#simply bc it's low risk

[yoshi-official]

Ive also had a shift in friend groups, im like, not in one specifically but I know so many ppl 1 on 1. It's allowed me to be a bit more open with who i am and finding out parts i was afraid of opening up about are some of the features people REALLY love about me.

[darknesspervades]

listen. there's someone in my class who also likes the hunger games but man, it's slightly annoying.

because she's not the feral analysis sort, she just thinks they're cool and keeps completely missing the point when discussing them.

which, ok, valid. but sometimes i realise that non tumblr girlies do not think about that series in the same way i do. like, wdym those are mainstream books? no they're not, they're for me and my 10 followers to overanalyse.

[homo-house]

hey uh so I haven't seen anyone talking about this here yet, but

the amazon river, like the biggest river in the fucking world, in the middle of the amazon fucking rainforest, is currently going through its worst drought since the records began 121 years ago

picture from Folha PE

there's a lot going on but I haven't seen much international buzz around this like there was when the forest was on fire (maybe because it's harder to shift the narrative to blame brazil exclusively as if the rest of the world didn't have fault in this) so I wanted to bring this to tumblr's attention

I don't know too many details as I live in the other side of the country and we are suffering from the exact opposite (at least three cyclones this year, honestly have stopped counting - it's unusual for us to get hit by even one - floods, landslides, we have a death toll, people are losing everything to the water), but like, I as a brazilian have literally never seen pictures of the river like this before. every single city in the amazonas state is in a state of emergency as of november 1st.

pictures by Adriano Liziero (ig: geopanoramas)

we are used to seeing images of rio negro and solimões, the two main amazon river affluents, in all their grandiose and beauty and seeing these pictures is really fucking chilling. some of our news outlets are saying the solimões has turned to a sand desert... can you imagine this watery sight turning into a desert in the span of a year?

while down south we are seeing amounts of rain and hailstorms the likes of which our infrastructure is simply not built to deal with, up north people who have built everything around the river are at a loss of what to do.

the houses there that are built to float are just on the ground, people who depend on fishing for a living have to walk kilometers to find any fish that are still alive at all, the biodiversity there is at risk, and on an economic level it's hard to grasp how people from the northern states are getting by at all - the main means of transport for ANYTHING in that region is via the river water. this will impact the region for months to come. it doesnt make a lot of sense to build a lot of roads bc it's just better to use the waterway system, everything is built around or floats on the river after all. and like, the water level is so incomprehensibly low the boats are just STUCK. people are having a hard time getting from one place to another - keep in mind the widest parts of the river are over 10 km apart!!

this shit is really serious and i am trying not to think about it because we have a different kind of problem to worry about down south but it's really terrifying when I stop to think about it. you already know the climate crisis is real and the effects are beyond preventable now (we're past global warming, get used to calling it "global boiling"). we'll be switching strategies to damage control from now on and like, this is what it's come to.

I don't like to be alarmist but it's hard not to be alarmed. I'm sorry that I can't end this post with very clear intructions on how people overseas can help, there really isn't much to do except hope the water level rises soon, maybe pray if you believe in something. in that regard we just have to keep pressing for change at a global level; local conditions only would not, COULD NOT be causing this - the amazon river is a CONTINENTAL body of water, it spans across multiple countries. so my advice is spread the word, let your representatives know that you're worried and you want change towards sustainability, degrowth and reduced carbon emissions, support your local NGOs, maybe join a cause, I don't know? I recommend reading on ecological and feminist economics though

however, I know you can help the affected riverine families by donating to organizations dedicated to helping the region. keep in mind a single US dollar, pound or euro is worth over 5x more in our currency so anything you donate at all will certainly help those affected.

FAS - Sustainable Amazon Fundation

Idesam - Sustainable Developent and Preservation Institute of Amazonas

Greenpeace Brasil - I know Greenpeace isn't the best but they're one of the few options I can think of that have a bridge to the international world and they are helping directly

There are a lot of other smaller/local NGOs but I'm not sure how you could donate to them from overseas, I'll leave some of them here anyway:

Projeto Gari

Caritás Brasileira

If you know any other organizations please link them, I'll be sure to reblog though my reach isn't a lot

thank you so much for reading this to the end, don't feel obligated to share but please do if you can! even if you just read up to here it means a lot to me that someone out there knows

also as an afterthought, I wanted to expand on why I think this hasn't made big news yet: because unlike the case of the 2020 forest fires, other countries have to hold themselves accountable when looking at this situation. while in 2020 it was easier to pretend the fires were all our fault and people were talking about taking the amazon away from us like they wouldn't do much worse. global superpowers have no more forests to speak of so I guess they've been eyeing what latin america still has. so like this bit of the post is just to say if you're thinking of saying anything of the sort, maybe think of what your own country has done to contribute to this instead of blaming brazil exclusively and saying the amazon should be protected by force or whatever

[st4rrth0ughts]

Aventurine character study that I spewed at my friend posted here bc I despise whoever portrays him as a useless blonde 24/7 horny twink as his canon self (i will throttle you through the fuckin screen)

A/n: I think the 2.1 trailer is helping me regain my writing motivation, expect inbox asks from Jan- Feb to be coming out soon :)

WRITTEN BEFORE 2.1 This post will contain leaks, 2.0 Trailblaze quest spoilers, world quest spoilers, Aven's slave life in canon, disgusting people saying Aven's a sex slave, under the cut! Please proceed with caution if any of these trigger you. Thank you, and enjoy my yap session on one of the best characters in this game.

Aventurine's story is much more than just looking and acting like the typical rich blonde playboy, as much as he gives off those vibes. Looking at his child self in the 2.1 trailer compared to all of his current models, its very obvious that many, many things happened that caused all the light to poof from his eyes.

First, his homeland, Sigonia. Aventurine's home planet's is uninhabited, and perhaps even destroyed completely. Aventurine is the last of his kind left. His parents, his sister, his possible friends and relatives, hell, even all the people he doesn't know have all perished. The IPC took him in, I presume, but most definitely not out of kindness. In fact, it may not matter that Aventurine is one of the Ten Stonehearts, he is not a person to the company. He is just a asset, a piece for them to dispose if he fucks up.

In the 1.4? Belobog quest where Topaz goes to Bronya about Belobog's massive debt to the IPC, and at the end, we get our first crumbs of Aventurine's character. A important thing to note in this dialogue between the two of them is that he asks Topaz to the project manager on his project in Penacony, because if he knows better than everyone that if he fails to get Penacony back into the IPC's grasp, he'll die. There's no way around it, unless he gets someone he has a somewhat close bond with, Topaz, to lighten his fall.

The tattoo on his neck, is a symbol of his slavery to the IPC. How he's bound to them. How no matter how hard he runs or hides, he will never escape their grasp. In fact, he knows damn well, if anyone gets wind of this alongside his Sigonian history (Sigonians are notorious for being wolves in sheep's clothing, bad people in most eyes'), it is very well possible that his rivals and enemies will use his past to their advantage. Thats why he freely shows it to the world. So that no one can dig it up and use it against him, because how do you use something that he so freely proclaims to everyone he meets?

Aventurine is a man who gambles as well. Not just simply gambling for the thrill of it or his earnings. He says it himself, he sees the world, life itself, as a gamble. High reward, high stakes. Even going back to his conversation with Topaz, its only shown on how he tells her he warned her about taking Belobog as her project because it was high risk, but low return. Aventurine wants the best outcome not just for himself, but because if he doesn't get a good outcome, the IPC has no use for him.

Aventurine is a man who knows how to get what he wants. he knows how to take risks, get out of high stake scenarios with him being the winner. Its obvious in his lightcone, 'Final Victor', his conversation with Dr. ratio in the Penacony 2.0 Trailblaze quest, and his conversation with Himeko and Welt about giving up his room for the Trailblazer. He's confident, cocky, if you will. But for good reason.

In the lightcone, its implied it doesn't matter for Aventurine dies or lives. He will always be the winner. Every move is calculated, precise, carried out with clockwork precision and most importantly, planned so well that whether you like it or not, you're letting him win. He manages to get the Nameless, the widely regarded faction, in his debt. He knows damn well how to play his cards. It is extremely impressive. But he is the Aventurine of Stratagems. He knows what he wants and needs, and he will go any length to get it.

The lightcone, again, also shows just how far Aventurine risks, just for him to gain Dr. Ratio as a asset for him to benefit from. He could have gone any route, but what does he go for? Thats right, Russian goddamn roulette. Just for the (I assume) slim chance of Dr. Ratio's trust, or at the very least, cooperation. "I will always be the final victor." I am repeating, but just bear with me here, this just solidifies the fact he is confident in his skills. He doesn't flinch at all when he shoots 3 blank rounds right into his heart, even though there's the 1/6 chance he'll die. He takes risks. Its his character. He doesn't have anything or anyone, much less his own life, left to loose.

The lightcone is also not 'haha funny gay story', as much as it is funny, i wont lie, the memes are fun to look at, but it is not that. Its a story where Aventurine's suicidal tendency shows through, perhaps not so clearly, but its very much there if you look past the story and read into it. Again, Russian roulette, he could have gone for anything else, like a contract or smth, but he knows he has to go through extremes, and this just solidifies the fact of how Aventurine will do anything for assets and trust in him, so his plans can come to fruition.

Aventurine's personality is complicated, like a intricate, deceiving web of lies and emotional barriers to keep him safe. He hides behind the facade of smiles and is unreadable, and his past is all but cheery. A slave, (not a sex slave, twitter+Tiktok users need their brain fucking reworked i will cry) a man branded by the IPC, bound to the till his death is what Aventurine is. The IPC is ruthless, evident from multiple world quests, such as the Aurum Street Alley quest, Belobog's debt quest, Chadwick's quest in Penacony, paints them as bad people, a bad organization in general. Hell, even though Topaz isnt like the assholes we've seen, she's far from an angel herself.

Aventurine has gone through many things to have lost the sparkle in his eyes. Take Childe/Tartaglia from Genshin Impact for example, whom fell into the abyss for months, seen all the horrors of it, had to learn to fend for himself because I'm very sure Skirk did not care for him in a healthy sense. We can either assume Aventurine been through something on the same level during his younger days or perhaps, worse.

And no, he is not Dr. Ratio or Sunday's sex slave, I'm looking at a certain artist on Twitter (fuck off I'm not calling it X), its disgusting. Whoever genuinely enjoys sex slave Aventurine is sick in the damn head, no he would not enjoy that kind of Roleplay, as much as i am downbad and indeed filthy with some of my fics with him.

Aventurine doesn't have anyone he can truly call a friend, ship him with Dr. ratio, Sunday, Boothill (yes, its a thing), Caelus/ Stelle, whoever, but in the end, you cannot say he (as of 2.0, this may change) has any true friends he can trust, not even just a bit. Bonds he forms are transactional, maybe not too much on Dr. Ratio (as evidenced by his dejected his looks after Ratio leaves, either from the insult or bc he truly though Ratio cared) and perhaps on the Astral Express's part, but his bond with Sunday? Yeah, its transactional, 101% unless it changes in 2.1.

All in all, Aventurine is my favourite character, i have never wanted to read, write, understand, watch, hell, I've never wanted to farm and pull for a character as much as him. He is a complex, heavy and deep character that I do not believe many can grasp upon properly when writing stories, headcannons or even smut/nsfw works with him in it (shoutout to those who does tho, I love y'all <3).

Draw or write his fanon self, make him a himbo, tsundere, a rich man who's just a playboy, or a blonde with a pretty face, but you cannot say that is him in canon. I may despise some fanon interpretations, but fuck those who merge fanon and canon. He will never be any of the fanon interpretations i mentioned above, and he never will be in canon. Hoyoverse put their whole soul into this man, i can see it, and its brain damaging on how so many people fetishize his past and water him down.

In speculation of 2.1 and 2.2, if Aventurine does live (he prob will, its unlikely he'll be killed before release, Tingyun is a exception because she released before her death), maybe he'll learn how to start to open himself up again, start to fully trust, starting with Trailblazer as his first true friend. Its cliche, typical protag power bullshit, but it will no doubt, be a huge step in shaping Aventurine back into the man he could have been if his planet wasn't enslaved.

Conclusion: He deserves better, both in- game and how the fandom treats him. I love him, he's my adorable pookie wookie shmookie <33

[rookiesbookies]

Captain John MacTavish x His wife x Sergeant Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

I dont know how it would happen but i'm imagining sweet little Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish meeting Captain MacTavish and his wife. I guess this is me rewriting what happened bc Im made we’ll probably never see Neil as his boy again. 

