#that said this is absolutely whinging

[adozentothedawn]

So I have not yet picked up The Witcher season 3, but I'm sure I will eventually. I do however feel the need to whinge a bit about season 2.

So I will be the first to admit that I am a little Jaskier gremlin. Frankly he is the main reason I am watching this show. I also recognize that he is not the main main character and that there will be episodes not about him, and that's fine. That is not my problem. What my problem is, is that he got completely shafted by season 2 even when he was here, and honestly I don't know why he was after his little trip with Yennefer (the best part of that season in my opinion btw). After that point, he has no narrative or character reason to be here, because Geralt does not give a shit about him it seems. His last episode in season 1 was great drama, Geralt was a complete asshole to him and Jaskier was understandably hurt by that. And yet don't actually bother picking that up at all in season 2. It starts off great with the Butcher song, but it's never resolved in a satisfying way. Geralt has no moment to actually acknowledge that Jaskier didn't deserve that treatment on the mountain, he just mutters a clearly half hearted apology and Jaskier just takes it. And that's it. That's the entire emotional resolution. The first thing Geralt says to him is "I need your help" nah man, that's not fucking good enough. Guess Jaskier's not a hot woman so we can't have Gerlat too involved in his emotional relationship with him. And don't get me wrong, this is not a shot against Yennefer, Yennefer is great. She does in fact have proper chemistry with Jaskier! She is probably my second favourite character! What I do see as a problem is that clearly someone among the writers, whoever it was, decided that that platonic relationships between adults are just irrelevent. Can't have that, no one cares, let's focus more on the sexual brooding. Even Yennefer and Jaskier's relationship, which is really good btw I love that episode, gets pushed away as soon as soon as Geralt is in the picture again. It feels like the only reason Jaskier is at Kaer Morhen is cause... you know. He's Jaskier. You can't just write him out entirely. But at no point does it feel like anyone really wants him there, which would also be fine if that was a plotpoint, but it's not. He's just kinda there. Until he isn't for a season cliffhanger. He's just hanging around, pretending that Geralt actually had a reason to take him along, be that emotional or practical, neither of which I can discern. Let's be honest, Jaskier did not make Ciri safer in accompanying her there. The fact that he got tortured never comes up, despite Yennefer having seen it. No one ever tries to engage with him there. It's honestly painful to watch how he's basically just a prop at this point.

And you know, maybe season 3 will pick it up! Maybe he finally gets to be somewhat vindicated in his feelings! Maybe someone actually apologizes to him for once! But frankly it doesn't feel like that was a deliberate characterization in season 2 that will be played on in the next one, so I'm just putting it off longer and longer because while I am interested and I'm sure there are good parts (season 2 had great parts honestly before that turn), I also don't want to watch my favourite character be treated like a joke again in a way that hits too close to home for me personally.

[heavenbarnes]

in an alternate universe, you meet older bf!simon through a friend- well, a friend’s brother.

your friend’s brother, johnny. he overhears you whinging to his sister about how fucking hard it is to find a place to live. so he tells you about this guy he serves with.

‘L.t’ he calls him.

since he and L.t are on deployment so often, there’s a tidy re-purposed council flat that’s often empty. johnny says he’ll chat L.t about your predicament and see what he thinks.

L.t allows you to live in his home- problem is he’s leaving on deployment literally tomorrow so you have to exchange agreements by text.

you’ve got money going into his account, some basic agreements about no parties, no partners, no smoking, and no mucking about.

L.t gives the key to johnny, who gives it to his sister, who gives it to you- opening the door to an almost pristine little home. not a thing out of place.

military precision.

so you move in and you’re shocked to find more than a flat pillow and plaid duvet cover. there’s 3-in-1 in the shower but easily replaced with your own products.

the pantry and fridge are bare but soon filled with your favourites. your undies are drying over the dining chairs and your blanket is draped across the couch.

you’ve got your own profile on the netflix and your toothbrush is in the holder. you’ve done what you were told.

