#still thinking of a name for the project...

[deathbxnny]

Arcane women accidentally confessing to you. | Sevika, Jinx, Caitlyn, Vi x Gn!Reader

This is very self-indulgent, so enjoy.<3

Content: pre-season 2 because I want to be happy rn, slight angst if you squint, fluff, accidental confessions, maybe ooc??, cursing, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》SEVIKA

She was resting at the last drop with you during some downtime in between missions. One hand lingered on your hip whilst her metallic one held onto her cigar, eyes focused on the pocker game she was playing with a couple of Silco's other henchmen. She always kept you close this way, a clear sign of who you belonged to despite never having said a word about it yet. It was a mutual understanding only you could have, and so she didn't think a confession was necessary.

Until today, it seemed.

You were secretly helping her cheat a little and eventually told her the winning move, which earned her a large sum of money. Letting out a smug laugh at everyone's angered and defeated glares, she gave you a lazy grin. "Thanks, sweetheart. This is why I love you." She hummed to you, smoke exhaling from her dark lips, before she froze ever so slightly. Well, it shouldn't be that much of a surprise to either of you, and yet she couldn't help but chuckle at your own stunned face.

Looking at the men around her, she threw some poker chips towards them, clearly asking for another round. She wasn't the type to get flustered or shy anyways, so her moving on like nothing happened was on brand.

The only acknowledgment you got, however, was the hand on your hip tightening.

》JINX

She has a hard time hiding her feelings for you due to her rather energetic and extremely clingy nature. But there is still a clear distance between you two that she's too scared to cross. It was a deep fear of ruining everything she had with you in case her confession went wrong. She'd rather you consider her your best friend for life if it meant for you to stay at her side. She didn't want to lose more people after all. And yet, as fate has it, she eventually lost herself in a good and happy moment with you.

You were tinkering on some projects in her hideout whilst listening to music. Her head was leaning against your shoulder as her eyes traced your focused gaze. Jinx felt so content and at peace in that moment that she couldn't stop the words that spilled out of her mouth. "I love you." It took her a second to realise what happened, and her body was quick to flinch away from you. You kept her in place, however, with a free hand placed against her head. "Hey, it's okay. I love you too. I'm not leaving." You reassured her quickly with a smile, one that made her heart skip a beat.

She may not see herself as deserving of you, but she's glad to have you at her side anyway. Hopefully forever.

》CAITLYN

Caitlyn was good at hiding her emotions from you. In fact, she had refused to tell you in fear of breaking the professionalism you two had and, most importantly, your friendship that she cherished deeply. And so, she was very careful not to reveal a single thing... until her confidence betrayed her and caused her to slip up.

You two were reviewing a new case together, and whilst she wasn't paying attention, she accidentally slid you her diary over. It unfortunately looked too similar to her work notebook, something she only realised the moment you opened it and froze in surprise. She may have scribbled your name all over it. She may have childishly drawn hearts around your name. She may have made it awfully clear that she loved you. And it made her wonder if there was a god out there that hated her deeply.

"... My apologies. Please ignore that-" "-Haha, I'm so relieved that I'm not the only one who did this!" You let out a soft laugh before pulling out your notebook and showing her similar pages to her own, just with her name written all over them. Her face was flushed from how flustered and embarrassed she was, but alas, she too couldn't help and chuckle at how silly this all was. At least you felt the same.

》VI

It's not like she didn't want to confess her feelings to you. She just didn't know how! Her confession should sweep you right off your feet in her mind, and yet nothing she came up with seemed good enough. Vi hoped that her flirting would get the point across, but she lacked the confidence to go any further than compliments. She just didn't want you to think differently of her and therefore kept her distance for the most part regarding the subject. That is if she could keep it in for lobger than she already has. She always felt so strongly about others, after all.

So, during a little hang out session in a bar somewhere in Zaun, she attempted to find the courage to tell you how she felt. Whilst she went off to go and get you a drink first, however, a drunken man showed up at your side and started flirting you in a rather uncomfortable way. You tried making it clear that you weren't interested, but as he went to grab your arm, a hand slammed in between you two onto the bar table. "Hey, I think they told you no, asshole." "Who the hell are you?" The man barked back, yet Vi didn't back down and simply blocked you from his view with her body. "I'm their girlfriend, now fuck off." She hissed, and the man just rolled his eyes before walking off grumbling.

Silence filled the space in between you two until you chuckled softly. "Girlfriend, huh? I like the sound of that." You hummed, secretly trying to ease her embarrassed mind, that quickly recovered at your words with a sly grin. "You do?" You mirrored her smile with a nod. "Very much so. I'm glad we think alike."

[vigilskeep]

hey harker! very much enjoying the lucanis/illario/general crow posting, and im gonna encourage more: now that you’ve had some time to sit with the game i was really curious to hear more about your opinion on lucanis becoming first talon. i can’t help but feel like it’s completely glossed over that lucanis is definitely going to get chewed up by this job in most save states. i have mixed feelings about it personally - but setting those aside because i’m asking about yours.

i TRULY cannot express this enough: that villa is a tomb and if we do not get him out of there we are burying him in it

lucanis does not want this job. he has straight up canonically always avoided thinking about this by assuming he would die before it becomes something he has to deal with. he reacts with paralysed disbelief to being given it and seems to have barely registered it for the rest of the game. and even if he did want it, lucanis is not capable of this job. none of his skillsets are managing people, or making ruthless calls, or watching out for himself. the only driving force behind him being pushed into this is caterina, who will not be around to do the admin and protect him from external threats forever. and she only wants him to do it in the first place because she had a good heir—his mother—and has needed to project that dead daughter onto lucanis for his whole life, to believe she hasn’t already gambled and irrevocably lost her family’s future decades ago. but lucanis’ incapacity to ever say no to her, which is what lets him stay that eternal teacher’s pet, is one of the most obvious shining examples why he would be so bad for the job!

it would be an uphill battle for anyone to recover control of an assassin house that until last week was being run by your cousin who tried to kill you. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to lead the crows in the aftermath of the antaam occupation. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to cope with the fact that relying on viago and teia—which lucanis with his resources and skills has no choice but to do here, even if he didn’t simply like them and make choices based on liking people because he is not a strategist—presents them as an alliance that any other ambitious talon must cut down to get anywhere. three out of eight of the talons is such a ludicrously dangerous number. it does not take an overwhelmingly brilliant mind to notice that there’s more of us than there are of them

the best man for the job would still be fighting for their life, and lucanis is far from the best man. caterina was! and she still lost five children and six grandchildren holding it! that’s so many! have you guys ever seen that one post about people who kept getting a new outdoor cat every time the last one got eaten by cougars and it was pointed out they were basically just feeding cats to the cougars. that’s what caterina dellamorte was doing having kids

the points in lucanis’ favour off the top of my head are the weight of the dellamorte name and reputation, that his victory over illario was decisive and public, and simply the fear factor that he is a god slayer and, lest we forget, a fucking abomination. is that enough to keep him alive? for how long? under what level of constant anxiety and moral degradation for his very soft over-caffeinated heart? all for the questionable gain of several large and empty villas and the privilege of dragging out the slow and lingering death of a family that, you guessed it, you love it, it’s the thedas favourite: has no! next! generation! heirs! at all!!!

(unless illario has a bunch of kids somewhere. i think that would be objectively pretty funny, a sentence i managed to type most of before feeling ill. oh god we need to get them out.)

i apologise that my tone here is somewhat hysterical but i have been living in the mind of my rook, a character very aware of the realities of crow politics who loves lucanis very much. it does not surprise me that lucanis was once again incapable of even conceptualising saying no to his grandmother and accepted the title, or that the idea of abandoning her legacy and his family would seem insurmountable to him when he has been raised to believe it’s all he’s for and he is the last one shouldering the weight. but i am saying this with total and absolute confidence: this is another prison and he is going to die in there if nobody gets him out.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #5: CADMIUM COLORS

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

Once again, welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, I wrote a whole diatribe about my OCs while talking about I Wish That I Could Fall, and today, we're eating paint! Cadmium Colors featuring Soneji of Project Mikan!

Consider this a content warning: this post will discuss the pandemic, struggles with mental health, and suicidal ideation/attempts. I'm hoping it'll ultimately be uplifting, but the discussions at hand are incredibly heavy, and it wouldn't do this song right to be vague. Please be warned.

---

Let's talk about COVID.

At the beginning of 2020, I was in the midst of a long-term break from making music. It wasn't completely cold turkey, and I might not have even called it a break if you'd asked me at the time, but things were dire. I was still dealing with the burnout I'd sustained from the making of Autumn Every Day; I'd had my ego bruised by a live performance at a house party that went so hilariously bad it'd hurt even the most stoic performers (imagine watching an entire packed room of people clear out in 5 minutes flat from the already hyper-exposed vantage point of being on stage in front of them and knowing you single-handedly caused that lol); I had just moved across the country, and was preoccupied with trying to make ends meet as a 22 year old dealing with pure adulthood for the first time.

I was working a shitty minimum wage job at a discount clothing store I will not be naming, slogging through late-night shifts that wouldn't get me home until 3 am some nights. I had friends and roommates, but they were all just as overworked and exhausted and dealing with their own shit as me. I was mentally ill and unmedicated. Suicidal ideation was rearing its ugly head at my lowest moments.

Then, as I turned 23, a global pandemic shut the world down, my grandpa died with me being unable to attend his funeral, and I had a catastrophic mental breakdown that suddenly turned the voices in my head into a deafening cacophony of self-inflicted malice.

In hindsight, I think being 23 kinda just does that to you

---

Fast forward to 2021. I was back at my retail job with the pandemic raging in full force, my sense of self was held together with duct tape, positive self-talk essentially didn't exist for me, and I was the loneliest and lowest I had ever been. I was working the fewest hours I could get away with, and still, almost all spare time I had was taken up either by work or by my recovery from it.

This was around the time I got an email from Crypton, of all places - the people that make Hatsune Miku, for anyone uninformed. They wanted a remix of the song Happy Synthesizer for a Digital Stars compilation. I could not for the life of me tell you how I lucked into this or why they reached out to me of all people, but they did, and I was deathly determined to prove myself worthy of it.

This was August of 2021. I was staring down the barrel, languishing in what felt like only half of a life, fantasizing about death and trying to twist my thoughts into something that could at least keep me blearily shuffling forward another couple days. It was untenable.

(I'd also recently been diagnosed with OSDD 1b - this is a whole can of worms I can't really open until we talk about Breeze Blows, but it's important to at least mention that coping with this was a significant part of this turnaround.)

It's melodramatic, but I had only two options - make things again, or die.

I finished that remix within 24 hours of getting the stems, and I will gladly toot my own horn about it - it's really fucking good, in my opinion. Bittersweet ended up coming together in a mad dash over the next couple months as well. I was making music again.

Even though I was exponentially busier, things paradoxically got easier. I made the creative process a priority in my life, and not only did it give me an outlet for everything that had otherwise been eating away at my soul, but it struck a chord with other people who had been struggling as well. Things just... started getting brighter.

So I kept making music and living and yadda yadda blah blah here I am. This is all a lot of words and very personal stories of mental health struggles to say this:

One: The line between being an artist and being one of countless people forced to work jobs that go nowhere, that put their life at risk, that force them to strip parts of themselves away - it is a faint and transparent line built on circumstances of class and privilege and luck. Making Art and being an Artist aren't magical elevated states of existence, but something anyone is capable of if given the space to nurture their creativity. I believe the world should be a place where any person can do this.

Two: It's easy to convince yourself that art is meaningless in the face of the world at large. And yes, revolutions aren't fought by poetry and paintings, and people aren't fed through songs. But art is a source and a medium for connection; Art is how we find beauty in a disorganized and entropic world; Art is what we come home to and what words we write and pictures we paint and songs we sing to remind us that people matter to us and love is real and life is worth fucking living. Maybe that's corny and stupid, but it's true.

Three: So help me God, I will never work retail again in my entire life.