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

Smut smut smut under the cut for my lovely mutual @shotmrmiller of my John and his wife meet sweet little Johnny au thing.

Also @glitterypirateduck this one is for you and #soapitup

“Bhean,” he whispers loudly, following it with squirrel noises, motioning for her to follow. She walks out of the recreational room. He nuzzled bis face into her neck, letting her know he was nervous about what he was going to say. “I'm getting serious deja vu.”

“Talk to me, Goose.” A shameless quote of their favorite date night movie from when they dated made his nervous face crack a smile.

“I have this crazy memory,” he mumbled into her neck, she always worried he’d hurt himself craning it down like that so often.

“What about, don’t leave me on cliff hangers, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Do you remember our first time together?”

“Skiing or fucking? Because I remember both very well.” He chuckled at her bringing up his failed skiing attempts from a vacation they went on.

“Making love, Bonnie.” He hummed, “would you believe me if I told ya it’s because I had done it before?”

“Considering baby you told me he’d call me mommy? Yes. Yes, I would.” She hummed. “You also found my clit really fast which makes that really reasonable in retrospect.”

“What if, like my future self taught me at that stage, we teach him how to make love to you so he can charm you with the monster.” It came out more as a question, making his nerves hammer against his chest. He was more than sure he beloved wife would say yes, but he didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable or saying it wrong. 

“He does really want to impress me,” she mumbled. “Fine. But there’s ground rules.”

“Of course, Mo chridhe, anything.”

“Just the tip, you know how I am about hygiene. I don’t fully try young you to keep everything clean. He swears to secrecy and if I ever think for a second he mentions this im ending his blood line. And you stay with us. You are my husband after all, not the boy.” The Captain nodded with every word. He’d make sure. He knew the Sergeant would want no harm to come to his future wife, and the Captain didn’t need a scorched relationship.

“Thank you, Mo leannan, it’s what helped me keep up hope I could lock you down when I met you when I was his age.”

“So it was a memory and more than deja vu?” She asked with a raised brow.

The Captain just simply nodded, planting a kiss on her temple, “you’d tell me if you wanted to back out right? If it made you uncomfortable?”

“John.” She was serious, she never called him just ‘John’. “I expect the same from you. And you’d know I’d never keep that from you.”

She reached up to his face and gently rubbed it. He melted just a little bit into her touch. “I assume you don’t plan to do this on base?”

“No, but that’s the hard part.” “I’ll handle it, go tell the mini you,” she said softly, planting a kiss before walking away.

The Captain sighed and let his shoulders relax, he knew he was so lucky to have her. The sergeant was about to be the lucky one though.

He made his way down the hall and stole his past self from a conversation with Gaz. “My wife and I have decided to give you an opportunity to learn more about her.” He said in a low deep voice. “I will be teaching you about her body so you can please her but there are ground rules she set and a few of my own.” Once he covered his wife’s, he got on to his own, “do not bite her, dig your nails into her, or ignore me if I tell you to do something. No coming inside either and don’t try anything.” Sergeant Soap nodded along, “I’m not sure you’re actually listening, sergeant.” The Captain growled. Soap’s eyes went wide, “Captain me, sir, I prayed last night for an opportunity to feel her skin, honestly I was just expecting to be allowed to shake her hand.” The younger Soap grumbled, “believe me, I’m all ears.” “And none of that ‘I have a latex allergy so I can’t wear condoms’ crap. I know we don’t have that allergy. You will be wearing one.” “You’re so no’ fun,” Soap mumbled. “Fine.”

The Captain didn’t entirely know how he felt about the kid creaming his wife. Sure, it was him, but it was a younger, rowdier, dumber him and not his same body. Getting married meant he was the only one allowed to cream pie his wife, and yes, it is a version of him, it wouldn’t be the same as him doing it. Even if his wife is on birth control and enjoys them, he knows he’d get jealous, way too jealous. Besides it’s his job anyway, he signed a paper to be able to do it, and this kid version gets to just randomly do it.

“So when do I get to show mo bhean how a younger body is better to make love with?” Sergeant asked, patting his older self on the back. This made the Captain flip until the voice of an angel spoke up.

“Ya mean when you meet yer own damn wife. Ya wee-” the Captain’s rage was cut off. “Tomorrow night. I’ll be there ahead of schedule to prepare, my husband will drive you.” She said, walking past the two with effortless grace and a sway of her hips. She flicked a piece of hair back over her shoulder. 

The next 24 hours were full of different forms of tension for younger Soap. He was eager, so eager, almost too eager in the Captain’s eye. The Captain’s raging jealousy made him almost want to shut down the whole thing. 

When he loaded the sergeant and himself into the old truck he sighed. “Remember the rules?” “Of course.”

“Can’t believe you still own this truck.” “She’s carried me through a lot.” “When you meet YOUR wife, she’ll appreciate it. Square bodies are her favorites.”

The rest of the drive was small talk. The sergeant saw a notification appear on the Captain’s phone and snatched it up, since the captain was driving. He back read the short conversation from this morning between the Captain and his wife, who had been the notification. ‘Mo chridhe you better not warm yourself up on that clarty vibrator’

‘You expect him to be able to get me warmed up enough?’

‘Its a teaching experience, mo leannan’

‘I don’t want to make him wait too long, I remember how impatient you were <3’

“Does she think ima div?” Soap looked at the Captain and asked. “Reading my personal texts? Real professional, ya eejit.”

“Does she think I can’t make her feel good? Or make her feel like she’s on Eccie?”

“No, she just doesn’t want you to wait too long. She does this. I bought it for her first time I left on a long mission, now she uses it to take away the fun part of getting her warmed up.”

“So she thinks I'm a fandan.”

“Dinnae fash yersel.” The Captain sighed, “we’re here and the least ya can do is make her feel good as a thank you.”

When he dragged his younger self into the hotel room, it finally set in that he was going to be cucked. By a younger him. Fucking his wife.

He knocked on the door twice and it kind of felt like his wedding night all over again. There she stood in a silk robe, eyes only on him with a gentle and soft smile. It's a smile she only gave when she was nervous, he gave a similar smile back to let her know he felt the same. It was subtle, but he reminded him this was indeed his beautiful wife.

“Go strip in the bathroom and sit down in the chair when you’re done, we need to talk.” The Captain said sharply. 

“Aye aye Captain,” the sergeant mumbled, walking into the bathroom. 

The Captain’s hands immediately found his way to his wife’s hips. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, holding her close with his mouth near her ear between kisses he placed in her hair.

“Of course,” she said softly into his chest.

“Do you need to back out? We can leave and forget all about this if you need.”

“Do you need me to want to back out?” She asked soft, turning her head to look up into his eyes.

“No, I don’t think so, mo bonnie lass.” He said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Give me a safeword to give him and a safeword for emergencies.”

“Two levels of safe words?” 

“Just in case I don’t hear the first one, he’s kinda loud.” She giggled and placed a kiss on his neck.

“Bubbles for him and Soap for emergencies.”

“My old callsign?”

“I never call you anyway,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Can I undress you and keep that privilege to myself?” All he needed was the little nod she gave before he moved to untie the robe. 

The lace blue bra she had been taunting him with with the matching panties drove him crazy. She ran her hands up and around his chest as his opened the clasp with one motion and undid the hooks holding the straps over her shoulders so she didn't have to remove her hands from his torso.

He sunk down lower as he planted sloppy kisses down her body and removed her underwear. Lovely pacing a kiss at her lower lips before trailing bite marks backup as the Sergeant exited the bathroom.

“I thought you said I couldn’t bite!” He accused as he watched the Captain leave a hickey on his wife’s chest.

“YOU can’t, I can.” This made the younger Soap look offended. The Captain smirked at the Sergeant’s face. “My wife, remember. Not yours.”

His wife just ran her fingers through his slightly grown out mohawk, a means to sooth him. 

Captain MacTavish moved to his wife’s ear and whispered softly, “may I told yer hand through this, mo ghraidh?”

“Gu sìorraidh is gu bràth,” she said back, pointing to the tattoo on her collarbone. When Soap heard it he almost fainted.

“She knows the language?” Sergeant Johnny asked.

The Captain hummed, pulling his mouth away from the dark hickey he was leaving on her neck, “learned a little bit for me.”

The Captain gave his younger self a once over before landing a sarcastic remark as his eyes landed on the bush, “glad to know you haven’t started shaving yet.”

“You trim?”

“Occasionally,” the Captain pulled his waistband down a bit, nuzzling into his wife, “I wax for special occasions. Yer lucky I found one who doesn’t care.”

The Captain locked his fingers with his wife’s, gently herding her to the bed. He laid her down gently and got her into a good position, shoving a few of the lousy pillows under her waist to offer a better angle.

“How are you?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Ready as I can be,” she said with a soft giggle, as he bent down to plant a kiss on her lips.

“Sergeant, come here.” The Captain commanded, pointing at the foot of the bed, his wife couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her as she dropped her hand over her face. The Captain moved his wife’s knees apart with his free hand, the other still lovingly holding her’s. Johnny got on his own knees as John commanded him as he spread his wife’s pussy lips apart with his fingers. “Ya see that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir,” John corrected Johnny. He basically gave his younger self a tour of his wife’s softest pieces. Telling Johnny her favorite things that he does and what she reacts best to. Johnny was so enthralled with her body he could move his eyes anywhere else. Especially when John put his fingers inside and curled them suddenly making her gasp so Johnny knew how far in her g spot was. The way her body jolted and softly raised as the gasp left her lips was his new favorite thing. He was so jealous he didn’t have her yet. That she wasn’t his wife yet, that he didn’t have the liberty to mark her body yet. “Get to work,” the Captain said, patting Johnny. He didn’t need to say it twice because Johnny went right in.

The wife brought her free hand down to her mouth to hold in the gasps and moans as Johnny ate so eagerly. John was usually slow and sensual, to the messy and a vehement eating that was happening at her core was a much different sensation. John gently pulled her hand away.

“Checkin in with ya, are ya doing good?” he asked his lovely wife. Her eyes couldn’t focus, her mouth gaping and shutting. 

She gave a nod and a hum as her body started to clench as Johnny inserted fingers between her legs and curled, making her body lurch towards the sky and gasp. The Captain gently placed kisses on her face, her velvety cries just make Johnny want to do it again. “She’s even prettier from this view,” Johnny mumbled, spreading her apart with his fingers.

“She donnae like condoms but imma make ye wear one anyway,” Captain Mactavish told his younger self before placing a kiss to the forehead of his flushed wife, still coming down from her orgasm as her husband ran his fingers through her hair as her breathing slowed with her closed eyes. John threw the condom at Johnny, who quickly rolled it on before standing up. “Donnae force it in, go in slow.”

Johnny positioned himself, putting one of the lovely wife’s ankles to his shoulder before giving it a soft kiss. He didn’t dare pull her down the bed like he would have normally done, he walked on his knees to meet her. Hands sliding down her legs to lift her ass, one he saw as so perfect.

He slowly slid it in as John kissed his wife’s face, holding her hand. She was more than used to John’s dick by now, but she was far from used to Johnny’s pacing. So much energy and stamina, not to say John didn’t have it but John was definitely more about making love than he was about fucking or just having sex.

Once she started to grind her hips, Johnny’s face lit up and he immediately started a toe curly, back arching pace. His tip bullied her g spot, making her mouth fall open but no sound falling from her lips.

John cooed at her as Johnny bullied her soft parts, not caring about his own pleasure, solely the pleasure of this goddess in front of him. Once he was sure he had found the spot, Johnny folded her a bit more to hit it a bit deeper, making sure everything was dragging against her.

The only thing that left her were whines, she felt her melted brain might just spill out her ears as the white, staticy heat built up. 

A nice ring built up around Johnny’s cock as he began to roll his hips. Her pulsating cunt milked him so much he felt an almost numbness in his fingers as all he could do was hold her and roll his hips as she let out a broken moan and came. Her husband’s voice echoing around her head with praises and loving words.

It was down right impossible for Soap to not come from her body's pulsations so he did. He wished it hadn’t been into a condom but he was grateful he just got the chance.

John gave him a look and Johnny took it knowingly, going to get a warm and damp towel. He handed it to John who began to clean his wife up, nodding to Johnny to let him know he could leave. 

Johnny didn’t know it was so John could reclaim his wife with some slow sensual sex and lots of love bites.

John, unlike Johnny, was going to come inside. Johnny looked at the photo he had taken of himself with the wife of Captain John from the night prior, "I'm going to marry you. Yer the one I've been looking for."