“make yourself at home”

so much so that you almost forget deployment will end at some point, hard to remember when you don’t even have the faintest idea when that’ll be.

johnny said it could be weeks, maybe months. he didn’t tell you that it could be at any moment.

you think you hear the door in the deep of your sleep but your brain reassures you it’s in the back of your dream- you don’t even wake.

it’s actually the weight dropping beside you on the mattress and shuffling up to your back that gets you. it’s a miracle you don’t scream.

L.t lands a rough hand on your back, something about “calm down, s’only me”

only him? he who’s name you don’t even know?

as if he can read your mind, he’s following up with a grumbled “simon”

simon ‘sans-last name.’

before his breathing begins to even out.

your heart is beating out your chest- perfect stranger climbing into bed with you?

the voice in your head that always wants you to be polite reminds you that this is actually his house, after all.

he was also kind enough to let you stay, charging a rent way below going rate.

he had just been away serving this country, duty to protect and all.

and johnny knows him, vouched for him- sure johnny can be a bit of a perv but he’s harmless.

simon must be too, right?

you decide to settle back under the duvet, telling yourself it’s you that’s being weird. you need to be more grateful!

mans tired, if he wasn’t absolutely shattered he would’ve taken the couch.

right?

you’re almost entirely convinced until you feel a strong arm loop around your waist, pulling you back into something unbelievably hard.

harmless.

right.

[slayingfiction]

Words to use instead of ‘said’

**Using the word ‘said’ is absolutely not a bad choice, and in fact, you will want to use it for at least 40% of all your dialogue tags. Using other words can be great, especially for description and showing emotion, but used in excess can take away or distract from the story.

Neutral: acknowledged, added, affirmed, agreed, announced, answered, appealed, articulated, attested, began, bemused, boasted, called, chimed in, claimed, clarified, commented, conceded, confided, confirmed, contended, continued, corrected, decided, declared, deflected, demurred, disclosed, disputed, emphasized, explained, expressed, finished, gloated, greeted, hinted, imitated, imparted, implied, informed, interjected, insinuated, insisted, instructed, lectured, maintained, mouthed, mused, noted, observed, offered, put forth, reassured, recited, remarked, repeated, requested, replied, revealed, shared, spoke up, stated, suggested, uttered, voiced, volunteered, vowed, went on

Persuasive: advised, appealed, asserted, assured, begged, cajoled, claimed, convinced, directed, encouraged, implored, insisted, pleaded, pressed, probed, prodded, prompted, stressed, suggested, urged

Continuously: babbled, chattered, jabbered, rambled, rattled on

Quietly: admitted, breathed, confessed, croaked, crooned, grumbled, hissed, mumbled, murmured, muttered, purred, sighed, whispered

Loudly: bellowed, blurted, boomed, cried, hollered, howled, piped, roared, screamed, screeched, shouted, shrieked, squawked, thundered, wailed, yelled, yelped

Happily/Lovingly: admired, beamed, cackled, cheered, chirped, comforted, consoled, cooed, empathized, flirted, gushed, hummed, invited, praised, proclaimed, professed, reassured, soothed, squealed, whooped

Humour: bantered, chuckled, giggled, guffawed, jested, joked, joshed

Sad: bawled, begged, bemoaned, blubbered, grieved, lamented, mewled, mourned, pleaded, sniffled, sniveled, sobbed, wailed, wept, whimpered

Frustrated: argued, bickered, chastised, complained, exasperated, groaned, huffed, protested, whinged

Anger: accused, bristled, criticized, condemned, cursed, demanded, denounced, erupted, fumed, growled, lied, nagged, ordered, provoked, raged, ranted remonstrated, retorted, scoffed, scolded, scowled, seethed, shot, snapped, snarled, sneered, spat, stormed, swore, taunted, threatened, warned

Disgust: cringed, gagged, groused, griped, grunted, mocked, rasped, sniffed, snorted

Fear: cautioned, faltered, fretted, gasped, quaked, quavered, shuddered, stammered, stuttered, trembled, warned, whimpered, whined

Excited: beamed, cheered, cried out, crowed, exclaimed, gushed, rejoiced, sang, trumpeted

Surprised: blurted, exclaimed, gasped, marveled, sputtered, yelped

Provoked: bragged, dared, gibed, goaded, insulted, jeered, lied, mimicked, nagged, pestered, provoked, quipped, ribbed, ridiculed, sassed, teased

Uncertainty/Questionned: asked, challenged, coaxed, concluded, countered, debated, doubted, entreated, guessed, hesitated, hinted, implored, inquired, objected, persuaded, petitioned, pleaded, pondered, pressed, probed, proposed, queried, questioned, quizzed, reasoned, reiterated, reported, requested, speculated, supposed, surmised, testified, theorized, verified, wondered

This is by no means a full list, but should be more than enough to get you started!