---

This is another song that is heavily inspired by artists like Prefab Sprout, Peter Gabriel, Kate Bush, and other artists of that ilk - very 80s, very flowery and sentimental lyricism, focused on telling a story. I greatly admire songs that aren't afraid to paint otherwise banal or ordinary scenes in abstract reverence!! I wanted the verses to contrast heavily with each other in that way, with verse one's relentless poeticisms (prosaic practice of depravity) and idioms turned on their head (suspending innocents above their disbelief) against verse two's incredibly straightforward depiction of a factory worker's circumstances.

The flowery language might have worked against me somewhat, though! I've seen a lot of folks that thought the ending was darker or much more defeatist than I intended, and while some of that is just inevitable with a work of art, I want to be clear.

Translator's note: this means "don't kill yourself, you idiot"!!

As you may have picked up from the previous post in this series, this song does heavily feature a leitmotif or two predominantly performed under pudgy pretenses. I'm not going to go on that whole novella-length spiel again, but rest assured knowing that this song, too, is one that makes me think about my OCs. Since it's something many people missed, however, I will take a moment to point out that this song quotes none other than Autumn Every Day off of my album of the same name!

Painting and visual art have been something of a reoccurring obsession of mine in my own art. I grew up around visual artists, have always been friends with many visual artists, and generally have a really intense love of it as a medium and a mode of expression. However, there's also always been a sense of... well, I don't want to call it jealousy, but it's jealousy. I've tried many times to start making visual art of my own, and I have made some things, but it's been a struggle, and I worry sometimes that my eye has permanently outstripped my ability.

However, in my quest to toss out grand expectations and simply have fun making art, I did recently pick up a cheap little drawing tablet! I'm excited to be a beginner at something artistic again...

Finally, I want to thank a couple people: Soneji of Project Mikan for the gorgeous, soaring saxophone solo; friend_xp for the mindboggling MV editing; and especially my good friend Que for the GORGEOUS painterly art that goes along with this song! Que's style was just perfect for this, and really tied the whole thing together immaculately!! There's no joke or deeper lore or anything I just fucking love Que's art go follow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And with that, I think this post is complete!! If you have anything else you wanna know about, ask away in the replies! Tomorrow will be Breeze Blows with Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs!!!

MAKE ART AND BE GAY

[pricegouge]

Get Her a Dog (She'll be Happier For It)

Part Five | master list | taglist | MDNI

Soap x reader, Price x reader, eventual PriceSoap x reader

series cw: cheating. dubcon. angst. cuckholding. pet play.

chapter cw: angst, cheating, dubcon, breeding kink. john gets slapped

reader is fem and fat

He comes home with a puppy some weeks later, timed perfectly to coincide with your house finally starting to look like a home; no boxes left to be chewed up, as if he were really trying to be considerate. A puppy was not discussed but you're helpless against its charms, infatuated from the moment it first teethes on your fingers. You name him Gilbert because it makes Johnny laugh the hardest, though it gets shortened to Gil within the hour. 

You've heard that one of the biggest tests a couple could go through was a move, but clearly that statistic was measured among couples who tackled these issues together , as the move goes through surprisingly easy, even despite the stress of handling most of it yourself. Not to say Johnny doesn't help where he can, touring houses with you and signing paperwork without a fuss. It's just hard to wrangle him when he's suddenly needed much more often around base so you shoulder the brunt of the work and clap excitedly each time he praises you for a job well done when you make progress, traversing the unknown terrain of legalese and open houses with no aid besides an (admittedly very helpful) realtor. Johnny calls it your solo mission, makes it into a bit of a game for you. It's sweet, fun. Everything you've been missing about his company, and despite all the apprehension the ambitious project had instilled in you, you end up feeling closer to your husband than you have in years. It's nice to feel like a team, and you wonder if maybe this is the exact reason he spends so much time with his own. Hard to be mad at him when you think of it like that.

He's with you when you attend your final open house, broad shouldered and strong in the oversized kitchen; the only man among those assembled who can fill it out, make it seem homey instead of austere. You make out like teenagers in the master bath when you both decide this is it, the one . Johnny lifts you onto the counter with a heavy grunt as you whisper against his lips about putting a baby in you, fueling him on as he rips his belt off and rucks up your skirt. He only shushes you when your begging gets too loud, afraid of being caught, though it's almost rendered meaningless with the way you whine when he pulls out, painting your belly. Johnny tells you you should wait until after the move to avoid stress on the baby and you can't deny he's right so you put on a happy face for the rest of the tour, keep it in place through the whole hair pulling process of finalizing the sale. It's not hard to fake, pleased as you are with Johnny's initiative to move, and it's still in place on moving day when the two of you collapse, exhausted but relieved, onto the mattress that still sits on the floor of your new bedroom. 

It finally breaks that first night, when Johnny's got you on your back, heavy weight bearing down on you where he leans against the backs of your thighs, pinning you in place underneath himself. He's worked himself into a sweat, breath coming in heavy huffs which spill hot as a bellows across your cheek. You're useless but to clutch at his thick shoulders, moan your encouragement. He answers in deep grunts, synchronized with the slap of his full balls against your ass. You don't beg him this time, don't think you need to with the way his eyes are locked on the sight of your cunt clenching around him, trying to keep him buried deep. 

You know something is wrong when he pulls out to jerk himself off over your tits, but he's so sweet afterwards that you let it slide, allow yourself to be lost in the warmth of his embrace, at least for the night. You weren't ovulating, anyway.

He comes home with a puppy some weeks later, timed perfectly to coincide with your house finally starting to look like a home; no boxes left to be chewed up, as if he were really trying to be considerate. A puppy was not discussed but you're helpless against its charms, infatuated from the moment it first teethes on your fingers. You name him Gilbert because it makes Johnny laugh the hardest, though it gets shortened to Gil within the hour. 

Gil is a handful, the best kind of trial run - one you're not sure you can give your husband the credit for considering you're not entirely certain he had the foresight necessary to assign you a trial, though one you're committed to rise to regardless. The dog's a quick study, breezing through potty training within two weeks, though the chewing takes a little longer to break. He trains you just as much as you do him, molding you into the perfect dog owner in record time. You coordinate vet visits with practiced ease, spend an inordinate amount of time reading dog psychology books (seriously, you never realized how developed the field was), and walk him religiously - a practiced balance between just enough for exercise and not enough to hurt his fragile little joints, meticulously calculated based on vet feedback. Johnny becomes enamored with him just as quickly as you, though he's not quite as strict about adhering to the rulebooks as you. (Another perfect insight gained into your upcoming trials as new parents. You were learning so much already.) There are some days you don't know who has more puppy energy, Johnny or the dog, Gil often collapsing into a small, fluffy heap long before Johnny would clamber to his feet, complaining about his bad knee. When you tell him he could be helping burn off Gil's energy by training him to play fetch properly, he interrupts before you can prattle on about what your books say about the benefits of fetch by reminding you that wrestling is how puppies play with each other, so that's what he will be doing.

"Besides," he affirms, scooting Gil's supine form along the kitchen tile with a heavy hand planted on the pup's bloated, exposed belly as the beast gave half-hearted nips to his owner's thick fingers, "it's good. Teaches him how tae handle rough pats and stuff, jes' in case."

"Like, in case an overeager baby pokes him too hard?"

You tell yourself you're imagining the way his shoulders tense, thick delts creeping up toward his ears. "Aye, exactly."

***

The idea for the housewarming party comes up after Gil's first obedience class, when the trainer comes around your car at the end of class to ask how you've liked it and Gil barks his head off at her from the backseat. You're shocked, having never seen him behave this way but the instructor just smiles, unconcerned.

"Do you have many guests around the house, Mrs. MacTavish?"

It takes you by surprise, realizing that you haven't really, not since the move. Behind it comes an odd sense of pride in your husband, ashamed you hadn't realized before that moment how far he's come from needing to be with the boys nearly every night. "No, not often lately."

"I see. This is pretty normal behavior for a puppy. Just a little territorial. It should be an easy fix with proper socializing, given how smart Gil here is. I'd start with having some guests over and make sure you calm that -," she motions to Gil's anxious whining from the other side of the glass illustratively, "- reaction before allowing your guests inside. I don't sense much aggression in his behavior, probably all bark and no bite," she laughs, "but do you think you'll need help?"

Ego flares hot for a second, undeserved and unaccounted for. You'd blame the strange way you've equated raising this dog with proving you're ready for a baby if you stopped to think about it for more than three seconds but you don't, too busy biting out a positive response.

Johnny takes to the housewarming party idea enthusiastically, probably happy to have this strange self-inflicted embargo on visitors lifted. You treat it all very officially, happy for the distraction amid dog walks and dog parks and dog grooming and -.

It starts with handwritten letters instead of texts, though you can't admit to yourself why until you're thumbing through your contacts list for P.O. boxes and your thumb hovers over John's name too long, the urge to call him hard to combat. You don't need the back and forth, the memory of how you'd almost kissed him still far too fresh despite how you've tried to bury it deep. You leave his invitation short and impersonal, even managing to make yourself laugh when you picture yourself spraying it with your favorite perfume like some lovesick teenager. But the invite is sealed unsprayed, and it's shuffled off into the post just as unceremoniously as the rest of them, and when John texts you days later to confirm he will be there, you note it just as mildly as the rest as well, and you lay yourself down that night with some sense of pride. 

Even if you're ovulating now and your husband definitely shouldn't be letting you drift off to sleep with any dignity.

***

Years of hosting the boys for dinner should have prepared you for an evening such as this, but friendly gatherings around the tiny kitchenette of the old apartment were one thing, and the first proper dinner of your forever home was another beast entirely. It didn't help that in all your excitement of fancy proper invites you'd managed to invite Kate and her wife, though the severe woman had shown up stag and you can only imagine that meant she'd been in town on business, a fact that lends itself to the intensity with which she stands in your kitchen now, probably thinking to be congenial but only serving to make your hands shake as you pull a bread bowl from the oven under her watchful eye. You can hear Johnny greeting yet more guests in the other room, his loud boisterousness infectious enough to have the newcomers laughing with him before they'd even properly stepped through the door. You keep an ear out, asking Kate if she'd like to go say hi to the new guests when you detect the light lilt of Kyle's latest fling because you were determined to pawn her off on someone before she watched you - disinterestedly, scathingly - ruin the whole dinner because you were not made out for the cooking reality show lifestyle and you couldn't handle the pressure of her very presence.

"He'll come to me," she says mildly, sipping on her wine so elegantly it didn't even stain her teeth and you curse when she proves herself right, Kyle filtering in mere moments later as if paying respects to a mob boss. His easy charm loosens Kate incrementally, but you attach yourself to his date, Maddy, regardless, throwing yourself into her company for as long as she offers it, your little gaggle growing when your cousin joins some minutes later.

Gil trots around happily, the mild concern you'd had about his approachability dead and buried after the first guest's arrival had prompted only a singular bark before being reprimanded with a water bottle, rewarded for being calm on the second greeting with trainer treats. He'd been nothing more than a vibrating bundle of excitement ever since, wagging his tail with each new guest and chewing on the end of your aunt's ugly scarf only once. You coo at him about being a good boy whenever he deigns to approach you, but for the most part he's just happy enough to mingle, weathering clumsy pets with a dignity better suited to a much older dog. Johnny catches the impressed way you watch him at one point, nodding smugly as if he alone could take credit for the dog's behavior. The peck you press to the corner of his lips after draws hoots from his teammates when he can't let you go without a proper kiss.

John comes uncharacteristically late, though you're aware of his arrival from the moment Johnny answers the door for him like a neighboring planet with which you are locked. Orbital resonance, affecting each other before you even lay eyes on him. From the kitchen, you pretend not to listen as he greets his boys each in kind and you wonder how quickly he notices your absence, if he's calculating the appropriate time necessary to wait to come through and greet you with just as much care as you. For all the restraint you'd shown while sending his invite, now that you can hear the rough scratch of his voice in your home again, you suddenly remember it wasn't always near-misses, and you want your friend back. Want him to scoot Maddy and your cousin off to the side so he can help you put the finishing touches on the meal, or maybe distract Kate who is still having a hard time mingling with the other women .