[echobx]

not my type 4 - Rafe Cameron x plus size!fem!reader

summary: y/n has to go work in the OBX a yearafter she last saw Rafe and things take their turns...

warnings: fluff, smut (p in v (unprotected))

word count: 2.5k

author's note: I'm not a fan of what I did here and I wouldn't even feel bad if y'all hated me for it bc it's just shit in my eyes, but I also don't have the capacity to change it or write it anew but I also didn't wanna leave it unfinished. that's all.

part 1 part 2 part 3

You don't want to move to the OBX, but it's what your father expects of you and it's a promotion. You'll be in charge of the division, hiring new brokers, taking care of business. It’s a huge step forward from all the number pushing you had to do the last year since Florida was opened.  But, just like you predicted, it had been worth it, and now you're supposed to actually bring in good numbers from the island strip.  And on top of that, you are sure that you're over him. A whole year is a long time after all. 

“And the beach is just gorgeous,” you tell your friend Parker, who helped you move. You're both standing in the new office building, looking out of a window, not noticing Rafe's approaching behind you.  “That wholly depends on what side of the island you're on,” Rafe comments, and you turn around to look at him. His polo shirt hugs his muscles perfectly and the shorts sit a bit low. It's in stark contrast to the very formal rosé colored suit you're wearing.  But the worst part of it is that your heart starts fluttering just a little when his blue eyes rake over you.  “We'll find out soon enough,” you hit him back and take Parker's hand, intertwining your fingers, and to your own luck he just goes with it. You had been friends for too long for him to question your moves, and he also knew way too much about what had happened between Rafe and you.  “Good,” Rafe smiles and turns to walk into his office.  “Okay, y/n/n, I get it, but you're also crushing my hand,” Parker laughs lightly, and you let go of him.  “I'm gonna be so okay. Yes. I'll just be okay. Right?” you tell yourself and walk into your office to set it up. 

When you go out for lunch, Rafe simply joins you uninvited. You focus on Parker, on pretending that you're with him, not just because you have to keep your mind from slipping to Rafe. But mostly because you want to know if he's going to be jealous.  And from the way his jaw clenches when you kiss Parker's cheek, it seems to be working. 

However, it's only working for a week, because your friend has to go back home and the moment he's gone you jump headfirst into work. If you won't let your mind rest, it can't think of Rafe. That's your strategy.  It's a flawed one though, because after three weeks of excessive paperwork and hiring new staff, you find your desk empty, nothing left to do. At least not enough to keep you occupied for more than a few hours each day. 

“There's an issue with the Campbell property,” Rafe says while walking into your office, not having knocked. “I thought you might want to look at it before I make a decision.” He hands you the papers, and you look over it, but you can't find any mistakes on it.  “And what's your verdict?” you ask, hoping that it'll help you figure out what might be wrong, because even after reading the notes a third time, you still can't find the problem.  “You work too much,” he shrugs and you drop the paper.  “What?”  “Nothing. It's a numbers issue, see,” Rafe points at the yard size. “They say it's 0.7 acres, but it's actually just below 0.6 acres.” “How do you know that?” “Because I've been to that house. Do you want to risk us getting sued?” he cocks his brow up and you sigh.  “I'll send Darryl to measure it out. Anything else?”  “Your boyfriend isn't around as much as I thought he'd be.” Rafe lets his fingers run over the glass of your desk, and you bite the inside of your cheek to not smile. The small glimpse of jealousy makes your heart skip a beat. It's stupid, really, because you don't know each other, you shouldn't feel like that for a guy you had slept with twice over a year ago. And yet, you still did.  “Parker has his work, and I have mine,” you smile politely.  “I see. Well, the Campbell thing,” Rafe notes before walking out again, and your heart is still pounding like crazy after the small interaction. 

You keep working, trying to keep your distance and he does the same. Only talking when it's really necessary to keep the office out of the reds.  You don't notice that he keeps eyeing you when you're not looking, that he makes sure that the kitchen is always stocked with your favorite snack. And you don't know that he notices how the small packets only ever go missing when you have a rough day or had an unplanned call from your father. And that you dress more so provocatively when you have a showing than when it's just an office day. Or how you strip off your heels when you sit at your desk for more than five minutes. He picks up on all of your little antics, and he doesn't even want to, he's over it just as much as you, but he can't help it either. 

And for the brokers open two months after your start in the OBX he makes sure that the caterer has a non-seafood option alongside the tiny lobster rolls and crab cakes. Because he knows you don't eat it, and he wants to get on your good side again, although he's aware that food won't be the way to do it. 

“Old fashioned?” Rafe holds the glass out for you, and you take it with a hushed “thank you.” “That's what you had the-”  “I remember,” you look up at him, his hair is cut back to a buzz cut, and you don't know if you like it as much. It does accentuate his features though, which isn't a bad thing at all. The sharp nose and high cheekbones, the crooked smile he always greets you with- No, you can't let yourself think of him again. It was hard enough as is, to survive living and working so close to him.  “You look good,” Rafe nods at you, and you don't know what to reply. The short black dress is showing off more than you intended to, but your best friend Claire convinced you to put it on anyway when you called her earlier that day.  “Uhm… thanks,” you mumble and let your eyes run over him, half buttoned shirt and suit pants. He hadn't dressed up at all and the fact that he didn't need to, and your heart was still racing, was speaking volumes. “You clean up nice too,” you tell him and look away again. 

You try mingling, networking a little and gossiping a little less. But when you overhear a broker from a different brokerage talk about Rafe you simply can't stop yourself. The words coming out of her mouth won't add up to the Rafe you know and try to hate.  She talks about dark escapades and less intriguing things but follows them up with a harsh comment on his person. Maybe she is jealous, you choose to believe that rather than what she keeps talking about. There's nothing less believable than all the atrocious things she mentions and yet when you look at yourself in the mirror of the restroom later that night, you think it doesn't matter. Everyone has a past after all.  “He's not like that anymore, right?” you ask yourself quietly after freshening up your lipstick. 

You see Rafe standing at the side, not wanting to talk to anyone, and you start to realize why. You start to understand why he never ate lunch in the kitchen with you or the team.  “Networking is part of the job,” you remind him while placing yourself next to him.  “Not with this folk,” he replies dryly.  “You shouldn't care what they say.” You look up at him and meet his gaze.  “I don't. Do you?”  “I don't think it's possible to do this job if you're not a stone-cold killer at heart.”  He flinches at your wording but he nods. “Are you?”  “Have to.”  “You don't though,” he seems almost sorry, but he turns away again, nipping on his drink.  “Didn't get a choice much,” you mumble absentmindedly. 

“Contradictory,” Rafe huffs a laugh.  “What?”  “You. It's contradictory. You saying you didn't get a choice after telling me you made the choice freely,” he looks at you again, eyes scanning your face.  “Didn’t think you'd remember,” you mutter and turn around, wanting nothing more than to vanish into thin air, but his hand shoots out to grasp your wrist.  “Don't go, please.”  “Why?” you turn around to look at him sternly. “I'm sorry, about all of it,” he apologizes, and let's go again.  “I'm over it,” you lie.  “You're really not,” he whispers and steps closer. “And it's my fault, all of it. I'm sorry, sugar.” 

“Are the stories true? The shit they talk about you behind your back?” you ask and he nods.  “Okay,” you say and he furrows his brows.  “You don't care?”  “Not really. I mean, that was then and now is now. I know the crazy shit people do when they're high,” you shrug, and he looks a bit confused. “And the daddy issues on top of that. I mean, I get it. We've both got our fair share of daddy issues, right?”  “Right,” Rafe drags out the word, he truly didn't expect you to not care about it at all. If anything, he thought you might run again, and the fact that you don't is confusing him.  “Do you wanna get out of here and get hammered?” you whisper, and a grin spreads on your face when he takes your hand and pulls you away. 

That's how you find yourself bent over your own desk, mind hazy and a moaning mess as he fucks you.  “Too much,” you cry but Rafe just laughs. “I know you can take it, baby.” And you know he's right, but you love to be told over and over again.  “You're so good to me. So tight, sugar.”  “Gonna cum,” you moan, and he stops, pulls out and makes you turn around.  “Sit up, pretty girl, and look at me.” You follow the order, sitting up and moving to the very edge of the table before he pulls your legs over his shoulders and enters you again. 

His hand presses down on your stomach and you groan. It's all too much, and he's making it worse, moving to press on your clit with his thumb before drawing harsh circles and your eyes roll back in response.  “Cum for me, baby,” he rasps into a kiss, biting down on your bottom lip when your orgasm rips through you, squeezing him so hard that he can't hold it in anymore and shoots his hot cum into your pulsating core. “Fuck, you're perfect. So hot. Missed you so much,” Rafe pants, still buried deep inside of you and not ready to actually let go.  “Forgot how big it was,” you whisper and feel him twitching inside you. It’s just a silly little note, but it's all he needed to get hard again and fuck you again, not caring about the mess you were making. 

“Bet he's not fucking you like that,” Rafe pants, and you don't know what he's talking about, but you let it slide, too focused on the pleasure he was giving you.  “Mine. All mine,” he rambled, lips attached to your neck, nipping at the skin and leaving a plethora of open-mouthed kisses on it.  “Yours, daddy. All yours,” you moan and hold onto him tighter, pressing yourself against him to try to force him into you deeper.  “Soak me, pretty,” he breathes against your lips, one hand holding your jaw, the other between your legs, rubbing your clit. And his blue eyes are barely visible as he stares into yours.  “Make me,” you hush but scream when he pinches your clit before rubbing it again.  “Don't be a brat, sugar. Come on. Soak daddy's dick,” he grins, drops of sweat running down his toned body, and you swear you'd lick him clean all over if he let you. And when his tongue once again entangles with yours, your eyes roll back and your legs tremble. Screaming at the high he managed to give you and far past it as he fucks you through it and empties his load into you for the second time. 

And the next few weeks you spend the same, pretending like nothing happened while letting him fuck you every single night. You don't want to talk about all the things that you should clearly talk about.  Like the fact that he still believes that you have a boyfriend up in New York, or that he keeps staying longer until he falls asleep next to you, and you don't have the heart to kick him out.  But you groan when you wake up and see him try to get ready as quietly as he can. 

“What are you doing?”  “Didn't mean to wake you, sugar,” Rafe apologizes and leans over you, placing a kiss on your lips.  “Don't go,” you whisper as he hovers over you. “I don't want you to go.”  “Are you sure?” he asks and you nod again. It takes him less than ten seconds to strip himself of his pants and jump back into bed. 

Your head is nuzzled into his neck while you hold onto him, somewhat scared that'll it's just a dream.  “I think you should break up with your boyfriend,” Rafe mumbles.  “Boyfriend?” you pull away with furrowed brows.  “Yeah. Not really fair to him. Not really fair to us,” he doesn't look at you as he says it.  “Us?” It's not that the term itself is confusing to you, but more so the fact that it's coming from him. That he's saying it so casually.  “Yeah. If you didn't have that Parker guy, I could actually take you out, show you off,” he whispers and finally lowers his eyes to see your awestruck face. “What?” 

“You want to date me?”  “I would yes. Is that hard to believe?”  “I'm me, and you're… you,” you answer, but he just kisses you, hoping to smother all your doubts with it. 

“Rafe?” you whisper and he nods. “Parker isn't my boyfriend, I just wanted to make you jealous,” you admit with a whisper and to your surprise he starts laughing. “What's so funny?”  “I didn't even think of that,” he laughs and starts plastering you in kisses. “So smart. So perfect. So pretty,” he says in between kisses.  “Do you really think so?” you ask, and he nods repeatedly, a smile playing on his lips.  “You're so beautiful, y/n.”  “Okay,” you blush and try to hide under the sheets, but he pulls them down to kiss you again and again, and you don't think he'd ever want to stop, and you wouldn't tell him to either. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @drwstarkeyy @notdxbya @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @julczimozart

[ghostadjacentfae]

Okay so I’ve got a bit of a kinda sorta really specific af idea that I am 90% I’ll never get to despite loving to bits so imma throw it to the wild and maybe some of you will like parts of it too. Okay? Okay. 

Basic version: DP x DC prompt where Danny’s gotten deaged as part of another bid for the power of Ghost King. The title that Danny now is heir to. Jazz takes the now like 4-to-8 year old Danny, who barely remembers anything besides Jazz Good and Vlad Bad, and flees to Gotham to find help from somebody that Vlad won’t expect them to seek out help from. To leave Danny with while she goes into the Ghost Zone herself to look for help/a solution.