Any more words you favor? Add them in the comments!

Happy Writing :)

[lina-transverse]

Queer discourse on this site of fun cause it just turns into mostly White Queers just saying the same things over and over and no one is capable of understanding nuance or willing to consider the others point of view cause they're more concerned with "winning" the argument. Which is stupid and pointless because arguing is for idiots.

Y'all know we're on the same side right? There's no point in having discussions over 'who the most oppressed' is when it's obviously black and brown queer people, especially transfem black women.

This is a fact.

Do y'all even remember back in the late 2010's when the only time "transgender" or "transfem" trended n this site was when another black or brown sister was killed?

Do y'all even care about them? I've seen tons of posts for Pauly Likens which is great, but where's the outrage for Shannon Boswell, shot to death in the street while police denied said shooting even happened? What about Tayy Thomas and River Goddard, just children who were killed by their partners? Where's your rage for TK Hill, shot outside his hair salon? Or Africá Garciá, homeless and shot to death in a dirty street.

Last year 320 trans people were killed. Three-hundred and fucking twenty.

Of those deaths, 94% of them were transfem/ trans women and over 80% were black and brown people. Many were sex workers or homeless. Lots of them were degendered by the media and police in death. Even more deaths are unreported either due to degendering or their bodies not being found. So many of these people (again, mostly black and brown transfem's) are violated and horrifically tortured by their tormentors.

If your discussion of transphobia doesn't include black and trans people, if you cannot recognize this simple fact, then you're no ally to the trans community.

Community means you look out and support those that are the most vulnerable; it means you show the fuck up and speak the fuck up when you hear racist shit. It means you ABSOLUTELY DO NOT call the cops on a homeless person, it means you look out for those that have less than you, the disadvantaged and disenfranchised. White queers have white privilege! We still benefit from our whiteness (especially in the US) so fucking use that shit!

Get your heads outta your asses and actually be a part of your community instead of whinging and whining and wringing your hands helplessly while ignoring the ACTUAL dangers trans people face.

I'm gonna close this with a quote from a friend of África Garciá that perfectly encapsulates how the world views transfem's.

“A lot of trans women are on the streets and are made invisible because many people believe that their lives are worthless,” LeQueen, a trans artist and friend of García’s, told the paper. “They don’t give them the ‘spotlight’ that they deserve, and those men take advantage of that. They think, If I kill her here, no one is going to care.”

Source 1

Source 2

[briarberrythornedhart]

“What’s your costume gonna be?” You asked Eddie brightly - excited to hear what your super geeky new boyfriend would choose. Could be horror themed, or fantasy probably - he wasn’t as into Sci Fi as you. But you were sure It would be EPIC. But, you were wrong.

“Only little kids dress up for halloween.” Eddie said.

“Is that so?” You laughed. “Is dress up for babies??”

“I love that you dress up for Renn faire and when we are messing around... but - It’s absolutely a fact that Halloween is for little kids. Unless it’s college kids throwing kegger or some shit??? Even they phone it in with cat ears or a sheet-toga.”

“Ah. So this was a waste of time.” You pulled a hanger out from his closet with your costume on it. You never phoned in a costume in your life. Eddie’s eyes went wide. “ I should pop this back into storage?”

“Whaaat is that?” Eddie hopped over a box to get close. His hands out and grabby.

“It’s my costume.” you grinned.

“You’re really gonna wear that??” his voice got a little higher, he got super close. He started kissing your temple, your cheek, running a hand from your shoulder down to your lower back.

“I’m not gonna wear it if you won’t dress up, too.”

“What’s the ... lower half look like - you wearing jeans or...??”