He does neither, instead distracts himself with Gil for as long as the dog lets him, commenting to Johnny about he wasn't aware the two of you had adopted. 

You nearly slice through your own finger when you hear Johnny's answering laughter over the sound of cutting chives, the way he says it was at John's own behest.

It irks you, more than it ought to. You'd joked to yourself from the beginning that you didn't believe Johnny had an idea like that in him but still, Gil has been the highlight of your days ever since Johnny had brought him home and you didn't much relish attributing the idea to John at this point, especially not after…

'John's own behest.' Where did he get off anyway?

You move through dinner with a practiced detachment - though, one you've never had to use on most of the assembled before. When he does finally come to greet you, John is put off by your careful reservedness, though he seems to be the only one to notice it, blessedly. Johnny sets the jovial tone for the night with ease, the assembled crew following after his general cheer easily. You even see Simon loosening up a bit, playing with Gil when he thinks no one is watching him. Determined to have a good time with your friends and family, you allow yourself to be carried along as well, settling in between Johnny and Kyle at the table when dinner is finally served. It's nothing terribly formal, an overflow of guests having taken up residence on the couch in the adjoining living room. When you look around you see plenty of people already eating, the din of laughter having abated a few decibels seeming to confirm that at least everyone seems to like the food enough to keep them from chattering too much, a point Johnny seconds when he doesn't sit immediately, instead deciding that was the moment to thank everyone for attending. 

"Okay, sorry, this'll only take a sec, but ah jes' want tae thank everyone for coming tonight. Ah ken it's a wee bit of a trek outside the city now, afterall." Johnny pauses to allow the small crescendo of polite laughter. He seems slightly embarrassed, the apples of his cheeks ruddying under so much attention, but he did it to himself and you're not about to share the spotlight so you let him flounder, ever the better under such circumstances out of the two of you. "Honestly, though, everyone here tonight is very important tae us and I ken I speak for both me and the missus when ah say we love each'a ye's and thank ye fer always bein' there fer us." He plows over the small collection of coos from your family evidently unable to weather the storm. "An' a special thanks tae ye, cap. Wit'ou' ye talkin' some sense intae me, there never would'a even been a new house tae warm!" He holds out his glass as if to give a toast. You see a handful of people follow suit, but Johnny only has eyes for his captain, watching expectantly as the older man struggles to bite back the grimace the sergeant's words brought on. After a slight pause, John raises his tumbler stiffly and Johnny grins, seating himself with a small, pleased smile. 

John avoids your eyes, long enough that the moment stretches while everyone waits to see if you'll take up the reins, or if Johnny will follow through on the toast he'd started. Distracted, you tuck your hands into Johnny's arm as if to portray the doting wife, but you remain seated, as if confused. Your voice is thin and brittle when you tell everyone to please dig in. The tension swells and ebbs, a tide brought in by a collective shrugging on shoulders, let out with a handful of awkward chuckles. Johnny seems oblivious, tucking into the spread with a borderline indecently appreciative moan. His hand finds your leg under the table, squeezes to gain your attention so he can compliment the chef. You feel vapid and airy when you tell him it was nothing really, as if you've become untethered from the scene around you. There's something you're missing, or rather something you haven't missed at all but which you refuse to look directly at. 

Diagonal from where you sit, John refuses to look directly at you.

***

Without the distraction of wrapping up the meal, you're actually expected to host. A terrible development considering you're two Scottish expletives away from filing for divorce. Irritation eats at you, has you peeling absently at hangnails with too much abandon. After your second trip to the bathroom to staunch some mild blood flow and contemplate your financial standing without Johnny, you emerge to find John waiting for you in the hall, his face stern and grim, yet dire. The same expression you'd nearly kissed off of him. 

You pass by him without a word when he goes to reach for your elbow. 

The worst part is that none of it is even John's fault. You don't know the circumstances under which he told your husband to get his head out of his ass, but he's not to blame for the fact that it was necessary in the first place. Effect, cause. There's a whole song about it. But you don't want to be mad at Johnny for once, not after how well the two of you had been doing. Finding out Gil had been John's idea was bad enough, but that wasn't an issue in the same way knowing your husband would have been content to live the rest of your days - raise a kid - in some cramped York flat was. All the ways Johnny had changed, all the maturity he'd shown. All the reasons you'd been feeling so much more positively about your marriage as of late. 

All because of John.

You're becoming less adept at hiding your frustration as the night drags on. Kate is among the first to leave but she lingers in the door, eyes hard and scrutinizing as you ramble farewells, for once too unconcerned about putting on a good face for her. It's not your smartest decision, as Kate - who has likely known something was wrong since the moment she stepped through the door - chooses then to show her hand, parting with a cryptic, 'He's no better,' before making her exit properly and the thing is, is that you know that, but without lense of Johnny's would-be recent growth to obscure them, all you can focus on are all his massive shortcomings the last few months. 

He'd called buying your forever home together your solo mission, for Christ's sake. And you'd thought it was cute.

By the time the party has dwindled to the small collection of regulars, Johnny's mates, you've had just about enough of playing your role, wandering off to the kitchen without so much as an excusal. There's a version of tonight that ends with you making too much noise while cleaning up, a passive aggression that would draw the attention of the other team members who'd then filter out the same way Kate did earlier, with small, meaningless words of advice that will also go unheeded. It's hard to decide what you do want when the list of things you don't seems to go on forever, but a fight with Johnny when you're so very wound up is not a good idea and even you can recognize it in the moment. 

Though there's another option, left of center.

Where before your dance with John was oppositional, it was too graceful, coordinated to be adversarial - more polar, fixed and measurable. Whatever it becomes as the night drags on is too pointed, an aggression gauged by the lack of it. John yields when you linger, follows when you need space. Peripheral presence, stalking.

So you let yourself be herded into the laundry room and you hiss and you spit but he doesn't weather it for once, instead using every opening he can find to lay blame at your feet, tell you you should have been more outright with your wants from your husband all along. You demand to know how he can say that when he of all people has known your building frustration with Johnny's disinterest in listening to your desires, and he turns it back on you by suggesting you never should have told him in the first place, should have spent all your energy learning to communicate with the man you'd said your vows to. 

You surprise yourself, how low you're willing to sink. "Oh and I should take your advice on that, should I? Did you learn to listen before or after she left you?"

To his credit, John barely flinches. Or maybe he does, in his own way, such tells trained into unrecognizable ticks. John draws himself up to his full height, lets himself drift half a step closer into your space so his next words seem uncharacteristically menacing. "Your welcome for the house. Your welcome for the dog, " he snarls - sarcastic and cruel. A side of him you've always known existed but which has been carefully kept from you. 

Bait is easy to spot, harder to resist. "Where do you get off, anyway, suggesting we get a dog? Afraid I can't handle a baby? Think I need some sense talked into -?"

"Of course not. I think you'd make an excellent mother. " Though his words are reassuring, his tone still falls over you like a rock slide, threatens to crush you under his frustration. "But it was either a dog or nothing because that man -," his fist clenches hard where it hovers by your ear, pointing over your shoulder in the vague direction of the living room on the other side of the wall, "- was not going to give you a baby. And I know you're lonely, so I -."

Slap.

Through the stinging in your palm, you have a brief moment of satisfaction, noting the way John indeed does flinch as you scowl up at him. "Some substitute."

If you had thought about the way you pictured this route going before setting upon it, you suppose you would have pictured a moment of stunned silence, storming past John's shocked expression, perhaps knocking your shoulder into him just to watch him sway on locked knees. But you hadn't thought it through, because you're impulsive and a fool for thinking you've known John well enough to predict him. But there's that other side of him, that side you've never seen before tonight which can call even your reckless husband to heel, out there in whatever hells they toiled under. It's that part of him who stands before you now.

John is confident where you'd expected confounded, decisive where you'd expected dazed. Your hand doesn't even make it back to your side before he's grabbing you by the wrist with a firm, callused grip and spinning you until your back rests flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around your front so he can pin you there, keep a hand planted over your mouth when he leans in to huff harsh breaths over the shell of your ear. "You're a spoiled little brat, you know that? Soap's a good lad, just needs some guidance. But you're so bloody impatient you can't wait for him to grow into it."

Protests fall flat from your tongue, get swallowed up by the firm hand which remains clamped across your jaw. John shuffles forward and you're forced to move with him, your steps clumsy and tangled with his own until he gets you hinged over the dryer, his body still flush against the back of your own. He presses close enough that his knees worm between yours, heavy boots knocking your stockinged feet aside to make room for himself. When his free hand paws across your hip to the apex of your thighs and just grips you there, your breath stutters through his fingers, heavy and humid.

"Got you a house, woman, christ , what more do you want?"

When his grip changes on your jaw, you seethe. "You know what I -."

"Yeah," John's fingers slip through your folds with slick ease when he pushes the gusset of your panties aside, his fat digit testing your cunt with barely any preamble. "I'll get you that, too."

It's rushed, skirt thrown over your hips and a few fingers to make sure you're wet enough. John's not quite as thick as your husband (a relief when you think about what it had taken to accept Johnny's fat cock in that open house quickie), but he seems to feed into you forever, forcing a place for himself so deep within you that you were certain he'd take all of you with him when he left it, all your soft vulnerable bits pulled right along behind him. 

Lucky he doesn't seem to be going any time soon. 

For all his rush to get inside you, John takes his time about bottoming out. Takes even longer after , pressed up flush against you with his fingers circling your clit carefully, just enough to keep you from tipping over that edge of pain. His other hand cups your breast, seems to take its measure with a satisfied huff. You wonder if he's imagining them all full and swollen, and pull a curse from him with the way your cunt flutters at the thought.

"John, we can't -."

"Really shouldn't," he agrees, but his hips have finally started moving, and he leans you further into the dryer, the hard metal biting into the plush flesh of your thighs. Your hands brace against the top of it, send some of Johnny's folded t-shirts tumbling to the floor.

"I mean it."

"'S'what you wanted, sweetheart." His next thrust scrapes along the entirety of your back wall and you can feel the way your cunt grips to keep him close. "Want this pretty pussy bred, yeah? I've got you."

Your voice is too whiny to be taken seriously when you try again, the thin sound of his name too desperate.

John's hand trails down to your belly, holds you there just as reverently as he did your tit. "Tell me you want it, sweetheart. Tell me you want to filled with my fuckin' seed."

It's not worth it to respond at first so you let yourself be carried by the slow tide of his movements, entire body rocked up and back with how deeply he fucks you. Your panting by the time the rigid line of your spine loosens with it, your head lolling back onto his shoulder so he can brush a whiskery kiss against your cheek, trailing up to your mouth. His lips are more chapped than you'd expected, his beard softer. You don't think about what it means that you'd had expectations. He tastes like smoke and burnt tea, heavy and bitter because god forbid he add any sweetener to anything. You want to sit him down at your kitchen island and make him a proper cuppa. You never want to see him in your house again.

"Don't cum inside."

A low grumble builds in his chest, like an avalanche against your back. You can hear the echo of it in his voice when his lips glide against yours, deceptively soft. "No? Don't want my baby, sweetheart?"

"John, I'm married, " you plead, though the ring you actually bothered to wear today feels more like a leash than anything now - a flimsy mark of ownership, easy enough to slip. 

There's no masking the snarl in his voice this time. "Yeah, I'll fix that too."

[pinklotushere]

Ok I had this rotting in my mind for days now

Bruce *going live as brucie Wayne because he saw a tweet about him saying he was acting weirdly (it was actually damian shit posting) and paranoid abt his identity he decides to up the brucie effect to 100* : and then he winked at moi! Like, can you believe itttt~

Dick *kicks the door open, bursting into the room full on sobbing* : bruuuceee

Bruce *immediately stops what he was saying and gets up to comfort him* : what's wrong chum?

Tim, steph and duke *run into the room in various levels of crying*

Bruce *actually starts to panic* : kids?

Damian and cass *walk in sniffing* : baba! (Just dami lmao)

Bruce *pale and looks about ready to cry himself* : what's wrong?who was it? Give me names,descriptions, anything-

Jason-youre-not-my-dad-i-dont-live-here-fuck-you-mothefucking-todd *walks in red-faced and barely keeping it together*: dad..