Longer one where I’ve gone a little very insane: 

DP x DC prompt where Vlad’s deaged Danny as part of another bid for the power of Ghost King. The title that Danny now has/is heir to. Either reveal gone wrong when trying to explain because how do they hide this or no reveal at all, just Jazz grabbing her even-littler-than-usual brother and booking it because there’s no time to explain if they’re to keep Danny way from Vlad. Couldn't go into the zone bc for as many allies as Danny has there, there's also so many enemies that could intercept them before they could reach those allies to inform that help is needed (and who knows, maybe the parent's Fenton removed access to their portal from their kiddos for some reason). Danny is still halfa obvs but he doesn’t remember any details about anything. Jazz is Home. Creepy vampire man Bad. Furries in black with masks Do Good (and Jazzy tells him to trust them so he will). Clowns Very Bad. 

 In Gotham, Jazz doesn't try the keeping low thing. Well she does; not using anything besides cash and fake names, ancients what she wouldn’t do for a shower but places want credit cards goddamnit, to not bring attention on them from Vlad. Maybe she’s got a burner to get updates from Sam and Tucker on, about the status of Amity or if they’ve gotten anywhere on their end of the search for a solution, but they all know Vlad is watching them so they don’t know where she and Danny are or what she’s doing. Which is that she goes out at night looking for the bats and birds on purpose to get help for her brother, making waves in the rumour mill but staying hidden during the day. It takes a while; longer than they have time for really and she gets more stupidly desperate. Danny’s with her for every stupid stunt, usually hidden for safety but never so far that she can’t get to him if in seconds if it turns out they’ve gotten tracked down. She won’t run the risk of leaving him in their safe house of the day without her to come back and find him gone.

She decided on Bats rather than Supers or others bc an overshadowed superhero??? Bad. The bats and birds are either Entities not unlike she and Danny are (liminal!jazz agenda my beloved (honestly most of amity park but that’s not quite relevant here)) and thus immune, or they're very trained regular people. Those can still pack a punch but it's not something she can't fight against if they can’t actually be trusted. Not something she hasn't already fought against in the months she’s been in Team Phantom. Not something she hasn’t already fought against while making her escape with Danny.

Leaving Danny with them is going to take every ounce of trust she can muster.

She finds Red Robin or Nightwing first I think and gives the most bare bones of an explanation. Doesn't mention deaged, simply at-risk heir to The Throne Of Infinity and there's a bid for the crown right now by a man that’ll be another tyrant, and "by the ancients, you need to protect him. I'm the best he's got right now but I can't keep him safe and find our allies". That they aren’t metas but there’s too much to explain. "Maybe Danny will explain if he can but just. It'd be so much simpler if we had super powers. Wouldn't have to worry about enemies overshadowing anyone to get them to shoot us if we were all just metas." 

She’s got a bag of Tech, just whatever she and Danny could grab and Go. And a third of it lost when Jazz dropped half of hers in order to pick up Danny to run faster. Think nearly finished schematics, a blaster or two, one Specter Deflector, what may or may not just be a toaster, and crammed into his bug-bag. Or school backpack. A corner of the bag is green with dried ectoplasm from a broken vial that got shattered in the mad dash. 

(I’m a little attached to it being Tim she leaves Danny with. Maybe he tries to pawn him off on one of his brothers, but Danny's already like, imprinted on him. Very "YOU promised Jazz to keep me safe. Jazz left me with YOU >:C" y’know? Or cuz she stressed so very much that he cannot be left without someone guarding him, and bats don't exactly want identity reveal he can't really be left in the cave under the watch of Agent A since Alfred needs to do other things, he gets handed around a little bit between them as heroes only and it's just Timmy's bad luck that he really likes this clever snarky little bean 's the one stuck with Danny on the occasion that plot happens. I just like Tim & Danny time.)

I'm thinking plot tool of Jazz with one of Wulf's claws? As a thing that lets her get into the Zone without portal access or the speeder after finding a Bat to leave Danny with. But no control of where she'll show up, hence not using it when their parents portal wouldn’t work. It Works Like That™ because I Say So™, tho if you have a less mystery McGuffin reliant idea this is by no means obligatory. Just an excuse on a silver platter.

Also tiny Danny, barely awake, trying to grab Jazz and saying not to go cuz it's dangerous/he needs her, only for his hand to go intangible through her. Did I mention yet that he doesn’t have control of his powers?

And of course, Vlad tracks Danny down. 

And he’s big bad.

[pourcap]

thoughts: kr chapter 15 (pt. 1)

'If they come this way—’ said Nikandros in a low voice. ‘Hey!’ Laurent called out. (...) i bet this will make nikandors love laurent even more :)

(...) Brief visions of strangling Laurent weren’t helpful. (...) damen is the best protagonist ever

(...) Damen judged the distance between himself and the nearest of the approaching soldiers, his chances of killing them, of killing enough of them to even the odds for the others. (...) also does damen's mind ever not immediately go this route? imagine constantly being so on edge because you feel like you have to fight and protect because that's all you've ever known, and because you're the best at it so everyone's survival depends on how quickly you eliminate threat. so exhausting.

(...) ‘You are Charls the renowned Veretian cloth merchant?’ said the officer sceptically, as if this was a name well known to him. ‘No,’ said Laurent, as if this was the most foolish thing in the world. ‘I am Charls the renowned Veretian cloth merchant. This is my assistant. Lamen.' ummmm. okay. 'as if it was the most foolish thing in the world' made me laugh. laurent's brashness lol. also i absolutely love how laurent just went for the ship name, which is of course veeery far off from damen's actual name so they totally won't risk being found out at all

'I don’t suppose your men could aid us in our repairs?’ said Laurent. Damen stared at him. They were encircled by fifty mounted Akielon soldiers. Jokaste was inside that wagon. no way that's why laurent stopped them. is he insane???? i can 100% picture the way damen's staring at him.

just remembered "it's the game i like" so i'm guessing this turn of event makes sense

The officer said, ‘We’re patrolling for Damianos of Akielos.’ ‘Who’s Damianos of Akielos?’ said Laurent. His face was utterly open, his blue eyes unblinking, upturned to the officer on his horse. ahhhhh!!! oh god. also i looove when laurent puts on this faux-innocent look he used so much in book one. it's just so amusing to me bc he's such an asshole and i mean this very lovingly

(...) Nikandros had the slightly stupefied look that Damen remembered from several of his own adventures with Laurent. (...) can you believe i'm getting emotional over this? because damen knows laurent now. because laurent is known. for probably the first time in his life except for by auguste he has someone who really actually genuinely knows him and appreciates him for the way his mind works. i just love laurent and damen so much <3

Damen followed him in, acutely aware that he was being separated from his men. Laurent simply walked into the inn. such an interesting nod to how damen feels more comfortable in the presence of his men (whether that's because he feels the need to protect them or because there's safety in numbers in general) whereas laurent had to rely on only himself for the past years

(...) Perhaps he could overwhelm Stavos. He could negotiate some kind of exchange, Stavos’s life for their freedom. his brain just won't stop omg. imagine constantly thinking about how to get out of situation that could end in your death (also imagine how intimidating damen must look to an outsider since he's basically just always coming up with battle plans in his head lol)

'I can assure you. Charls the renowned merchant is already here.' noooooooo

'That is impossible. Call him out here.' ohh the audacity. laurent can be such a prince

Charls took one look at the unmistakable blue eyes and blond hair of his Prince, who he had last seen in Damen’s lap dressed as a pet in a tavern at Nesson. His eyes widened. Then, with a truly heroic effort: ‘Charls!’ said Charls. hahhaaha no way. bless the real charls <3

they're all charls :')

'Thank you, Charls, this man believes I am the King of Akielos,’ said Laurent. god he's soooo annoying i love him so much

'An agent of the King when he has raised taxes and threatens to bankrupt the entire cloth industry?’ said Laurent. Damen put his eyes somewhere where they wouldn’t meet Laurent’s, (...) i repeat: he's so annoying and i love him so much. also a fed up damen is so funny to me

'You speak very good Akielon,’ he said, loudly and slowly. ‘Thank you,’ said Damen. ohh that reminds me of that scene in book one when laurent had damen drugged and this guy told damen that laurent had an eye for detail or something lol

'(...) Nikandros is completely useless as the Kyros,’ Laurent said, loudly enough for Nikandros to hear him. ‘He doesn’t know the first thing about cloth.' oh my god laurent stop antagonizing your boyfriend's best friend!!!

Damen looked over at Laurent, who was deep in conversation, letting his eyes pass slowly over every familiar feature, the cool expression tipped with gold in the firelight. He said, ‘Did he?’ ‘Charls said, think of the most expensive pet you’ve ever seen, then double it.’ ‘Really?’ said Damen. damen stop getting horny pt. 34972387

'Of course, Charls knew who he was right away, because he couldn’t hide his princely style, and nobility of spirit.’ ‘Of course,’ said Damen. hahahhahaha awww i love charls and i'm happy that in the future he'll have some new tales to tell about this moment right now

'Maybe you could encourage Akielons to wear sleeves. You’d sell more cloth,’ said Laurent. Everyone laughed politely at the joke, and then speculative looks crossed one or two faces, as if this young cousin of Charls’s might have stumbled by accident onto a good idea. you can always count on laurent to find a new way to be a nuisance to akielos <3

ahhhh did laurent push their mattress together to sleep next to damen????? i'm crying. sobbing, actually <3

they're kissing !!! i love them soooo much i can't even put it into words anymore, my heart just goes "!!!" every time they're close to each other

Laurent didn’t seem to care, even seemed to like it. Damen pressed him into the wall, and took his mouth. Laurent smelled of soap and fresh cotton. Damen’s thumbs pushed into his waist. laurent being turned on by damen's sweat... honestly if we got laurent's pov, he'd probably be just as intense about damen as damen is about him. they're truly a match made in heaven.

(...) They had not before had the luxury of extended lovemaking, deliberate and unhurried as a First Night. His thoughts ribboned with all the things they had yet to do. damen is such a softie!!! he's seriously just thinking about all the things he still wants to experience with laurent. he's so cute :')

(...) It was charming, because it was clear that Laurent was unsure exactly what to do, yet, typically, had acted to take control of everything. again: he knows laurent so well by now! i'm so emotional.

'First time to entertain a lover?’ Just saying the word made him flush, and he saw Laurent flush too. god. goooood. godddddd.

(...) He watched Laurent react to his body. Virgins and the inexperienced tended to get nervous, which he enjoyed as a challenge to be overcome, hesitancy turned into eagerness and pleasure. It pleased some deep part of him to see in Laurent the flickering of a similar reaction. (...) hmmmmm. :)))))))) i mean, he's wrong obviously, but i am super happy that laurent gets to experience sex with a good man who he finds attractive and who he likes and who is, on top of all that, great at sex <3

And dropped to his knees on the floor of the inn. i'm getting teary-eyed over a blowjob. seriously. i'm just so proud of laurent and of him taking initiative because he wants to do this with and for damen !!!!

that description of the contrast between laurent's internal struggle and practiced skill makes me sick

[riverleyk]

Clowns are not people.

Clowns are a social and nomadic species of monsters that roam several parts of the earth. The most ancient clowns have been found in the Fifth Dynasty of Egypt, around 2400 BC. Since then, clowns have evolved alongside humans into a variety of breeds, much like domesticated dogs. The domestic clown (the clowns that live in human society) are very secretive. No human nor monster knows that clowns are a different species, as they hide themselves very well and use the excuse of it all being a costume and makeup. Abilities: - Clowns have the ability to shapeshift into humans if they choose. They cannot change their human appearance. They have 1 human form. - Clowns feel less pain, and are basically immune to violence. This is how they can perform slapstick and death defying acrobatics. - Clowns are incredibly flexible, able to fit in tight spaces. - They can also manifest any funny object for a given situation. If a pie is needed, a pie will suddenly appear. - All clowns have the ability to create sentient puppets/toys if they create it by hand. The toys will talk and play on their own. They don't have free will and are incredibly stupid. Most they can do is tell silly jokes. Behaviour: A clown's behavior is heavily dependent on which breed they are. Identifying the base breed of a clown is the most important thing, as the breeds and sex of clowns are fluid. All clowns are born under a specific breed, under a specific category (simply just happy or sad clowns. Happy clowns tend to be happy, and sad clowns are more prone to mental illness. Any breed can be under this category, except for the Pierrot clown, which is always sad). The breed of a clown can vary due to environmental and emotional factors in the clown's life. As a clown needs to adapt to its circumstances, it morphs into a hybrid clown. You can see this in cases of breeds having mixed characteristics for example, a talking Mime or a colorful Pierrot. Here's a list of the most popular base breeds: - Party clownParty Clowns is an umbrella term for multiple clown breeds that fall under this category. They are also known as bright clowns, holiday clowns, happy clowns, or performance clowns. This is due to their breed traits, outgoing, boundless sense of energy, and artistic talent at making balloon animals. Their classic appearance is the most famous of all the clown breeds, being the typical image that comes to mind when clowns are portrayed in the media. They are brightly colored, and often have plump, round noses that are a red color. 

