lush hue your eyes are colored with—and god, your lashes. so pretty, so, so pretty.

he sulks. he doesn't deserve this.

"it's alright," you answer in response, voice quiet but it's the only thing he ever hears despite the myriad of people quite nearly squishing the both of you. the crowd is large, and noisy. so he isn't sure why he's suddenly the greatest listener when you speak. "I'm glad you thought of... inviting me along, I know you're quite passionate about it."

passionate is not a strong enough word, it could be an incorrect word to use even. he supposes it's just a nice feeling to excel—be good at something.

but with how hot his heart is probably burning, maybe passionate really is the right word.

for you that is.

most likely idia's ideal type of player two <3 someone he can keep up with, not too fast and certainly not too slow. but either way, he’s probably having a heart attack at whatever you do. literally just sleeping? his heart… playing with him? please match avatars at once or he will combust. (and yes, he is hinting even though you already match everywhere else. had a house in a game, got married in a game.)

don’t even pull out the fact he buys you the currency to match and you feel bad cause he thinks it’s too cute. you need to stop or else he will buy you more.

speaking of more in game terms, he surprisingly garners a lot of attention online maybe because he’s endgame in every single account he’s made and many people like money so… there are many attempts at ‘rizzing’ him up but in the end he’s provoking them to screenshot it and report them as online daters.

^ says THE online dater.

still reports people if they flirt with you, but compared to his. not only is it a file for online dating he somehow dug up the dirt, the monstrous things they did like… 3 years ago and now they’re gonna get suspended. It’s concerning since he was talking with you animatedly during it and he somehow also exposed them all in 10 minutes.

did the see you again trend in secrecy cause he would rather leap down a hole to hell than let people see it. In any case… if it isn’t obvious he’s the lala, you the okok.

deluded himself, is convinced that he’s actually the nonchalant, ‘cool’ one but all he is, is a literal puddle. is still solid when standing but will be putty in your hands in SECONDS.

idia is secretly really proud of himself whilst being like: how did i even pull them. cause when he looks at your face when you’re talking to other people. he’s actually kind of scared cause it’s a really wondrous thing you never once looked at him like that… (please save his mind too. he’s trying to convince himself that you must be like this, soft person he knows to other people too and not just him because that’s just crazy right haha.. hahahaha…)

the type to tell you to stand back during raids, challenges, boss fights, etc…  that all you need to do is be there, and that he’ll solo it for you and you can claim your rewards even though he gave you the rarest, strongest equipment in respective games which won’t be much use at this point cause he insists he do it for you, and sulks all day if you don’t let him.

stay at home couple >>>

will order every single thing you crave during those times he’s too shy to consider date nights, and you too so it’s like an unspoken thing. he honestly plays better when you’re inside his room, even if it’s just laying on his messy bed scrolling on your phone or munching on something.

it’s just complete, comfortable silence.

except for the time one of you accidentally makes an indirect flirty comment and now the room could be considered a sauna from the literal steam only two people emitted. 

really, really, really, REALLY, likes it when your head is on his shoulder.

“─ean.. no one really asked for it, the nerf was completely unnecessary and─” the words poured out of his mouth, something uncontrollable that he couldn’t stop. there is something about you that just kicks down the layer of anxiety on him. comfortable might be the right word, even if you don’t talk that much (which is surprising cause he ends up being the talkative one and you always assure him that you like to listen.) somehow the thought: am i too annoying? doesn’t really pop up like usual.

in fact, he’s excited to ramble all about it. excited to hear your thoughtful hums, excited to see your attentive eyes on him since the first word he’s said─but it isn’t. because he looks up and you’re blinking haphazardly, thrice in a second and before he panics to shut his mouth he feels the soft slump of your head against the curve of his shoulder.

oh my god, oh my god, oh my g─

if idia had half of his mind he would scream instinctively at the weight he isn’t really accustomed to feel. actually, even if he did have his entire brain connected, and his thoughts coherent he still would. but he bites the inside of his cheek cause despite the chaos that just erupted in his mind which is somehow simultaneously blank, and swirling.

and he remembers midst his confusion that you are,

asleep.

you’re asleep on his shoulder

you’re asleep.

asleep on his shoulder.

on. his. shoulder.

he resorts to the screech in his head.

his shoulder─is so terribly stiff right now to the point where he thinks that sleeping on a hard, wooden surface would be surely more comfortable rather than where your head lays. he makes an effort to relax his muscles, tell himself that it’s only you and that there’s nothing wrong but there is something wrong because it’s you! idia dares to sneak a peek at you and your closed lids only confirm your unconscious state.

and careful with each nudge his movement makes sends to your head. idia can’t resist the hands that creep up his face and bury it, to hope all the embarrassment and whatever he’s feeling right now absorbs it right out of his face because god. he knows he looks like he just ate 10 bowls of lilia’s cooking.