Okay, picture this we've got Bruce pale and sweaty, holding a still sobbing dick and and surrounded by steph,cass,duke and picking damian up all quietly crying and/or sniffing and we've got tim pressing his face to Bruce side, shoulders chaking and then jason of all people starts sniffing and Bruce literally goes even paler (of that's even possibe) and pulls him in

Bruce : What's wrong? Talk to me, sweetheart

Dick : it-it's they- * Starts wailling*

Bruce : they? Who's they? Did you get their names?adresss? Social security number?

Steph : n-no it's not- *hiccups and buries her face on him, you can hear her crying*

Jason :..I don't think I'll ever be the same

Bruce : from what? What is it?

Barbara * Wheeling in, popcorn in hand, eyes red and sniffing:

Bruce : Barbara?

Babs: hey b

*Que lots of sniffing*

Bruce : what's going on?

Babs:Oh, we watched a movie

Bruce: excuse me?

Babs: Yeah, grave of the fireflies, man that was heartbreaking

*higher crying*

Bruce:

The next day

Headlines go like this :

*brucie Wayne secretly just a loving father*

*brucie Wayne threatens whoever hurts his children*

*Wayne children being dependent on their dad no matter how old they get*

Social media similarly is bursting with :

"I love how he was ready to commit murder for them lmaooo"

"Is it just me or did brucie just get 10 times hotter*

"Man, dick grayson crying is something I didn't know I needed, that man is such a pretty crier"

"Damn, I love how tim drake and Stephanie brown just buried themselves in their dad"

"My God I always thought damian wayne was bratty but he's actually really cute?"

*God brucie holding damian, dick and still hugging all his other children is so hot"

"Hold on, isn't jason todd dead?"

(And no, this isn't me projecting. grave of the fireflies did not emotionally destroy me. What?)

[schlattslambo]

Not sure if you’re doing only smut, or a mix of fluff and smut, but maybe a fic where schlatt and reader have soft and sweet sex? Like maybe the reader is stressed about everything happening in their life and schlatt offers some comfort, which leads into soft sex. K thanks 🙏

a/n: ok i may have gone a bit overboard with this one oopsie, but i really hope you like it!!

—————————-

The house is quiet. For the most part. Your boyfriend isn’t yelling at his computer - mainly because he’s out of the house running some errands, the TV is off, and the cats aren’t chasing each other around the house and breaking things. The only sounds are a record player playing classical music in the sitting room and your breathing. It’s a beautiful fall afternoon, and you had just finished baking some cookies. It should be a relaxing day, but it isn’t. Despite the semi-quiet house, you can’t stop your racing thoughts.

You have so much that you could be doing, but you aren’t even sure where to start. You have projects that you need to finish, a few work emails to send, and you’re in charge of planning a trip abroad with some friends. All of this plus juggling your secret relationship. Schlatt is a very caring person, despite the persona that he displays online. He notices every slight change in your mood and can pick up on things that you don’t even pick up on yourself. And you don’t really care that your relationship is secret; it’s for the best.

But that does little to stop those thoughts. Things that you can be doing better, things that aren’t finished but need to be reworked. All of these things that need your attention. So, you decide to grab your laptop from upstairs and do some work in the sitting room. You curl up on the chair with a mug of your favorite tea and get to work. Your fingers are like a blur as you type on the keyboard, so engrossed in your work that you don’t even hear the door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Schlatt calls, just as he always does when he comes home to you.

When you don’t answer right away, he figures that you’re in the bathroom or something. He calls your name, but still no answer. Okay, he thinks, no big deal, you probably have your headphones in. Then he spots the freshly baked cookies that are cooling on the counter. Shoving one in his mouth, he continues his search for you.

When he finds you, you’re hunched over your computer, eyes darting across the screen. Your work emails have been sent and the projects are at a point where they can be put on hold for the evening. Now, you’re stressing about hotel deals in the Netherlands. You’d already sent along a quote to your friends for the hotel in Dublin, so you just had to find three other hotels after the one in the Netherlands. You scribble down some information before a large hand is on your shoulder. You jump, but relax when you notice Schlatt standing there.

“What’re you doing, toots?” He asks, chewing on another cookie. “Great cookies by the way.”

“I’m trying to figure out what hotel to stay at when me and the girls go to Europe.” You grumble, tapping away at the keyboard. “I still have to find three more hotels after I get a quote from this one.”

Schlatt looks down at you with a smile. You’re always working so hard, and he loves that about you. One of his favorite things is your work ethic. You always manage to continue working no matter what happens. It also happens to be one of your biggest faults.

“Baby, you really need to listen to your own advice.” Schlatt says, running a hand through your hair. “What do you always say to me?”

“That you’re an idiot?” You ask, looking up with a smile.

Schlatt acts offended, placing a hand over his heart. “No,” He gasps. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make! You always tell me to pace myself when I work. And it doesn’t look like you’re doing much of that.”

“I don’t have time to pace myself.” You counter. “We leave in six months. I have to get these hotels booked or else we’re going to spend a fortune.”

You turn back to your computer and Schlatt sighs softly. Looks like he’s going to have to do this the hard way.

“C’mon, (y/n),” He says, putting his hands on his hips. “Save your progress.”

He rarely uses your first name, but when he does, you know he’s serious about something. You quickly bookmark the page and close the laptop, peering up at him. Without a word, he scoops you up princess style.

“Hey!” You yelp. “Where are you taking me?”

Schlatt says nothing but walks you to his room. He softly kicks the door closed behind him and plops you on the bed. You look at him and cross your arms on your chest.

“Jay, I really-” Your cut off by his soft lips pressing against yours.

“Honeybun,” He says, using one of your favorite nicknames. “Let me help you relax, m’kay?”

His kisses trail down the side of your neck and all of your thoughts melt into a puddle that now pools in your belly and starts to warm. You nod against him but he pulls back.

“Words, baby.” He says sweetly.

“Yes, please.” You whisper.

“Such good manners.” Schlatt replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone while toying with the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off, hm?”

The two of you slip your shirt off together and Schlatt continues kissing you, pressing his lips further down to your chest. He pushes your bra down, then takes a nipple into his mouth. You shudder at the contact, goosebumps blossoming on your skin.

“Lay down, my love.” He whispers against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Without a word, you comply. You slip your bra off yourself as Schlatt kisses down your torso and to your waist.

“May I?” He asks, hooking his thumbs into your belt loops.

At your nod, your pants slowly come down, warm kisses pressed to your hips and thighs. His touch is so gentle and sweet that you think you may cry. When your pants come off, Schlatt looks up at you with a smile.

“God,” He breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the entire world. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Schlatt expresses his gratitude for you ‘choosing to love him’ all the time, but somehow, this feels different. More intimate. His lips press against your inner thigh, making you let out a soft gasp. He slowly slips off your panties, licking his lips. Once they’re off, he gently spreads your legs, his thick fingers exploring your folds.

“My pretty girl’s all wet,” He smiles, sliding a finger inside of you.

You mewl, arching your back. His thumb finds your clit and rubs slowly, and he watches you with a lovesick smile on his face. His cock grows harder at the sounds your making and how your pussy clenches on his finger every time he presses just a bit more on your clit.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Schlatt’s voice comes out strained as you look at him.

You nod and his cock twitches in his pants. No matter how many times he gets to fuck you, his cock always twitches at the idea. You’ve been dating for around a year and a half, and he gets giddy inside whenever he gets to be this close to you.

“How do you want me?” You ask.

“Missionary.” Schlatt says with a smile. “I want to watch your beautiful face.”

You adjust on the bed as Schlatt finds a condom, resting your head on the many pillows that litter his bed. Just like Jambo has his little feather collection under the couch, Schlatt has a pillow collection on his bed.

He climbs up, smiling at you with such love that your heart does a little flutter. Kisses are pressed up against your ankle, all the way up to your face. Schlatt presses his cock against your entrance, pausing to intertwine your fingers together as his forehead rests against yours.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, slowly entering you. “My beautiful, beautiful baby.”

“I love you too.” You gasp.

His movements are vastly different from when you two usually have sex. He’s usually sporadic and quick with sloppy thrusts and a grip that bruises. This time, he’s holding you so gently that he’s scared he might break you. His thrusts are slow, but have just enough force to them to make your eyes roll back. As Schlatt’s lips attach to your neck again, you let out a moan.

“That’s it,” He praises against you. “Let it out for me. You’re taking me so well, babydoll.”

Schlatt pulls back to look at you, and your eyes meet his. The way you look up at him makes him nearly burst. He continues to go slow, but his orgasm is approaching rapidly. He never cums first, so he needs to stop.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He breathes with a smile. “You’re gonna make me finish too quick. This is about you tonight.”

You smile and sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Schlatt lets go of your hands and reaches down to rub your clit. This allows you to pull him closer and kiss him. The kiss is passionate, slow and intimate. It’s intensified by the shocks of pleasure coming from your clit. Schlatt adds more pressure, making you break the kiss.

“F-Fuck,” You whimper. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Schlatt asks with a smile. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod and moan, looking up at him with those pretty eyes. He rubs your clit in circles and uses the other hand to gently caress your chest. The small action sends you over the edge. You grip Schlatt by the back of the neck and pull him down, your moans muffled by another kiss. He thrusts as you cum, chasing his own orgasm. Only a few thrusts later, he’s cumming as well, groaning into your mouth.

As Schlatt comes down from his high, you look at him with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. He quickly disposes of the condom and cleans himself up, coming back to bed and scooping you into his arms.

“You’ve been working so hard lately.” He says as he runs a hand through your hair. “I’m so, so proud of you. You make me and the boys so happy. I love you so much.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Thank you,” You whisper. “I really needed this.

Schlatt presses a kiss to your forehead and snuggles you until the two of you drift off to sleep. You don’t mean to take a nap in the middle of the day, but you also didn’t expect to make love at 3pm either. But as you drift off to sleep in Schlatt’s arms, those racing thoughts are gone. The only thoughts that remain are how lucky you feel to have someone so thoughtful in your life.

[milfsloverblog]

Hello author ! I have a request for Larrisa. Reader is a prostitute and Larissa goes to her to forget Morticia. May I ask for shifted cock ? Thank you keep up the good work 🥳

Unraveled Illusions (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x prostitute!reader

A/N: Slowly going through my request list. I loved this idea, wrote this tonight instead of preparing my lessons for next week (work can wait). I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request!!

tw: shapeshifted cock

You thought when your latest client picked you, it was for your body. After all, that's what most people are paying for. They weren’t looking for conversation or connection—just the fantasy of intimacy.

Over the years, you’d learned to read them: the ones who worshipped breasts, ass, legs, as well as many other common—and uncommon—things. Larissa seemed like a hair woman, judging by the way her fingers twisted through your locks, keeping you bent over the bed.

She hadn’t touched you beyond that, though. One hand was locked around your hair, the other... Well, she was stroking herself, seemingly content to maintain the distance between your bodies. It was unusual. Clients usually tried to consume you, to use you until there was nothing left. But Larissa, this woman with her piercing gaze and sharp cheekbones, seemed more like a collector.

You could hear her laboured breathing behind you. But it wasn’t pleasure—at least not entirely. There was something raw in it. Frustration, maybe. Longing.

You turned your head, curious to catch her expression, but her grip tightened, and she guided your face back toward the headboard.

"Stay."

Her voice was low, almost commanding, but there was something fragile underneath it. Something you’d seen before in others: a woman who wasn’t really here with you.

It always came down to projection, didn’t it? You weren’t yourself in these moments—you were the canvas they painted on. Larissa, too, was searching for someone else.

"What's her name?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Larissa's movements faltered.

“Don’t talk.”

You didn’t listen.

“Her name,” you repeated, turning your face enough to glimpse her. "The one you’re thinking of."

She scoffed, shaking her head, but didn’t deny it.

“Not everything has to be spelt out,” she muttered, but the way her shoulders stiffened told you everything you needed to know.

This woman—this ghost—haunted her.