-Pierrot (Pedrolino Bertoldo)Pierrot clowns are delicate and sensitive, preferring calmly stimulating low-risk play over slapstick comedy and general performance. They should be kept away from scare and party clowns at all costs, as sudden loud noises frighten and overwhelm them regardless of friendly intentions. Pierrot tends to have bouts of random melancholy as they fall in love very quickly but struggle to get a date because they are very shy. Pierrots tend to sing, play instruments and are very artistically inclined to express their feelings (usually of sadness or love). 

-Harlequin 

The Harlequin is characterized by their checkered costume. Their role is that of a light-hearted, nimble, and astute servant, often acting to thwart the plans of his master, and pursuing his own love interests, (mostly going after female clowns such as the Columbine), with wit and resourcefulness, often competing with the sterner and melancholic Pierrot. He serves the role of the romantic hero. The Harlequin is physically agile and his trickster qualities allow them to be great performers. They have mischievous personalities, enjoying playing pranks and bullying their fellow clowns. They are most likely to steal your girlfriend and cuckold you. 

- Columbine 

She is dressed in a very short ragged and patched dress, appropriate to a master of the arts and carries a tambourine, which she uses to fend off the amorous advances of other clowns, such Pantalones or Harlequins. She is the only functional intellect on the stage and she uses this intellect to seduce or trick others around her to do what she wants. Columbines tend to be ringleaders of whatever troupes they are in due to their desirability from the males and their cleverness. 

- Scare Clown 

Scare Clowns are often large, intimidating looking breed of clown, with genetic ties to the Big Top and Carnival clowns. Scare Clowns are considered an umbrella term for many breeds of clown that have frightening traits, but that are not all close genetically, for example including the Axehandlers, Greater and Lesser Scare clowns, some Space clowns, as well as the Killer Clown and some feral clown breeds (juggalos). They are very protective of their young and territorial, often serving the role of a ‘guard dog’.And many more...

Hierarchy: Clowns are a happy go lucky species, even the sad ones, so it may come to a shock to some to hear that clowns have a hierarchy. In fact, the scientist that studied wolves and claimed that they had ‘alphas’ and ‘betas’ was actually studying local wild clown populations. The study was changed to wolves so as to not ruin his career as nobody believes clowns are real… Even then, the study was wrong. The hierarchy of clowns is not strict, nor enforced with any rules. When clowns gather in large troupes, this happens to be how they structure their colonies. They live in tents and roam the world, stopping in random locations to perform their acts and engage with any humans in the area. Humans find these visits fun and love to play with the clowns. These are called carnivals or the circus. During these visits, certain clowns might enjoy the human population so much that they shapeshift into their human form and chose to live amongst them, thus domesticating themselves. 

The clown hierarchy is formed by 3 main classes. 

The ring leader at the top, the stars of the show (androgynous) in the middle and the males at the bottom. These classes correspond to their sexe. Clowns do not reproduce sexually, instead each sexe of clown has a special balloon with the color of their sexe (males are yellow, females are red and androgynous are orange). Also, clown sexe is tied to their breed (ie: all Pierrots are male, all Columbines are female and all Harlequins are androgynous). To reproduce, the red and yellow balloon must be tied together to create a baby. Androgynous clowns can just tie their own balloon together. Once the balloon is tied up in the shape of a baby, the clowns must protect and take care of their baby, and not pop it. Over time, the balloon creature will grow flesh and become a living being. As females are so rare, most male clowns will never be able to find a suitable mate to reproduce with, but that’s ok. Clowns are not bothered by the burdens of parenthood. Most of the clown population growth comes from androgynous clowns making their own children. However, androgynous clowns still compete to mate with females as to ensure that their offspring comes out female. Androgynous clown asexual reproduction will only produce more males or androgynous. Mating with a female will result in a female 100% of the time, and females are so rare, it's best to mate with them. 

Ring leadersRing leaders are the clown that chooses where the troupe will go, where they find food and who organizes the shows. Their work is to take care of their fellow clown and ensure their safety. Ring leaders might have to break fights, or comfort sad clowns. They tend to be the smartest clowns in the colony, so sometimes the ring leader can be male or androgynous. However, most ring leaders are female, as females are extremely rare, and once you add a female clown, all the males are swooning for her and fight for the right to mate with her as clown couples last a lifetime. As their breeds are few in number. The only female clowns are Columbine, the Fool and Clownettes.Androginous clownsThese tend to be Harlequins, Auguste clowns (red clowns), Mimes, Big top clowns, Greater Scare clowns and more. The androgynous clowns are characterized by their propensity for mischief and attention seeking behaviour. They are often outgoing, and the stars of any circus they are in, right under the ring leader. They are cunning and capable of charming others for manipulation/trickery, but they aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. Male clownsBeing the most common clown, many of the breeds are male such as Party clowns, Sweets british clowns, Pierrots, Jesters, Jokers, Fools, white clowns, etc. Diet: 

The Clown diet varies among breeds but shares some commonality. Most party clowns are happy with corn dogs, doughnuts, pretzels, or most types of cake. The Sweets British breed have a light and delicate food-taste. They favor cream teas, jellied scones, mini sandwiches, and sponge cakes. Any food that is themed the same to your clown should work. Clowns are communal eaters, enjoying to play and fight with food as eating is a time for bonding and socializing. Clowns get really sad if they have to eat alone or throw pie at themselves.

Environment:

As clowns are nomadic and live in tents, they tend to stay in more dry and even tempered climates. They avoid the rain and snow as much as possible. If they live in a climate with snow, their circus either goes into hibernation, or they flee to live in human-built colonies as the building infrastructure is far superior. Domesticated/Solitary clowns:

These clowns live amongst humans, they stay in their human forms most often to conceal their clown identities. Though clowns are not sexual by nature, they have evolved to look and operate like us. Clowns are not very fertile, but there is a chance of clown and human reproduction. It doesn’t matter if a clown is half human, as long as there is the active clown gene in its DNA, the offspring will be a clown.  This had resulted in a small but growing population of clowns living ‘normal’ lives among us. But secretly, they do wish for the freedom of being with their kin. These individuals sometimes run away to join the circus later on in life, but some get jobs as holiday performers instead to cope with their clownhood. Domesticated clowns struggle to understand human conventions. Sometimes, they dress weirdly, or break social norms. They often feel outcast by society. They take solas in watching movies such as “The joker” or other clown related media. Happy clowns can cope well living amongst humans, using their clown powers for good. Unfortunately for sad clowns, they have a harder time coping with loneliness. These negative emotions corrupting their breeds and turning them into scare clowns. In 2016, there was an uptick in sad clown mental illness which resulted in the increase in scare clown sightings and attacks across the United States of America. These were sad clowns lashing out at the human society holding them prisoner. Thankfully, the SCP foundation has partnered with the World Clown Association and has provided therapy and rehabilitation services to undercover clowns.

Clown Origines:

The clown species first made contact with humans during the Fifth Dynasty of Egypt, around 2400 BC. They were seen as harmless by the humans and fun to observe, so they were not attacked. Clowns didn’t really understand human culture or rules, so they made fun of it. These jokes humored the humans and caused them to self reflect. Some clowns have traditionally served a socio-religious and psychological role. Often participating in rituals and ceremonies in many native cultures. In Europe, the clown or the jester was the only one free to speak against the ruling class. No human would ever dare say such negative comments, but the clowns had no fear and spoke honestly. Clowns evolved alongside humans, learning to mimic them with their shapeshifting abilities and make them laugh. Humans would seek out clowns for entertainment, and in return, they gave the clowns money or treats for their shows. Clowns would use this money for food as humans cook really well, and the slapstick of the clowns make food preparation/hunting impossible or even deadly.

However, the clown species has been struggling. Due to advances in technologies and society as a whole, clowns are an outdated means of entertainment. Humans seek human made media, and are too busy with their jobs and families to be interested in the circus anymore. The wild clown population has gone down with the decrease of circus ticket sales, as they are unable to feed themselves. The main cause of death in wild clown populations is no longer pie suffocation, but now starvation. Ever adaptable, clowns are not an endangered species yet as there is a rise in domesticated clowns. This is not good for the mental health of clowns, as they need to be with their own kind in order to be properly socialized and live authentically, but hopefully the species will find a way to survive in these tumultuous times.

[songforeddiemunson]

PSA

I've thought long and hard about whether I should post about this, and I decided I should, if only to help raise awareness. Now that it's been a year, I think I'm ready.

Last year, on Easter Sunday of all days, I found a lump in my right knocker. I won't bore you with the details or the diagnostic hell that I went through (that my cat died in the middle off, fucking hell), but long story short, I was diagnosed with ER+ HER- Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, the most common form of breast cancer.

I had a lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy on May 1 of last year, and completed a course of prophylactic radiation and am now taking an estrogen blocker called Tamoxifen to reduce the odds of recurrence, which for me, is fortunately very low (around 4% I'm told). Since completing treatment I've struggled a lot with anxiety and PTSD, and have started talk therapy and a low dose of effexor to take the edge off the emotional roller coaster I'm currently dealing with. I still have sleepless nights and rough moments, but I truly am doing very well right now.

My point in posting this is NOT to get sympathy or attention; I'm honestly fine! My purpose is this: I am considered young for cancer and hadn't even had a mammogram yet. I just need all my followers and mutuals with tiddies to know that it is possible to get this at any age, even with no exceptional risk factors. I had no family history of it, I'm relatively fit, and I quit smoking several years ago.

Did you know that 25% of all BC diagnoses are in people under 50?! I sure as hell didn't.

I got lucky. I caught it super early because I check myself regularly. In the shower, while I'm on the couch watching TV, or whenever. Different angles is key. I'm constantly feeling myself up. And I felt something that immediately felt wrong. I wasn't sure I would ever know if something was there, with all the lumps and bumps already present in there, but I knew. It felt hard, like a little stone.

So, I got it taken care of, and now I'm good! But If I can help even one person catch something early, then that would be a wonderful thing.

I truly am fine so I don't want anyone to worry. I posted this to my fandom blog simply because I have a LOT more followers here than on my boring main, and I'd like as many people to see this as possible. I know I'm not the only one in the fandom who has gone through this, so if you're out there and you want to chat, I'm here.