he would scream, he really would. a second thought but you’re on his shoulder!

you, who rarely touches him too much.

on him.

him, who gets too flustered to be touched by you.

so he feels pretty obligated to just suck it up cause he’s enjoying the moment even if you aren’t conscious right now and he sure as hell is going to, for as long as he can.

idia releases a deep sigh, long and wistful because he’s gonna die before you even wake up.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Can I ask is it true do you think that Lestat’s rockstar Lestat is to take the heat off of Louis following last season? I’m aware he is interested in music but how much of it is his interest in music and performance versus purposely having attention from fans the public etc to protect Louis from vampires he fears will come after Louis? He will be touring and busy so unless Louis is there with him which I don’t really see in the first half of the season he must be extremely worried since he isn’t around Louis. He is aware that Louis doesn’t need a protector but he still worries right? They already lost Claudia so if he potentially lost Louis too it would break him. I don’t see them back together but maybe talking and in contact and taking things slow. Louis is off doing his thing and Lestat does his music but I can see an air of ‘I’m patient and I’m giving you space but I love you and eventually there will be a point when I think we can try again’ with the two of them next season

Well, I mean... Lestat doing that is literally book canon:

The Vampire Lestat

I wondered how many of our kind had "noticed " the book. Never mind for the moment the mortals who thought it was fiction. What about other vampires? Because if there is one law that all vampires hold sacred it is that you do not tell mortals about us. You never pass on our "secrets " to humans unless you mean to bequeath the Dark Gift of our powers to them. You never name other immortals. You never tell where their lairs might be. My beloved Louis, the narrator of Interview with the Vampire, had done all this. He had gone far beyond my secret little disclosure to my rock singers. He had told hundreds of thousands of readers. He had all but drawn them a map and placed an X on the very spot in New Orleans where I slumbered, though what he really knew about that, and what his intentions were, was not clear. Regardless, for what he'd done, others would surely hunt him down. And there are very simple ways to destroy vampires, especially now. If he was still in existence, he was an outcast and lived in a danger from our kind that no mortal could ever pose. All the more reason far me to bring the book and the band called The Vampire Lestat to fame as quickly as possible. I had to find Louis. I had to talk to him. In fact, after reading his account of things, I ached for him, ached for his romantic illusions, and even his dishonesty. I ached even for his gentlemanly malice and his physical presence, the deceptively soft sound of his voice. Of course I hated him for the lies he told about me. But the love was far greater than the hate. He had shared the dark and romantic years of the nineteenth century with me, he was my companion as no other immortal had ever been. And I ached to write my story for him, not an answer to his malice in Interview with the Vampire, but the tale of all the things I'd seen and learned before I came to him, the story I could not tell him before. Old rules didn't matter to me now, either. I wanted to break every one of them. And I wanted my band and my book to draw out not only Louis but all the other demons that I had ever known and loved. I wanted to find my lost ones, awaken those who slept as I had slept. Fledglings and ancient ones, beautiful and evil and mad and heartless-they'd all come after me when they saw those video clips and heard those records, when they saw the book in the windows of the bookstores, and they'd know exactly where to find me. I'd be Lestat, the rock superstar.

Canonically Lestat does not know where Louis is when he wakes and sees the book. We'll see if he will know in the show. But I can see a similar setup, with Louis maybe off somewhere in the vaults of the Talamasca trying to regain his true memories. Or he and Lestat meet from time to time during the tour. We'll see :)

But in any case the reason for Lestat to become rockstar in the first place will stay, I would bet real money on it :)

[cadys-ramblings]

I realized something recently: the reason I resonated so much with the secret history when I first read it was because richard's experiences are like a dramatic reflection of my own. subconsciously I knew there was something similar between us as I read it. for a long time, I just thought our personalities were similar. we share an MBTI type, one very few characters have, so of course I would lock on to one of the few, right?

now, as I have matured greatly, I realized that our similarities are far beyond our manner.

in 2022, I was spending hours a day on pinterest. I found my way into communities of like-minded girls who love pretty things like coffee and books and autumn leaves and cats and chunky sweaters. many of these girls labeled themselves with different aesthetics, namely coquette or dark academia or old money. I always considered myself "downtown girl." they always put their self care first, had the best makeup, the coolest doc martins, and the latest trending book (which is how I found the secret history, ironically.) though these aesthetic labels seem harmless on the outside, they had a great psychological affect on me that I only recently realized.