“You know you’ll feel better if you say it,” you pushed gently, straightening enough to sit back on your knees. Larissa stilled, her hand falling away.

She sat heavily on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose. For a long moment, she didn’t speak, and you weren’t sure if she was trying to gather herself or find an escape. Finally, she muttered one word.

“Morticia.”

Her lips barely moved when she said it, like she was afraid of summoning something painful.

"Good." You let the name sit between you, an offering of sorts. “Now, was that so hard?”

Her icy blue eyes snapped to yours, narrowing.

“Do you always try to psychoanalyze your clients?”

“Only when they make it this easy.” You smiled, softening the edges of the dig.

For the first time since she’d walked into the room, Larissa smiled back. It wasn’t warm—not yet—but there was something wry in it, something almost playful.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“A little.”

She exhaled a short laugh, running a hand through her hair. The updo she’d tried to keep intact earlier was half undone now, strands curling rebelliously around her face. You thought she looked beautiful like this—dishevelled and human.

You didn’t often allow yourself to feel for clients. It was dangerous, after all. But something about Larissa's loneliness, the way it clung to her like a second skin, called to you.

“You miss her,” you said softly, not a question.

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it.

“Do you want to tell me about her?”

“No.” The word was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. But the way her fingers trembled slightly as she worked to rebutton her blouse betrayed her.

She stood abruptly, reaching down for her pants that she quickly put back on.

“I should go,” she muttered.

“Larissa,” you said, her name falling from your lips without thought.

She froze, her hand on the door handle. Slowly, she turned, her eyes searching yours.

"Say that again," she murmured.

“Larissa.”

There was a flicker of something in her gaze, something raw and unguarded.

“You almost sound like her,” she said softly. Her voice wavered, but her expression was steel.

You crossed the room, closing the space between you, emboldened by her hesitation. When you reached her, you lifted a hand, letting your fingers hover near her temple. “Do you want me to be her?”

She swallowed hard. “You can’t.”

“No,” you agreed. “I can’t. Because in what world would she ever want to be with someone like you?”

The words were cruel, but you’d seen what women like her responded to. Pain. It was familiar to them. Comforting, even. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes flared, something igniting in their depths.

She stepped forward, her presence filling the air between you, heavy and electric. It took everything you had not to retreat—not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you falter. She was close now, too close, her icy blue eyes locking onto yours, turbulent and searching. They flickered like a storm barely held in check, and you wondered if she was about to lash out or leave altogether.

Your heart raced, an unpredictable rhythm, and you weren’t sure if it was fear or desire that caused it. Maybe both. Then, before you could steel yourself, she closed the distance.

Her lips crashed against yours, a punishing press of mouth on mouth. It was rough and demanding, all sharp edges and no finesse, but you met her fervour head-on, refusing to let her dominate entirely. You pushed back, kissing her with just as much bite as she gave.

It was the right move. A low growl escaped her throat as her hands found your hips, gripping tightly. She pulled you against her, guiding you down onto the bed without breaking the kiss. The mattress dipped beneath your combined weight as she covered you, her lips relentless.

The kiss was messy, a heady mix of clashing teeth and lingering wine. Her perfume lingered faintly on her skin, a floral note beneath the heat of the moment. It was intoxicating, but not enough to distract you.

Your hands worked quickly, curling around the collar of her blouse and tugging her closer. The buttons she had so meticulously fastened earlier came undone with ease under your fingers, and when you finally managed to peel the fabric off her shoulders, she hovered above you, breathless and dishevelled.

“You’re an idiot,” she growled, and you knew she wasn’t talking to you but rather herself.

“You’re a cunt,” you shot back, breathless but smiling.

She pulled back just far enough to smirk, the expression sharp and self-assured. “You are what you eat,” she quipped before diving back in.

A laugh bubbled out of you, unexpected but genuine. The sound didn’t seem to bother her; if anything, it spurred her on. She buried her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to anchor herself.

Her weight pressed down on you, solid and comforting in its intensity. Your hands roamed to her biceps, gripping them, feeling the tension in her muscles as they shifted and flexed beneath your touch. She moved with purpose, her hands sliding over your body, down to your hips, then lower still.

Your legs moved instinctively, wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. The fabric of her pants rubbed against your skin, and when her hardened length brushed against your core through the layers, you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you.

She hummed softly, rolling her hips against yours.

"Larissa, please," you begged, the words tumbling out more earnestly than you'd intended.

Her movement stilled. Rising to her feet, she left you sprawled on the bed as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as she reached for the zipper of her pants. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband, she slid them and her panties down in one fluid motion. Your eyes stayed locked on her face, unblinking, even as she stepped out of the fabric and crawled back toward you, her movements deliberate.

Your arms stretched toward her as she closed the space between you. Without breaking eye contact, you reached into your discarded purse beside you, your fingers quickly finding a condom and tearing it open with practised ease.

The other hand drifted down her body, brushing over the curve of her breasts, the smooth line of her navel, and lower. When you felt the soft hair below her belly button, your fingers ventured further, wrapping around her cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

The first experimental tug earned you a soft groan. The second, a deeper growl. By the third, her forehead came to rest against yours, her breathing laboured as you carefully rolled the condom over her length. Satisfied, you lifted your eyes to hers, offering a small nod of readiness.

She crushed her lips to yours in a fierce kiss, pushing you back onto the bed. The kiss was rough, more teeth than softness, and you moaned against her mouth, your breath hitching when her fingers finally found you. They slipped through your folds with practised precision, circling your clit with just the right pressure to make you gasp. Her teeth nipped at your bottom lip, her control maddeningly exact.

Sweat slicked your skin as your breaths mingled, and more than once, she brought you right to the edge of release only to pull back, leaving you teetering on the brink. By the third time, you shot her an exasperated glare.

“I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry in the slightest,” she said, her grin equal parts smug and infuriating.

Your response caught in your throat when she finally positioned herself at your entrance. With a deliberate push of her hips, she filled you, the stretch overwhelming in the best way. You whimpered, unable—or unwilling—to hold back the sound.

"Larissa," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

She buried her face against your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she groaned. It almost sounded like a name—Morticia, perhaps—but before you could linger on the thought, she thrust again, hitting a spot deep inside you that made you cry out.

Your arms wrapped around her shoulders as her pace quickened, each movement precise and powerful. Her hands roamed your body, squeezing, gripping, and claiming. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe she wanted you—not whoever haunted her mind. But you quickly dismissed the thought. This was just a transaction, nothing more.

Her pace grew erratic, her body trembling as she neared her climax. To your surprise, you felt your own release building, an unfamiliar sensation creeping over you. You rarely let yourself enjoy these moments with clients, but something about Larissa’s focus, the weight of her presence, unravelled you.

The wave of pleasure hit suddenly, your cry sharp and unrestrained. At almost the same moment, Larissa thrust deep one final time, her body going taut as she groaned through her release. The condom dulled the sensation, but you swore you could still feel the faint pulse of her inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breaths. Then, with a grunt, she pulled away, disposing of the condom in the bin before beginning to redress in silence.

“Dinner?” she asked casually, buttoning her blouse without looking at you.

You laughed, reaching back to zip up your dress. “I don’t have dinner with clients.”

Sliding onto a nearby stool, you bent down to clasp your heels.

“Even if they pay you?” she asked from the doorway, her tone light but curious.

Looking up, you caught her gaze, noticing the brief flick of her eyes to your cleavage before they returned to your face. A smirk tugged at your lips, mirrored instantly by hers.

“Good night, Larissa,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

She chuckled, a low sound that lingered even as she turned to leave.

“Good night.”

————————————————————————

taglist: @weemssapphic , @im-a-carnivorous-plant , @dingdongthetail , @azu-zu , @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental , @raspburrythief , @fictionalized-lesbian , @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr , @winterfireblond , @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @spacetoaim22 @vendocrap8008 @jkregal @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @xuukoo @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @dumbasslesbi @larissaoftarthweems @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs @http-sam @gweninred @a-queen-and-her-throne

[saintzweig]

artashrick in the harry potter universe!!! let me know what you think :) edited this because i didn't realize there were so many mistakes so i apologize :3

patrick gives me potter vibes (maybe a cousin or older brother of james potter). he'd be the first slytherin in a long line of gryffindors and has a complicated relationship with his family aside from james. he's troubled and rebellious, sometimes not in a fun way and his family is too fed up with him but really he just wants to be independent and distance himself from the potter name because he knows he'll never live up to it like his ancestors have. too extroverted, will literally start a conversation with someone he's never even talked to seen before. very chaotic, barely surviving his studies but somehow a popular student.

art is a scamander ... theseus scamander's grandson or something like that ... please tell me you see the vision ... and he'd also be the first slytherin in a family filled with hufflepuffs and nobody can figure out why, he's literally the politest slytherin there is. most people perceive him as a pushover because he's quiet and always has patrick speak for him but as soon as he sets his mind onto something, best believe he's gonna get what he wants. he's cunning and calculated like that. becomes a prefect by his fifth year and head boy by sixth.

of course these two are roommates and always attached at the hip. they're paired up with tashi for a potions project and develop the biggest crush on her.

tashi is a muggleborn and the only wizard/witch in her family, she's a ravenclaw of course. i think she would love being on campus and staying there over the break because being the eldest daughter in her family is just exhausting. everyone thinks she's stuck up and cold but also really smart and resilient. she's definitely gotten into an argument with a professor at least once, and won. becomes a prefect by her third year and a head girl by her fifth, also the captain of the quidditch team, leading her house into a winning streak but somehow still loses the house cup to gryffindor (dumbledore has favorites we all know that).

[picturejasper20]

One of the earliest episodes from A New Wish that got my attention was "Fearless" because it explored both Jasmine and Hazel's relationship and their characters.

The episode starts with Hazel telling Cosmo and Wanda how Jasmine is coming to her house after school. Hazel comments that she wants for both of them to watch a horror movie the same way she used to with her brother Anthony. Cosmo and Wanda question this a bit as the movie may be too scary for Jasmine but Hazel says that it would be fine.

Here we see that Hazel is in a way trying to project what she used to do with Anthony to her new friendship with Jasmine. She assumes that Jasmine is going to like watching horror movies without having considered if she likes that first. Note that she is doing unintentionally, she isn't being pushy nor anything but it is worth of pointing it out since it what in part drives the plot of the episode.

So Hazel goes to school and tells Jasmine about the film. Jasmine tells her that she doesn't like horror movies and begins to name a number of things that she is really scared of. She is someone who is a bit of scaredy cat, even being scared of things that would be harmless like cheese. She also adds that her family often makes fun of her for getting scared so easily and it is something that bothers her.

This makes Hazel asking for a wish that makes Jasmine ¨fearless¨, as it takes her main big fears out of her. Hazel does this in a way to ¨help¨ Jasmine but is also so they can watch the horror movie together. When Cosmo and Wanda grant the wish, this seems to work, however, they quickly notice that there is another Jasmine outside the classroom and Hazel goes out to figure out what it is.

It turns out that Jasmine's fears weren't sent anywhere after they got taken out from Jasmine, meaning they came to life and now they are going all around the school causing chaos. This is a interesting twist to the premise of what you would expect from these episodes which usually are about the ¨fearless¨ character acts super reckless without their fear as part of them. In this episode the fears manifest themselves in the real world and Hazel has to find a way to defeat them.

Eventually Hazel realizes that she can only defeat the fears if Jasmine faces them herself. She goes to Jasmine and talks to her about this (without revealing the magic part) and highlights how she was able to speak to Hazel without any problem when they first met or how she doesn't have any issues with singing in public. It is a cool scene because it shows how people can fear different things. While some fears can be more social, others can be related to things that look dangerous like spiders or snakes. Hazel tells Jasmine that she is able to overcome her fears, her family could stop bothering about her. Finally Jasmine goes along with the idea and then a sequence of her facing each of her fear plays.

Suddenly Jasmine gets possesed by ¨fear itself¨ and grows a lot in size. The being provokes Hazel, telling her that she tried making the relationship she has Jasmine the same she has with her brother. ¨Fear¨ says that Hazel is afraid of change and she is scared of trying out new things. This aspect is something that a huge part of Hazel's character, as she deals with how things changed so abruptly in her life and she wants for things to stay the same. She wants to repeat things she used to do because that's what she is comfortable with and she gets anxious when she has to step out from that comfort zone.