I'm happy to answer any questions you may have; my ask box is always open! Love you all! xx

[woundupabadcomedian]

i've been thinking of what happens to the baudelaires post-canon (ignoring the beatrice letters bc my heart can only take so much) and god there is so much potential there- so. here are my post-canon baudelaire headcanons bc i have to let them out somewhere!

violet:

she never gets her diploma or anything, instead insisting on working multiple low-paying jobs in order to pay for the needs of her and her siblings (it takes some convincing from klaus to get her to agree that he and sunny should go back to school. before she was willing to figure out some way to homeschool them rather than risk something happening to them while theyre gone)- because of this, they are able to rent a one-bedroom apartment and stay there until she turns eighteen.

violet develops terrible insomnia. when she manages to rest, she can only stay asleep for periods of about thirty minutes before she wakes up again because of some imagined threat. when klaus and sunny ask about this, she just says she must've heard baby beatrice stirring in the middle of the night.

she's incredibly paranoid about what did or did not happen while she was drugged at heimlich hospital.

overprotective to a fault. the first time klaus brings home a boy for her to meet, she nearly attacks him. sunny accidentally starts a small fire while cooking and violet removes the toaster and microwave from the kitchen.

she realizes that she's aroace!! this one could just be me projecting but. she discovers that she has no romantic interest in others, and at first she thinks it's because she's traumatized by the prospect of longterm commitment because of the marvelous marriage. but by the time she's twenty and has seen klaus go through three boyfriends, she finds a term for herself and comes out as aroace (klaus is obviously the first person she tells- he just hugs her and assures her that there is more than one type of love.)

violet couldn't look at bea for the first month on the island. every time she did, she was reminded of both kit's and beatrice's deaths, as well as all the conflicted feelings that came with finding out about her mother's involvement in vfd. once she finally accepted that bea was a baby and had no involvement with kit or her namesake, she was the most loving mother figure she could be.

when she has particularly bad days, she needs reminders that her and her siblings aren't running from anything. there have been times where she ushers klaus, sunny, and bea into a closet because she swears she heard count olaf's voice.

out of all the baudelaires, i feel like violet is the most likely to turn to some sort of substance abuse. do with that what you will.

she doesn't invent anymore. after so long of her inventions only being used out of necessity, she can't bring herself to do it for her own enjoyment. whenever klaus inquires about why she stopped, she tells him that she simply lost interest. all her ribbons have been given to sunny.

klaus:

when they first arrive from the island, klaus buries himself in his schoolwork. he needs to feel useful, and with violet insisting on carrying the burden of being provider for their family, he dedicates himself to being the best student he can, because if his sister isn't even getting to go to school, who is he to get anything less than straight As? this proves to be difficult for him, especially because he struggles with focusing on something if it isn't interesting to him. (he tries not to think of how much of a failure he feels like when violet has to help him with a physics assignment)

he takes care of sunny and bea while violet is at work in the evenings, and is incredibly close with them because of it.

it takes him a year, but he comes to terms with the fact that he was never going to like isadora back, and when he goes to come out to violet, she just replies with "i know" and doesn't bring it up again unless klaus tells her about his crushes.

although it isn't diagnosed, klaus has autism- his sensory issues regarding touch never used to affect him as much until after count olaf. there are days where he will have a meltdown if someone touches him without some sort of warning.

eventually, klaus attends university, and he gets a degree in history. throughout the four years he attended for, he always lived at home.

every time he has to make a major decision, he runs it past violet. whether it be out of habit or reverence, he needs her advice before he can move forward.

he gets frequent nightmares, mostly about his sisters getting hurt. violet has to reassure him when he wakes up that both she and sunny are alive.

sunny:

after the events of asoue, sunny loses a lot of her speech. she doesn't speak gibberish anymore, and what grasp she had on actual english seems to be limited to understanding it and not speaking it.

she spends a lot of her time cooking. with violet working constantly and klaus doing homework even after school, sunny is left to her own devices for a good portion of her day, and so she spends the time perfecting intricate recipes.

sunny is incredibly close with bea. while violet and klaus act as parents to her, sunny is the big sister that enables all of bea's troublemaking, and vice versa.

as sunny gets older, she begins to forget the events that she and her siblings lived through. when violet and klaus realize this, violet seems relieved while klaus is almost offended that they no longer have that shared experience. to avoid this response from him, sunny plays along with anything he mentions from her infancy, hoping that he won't question it when she doesn't add anything to the conversation, instead just nodding along.

sunny, around the age of ten, begins rebelling in any way she can from violet's micromanagement. this leads to a feud between them that lasts months, as sunny sees her sister's strict rules as obsessive, while violet sees it as doing her best to keep sunny safe.

when sunny loses her baby teeth, the teeth that grow back in are normal in sharpness. she doesn't know how to cope with the fact that the one thing that supposedly made her helpful to her siblings is now not even something that she can access if she wanted to.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Welp. I did it again [RC9GN Infection AU]

The never-ending brainrot on this stupid show is going to be the end of me. Honestly, this is just me being hyperfixated on post-apoc universes and the fact that I will make things dark on a whim because I just felt like it (I'm sure I'm not the first to make an rc9gn infection au, so in the off chance my idea sounds like someone else's- i apologize)

Thoughts on Infection Lore

Honestly, to make this fully work- it's essentially a more 'progressed' version of stanks; someone who becomes corrupted by the Sorcerer now suddenly becomes a mindless monster (if you are susceptible enough, not everyone will remain stuck as one- don't question this right now)

My personal take is this; not everyone who's been stanked will be infected, but certain people will be placed at risk due to the following:

~ people who have less obvious ways to be destanked are placed at risk

(long author's version: those who have 'unfinished business' and are still dealing with the inner turmoil of whatever stanked them in the first place will be infected, remaining stuck as a monster for longer periods of time.)

~ after a certain amount of days have passed by (if the person hasn't been destanked by then), they will remain permanently stuck as the monster; the way i see it is the sorcerer's a powerful foe and increased the power in his stanks which makes it an even bigger problem when no one knows what caused the transformation - i feel more than it being fueled by fear, it's a multitude of different things at once - and essentially, it corrupts the individual

~ deterioration is an unwelcome side effect (some people only have the 'essence' of the stank, so to speak, in them- and it causes deterioration to the body, consuming the negative thoughts before it triggers the stanking)

~ the mind becomes a lot more animalistic in nature and once it reaches a certain point, there is no going back- destanking won't work, and the individual is simply stuck as a rampaging monster

(author's cut: i need to flesh this out bc this will follow a slightly different route than what i've done before when it comes to the infection au; one thing to note though is things like being a carrier or having immunity do still exist-)

Character Thoughts

I'm going to do this in-reverse; starting with the villains - McFist and Viceroy - at this point, the duo aren't working for the Sorcerer anymore; if anything, they are on their own- attempting to seek refuge within the McFist Industries building, but they can hole up there for so long. McFist has ceased trying to get revenge on the Ninja completely ceased, and Viceroy is simply attempting to figure out the best course of action on keeping both of them from being attacked- (I definitely see them becoming important somehow, but for now this is what I'm working with) [small author's note: Bash and Marci are there, i'm not as mean as to separate them... yet)

The Sorcerer's role in this is ridiculously major and will come into play as the story progresses- (not entirely how just yet, but honestly i might have to retcon the information from season 2 for this to work, just bear with me here)

Not all of the high school students will be important because genuinely I do not have the attention span- and this will be focusing on a specific group/party, not everyone or I would go insane (as if I don't already have other ideas to flesh out) [author's cut: some will be stanked, the rest will be there for different reasons]

Now, to cover the main group-

For starters, we have our girls - Heidi, Debbie, and Theresa - who will be something of a power trio; Debbie definitely is something of a pack leader- she takes charge, and Heidi backs her up in things but of course that leaves Theresa as moral support (though this girl deserves to have her moment to shine; however, in order to keep things on the down low for now, well, this pup ain't talking /lh)

I plan on keeping Heidi, Debbie, and Theresa as the first group- they're not going to be meeting with the rest of the party until things start escalating in intensity; again, no spoilers- this idea for now, is a WIP and I just want to see who might be interested

Then of course, we have the boys - Randy, Howard, and Julian; the way I see it this takes place after a stank incident gone wrong, because apparently the person doesn't transform back (and there's something off, something not-human- like they're not present anymore)

Howard forces Randy to run, knowing there's nothing that can be done- (more people become prone to the Sorcerer's doing- corrupting those unfortunate enough to get too close); though things are going to get so, so much worse. This part isn't necessarily spoilers but I do see one particular stank incident getting worse, and well- to not spoil too much again, someone becomes hurt and the duo are forced into hiding. Julian enters the picture, and you have this trio now facing a threat none of them thought was possible (stanks are one thing, not understanding why they still won't turn back is an entirely different story)

Randy becomes desperate to fix things- but he doesn't want to hurt anyone; surely, there has to be a way to return everything back to normal [author's cut: i have so many plans for this boy, and i do intend to make things difficult]

As for Howard, he learns to assume a sort-of second-in-command status (but i'm going to cause tension, and it's going to be a thing until i kick in new elements in)

Julian, though, my sweet summer child- is weirdly thriving in this environment (but he is also going through it a little- this still has post-apoc elements keep that in mind)

With Randy and the Nomicon, however, hoo boy do I have plans I can't share just yet- however, I will say complications arise esp. considering there's more going on (communications may be cut, is all i'm saying; details still in the works)

Relationship Thoughts

So far, everyone will remain strictly platonic but- I do plan on creating a team-like dynamic between the main six;

~ Randy and Julian do become closer- I honestly feel there was a lot of robbed potential in their relationship esp. following the s2 finale

(author's cut: Julian as part of the informed team of the Ninja would have been such a neat element. Also, the fact he was in the Land of Shadows, but I'm getting sidetracked- seriously, there's going to be an expanded upon relationship between Randy and Julian; also sidetracked comment: Randy and Howard should have stayed members of Der Monster Klub, def not because it parallels D&D no-)

~ I also want Randy and Debbie to become closer because hoo boy, there is again- a lot of potential with them. There's something specific I'm aiming for here and I can only hope I do it correctly-

(another small author's cut: Debbie will need to accept exposing the Ninja is not something that can be her only end goal, there's something much bigger happening; something she couldn't even fathom- but of course, when have i ever made things easy for the main cast /lh)

This post is getting insanely long, but honestly let's just wrap things up with the usual ending;

Under-the-Cut Details

~ this little bit of information is what has me brainrotting over an au literally no one asked for: permanent stanks is literally like dealing with a wild animal; having to make a tough decision due to this is what i'm aiming for here. good luck

~ this is a mature horror-based genre, do not go into this thinking it'll be lighthearted because this is the exact opposite

~ i don't see the nine realms being a large part of the au, and if you do want to see more of this- i'd just recommend checking out the fanon plans i have for the would've-been season three and beyond-

~ i'm sure some of you will be curious on how the infection/"virus" will affect Randy and the answer to that, well, is you'll just have to wait and find out- no one is going to be having a good time and that does include him, have fun

~ in regard to the tengu- honestly, you will see this being a thing- but how? you'll just have to wait and see

(author's cut: this is currently a Work in Progress (WIP); genuinely this will be a darker outlook on the series as a whole, given this is literally post-apoc and covers what could easily be dark magic, but also- intense feelings of paranoia, spiraling negative emotions, and more...

there's going to be a lot happening, but for now this is all i can provide- the non-spoilers edition)

To wrap up some of the things again,

Group 1 - Debbie, Theresa, and Heidi (currently separated from the boys - decided to try and take shelter at the high school, planned reunion in later arcs)

Group 2 - Randy, Howard, and Julian (presumed missing - were also separated from the others; managed to escape during a dangerous stank attack)

Group 3 - Viceroy, McFist, Marci, and Bash (currently seeking refuge at McFist Industries; Viceroy has been attempting to ward off any threats using his inventions but for how long will this work?)

[ladytauria]

19. “The paint’s supposed to go where?” JayDami?

it took me over a month but i finally got to this prompt xDDD

i've known what i wanted to do for a while, but it just. wasn't happening. and then!! today!! it finally clicked!

this is my first time writing jaydami <3 i hope you like it, abyss!

this one got smutty <3 featuring top!dami, bottom!jason; bottoming from the top; riding; blow jobs; & a tiny amount of breeding kink that i don't?? think??? actually counts???? it's more 'trying for a baby.'

also! this ended up being 3k AND i got two more fic ideas while writing it, bc truly, the well of wips never runs dry

> AO3 <

Damian twirls the fine tipped brush through the black paint, then allows it to drip before turning to his canvas. He gives himself a moment to pause, to stare.

Jason is beautiful. He lays on their bed, completely nude. It is not the first time Damian has seen him such. They have lain together many times, both before and after their marriage. Jason has also allowed Damian the privilege of drawing him, painting him, more than once.

But it is different, tonight.

Tonight, Jason’s very skin will be his canvas, and not simply for their pleasure, but for their future.

“Are you ready, beloved?” he asks quietly.

Jason looks at him with soft eyes, brushing his hand over Damian’s knee. “I’m ready.”

Damian nods, once, and then begins to paint.

He has practiced these markings many times over the last month. Both on paper, and on the practice CPR dummies they keep in the cave. His hand moves through them now almost on instinct. The ink is stark against the pale skin of Jason’s abdomen; his usual dark fuzz shaved away to make way for the paint. Damian misses it, a little—Jason is hairier than he is, and Damian finds carding his fingers over his stomach pleasant.

There is still his chest, though.

For his part, Jason keeps very still, taking slow, shallow breaths; moving his stomach very little, if at all, eyes half-closed.

The air is warm—warmer than they usually keep it, so that Jason is not uncomfortable while they do this.

He is halfway through when Jason says, “Mm… Tingles.” He breathes the words; low enough that even in a quiet room with Damian’s attention almost entirely tuned to him, he almost doesn’t hear.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“No. S’kinda nice, actually.”

“Tell me if that changes.”

Jason’s mouth twitches. “Still can’t believe you’re such a worrywart, baby bat.”

Damian sniffs. “It’s a reasonable concern.” He resists the urge to jab Jason’s side. He’d rather not have to begin again.