I built my pinterest account and taste in music and movies around this downtown girl aesthetic, as well as a few others I took interest in. I went paddle boarding with my best friend and took pictures of the sparkling lake to memorize how beautiful I felt in the moment. I redecorated my room and refreshed my wardrobe in hopes that people would see my photo dumps or outfits on the street and think, "wow, she is straight out of pinterest." many of these things I did genuinely enjoy. I still wear my big sweaters and bootcut jeans and I'm listening to my playlist full of taylor swift and the smiths as I write this. despite this, I still played up my enjoyment for other people to see.

it got especially bad when the school year started. after spending so much time on pinterest, I had idolized this group of girls with similar interests and ideas of 'aesthetics' to me, so that when I saw a pretty girl in my biology class carrying a latte and colleen hoover book, I wanted to drop everything to befriend her (ps, I don't like colleen hoover, it was just the idea that she was a 'reader' like me.)

I became so fixated on befriending her and her other friends, all swifties and readers and activists, that I neglected the great friends I already had. I didn't want to do activities that I couldn't document, either with photos or my mind, because it didn't fit my aesthetic. I wanted friends who would fit my aesthetic. looking back, this was one of the worst things I have ever done to my friends, even if I never told them about my real thoughts.

I think much of this issue stems from growing up knowing there was something different about me but never really knowing what. now, I know it's neurodivergence, but when I was younger, I couldn't understand why people thought I was weird. they never directly said it, but I could tell by the way they looked at me when I talked to them or how they made strange false assumptions about me they later confessed. I wanted nothing more than to fit in while still being myself, which I believe is why I was so attracted to the idea of aesthetics. my style naturally changed to something more 'socially acceptable' during this time and I was no longer being called emo bitch in the hallway. people would approach me or talk to me in class more than years before. I finally felt like I was being accepted by these 'normal' people. but, of course, I am not free from the shackles of being neurodivergent. these 'normal' people still eventually found me weird or felt there was something off about me. not to be dramatic, but richard being excluded from the bacchanal is a great allegory for being a weird girl to me.

I am obviously not performing rituals to bacchus or killing my friends, but I find richard to be an incredibly relatable character, so much so that I wonder if donna tartt wrote the secret history with similar experiences in mind.

[actual-changeling]

i think it's funny that whenever i post something about aziraphale not caring about individual humans—only humanity as a concept—the ONLY counter argument everyone always throws at me is 'he gave his flaming sword away'.

mate.

that was six thousand years ago. LITERALLY fresh out of heaven, to the only two humans in existence, who were the entirety of humanity at that point.

let's look at what he's like in more recent years, yes?

ah yes, telling a person living in an alley that her girlfriend is going to hell with a smile. what a kind person. and the wonderful follow-up which sounds like it is straight out of some conservative, capitalistic asshole's mouth.

and fun fact, someone like that has said THOSE EXACT WORDS to me at some point.

crowley asking the real questions here like always

but hey, that was 1827, maybe he was just having a bad year. or decade. or century.

what about the present day? see, crowley is terrified of gabriel and hates his guts, but do you know what he does? he answers his questions very patiently. he is kind. once he realises gabriel isn't pretending he makes him hot chocolate and tries to help him remember, he empathizes.

aziraphale's patient is non-existent. he yells at him immediately, gets frustrated with the most simple questions, refuses to interact with him and leaves crowley with him after crowley told him "what i NEED is for him to be nowhere near me". how considerate. but hey, maybe he was just having a bad time.

job! he was kind in job, right?

except that he doesn't care about job losing his house, his farmstead, all of his animals being slaughtered and only has a problem with the children dying; which he then tries to rationalize away with his fucking "that's not what god wants" shtick.

meanwhile crowley already has plans to protect the animals AND the children AND job and sitis as best he can.

the flood? perfectly alright to drown everyone, including innocent animals and children! it is god's plan, and what do a few humans mean in god's great big ineffable plan, huh?

then again, he doesn't show much empathy for god's son either when he's being nailed to the cross. french revolution and people being beheaded? oh yes, sure, dreadful—anyway i'm just here for the crepes, the dying humans are just background noise, let's not do anything about that even though it is literally my fucking job as an angel. but noooo. he got peckish and then had lunch. what a fucking hero.

'accidentally' killing a dove because he just had to shove it up his sleeve for a magic act.

someone getting shot and dying? because i was careless? don't care. anyway.

armageddon and all of humanity dying? don't care either until i realise what i personally would lose and then i suddenly give a shit.

centuries upon centuries of aziraphale piling up money and he rather terrorizes poor people than entertain giving them a single dime. crowley has to remind and talk him into it, and as thanks he gets dragged down to hell and tortured.

aziraphale is dripping kindness, isn't he? and all of this doesn't even take into account the ball—human puppet show for his own amusement, this is supervillain shit and you know it—or all the other times he ignored human suffering so he wouldn't be personally inconvenienced.

and ALL OF THAT does not take into account how fucking horribly he treats crowley before time even existed.

aziraphale is not unkind. on a big scale, he cares about humanity, he cares about being nice, being good. he wouldn't intentionally harm someone, but he does not care enough to not be careless—he IS careless, and does NOT care if it kills creatures or humans.

his own personal wants and comfort trump everything else, and that is canon, it is text, it is fact. if you have any canonical examples of aziraphale being genuinely kind simply to be kind, not to be selfishly altruistic, please do add them, i'm serious! if you think i'm wrong, prove me wrong. everything i just listed exists in canon, so please, do the same in return.

giving his sword to adam and eve six thousand years ago does not magically erase everything that came after and it does not give him a free pass to behave however he wants, no matter the cost.