Hazel admits that she is scared but she is going to try new things with her new friends from now on. This makes the fear disappear and for Jasmine to return to her normal size back. Jasmine asks Hazel if she still wants to watch scary movies, to which she replies by saying that they should do something they both like, showing that she is trying out new things in a way. The episode ends with the two laughing while leaving the gym.

In all, i think this episode does a good job at showing better how Jasmine is as character and how she has different sides to her. She can be energetic and sociable but she also gets scared of a lot of things easily. Some aspects from her family get revealed as well, which adds more to her character. The episode explores well how Hazel is still struggling with moving to a new city and how she misses her Anthony, something that was established in the first episode ¨Fly¨. In a way she tries to make Jasmine something that she is not in an attempt to repeat what she used to do with her brother.

It is an episode that is quite creative in the execution of its premise and it develops both characters really well, making it one of my favourites episodes from the Season 1 A.

[comfybirdie]

5 REASONS WHY I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS IS JUST ABOUT A TOUR

I don't think I'm smart enough for plausible theories, so this is just a vent of a long time fan. I also have not read many posts, because I've been busy with life, so sorry if someone also said these points.

1. The concept.

I hope this is an album, but I wouldn't pledge my life on it. What I think, however, this is going to be something that brings all the storylines together from previous albums. At least from the Black Parade and Danger Days definitely, but I'm also thinking a bit about Conventional Weapons, too. This is because while yes, the tour does carry the Black Parade name and comes right after everybody spent time crying about not being in the select few to attend the WWWY Fest, the Secretary was not part of the Black Parade storyline. The closest thing we had eas the Director of BLI in Danger Days. And I think we all knew who this woman was the moment she popped up on the screen:

So what if Gerard's costume for the tour was the now undead Director, who became the Secretary of the Dictator?

2. The storyline itself.

I know every word to every album, from the singles to the B sides to leaked ones. But there may always be a chance that I misinterpreted the whole thing, maybe we all did, but the Black Parade is about the afterlife. Whether you got there because of illnes, war, it doesn't matter, you become part of the Black Parade when you die. I believe it to be a celebration of life, or carrying on even after the end.

What the Black Parade has never been, was a personal celebratory National Band, which is exactly what the post writes as the story. I'm going to insert a screenshot with the story.

I saw a theory that the entire concept is going to be revamped, which it might as well be, but even it doesn't make sense.

3. Because that's not what My Chemical Romance is.

And right now I'm thinking about the captions under the pictures.

After seeing the Secretary, my first thought about these captions was that we - The Black Parade - originally must have answered by wanting to be killjoys, the rebellious ones, but eventually we broke and stood in line, becoming the Dictator's beloved National Band, to which the Secretary replied: "Good boy."

However, My Chemical Romance never stood for that. They would never reward us with a tour for standing in line and shutting our mouth. They would never become the corporate machine they stood against since the very beginning. They would never lead the Black Parade in this manner and for this purpose.

And maybe it's just my naivety, the long lost teenager somewhere deep in me saying this, but I still believe they would never do that.

4. Foundations of Decay.

Has it been 2 years since this song came out? Yes. Am I going to bring it up? Absolutely.

(This is definitely overthinking on my part, but I was a history major and with the current events, the parallels are unmatched.) So the thing about wars is, you need people to fight it for you. You need soldiers and military leaders and all of them have to be loyal and obey the orders. The easiest way to achieve that, is by building an ideological foundation you can use to sway their judgement and decision making. The mustache man started with the theory of the back stabbing of the nation. During the middle ages, Christianity provided this foundation for the crusades in the middle east. If you give people something to fear or you give them something to idolise, they will be willing to fight against or for what you want.

And this is the Foundation of Decay.

"you must build an altar where it wells"

"Take his body as a relic to be canonised"

"You stumble through your last crusade"

And is you ask me, this is why this one song came out so much earlier than the rest of the project. Because they lay the ideological foundation first, and you need people to absorb it and truly believe before you can lead them with it. So you tell them again and again and again. Play it at every show on a tour. And so that reunion tour is when the Black Parade became the National Band, instead of the Killjoys. Because we sang along to every word, we absorbed it and not just believed it, but lived it as we attended the tour and sang when they told us to, cheered if they just came on the screen. We became conditioned to follow Gerard's orders as he walked on the stage, just as we will follow the order to play for the Dictator, instead of standing against him.

5. But empires and dictatorships never last, do they?

Rome fell apart. There is a reason there was a Third Reich, because the first 2 also fell. The Ottoman Empire also eventually weakened and fell apart. And just because the Communist Party always said that life is great and everyone is happy "In the Concrete Age", everyone who has lived in a ex-soviet occupied country (hello to my fellow Eastern and Central European MCR fans), we can all tell you, it was everything but true.

And so it is only a matter of time before Dictator's reign has to see its end? Perhaps maybe even bought on by his beloved band, put together from the misfits who the Secretary had to break to stay in line.

But, this is all just my theory. Thank you for clowning with me and my tinfoil hat if you read it this far.

[tanadrin]

re-listening to season 10 of revolutions, since i never finished it the first time around, and the retrospective on the emergence of socialism in the 19th century is probably the most interesting part so far. it seems to me that 19th century "liberalism" (which was scarcely worth the name) is really a very different beast than 21st century liberalism, which has in its more left-liberal strains incorporated a ton of criticisms of 19th century socialists, and is in many ways actually a pretty good synthesis of both political heuristics. certainly not perfect, and certainly still wedded to capitalism.

but a lot of early socialists were, even if they were social scientists, first and foremost utopians. it was easier to dream what might lie in the possibility-space of useful ways of organizing an egalitarian society when very little of that space had been explored, and the burst of 19th century utopia-building was part of an attempt to explore that space and put many unabashedly utopian ideas into practice. but many of the most ambitious ideas like proudhon's anarchism just weren't super workable in the end, either in the conditions that then prevailed or in the conditions that have prevailed since. liberal democracy--especially as it was refined into something actually worthy of the name--proved both durable and flexible enough to be quite egalitarian in some respects (e.g., it supports universal adult suffrage just fine! and consolidated democracies are pretty robust and quite stable, compared to competing systems). it feels similar to the high-flying hopes of early science fiction becoming tempered as we learned more about what the possibility space of future technology would really look like across the 20th century, you know?

and so i think it's natural that a lot of that early revolutionary energy went into doing politics in a liberal-democratic framework; it turns out to be a very useful framework for liberatory social projects (much more useful than either the halfhearted liberal constitutionalisms of the mid 19th century or the reactionary monarchies they usually contrasted against). but it also seems to me that a ton of the discourse in the rump left that has resulted is stuck in a very early 19th century way of thinking.

and maybe some of this is ideological distillation, with those sufficiently convinced by the virtues of the modern liberal-democratic system naturally falling out of coalition with those who aren't, so the remainder is a concentrated nucleus most likely to see fundamental continuity between the proto-liberalism of the 1800s and the more fully realized liberalism of later eras like the 2000s. plus people who are simply never going to be on board with, say, any system that is capitalist in its arrangement, no matter how prosperous or free it manages to be otherwise. but also i wonder how much of this is because for like 70 years you had a major militaristic, hegemonic state, the USSR, which was really very like the militaristic, hegemonic system it was opposed to in important ways, but which for reasons of its legitimating ideology needed to portray what differences did exist in the starkest possible terms. and the solution to that was to portray liberal democracy as of the 20th century as being functionally indistinguishable from the liberal constitutionalism of the 19th, while making themselves out to be the sole inheritors of the more egalitarian thinkers from the left. despite the fact that the USSR was pretty conservative in a lot of ways, and was basically authoritarian in a way that i don't think any of those original utopian socialists would have endorsed.

so maybe you have to keep 19th century political categories static and unchanging in order to make the dichotomy that supports your state still have meaning. even if, once you have established yourself as the ruling class of a large, powerful state, you act in ways that are actually pretty darn similar to the ruling class of other large, powerful states. and of course trying to maintain those categories even as the world continues to evolve, including the faction you have opposed yourself to (and the third leg of what is really a trichotomy, the actual, unabashed reactionaries, also continues to evolve) leads to further tensions and absurdities, which is why the most ardent defenders of the USSR like the tankies tie themselves into knots of campism and conspiracism and even frequently back directly into bog-standard reactionary ideology, because the framework they are trying to use to understand the world hasn't been updated since the 1840s, and was already having to be heavily distorted by the 1920s to make it work.

[localcanadiancreature62]

Woe,GF fanchildren be upon ye.

Fiddlestan au but Fidds has children from both Stan and Ford. Lemme explain. Fidds ends up creating a robot child out of his and Ford's dna after losing the custody battle with Emma may and Tate,since it devastated him that much which is why instead of going insane with the memory gun he ends up grabbing hair from Ford while he's asleep and creates a robot clone child from their shared dna. He's already starting to use the memory gun at this point as this is after he quit the project and thus he's beginning to become unstable although he's still sane enough to take care of a child so he figured that he should just replace Tate if his ex-wife won't let him have his Tater. Thus,F-1N53AS aka Finneas "Finn" Mcgucket was "born". Meanwhile the Fiddlestan kid was "born" after Fidds ended up helping Stan with the portal and he suddenly decided to make a kid for them too when they got into a relationship n' the con was talking about wanting to have children lately. And so,F-R4NCH3SKA aka Francheska "Fran" Mcgucket-Pines was born. More under the cut cuz the info for this au is Longgg.

Finn acts a lot like Ford,being bright and passionate as well as in love with life. Finn is basically Ford but if he was untouched by the Horrors (Bill,portal,brother issues, etc). He is a very lively and enthusiastic boy,he's also into the sciences/research like Ford but instead of anomalies he studies regular plants and animals as he also has Fidds' anxiety (he's terrified of anomalies and monsters),he wants to be an Ecologist when he grows up as he loves how the animals plants and people work together to create such a wonderful,thriving environment. Finn may be a lot like his genetic templates,but he's also drastically different from them as he's shy quiet to the point of being nonverbal most of the time and also really jumpy as well as anxious 24/7.

Ford and Fidds may be generally introverted,but Finn is withdrawn to the extreme,he doesn't talk to anyone but his dad Fidds as he's otherwise pretty silent,so silent that his father usually doesn't hear him or notice his presence. Meanwhile Fran acts exactly like Stan but worse. She's a little shit bully that always blatantly insults adults and children alike, she's brilliant like her dad Fidds but also a delinquent like her papa Stan which often leads to her using her smarts for pranking people rather than for useful things like world changing inventions,she is feisty spunky and always confident but she's also lowkey feral. feral as in she's batshit insane and always uses her inventions to hurt people such as using her makeshift taser on the unfortunate children that annoy her or making a hyperrealistic spider robot army to scare her teachers. she ended up getting Fidds' pettiness,she commits crimes but at a smaller scale than her papa Stan. she isn't really into the criminal thing except for wanting to get into arms dealing one day,and Fran's specialty is weaponry rather than machinery. she often creates makeshift BB guns death rays and flamethrowers for fun. Also this is called the Mommy Mcgucket au (because Finn thought that since Fidds "gave birth" to him by creating him,he must be his mother after the hillbilly explained the birds and the bees to him when he saw a billboard of a pregnant woman in town. Fidds tried many times to correct him,but the kid's code is faulty and he wouldn't listen so he just let him call him "Mom". out of universe reason though,i thought it would be funny if Fidds a man was called Mommy loll and the term rhymes with his surname too sooo). Fidds ends up getting married to Stan after the grifter falsified documents of him as a woman and they pretended that "Stanford Filbrick Pines" was married to "Fidelity Mcgucket" since gay marriage wasn't legal yet,so even when it's under a fake name and identity,they're still technically married (Fidds was perfectly fine with everyone thinking he was married to Ford,as he knew that he married the con and not the insufferable bastard). Being with Stan was the happiest Fidds has ever been,he was married to a wonderful man and had two amazing children. He had finally achieved stability after that whole fiasco with Ford and the memory gun as well as Emma may,he was finally happy after so much suffering. Or was he? 😏.