The ritual they are using is old. It has been practiced within the League for generations—and Damian has questioned their scholars upon it extensively. There are risks, as in all things, but they are minimal. Damian has every confidence that they will be fine—neither of them would not dare attempt it otherwise.

However, now, in the final hours—Damian cannot help but worry more.

Jason’s teasing is strangely soothing, though. As is the way he looks; the lack of tension in his body. Damian knows he is as anticipatory of what’s to come as he is, but in this moment, in the now… He is calm. Relaxed. Perhaps it is a facade. Regardless, it is reassuring.

“We’re going to be fine, baby bat.” Jason peers at him through his lashes. The green of his eyes is strong tonight. It makes Damian’s stomach flip. He can’t help himself—he pauses in his work to bend forward, slotting his mouth over Jason.

It is the chastest, tenderest kiss they have ever exchanged. Damian’s body buzzes with it.

When he pulls away, breath still ghosting over Jason’s plush mouth, Jason’s mouth twitches up, a soft smile creating wrinkles around his eyes. “Keep going,” he murmurs. “We’re almost there, baby.”

Damian swallows. He nods, pulling back. He wets the brush again, and resumes the painstaking process, until he has completed the piece. It is—beautiful. It sits just above Jason’s pelvis, right over where his womb would be, if he possessed one. The markings swirl and bleed together, forming a shape not unlike a heart. The stylistic one, anyway—not the anatomically correct one.

“It suits you,” he says, after a moment; swallowing hard.

This time, Jason grins; the dim light catching on his teeth. It makes them look a little sharper—and that makes Damian shiver; toes curling.

“How long until it dries, again?” Jason asks.

“Five minutes,” Damian says. He sets the timer. The first half is likely dry already.

“Mm,” Jason hums. “Good. Plenty of time to get you ready for my turn.”

Damian’s ears turn red. He has been doing his best not to think about his turn—the very idea flusters him. He remembers when he first proposed the ritual, showing it to Jason. Luckily for him, Jason had been too incredulous to notice Damian’s flustered state.

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” he’d demanded.

“I know you can read, beloved,” Damian had drawled back, ignoring the way his skin felt tight and prickly, cock twitching in his pants. 

Jason had made a face at him, and then they had moved on to discuss things further.

“C’mon, Dames,” Jason says. “Pants off. I’m tired of being the only one naked here.”

The color spreads across his cheeks. “Ah, but it’s a look you pull off so well, beloved.” Still, he obediently hooks his thumbs into his lounge pants, shucking them—and his underwear—off. He also takes a moment to set the timer they had prepared.

“Mm… you don’t look so bad yourself.” Jason’s mouth twitches. “I hear they’re trying to get you to do a swimsuit edition again.”

Damian huffs. “Ridiculous. Just because Father—” He cuts himself off. There are some times, and places, where his parents should not be mentioned. The bedroom he shares with his husband, while he was naked, is one of those.

Jason grins unrepentantly, and closes his hand around Damian’s cock.

Damian’s hips jerk forward. Jason’s hand is warm. Unnaturally so, much like the rest of him—a leftover from his brief dip in the Lazarus Pit. Of course, with as much heat as he gives off, he retains little. Damian spends a lot of time curled up under the blankets with him during the winter, which suits him just fine. He’s not fond of the cold either, and he’ll take any excuse to soak up Jason’s warmth.

Especially if Jason is reading. He is voracious in his appetite for literature; the ceiling-high shelves in their personal library can attest to that. It is a habit of his that Damian loves—even down to his penchant for annotating. Though he turned his nose up at it at first, being able to view his beloved’s analysis and commentary when he goes to read something himself… Damian enjoys it. Sometimes more than the book itself.

He also loves when Jason reads aloud.  The cadence of his voice, the passion he has for the words… It’s soothing.

Now, though, there is nothing soothing about Jason’s touch at all. Instead, it is stimulating, heating; stroking Damian’s half-hard cock with an expert’s touch. It is no time at all before Damian is at full hardness; curving up toward his belly, cock flushed and beginning to glisten with pearly beads of precome.

His hips chase the feeling of Jason’s hand, lips parting around soft breaths; growing quicker and deeper the more Jason touches him, his hand moving faster, tightening and loosening his grip in quick pulses.

The timer rings.

Jason’s hand stops.

Damian can’t help the low, pained noise he makes. Jason, cruel, terrible creature that he is, laughs, low in his throat.

He climbs to his knees, tangling his dry hand in Damian’s short hair, and tugging him into a kiss. This one is the furthest thing from chaste. It ignites a fire in Damian’s loins. Or, perhaps, it is more accurate to say that it stokes that fire higher, hotter, making him burn with want. With need.

His want, his need will go unfulfilled for some time yet, though.

There is still Damian’s mark to prepare.

Jason is still grinning when he pulls back, though his breaths are coming out just as harsh as Damian’s. “Am I going to need to tie you down, darlin’?”

Damian whimpers. It takes only a brief moment of imagining the ropes locked around his wrists before he is gasping— “Yes. Please.”

He does not know if he will be able to keep still, to keep from grabbing Jason otherwise. Even knowing what’s at stake. There are some things that even Damian’s iron self-control is not up for, and unfortunately, resisting his beloved is perhaps highest on that list.

Jason smirks at him. “I thought so.”

He retrieves the rope not from its usual place, tucked away in a box in the closet, but instead in the drawer, where they also keep the more frequently used supplies. Damian allows Jason to arrange him on the bed, lying much as he had once been. His warmth still lingers there.

His beloved makes quick work of the ropes; tying intricate knots against Damian’s forearms with practiced fingers. He hears Jason hum to himself, before securing his hips as well. It would be little for Damian to slip his bonds—but they are not meant to truly hold him. Only to remind him to be still; and to give him that lovely feeling of pressure.

With Damian so secured, it is Jason’s turn to pick up the paintbrush.

“Be good,” he says.

“You do not have to remind me, beloved,” Damian says quietly.

Some of Jason’s mirth fades—or, no. It doesn’t fade so much as soften. “I know,” he says, brushing his hand over Damian’s thigh.

Both of them know exactly what they're hoping for—what they have their hearts set on. Even if they fail this time, they will try again, and again, and again—until they get it right.

Jason draws the brush through the ink. He takes careful hold of Damian’s cock, and begins to paint.

Like Damian, he has practiced the markings many times over the last few weeks, both on paper and on various phalluses. Although he had never quite been able to resist starting off with a joke, or two.

He does not do so now.

Instead, he goes right into the movements. The featherlight touch of the brush is—tolerable. At first. Surprising, but tolerable. However, the more it went on… the less tolerable it became. He ends up grabbing onto the ropes, clenching them tightly to keep from jerking. His toes curl; his legs quiver. His belly goes taut, the muscles of his abdomen on display for Jason to see.

And he breathes. In through the nose, out through the mouth, as slow and measured as he can.

And then—

The tingling starts.

It’s mild. Gentle. If it had been on his stomach, as it was Jason’s, he thinks he could have handled it. But the tingling—and the movements of the brush—

He moans, deep in his chest. “Beloved,” he begs.

“Almost, Dames,” Jason soothes. “Almost.”

Damian squeezes his eyes shut. It is almost a mistake; without the input of his eyes, it is all too easy to focus on sensation instead. But he forces himself to focus instead on the slide of silk beneath his skin, the chafe of rope around his wrists and waist, the warmth of Jason’s body between his thighs. He listens to the hum of the heater, the sound of the wind outside, the quiet crackle of electricity powering their home.

Time passes. It seems like both none at all, and like an eternity. But, finally, he hears the brush click against the wooden tray. “I’m done,” Jason says, quietly.

Damian opens his eyes again; blinking in the dim light. Jason moves the tray of ink to the nightstand, and takes restraints off of Damian’s hips. He slowly, gently, unties his arms as well.

Damian nearly stops him—nearly tells him to leave them in place. He loves when Jason rides him, loves it even more when he is bound. However… Though he loves that, the urge to hold Jason in his arms tonight is strong.

And so, though he mourns the squeeze against his skin, he puts up no resistance as Jason removes them.

By the time he is done, the timer rings again. The ink has dried and set on his skin too.

Damian takes a cloth and wipes away the paint on Jason’s skin. It has already begun to flake, and it comes off easily at the first kiss of water. Left behind are deep brown markings, sitting on Jason’s skin like a tattoo. Like the Robin Damian drew for him, now permanently etched over his breast. They will fade within a month. Damian will spend all of that time following the path with his tongue; worshiping the marking—or. No. Worshiping the body, the flesh of his beloved.

His fingers linger on the damp skin for a moment, and then, he allows Jason to do the same to him—to carefully caress his cock with the cloth, warmed in his hand. His beloved can be so considerate, when he wants to be. The paint on him, too, flakes away easily; the markings still visible on his flesh.

The first part is done.

Jason tosses the cloth aside, usual penchant for neatness gone as he pushes Damian back against the pillows; straddling his hips. His own cock stands at attention, flushed and weeping, looking desperate for some kind of attention. Jason ignores it in favor of crashing their mouths together. Their teeth clack together, and then Jason’s tongue is in his mouth, licking into him like he’s never tasted him before, like he has not already explored all of what Damian’s body has to offer.

Damian is helpless to do anything but moan against it, clinging tight to Jason’s shoulders. He rocks his hips up, groaning when his cock brushes Jason’s.

Jason pulls back, then. “Ready for the fun part?” he asks, breathlessly.

“Beyond ready,” Damian says, just as breathless.

Jason guides one of Damian’s hands between his thighs. Damian’s eyes widen in surprise when his fingers brush against something cool and hard.

“You—”

“I thought I’d prep in advance,” Jason says, lips twitching.

“Clever man,” Damian breathes, and tugs Jason down for another kiss, licking into his mouth, chasing the unique flavor only Jason provides. The praise makes Jason shiver. His mouth slackens, allowing Damian’s tongue to intrude as deeply as he desires.

Damian takes hold of the plug in Jason’s ass and pumps it—once, twice, relishing in the gasp Jason lets out, the way he grinds down on Damian’s cock, making stars burst behind his eyelids.

“Fuck—” Jason pants, when they are forced to separate. “I— Damian, now.”

He could not agree more.

He eases the plug from Jason’s rim, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands find Jason’s hips; the rounded curves of them fitting perfectly in his palms. Jason fists his cock again, angling his hips over Damian’s pelvis.

His cockhead brushes Jason’s entrance.

Damian’s teeth dig into his lip. His hands flex on Jason’s hips.

Jason eases down—Damian can feel the tight ring of muscle flutter around the head, stretching to accommodate him. He breathes, short and shallow, his belly twitching as he resists the urge to snap his hips up, to bury himself in the furnace of Jason’s body.

Jason’s thighs twitch.

That is all the warning Damian gets before he slams down, taking Damian to the root in a single thrust.

They shout in unison; Damian’s throaty groan mingling with Jason’s high keen. Jason’s walls flutter around him, tight and wet and searingly hot. It’s almost too much.

They stay like that for a moment, both of them adjusting to the feeling—and then Jason begins to move. He sets a hard, steady pace; rising halfway off of Damian’s cock before slamming back down again. Damian’s head swims. It’s hard to focus on anything except the way pleasure licks through his veins, lighting up his nerves like a fireworks display.

Damian rolls his hips, meeting Jason’s next thrust. The high, broken noise Jason makes is music to his ears.

“F-fuck— That’s it, baby—”

The look on Jason’s face is nothing short of divine—eyes half-lidded with pleasure, kiss-swollen lips parted enticingly. His skin shimmers with sweat; his curls a halo around his head. A pink flush decorates his face; spreading down to his chest, dark, flushed nipples tight and hard.

He’s a vision, a wonder—and he’s all Damian’s, bound to him for life by the golden bands around their fingers.

It does not take long for Damian to approach his peak. The tingling in his cock is back again—stronger than before. It’s almost painful, pricking like blood rushing back into a previously-numb limb. He hears Jason’s sharp gasp—knows his own mark is echoing the feeling. 

“Beloved—” he warns, voice sticking in his throat.

“Give it to me,” Jason demands, breathless. He grips Damian’s wrists. “C’mon— Breed me—” He slams his hips down and clenches, tight, around Damian’s cock, and he—

The entire world seems to still, and then—he breaks, whole body shuddering, hips jerking forward as he comes.

Jason rides him through it; hips moving in quick, shallow jerks, barely rising an inch off of Damian’s cock before swallowing him back in again, walls fluttering around him, milking his cock for every last drop of semen, stilling only when Damian’s cock stills.