[fleshengine]

unironically, dealing with like... casual transmisogyny is the most exhausting thing. I see a post on instagram, the first slide says "trans erotica" and I think "awesome, I wonder what's in it?" As I go through the slides I notice... huh these first couple are all transmasc erotica, well maybe the last few will be transfem. So I keep scrolling, and while it doesn't specify if the books have transmasc or transfem characters, there are tags for the relationships and they're all fucking Ms. "MM relationship" "MMM polycule" and I get to the end and there's not a single one that has a transfem character. I go to leave a comment like "hey please put 'transmasc' instead of 'trans' so people know what you're talking about. But I check the description first because that's polite. They've already added a section in the description (at the very bottom) saying next time they'll be clearer. "Title slide should definitely say transMASC erotica! I will makes this more clear in future versions, as trans women and femmes are too often neglected in discussions of trans literature [double heart emoji] (added 7/8/2024)"

Remake the post? I'm not kidding. If other transfems see this post, get excited and then scroll through the whole thing and then go to the comments, enough that the poster was made aware of the mix up, then it's going to push this post in the algorithm. This person is benefitting from misleading people, and they are aware of it. But fixing it is just too much work. And like... okay fine I get that it's a little exhausting to re-edit the image and then takedown and reupload the post. But when I went to their account to take a poke around I saw they made a part II to their trans erotica post.

I thought "oh cool they didn't change the first image, maybe they've included transfem erotica now!" Second sentence of the first paragraph of description: "Offering up transmasc erotica collection PART TWO bc I've been staying fed recently [trans flag][black heart][bow][smiling devil face]" Which at least personally I found really frustrating to read. They used the exact same graphic for the first slide as they used in part I, again implying that there would be trans people in general. I went through the books, there's two amab enbies, both of which are side characters it seems one of which is the devil So yeah, horray, you included tranfems. But the focus is still clearly on transmasc characters. But to be fair, it was posted before the edit to part I's description was added. But also even though part II was posted before that edit, it doesn't have an edit of it's own. Probably because there's plausible deniability in the form of the amab enby characters, so they can claim that all trans people are included. Despite it being two characters in ten books, neither of which are a trans woman. It's the sort of fake, tokenizing inclusion that really starts to get under my skin and pour sand in my joints.

I went through all the posts they've made since part II, I'd go through all the ones since part I but I don't have that kind of time and frankly this is fucking exhausting. Every book they talk about, sans the two featuring amab enbies mentioned earlier, is about transmasc characters. In both erotica and other genres, that's all this person offers. It's also really telling when they make a post about "trans enby & gender queer book accounts of follow", where I would assume that they might shout out a transfem account that focuses on that side of erotica, and from what I can tell every single account of the nine they shout out is transmasc.

People in real life: "hey dude what's up?"

Yeah yeah reality check whatever. Okay so is this account in and of itself a problem? No, a 800 follower instagram account that talks about books does not a cause for alarm make. Is this indicative of a wider spread issue in the queer community? Yeah actually, the exclusion (intentional or not) of transfem stories and creators from the community starts with what individual people are engaging with. If all you read is transmasc books, and all you talk to are transmasc people then you're going to have issues when trans people aren't that. I'm not trying to attack this account, I didn't include their username very intentionally. I'm just using them as an instance of a specific brand of transmisogyny that I see a lot and find fucking exhausting, that being extremely trans positive accounts that only ever talk about transmascs. I don't know where I'm going with this. I didn't really have a plan.

There's an aversion to trans women. For a variety of reasons society hates us. People who have an easier time integrating with society at large tend to overlook that, and instead often adopt some of those aversions subconsciously. They're not going to mistreat you in public, or do anything obvious, they've got manners, but they're not gonna read books about you, or shout you out. It sucks because I feel like a crazy person pointing it out. I didn't talk about it for years because I thought people would think I'm weird, but discussions of transmisogyny on tumblr have opened my eyes to the fact that I'm not alone, that other people also see this, and that it's an actual problem.

Thanks sisters. It sucks on this boat, but at least it's crewed.