While Fidds may have been a great husband,he was.. lacking as a father. Finn had various defects as a result of him being a quick snap decision made by Fidds' in order to save his sanity soon after the portal testing and him losing the custody battle with Tate,thus he wasn't given the careful planning and blueprints that a regular robot would have which meant that he malfunctions often and he has various disabilities (creating a child out of your and your ex's dna to cope with shit obviously ended up horribly). He's literally blind in one eye,his right leg gets stiff a lot due to the scrap metal used for it being very old and rusty,fingers from both hands fall off a lot as the screws were also rusty and didn't fit his model,he is Very sensitive to touch and both cold/hot temperatures as his sensors are fried from overuse (testing. too much testing) which is why he flinches at the slightest poke or warmth,and he gets tired very easily and thus he needs a constant battery change (physical disabilities,autism,and chronic fatigue syndrome allegories..). Due to how much attention Finn needs with his fragile condition,Fidds ends up spending more time with him instead of Fran. This leads to Fran acting out and being more chaotic than she usually is just to get her dad's attention. Plus Fidds thinks that Finn is Ford,as in he views his own son as an idealized version of Ford that is perfect and has never betrayed him ever nor will ever have the capability of doing so (he may have gotten over his feelings for Ford. But he never got over how Ford betrayed his trust as a friend,as a partner with him making it clear that the portal and the darn triangle are more important to him than the one person who has supported him since day 1). Whenever the boy acts negatively,he is verbally abused and given the silent treatment because "My Ford wouldn't do that",Fidds is entirely deluded by the fact that since his son acts like Ford he could shape him into the idealized version he has of his best friend/first love who would never betray him and always be nice to him. Finn is simultaneously degraded while also being praised for being a better man than Ford ever was,and Fidds outright discourages him from having any dreams or ambitions as he figured that if he got rid of the root cause of "Ford's" betrayal of him i.e his lofty ego and ambitions then he could live peacefully with his new genius.

Except the worst part is,Finn never wanted any of that whole "achieving a great destiny" thing that his other genetic template/daddy Ford sought after,he just wants to live a normal life while pursuing his passions and leaving a mark on the world instead of being an overachiever. Fidds never knew about this,or more like he did know but he ignored his son's explanation in favor of his idealized view on things. Fidds is actively encouraging the glass (disabled) child and normal child/golden child and neglected child dynamic with his insane view on things. He may not be insane from the memory gun as he quit soon after getting into a relationship with Stan,but he's insane from his trauma with Ford. Finn and Fran become distant from one another because of Fran secretly being jealous of her older brother (older cuz he was born a year before her) being their dad's special little boy while Finn thinks that Fran is useless cannon fodder just like Fidds does despite being close with her as kids as the hillbilly figured that the "lazy delinquent" was less important than his little Finny (also the fact that Finn is technically a replacement of Tate as well makes this worse. he constantly coddles and spoils Finn the way he was never able to do so with Tate due to the whole "leave your family to study cryptids in the woods" thing),congrats Fidds,you became an even worse version of Filbrick.

Also the other horrific part about this is that,BOTH Finn and Fran are brilliant like their father Fidds except Fran doesn't use her genius properly due to her being a little shit who favors making killer weaponry instead of helping people and making money with normal gadgetry while Finn is a total nerd that wants to study most of normal non anomaly flora and fauna (he loves animals plants and bugs. he's a real hippie-esque nature boy) in order to help the environment and deal with things like climate change when he's older. Also it's so painful that Fidds' new family was made through choice instead of it being forced on him (i hc that Emma may and Fidds were an arranged marriage by their parents) yet he destroyed it with his obsessive behavior,he chose happiness and didn't let others dictate his life this time yet he also chose to ruin it for himself. Fidds is a loving father,he cares about both of his kids deeply yet he also fucked up a lot.

Him fucking up his kids so bad is the reason why after college,Finn and Fran stay in Gravity Falls but they don't contact their father ever again. They only ever talk to their papa Stan and arrange hangouts with him because he was the only parent out of their two dads that actually felt like a parent and did his job of raising them instead of whatever insanity Fidds subjected them to,Stan often tried to stick up for Finn and make Fidds stop being so strict on him but he stopped trying after he concluded that his hillbilly husband is insanely stubborn while he also tried his best to support Fran and take care of her when Fidds failed in doing so. Stan realizing that Fidds is basically doing the same thing that Filbrick did to him and Ford to their own children made him become distant from the hillbilly as well,but he didn't once try to divorce him. He stayed throughout everything,as he knew that the southerner was doing this because he was hurting although he didn't know how to help when the man was so deluded by him thinking he was doing the right thing.

Everything else basically goes exactly the same as canon,except Fidds never went insane from the memory gun (although he still went insane but for a different reason) Stan has two robot children that often visit him stopping by at the Shack a lot plus the twins have a robot aunt and uncle as well as a third hillbilly Grunkle. Also Finn and Fran have to deal with Weirdmaggedon as well,but it's worse for them as they end up discovering that the man that their father destroyed their family over also ended up making a deal with a demon that caused the apocalypse. Fidds has a lot of explaining to do,and apologies are long overdue (woah that rhymed).

Bonus - The kids technically still "grow up" but via Fidds making new models every year and then transferring their code within the new bodies,thus they still technically go through puberty. Finn and Fran used to act like exact copies of kid Ford and Stan respectively the moment they were created as a 5 and 4 y/o since their code was made to replicate the Stans on purpose but after two years,they started to gain sentence and thus develop their own personalities. Finn and Fran are NOT twins,they were "born" a year apart from each other,they only have matching names because Fidds wanted to make it clear that they were his children (F letter names like him). The Mcgucket Siblings still look human despite being entirely machine,this is because they have silicone "skin" that feels and acts exactly like normal human skin with it being soft being able to get punctured etc and their hair is made out of fine wires that are made to look and feel like normal human hair. Finn and Fran are only as brilliant as they are because Fidds programmed his 30 years worth of studying the sciences into a 5 y/o and 4 y/o in order to make it clear that they're his children. Finn is the only one that calls Fidds "Mom" as Fran calls him "Dad",and he stops calling him that by the time he starts getting verbally abusive and switches to calling him "Fiddleford" although he returns to calling him "Mom" by the time they reconcile,by the time Finn is older at about 12-16 he actually recognizes the man as his father and not his mother but the nickname sticks. Finn and Fran are actually half siblings,as they have the same father but a different other parent. Stan is technically Finn's uncle,but growing up with him and being raised by the con instead of his own father throughout the years made him see the grifter as a father figure,Stan is proud to have him as a nephew since he greatly reminds him of Ford when he was younger but unlike Fidds he doesn't twist it into something messed up.

[sleepy-aletheas]

Haikaveh, art, and rugs

Once again, I've been thinking about the damn rugs in the teapot, and reading their descriptions just reminded me that Kaveh and Alhaitham are so similar in many ways, but because their similarities "switch" where they focus, it just seems like they're inherently opposite of each other.

Like for instance; Kaveh is an aesthete that tries to integrate artistic expression and practical functionality in architecture - to him the human touch is essential, because the purpose of architecture is to reflect the people, the time, and the culture. It being a discipline has to come with more than "smush a few random materials together", it needs a reason, a deliberate thought and goal.

From his perspective, function cannot sustain a human alone, which makes sense on its own. Barebones of a house don't make a comforting home, doesn't stimulate the senses right, doesn't make a very restful place to stay in for long periods of time.

But what is often made his number one characteristic by people, is his love and appreciation for the arts. To a detriment, but I'll get to that. There is no denying, Kaveh values art, the creation and maintenance, the historical documentation of people existing before in a tangible sense - that is something Kaveh seeks even for himself. He wants to be remembered for his architecture when his name fades from records in time; his art, a part of his thoughts and feelings, will linger way longer than the memory of him as a person.

And I think there is a disconnect between his perspective on art, and the perception of him as a character that values art.

I already harped on him being made an overemotional mess outside the game, because he's more animated and loud and emotionally more in tune with himself; but there is also the other thing people tend to do - they take his notion of "integrating artistic expression and practical functionality", and just drop the practical part and make him a "head in the clouds, naive, helpless dreamer" that has little to no knowledge of how the real world works (hyperbolically speaking for the most part, but you get the point). The amount of times he is depicted as someone who disregards functionality because "of beauty and artistry" is fascinating, or where it takes precedence over practicality to his detriment is....equally odd.

Is he described in-game as someone who has big ambitions and bigger dreams? Yes. The last person saying something like that was Faruzan in the last event. The thing is, these things don't contradict the ability of being practical. Or making everything work in the real world. It just means he has to work harder, calculate things through more often on a bigger scale, and do his due diligence to achieve his goals and make them reality.

Kaveh is a way more grounded character than people let on; he knows the value of hard work, of resting and taking time off work to recharge, however much it feels like he's a recluse 25/7 always late to a deadline or nine. Just because Kaveh deals with a lot of internal strain and battles, does not mean he's not a capable adult that can't do rational decisions.

(he's a pathetic-type of funny "why does this keep happening to me" guy that just somehow gets unlucky a lot, gets roped into something easily, or is being plain silly; he's still someone who graduated with honors on top of his class, is loved across the whole nation, and did a lot of projects that aren't just the debt creating Palace of Alcazarzaray; he has layers, don't strip him of them)

With that being said, the rug in question that is connected to him is interesting - The Olive Grove is a relatively simply designed rug, whose biggest value is from what and what way it's created.

The reason this is interesting to me is, Sumeru decided at some point in time to reduce the rugs to simpler geometric designs, because it seemed disrespectful to step on beauty and someone's likeness.

And my point is, that Kaveh doesn't care how the carpets look with the improved way equipment and better manufacturing ability. He doesn't focus on the materials or the artistry of it all - doesn't even notice that he somehow contributed to that development in a roundabout way. He focuses on the equipment that assists the process; not the end result, but the way to get to it. He focuses on the practical mechanism to arrive at the artistic function of the end product. And that is the whole point of his own architectural method, no? He builds the foundation, creates the basis of his project, and then he can add all the beauty and life to it once it can stand on its own. Without the practical there would be no lasting art; without the art there would be no reason keeping a practical heap of something that is replaceable. To Kaveh, there need to be both things at the same time.

Alhaitham on the other hand is someone who doesn't go out of his way...for anything, really. He likes to go through life with the least amount of detours and problems. He prefers functionality over art, because the art part is an add on that he simply doesn't personally want to work towards.

That does not mean he suddenly hates art (as it's often seen) or that he thinks lesser of artists and people who pursue these things (he respects Nilou and Kaveh; it's just that he nags Kaveh incessantly so he takes care of himself in a very 'old married couple trice divorced never married' way). It's just not his goal, or his top priority.

Honestly? Him dressing with so many accessories, him doodling (we'll get back to that in a bit), playing the dutar, buying decorations (however awful for whatever reason that might be), letting Kaveh decorate their home...that aren't really things people who hate art do. That seems awfully indulgent.

And on the note of doodles; his associated rug Glorious Emerald Tapestry is so much more complex than it should be if its origin is inspired by someone who hates the arts and thinks of them a useless and frivolous.

If anything, this just shows that Alhaitham has an innate understanding of beauty, but because it's not the focus of his existence or thoughts, it just becomes a fact of reality. Flowers aren't suddenly beautiful because someone can wax poetics for fifty minutes per petal; they're simply flowers, and they're pretty. That's all. A sunset is beautiful even if someone doesn't make overcomplicated monologues in metaphors about it. Stopping to admire the landscape when he goes from place to place, or indulge in a moment of beauty is not a contradiction of his character - it's him simply experiencing the truth of the moment that was already there. That's all it sometimes is.