For a moment, both of them are still; only their chests moving as they pant from exertion. Then—Jason rises, Damian’s cock slipping from him.

“The plug—” he demands.

Damian fumbles for it, rising; Jason bends forward, bracing on his elbows so Damian can push it in again. Jason’s body swallows it greedily, hungrily. Saliva pools in Damian’s mouth. His cock twinges, unable to muster even a twitch despite the desire in his veins. He touches Jason’s hip, lightly.

“On your back, beloved. I wish to take care of you.” 

Jason’s breath hitches. He does as Damian has asked. Damian kisses him briefly—sweetly. He does not linger long, though, despite the temptation of Jason’s mouth. Instead, he trails kisses down his jaw, his neck. He lingers on Jason’s chest; unable to resist flicking his tongue over his nipples, or biting into the supple flesh.

Jason writhes. The sweetest sounds fall from his mouth, ruining the way he tries to growl, “Damian.”

Damian laughs—but obediently continues his way down, lapping at the pre smeared on Jason’s skin. Jason pushes at one of his shoulders, not hard, not forcing, but demanding nonetheless. Damian laps at him one more time, and then finally—

He wraps his lips around Jason’s cock.

Jason groans, throwing his head back, baring the column of his throat. It is littered with bruises, perfectly shaped to Damian’s mouth, still lurid purple from this morning.

Damian suckles at the head, teasing the bundle of nerves at the base. Jason’s thigh muscles bunch, one of his legs drawing up. Fingers dig into his shoulder, tight enough to leave bruises.

He bobs his head, taking him deeper, delighting in every gasp, whimper, and whine from Jason’s throat. Delighting most in the pained keens of his name, the way he pleads.

If he were kinder, he would take mercy.

He is not.

Instead he takes Jason inch by torturous inch, bobbing up and down, teasing him with his tongue. His hands hold tight to his hips, stopping every aborted twitch and thrust of Jason’s hips. Jason’s desperation grows, his voice starting to crack.

Then, finally, Damian slackens his throat and takes him all.

Jason shouts, nearly raising up off the bed; his knees tucking. His cock twitches, balls starting to tighten.

Damian braces his hand on one of Jason’s thighs, lifting his leg. Then he grips the plug, breathes in through his nose, and sets a punishing pace.

Jason does not last long.

He gets a garbled, babbled warning and then Jason spills into his mouth. Damian swallows it all, slowing his thrusts with the plug but still determinedly fucking him through the orgasm, milking him for all that he is worth.

He doesn’t stop until Jason’s whimpers take on a pained edge. Then, he lets go of the plug and eases Jason’s cock from his mouth. He slides up; pausing only to press a soft, open mouthed kiss over the ritual markings. Then he lies beside him, pulling Jason in against his chest.

Jason buries his face in Damian’s neck; his nose tucked safely in the hollow of his throat. Damian dips his chin, burying his nose in Jason’s hair, breathing in the smell of sweat and soap and sex and Jason. His hand follows the curve of Jason’s spine.

He can feel Jason’s belly against his. Imagines how it will look, soon; round and swollen with child. With their child.

Damian cannot wait.

[amethystina]

while i agree with the other poster as well, i think a lot of people are asking about the kidnapping tag bcs they think that that's what will be gahans feelings realisation moment? Bcs that's how it goes according to cliche ig. But no one really knows what's going to happen except you. And since the readers definitely don't know we're trying to figure out how it'll all work ig. Regardless, wtvr is going to happen, will happen how you want it to, and that's how it should be. It's your story, write it how you think is best. I think we all forget that we have no say and no right to have any expectations of you, it's your writing, it's your work, that you're choosing to share with the world, we consume it for free. We have no right to complain. So please remember that and let people complain if they must, write what's been decided by yourself💌

Well, I can say that I won't be — the realisation and culmination of their feelings will have happened long before the kidnapping. And the moment won't be one of those where one sudden and dramatic event pushes them to act out of fear/desperation/relief. That's a cliché I don't think would suit this story, considering how slow it's been so far. I hope the moment will still feel cathartic, but it's not going to be explosive or rash. Quite the opposite, in fact. Because, again, I think that suits the tone of the story a lot better.

But you all don't know that, of course, unless I tell you.

And I understand why people are excited and look forward to certain things happening. Especially since I'm so determined not to spoil the bigger plot points if I can help it. That means that my readers are often left in the dark since, from what I've gathered, it's not always easy to predict what's going to happen in this fic. The amount of trust that requires is a little daunting both for me and my readers, I think. You all have to trust that I know what I'm doing, and I have to make sure not to break that trust.

But, that said, it would take a lot for me to change my plans at this point. The number of plot threads and the amount of character development I'm juggling means that it would be very difficult to change things around simply because my readers have a different opinion than I do. Odds are things would start falling apart pretty quickly, or at least not make as much sense anymore.

So yeah. I'm going to continue to write the way I want. There's really no other option unless I want to risk ruining all the buildup x'D

And I know that the people who ask me about the kidnapping tag aren't asking me to change things, either. They're just excited and invested in the story — which I'm incredibly grateful for. It just becomes a bit of a problem when so many ask about it because that's when I start second-guessing things. I don't want to (and the odds that I'll actually change something are low) but it still gets to me, you know? Simply because of the amount of trust I'm asking from you guys.

If too many people start asking about the same thing, I can't help but wonder if I've made the wrong choice.

Writing is hard x'D

Thank you so much for the reassurance and encouragement, though 💜 To be honest, I'm absolutely fine for the most part — and I rarely have doubts about the story I have planned out — but, sometimes, it gets to me.

But I'll always keep writing, rest assured :)

[korijime]

bestfriend!jeno x reader. 1.3k words. fluff. i suck at writing kiss scenes is it obvious. blaming @sungbeam for this bc it’s inspired by rock with you by seventeen.

❝ so now, you were just two giggling idiots sitting in a car in the middle of the road, at the dead hours of the night, holding hands, teetering dangerously over the edge of something that could make or break all the years of your friendship. ❞

the cool late night breeze was no stranger to you, rather, it was a close friend, seeing as how often you met. since you were a kid, breaking curfew and risking getting in trouble, you were always greeted by the cold winds.

tonight was one such night, the wind blowing through your hair, goosebumps appearing on the arm you had hanging out of the car’s window. it wasn’t a problem, though, it never had been. despite the low temperatures after midnight, you were always warm, thanks to your company.

looking over at the driver’s seat, you were greeted with the sight of jeno’s handsome face, his eyes narrowed in concentration. your eyes drag away from his face and follow his arms, settling on the steering wheel where he’s clearly gripping too hard, for no obvious reason.

“something on your mind, jeno?”

your question seemed to have fallen on deaf ears at first, jeno’s reaction came late. he blinked once, twice, turned to look at you and then back to the road. “huh?”

typical.

“is there something on your mind, that’s bothering you?”

he furrowed his brows then, looking confused. “no, why?”

lying isn’t his strong suit, really. he may be able to lie his way out of detention but he really can’t lie to your face to save his life.

the intensity of your gaze must’ve made him nervous, what with how he changed his tune so suddenly.

“there is, yeah, but it isn’t important.”

déjà vu, was it?

and suddenly you were eleven years old, holding onto the handles of your bike, asking jeno if there was a reason he had avoided you the whole day at school.

he had looked sheepish then, looking to the ground and kicking imaginary stones. “there is, yeah, but it isn’t important.”

“if it’s upsetting you, then it’s important to me.”

you saw a flicker of a smile on his face before he turned away, his body screaming ‘reluctance’.

“come on, it can’t be something super bad! i won’t be mad at you, promise.”

that was enough for him back then, just the thing he needed to start spilling his heart out. he didn’t like how some of the people in your class had taken up the time you would usually spend with him.

little eleven year old jeno didn’t like that his best friend was taken away from him, so he chose to stay away for the whole day so as to not disturb you.

you had reassured him then, that no matter who you spend your time with, jeno will always be your best friend.

“besides, they’re not the ones i want to ride with. it’s only fun with you.”

and that was it then, nothing more said on the topic, you just enjoyed biking around your houses, simply relishing in each other’s company.

“it’s important to me, you know it is.”

and here you were again, assuring jeno that his worries are important to you.

he only sighed in response, looking out the window. despite it being the weekend, there was little to no activity around this time of night, even the college students were too tired to be partying so late.

“jeno, come on, please. i don’t want you to be upset.”

he didn’t outwardly react to your words, but his grip on the steering wheel had loosened. too focused on him, you didn’t notice that the car was slowing down, and only when it stopped did you take note that you were close to your house.

even then, “we promised to share our sadness, didn’t we?”

and suddenly you’re seventeen years old, your bikes lying on the ground as you hugged jeno for dear life, ruining his t-shirt with your tears. he only held you close to him, running his hands through your hair in an effort to soothe you, but he was silent.

it had been overwhelming when you had experienced your first heartbreak, you were overcome with emotions that just left you confused underneath the mess of it all, and that state left you in the arms of your best friend, who was silently trying to pick up the pieces of you which had fallen apart thanks to the actions of another.

“don’t hide from me, please. share your sadness with me, it’ll be okay. i’m here.”

and he never left, he took you on an extra round in your bikes around the block, to clear your head. and he was still there, waiting outside for you to go to school together. he never left, and he kept his promise that we won’t let anyone else break your heart.

but then you were back in his car, and the silence had stretched for too long, there was an uncomfortable pit in your stomach threatening to grow as your nervousness increased.

finally, finally after what felt like so long, jeno spoke up, his voice was so quiet, but so soft. “i don’t… i don’t want to take things for granted, i don’t— i’m scared, of what i could lose.”

even now, he refused to meet your eyes. all you could do was look at him, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he stared down at his lap, his fingers drumming gently on the steering wheel.

“not me, you can’t lose me, jeno. i promise you.” and your voice was surprisingly hoarse, the tension in that moment had gotten to your head.

he seemed to think on your words for a moment, churning them over in his head.

“you promise you won’t end up in someone else’s car?”

you couldn’t stop the soft laugh that left you, his question was so.. bold, so not serious in this current situation.

“no..no? of course not, i only ride with you, it’s always been like that.”

he slowly nodded at your words, straightening up and taking his hands off the wheel. he turned to you, finally, one of his hands softly making its way into yours.

“so then, can i be honest with you?” his eyes bore into yours, and now you were the one struggling to maintain eye contact. he rubbed your hand with his thumb, your intertwined fingers were on the far back of your mind.

you subconsciously licked your lips, your throat had gone dry even though you hadn’t spoken all that much. speaking felt like the toughest thing in the world, so you just nodded as answer.

your dumbfounded expression must’ve been really funny to him, since he was the one laughing now, which naturally got you to join in as well. so now, you were just two idiots sitting in a car in the middle of the road, at the dead hours of the night, holding hands, teetering dangerously over the edge of something that could make or break all the years of your friendship.

jeno slowly reeled himself in, meeting your eyes once again. you smiled back at him, your breath caught in your throat.

his other hand came up to rest on the side of your neck, the warmth felt nice, so nice that you almost didn’t register his next words. “then, will you allow me to..?”

once again, you only nodded as an answer.

his heartwarming smile was all you saw before your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling of his lips on yours was too.. unreal. it felt like a dream.

he held your hand even tighter, his hand gripped your neck more firmly as he pulled you in further. there was no going back now, you thought as you pulled back for a second.

this has sealed the deal, your mind flashes as you look at jeno, who stares back with longing and mirth dancing in his eyes.

you’re past the point of no return, the cool winds of the late night remind you as you lean in to indulge yourself again, the feeling of jeno’s lips on yours and his hands roaming your body keeping kept you warm despite the cold.

[taibhsearachd]

I don’t even know anymore man. I have been without my (probably already too low dose) thyroid meds for weeks, getting sicker and sicker, because my doctor doesn’t want to prescribe me more without a blood test, and fair enough.

I’m real behind on getting the tests they’ve ordered, bc the lab that does the blood draws is only open while my wife works and I am sure as hell not going to drive myself when I am a fainting risk on a day when I have not had several vials of blood yoinked out of me. That’s my bad.

But then my wife finally gets off work so I can give them my blood, and when the results came back… they did not test my fucking thyroid hormones. I do not get meds, STILL. I’m basically couch bound lately, I am in constant pain, my hair is falling out, I’m so cold all the time, and I can’t do anything that requires actual thinking because my brain doesn’t work, and my doctor is not giving me meds that help all that because they don’t have results for a blood test they did not order.

I want to bite someone but I simply do not have the energy.