So his doodles making it into the hands of someone else who created intrinsic tapestries is really funny, because he wasn't going out of his way to create that - it was a byproduct as he was doing mental gymnastics to solve puzzles. It wasn't his focus, but it still was something from the depths of his person that managed to crawl out into the light. (also it's a pretty funny image that his doodles somehow make it onto academic papers or somewhere in public documents/books as he's reading, and people snatch it up to make "proper" art from it)

Also, the difference of the rugs is amusing:

Both are so pretty, but one's purpose being more focused on utility (Kaveh) and the other more complicated in method and outcome (Alhaitham) is such a fun "switch up", that just hammers in how similar they are, but often times those similarities don't overlap, and instead makes them more different.

Kaveh is someone who seeks art and utility in one; still he admires beauty and values it, but that beauty needs to be build from a firm base and have a reason behind it (even if it's just emotions).

Alhaitham is someone who doesn't care to go out of his way for art, but needs utility; and yet he still invites and makes space for beauty in his life, because that's simply the truth of the world, and there doesn't need to be a more important reason than that.

...They make me lose my mind every single day that I breathe istg...

[alacants]

re: the juanki/rafa lore. i wonder if you have any thoughts about their respective academies? the more i read about ferrero's academy, and how it's been this slow, long process started by ferrero's coach and like they all still live there and make improvements vs. rafa's just kind of springing into existence in 2017 i do wonder if that caused any feelings lol. there was that one interview where juanki said "i don't think it's right to just put your name on smth and show up 3-4x a year" lol

HA god i can’t believe i didn’t think to incorporate that angle—great point, that zinger was not meant to be subtle. that it can be overlooked out just bears out your point, really. equelite is fundamental to any consideration of juanki and Rafa Nadal Academy By Movistar is more or less an entirely separate entity from rafa nadal the person.

to be fair i understand it's more or less toni nadal’s project? (what isn’t toni nadal’s project…) but also—it’s part of the rafa nadal empire. the rafa nadal industrial complex. are they even competing for the same market share? i don't know enough about that market to judge—my gut says no, and i would imagine that to juanki it must feel to some extent like apples and oranges. but also, i'm sure, like who the hell do you think you are. perfect opportunity to claim the moral high ground AND the martyr's mantle.

(btw i remember hearing something about young jannik sinner being... invited? to the rafacademy, but it cost too much. can't for the life of my track that down so if anyone reading this remembers that please share because THAT is a fascinating alternate history lmao.)

it’s really just their image clash writ large, isn’t it. "the best in spain" vs "the best in the world." "achieve your goals" vs "the sky’s the limit." "it's not about me personally, also there's a giant mural of my face in the cafeteria" vs "the rafa brand is our most valuable asset and it would be idiotic not to leverage that." the natural counter-positioning to Extraterrestrial Star is Humble and Hardworking, and if you don't shape your own image someone else will shape it for you.

here are two world number ones who have made their sleepy hometowns (or as-good-as) the locus of their post-competitive networks. now let's see how different they could possibly be. toni cascales advised juanki from day one to diversify for both financial and psychological reasons, so there was the academy. the hotel. the winery. the valencia open. these are all very, like… reasonable projects. they probably seemed ambitious at the time! Meanwhile In Manacor, we've got the rafa nadal museum, the rafa nadal sports centre, and the rafa nadal international school. ngl as very much NOT a rafa expert i went to double check my hazy recollections of scale and the reality vastly outstripped them lmao. they've even got their own juicy urban planning war!

(an interesting aside here is that in 2014 jcf academy… well whether they opened a branch in shenzhen or just lent their brand to the enterprise is sort of an open question. it was certainly presented as a branch of jcf academy, in cooperation with gemdale/hongjindi sports, but now it seems to be operating entirely under the hongjindi name. this is relevant only in the sense that it’s interesting to see these sort of tentative overtures that ultimately either were withdrawn or petered out. whereas a friend recently told me about the ig ad they got for a rafa nadal academy seminar in a suburb of boston.)

this is extremely rambling and discursive lmao SORRY. i have a lot of thoughts in general about juanki and the academy that is his parent/child/home/cult/identity/locus of self/ready-made magical realism prompt. is it a piece of him or is he a piece of it. did he make it or did it eat him. the fact that toni cascales still introduces himself as "juan carlos' coach, i'll be his coach for the rest of my life." i imagine that you in particular, op, have already seen this but for those interested in this topic who haven’t, watch no strings: juan carlos ferrero from (iirc) 2005 to get a glimpse of just how deeply juanki is embedded in the place, how it’s grown around him literally from day one. "he likes racing so we built him a race course here on the campus. so he can be safe. :)"

it's in the eye of the beholder as to whether you find this wholesome and heartwarming or a seething hotbed of unexamined hangups. guess which side i come down on!

[taylorklosscomeout138]

Hello! What are your thoughts on the mass coming out theory and comingoutlor? xx

Hi! I reposted almost all my coming out lore theories so if you do have the time to scroll through my feed you will find them all! I would absolutely restate everything but it is a LOTTTTTT there is so many moving parts and sub groups of interconnecting theories. However, I will briefly summarize current and touch on New Romantics.

I'm still a firm believer in Dec 13th coming out on her birthday. I have thought for some time it'll be the Reputation TV release with KARma as the vault tracks (KARma the album will be how she comes out initially, it is explicity about KARlie and that is why she was not allowed to release it in 2016, instead we got tracks born from Karma which is why Rep is her shortest album to date only 15 tracks. It will be the full album and likely be rock of some kind in honor of Carly Simon and all of that implemented lore, which there is a ENTIRE rabbit hole of Carly Simon and James Taylor/James Hart but that's for another time, but she tested this type of album structure with TTPD / The Anthology)

Right now the storyline is the Wizard of Oz, the yellow brick road, with the destination being emerald city. I believe she will arrive at the emerald city a day after the final eras tour date, Dec 9th, which is also the first day after she ghosts a Chiefs home game for the first time. If you look at the eras dates compared to home game dates, she has always planned around them, even in upcoming, just 1 day off, but Dec 8th she directly overrid that game, that's her goodbye to "Kansas" bcuz in this story, she wants to stay in Oz. Oz is the secret garden in her mind, the planet where they can all understand it, the great escape. And she is the Wizard behind the curtain. The Wizard doesn't leave Oz. As the story goes, after arriving at Emerald City, the curtain is pulled on the Wizard revealing that the Wizard was entirely something and someone different than the initial facade, the brand facade. So that would allign with Dec 9th, emerald city, Dec 13th, curtain pulled.

I think at first Taylor will let the music speak for itself, then release a statement in the coming days. But the actual public step into the daylight WITH Karlie will be a little longer. I don't have a specific date for that at this time, but I wouldn't think too much longer after. Time will tell

I have a whole Bejeweled theory too that explains this same timeline with "she ghosted" and everything that is worth the read! I'll repost my older theories as well after this that are not on my feed currently.

As far as New Romantics project, yes this is absolutely happening. This is the Chely Wright prophecy. It starts with Taylor and she has to be the big name to lead it, but it does not nearly end with her, there will be many coming outs. There is a common misconception in the industry in terms of what it means to be out. Even celebs who were able to come out as LGBTQ+ are not out in the way they want to be. You'll notice even those people do not have queer public relationships. They can be explicity writing in their music that they are in one and yet they are still not allowed to go out in public and hold their lovers hand in front of the cameras. Some queer celebs aren't allowed to come out in any way shape or form, others can but only to an extent, but the one that remains consistent is that majority cannot have a public queer love relationship, and THAT is the major break out. So don't just expect to see confirmation of labels, expect to see confirmation of muses.

The reason this takes a big name like Taylor to initiate it, like Chely Wright said, is because of how many queer celebs are afraid and don't have the power to do it on their own and withstand not losing their career within the industry. So someone who is a huge world wide name must first set the precedent and normalize this. The world must understand queer love is not only normal in general, but it is extremely normal in the celebrity scene. And this is specifically how Chely Wright said it must be done. "I'm gay. And I'm normal."

So yes, that is honestly only scratching the surface but that's my best way to sum up the main events going on right now. Please feel free to ask any further questions, and as I mentioned my in depth takes of each component and more will be on my feed for all to read!

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

Hi Ada! Sorry your mind is in a bleh place - sending you lotsa hugs!!💗💗

1) I FINALLY replaced by gravel bike that was stolen this summer (long story short I bought a replacement that was on a prize offer for the insurance money but couldn’t break on it properly bc even though it was a ‘women’s’ model the grips were too big and the breaks too hard to push for my nimble hands hehe and I had to convince the store to buy it back and sell me another one and it’s generally really difficult to find a good one in my size so I’ve been worried cause it’s a lot of money😩) and the guy who sold it to me was soo nice he like helped me out for an hour at least and was so helpful answering all my questions. And he gave me so much off the prize for the best bet of a bike he had, so that I actually got a BETTER more expensive bike and hardly had to pay extra! And we joked too - so I left yesterday feeling both really excited and like ‘successful human interaction checked!’ (People are nice and random things will sometimes work out!!)

2) this weekend I messaged my professor this weekend bc I’d completely missed the deadline for an assignment that could help me get some feedback on my ideas for my exam project. I’ve never interacted with him outside of class and of course I got all over sharing about why I missed the deadline and why I’ve missed class a few of times and struggled to be on time, telling him about the memorial days for my best friend, my anxiety and ADHD and how it’s been difficult to get back to everyday life after travelling and then when I’d sent it I felt super weird about it. But then he replied sharing that he’s struggled with his anxiety this month and a personal anecdote about how he’d actually been in the process of getting his doctor to prescribe anti-anxiety meds when he held the presentation on mental illness (the course is called ‘normality and deviance’). He ended the mail by sending me a ‘mental hug’ and it really meant a lot to me. The day before, in class I’d been late, but still participated and we had a guest teacher who when he left called my name and said ‘it was interesting to hear from you!’. I’ve been feeling bad about my academic skills and aspirations lately bc I feel like other stuff is holding me back. So these two things reminded me, that so many people struggle even those that you think are successful, and it doesn’t take away from the things you’re good at and love doing!!!🥹

3) I wore my binder out for the first time this weekend, for my friend’s birthday and following night out and felt really affirmed and good about myself and in my body!! (Of course I was still hit on by a straight guy who got a bit gross when I very gently rejected him but oh well).

4) have a few pics of my family dog!!

And one of Moo Dom (thank you for the name suggestion D @carlos-tk ) who is one of your biggest cheers for writing delectable smut and making this fandom kinkier!!!🥳🤩 he reads along over my shoulder from where he’s placed on the couch pillows and he’s a big fan😌

I’ve been in a bleh mood myself - on and off everyday obligations this semester has felt a bit overwhelming, doubting my academic aspirations and the winter depression symptoms hit hard suddenly after my all-nighter to follow the election last week.. but these little things made me feel better and I am coming up from it and the sun is out today!!☀️

I hope you feel better soon too and take care of yourself and can relish in some of the little things along the way<3<3<3

- Life is a rollercoaster and a WIP! <3😌

what's up wednesday

Hey everyone! Thanks for the tags. I've been steadily working away at both kinktober and the rent boy au, but I'm kind of in a bleh mental space right now so I don't really feel like sharing.

That said, because of bleh mental space, I'd love, love, love to hear something positive that's happening with all of you!

Whether that be something that made you smile, something you're proud of, a picture of your pet, I want all the good vibes! Feel free to reply, reblog, send an ask, message me or not reply it all, I won't take it personal!

Tagging those that have tagged me already:

@nisbanisba, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @heartstringsduet, @paperstorm, @carlossreaders

@strandnreyes

Then I'll tag some of the usual crew:

@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @carlos-in-glasses, @carlos-tk

@theghostofashton, @bonheur-cafe, @basilsunrise, @never-blooms, @literateowl

@lightningboltreader, @honeybee-taskforce, @guardian-angle22, @goldenskykaysani, @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@freneticfloetry, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @sanjuwrites, @sheholdsthemoon, @actual-sleeping-beauty

@ironheartwriter, @irispurpurea, @your-catfish-friend, @whatsintheboxmh, @welcometololaland

@rmd-writes, @butchreyes, @emsprovisions, @tellmegoodbye and then here's a tag for anyone who just wants to share some good news <3 <3 <3 <3