“What lower half?” You held the costume in front of you. Waved it a bit. What there was of it. Without makeup and your wig. Just a taste of what you were planning - what you knew Eddie would get worked up about.

He moaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“Fuuuuuuck, you’re gonna look so go-oo-oo-od!”

“Not by myself I’m not.”

“Sweetheart, no one else is gonna be dressed up.” There was a little whinge there that you knew meant you’d already won.

“Yes. They are - Robin said this was a costume party.”

And that’s how you got Eddie to dress up as a modern day vampire:

gathering his hair into a pony,

putting him in a button up (but only buttoning the bottom 3 buttons),

doing his eyeliner and putting a smidge of crimson on his lower lip.

He didn’t even grumble - but then -- he knew he looked hot.

[valyrfia]

wow having just watched charles’ race recap my god is there clearly a difference between pr focussed drivers and racing focussed drivers. whilst norris is off threatening to ‘end his friendship with max’ like a 12 year old because max “ruined his race”, charles goes over the incident with checo & oscar, gives them both grace, and calls it a racing incident. the maturity levels are clear, huh? even though that incident killed his race and kept him out of the points, and I firmly believe he could’ve challenged for the win if not for it, he doesn’t call them ‘desperate’ or ‘reckless’ and moves on. in the words of david tennant, i don’t wish I’ll on him as a person, i just wish he’d shut up.

It shows a clear difference in maturity levels between drivers Lando's race WAS ruined by that collision with Max, just like Charles' was ruined by that collision with Checo and Oscar. However, as you said, Charles was disappointed and threw slight shade at Checo ("he knows that three cars going into turn 1 doesn't work"), but was quick to call it a racing incident and more or less laugh it off and was eager to move on from this weekend and set his sights on Silverstone. Lando, on the other hand, was absolutely desperate for an overtake he couldn't get done and then went on a very bizarre PR trip making sure everybody knew that his friendship with Max was 'over'. I have to question why Lando took it so personally, they're all racing drivers? Surely their job is to race? Most other racing drivers are unanimous on the fact that doesn't exist once the helmet goes on.

The complete audacity of Lando as well to whine about Max having around 70 wins and well, there's a reason why he has that many–because he's not going to cave to the guy in P2 just because he's his friend. Lando today honestly sounded like an entitled spoiled child in the media pen, whining and whinging at the fact that his friend Max won't let HIM have a turn on the top step of the podium.

[onadarklingplain]

🔀 & DALEX

i started writing this AGES ago, and at the time, i shuffled by discovery weekly and i got fucking married - harriette

Daniel was absolutely not sulking, and if he was feeling off-kilter, it was absolutely not because the sight of George and Max having their first dance made it feel like someone was closing a fist around his heart, wringing all the blood out. It was dumb because he wasn’t even that cut up about the break-up anymore. It was more — it always sucked being the single guy at a wedding, the loner sitting at an empty table surrounded by sad, half-eaten plates of dry cake.

There was a certain pleasure in wallowing, in completing the part he was surely invited to fill — the poor ex-boyfriend, pining for the one who got away, the groom looking all the better for comparison. He was leaning into it, he knew, the vicious, bitter thrill of it, and he almost felt annoyed when someone sat down next to him. He didn’t need company, didn’t need entertainment. He had that in spades just watching the way Max’s face scrunched up in happiness when George twirled him around the dance floor. Like, he hadn’t even wanted to marry George, but could’ve been him getting fucking twirled.

“How do you know the happy couple?” the guy asked, interrupting Daniel’s thought spiral. “No wait, let me guess. You’re the weird cousin.”

Daniel laughed, smiled his most charming smile, and stuck out a hand. “You’re sitting next to the ex, I’m afraid. I’ll understand if you want to find a table higher up on the social stratosphere. I probably only got an invite because the weird cousin cancelled last minute.”

Amazingly, the guy actually looked relieved. “Oh thank god. I’m an ex too. I don’t even know why I bloody came, to be honest.”

“For me, the open bar,” Daniel said, even though it wasn’t the truth.

“It helps,” the guy agreed. “I’m Alex.”

“Daniel,” he replied. “I haven’t heard of you, so I’m guessing you’re—"

“Please don’t make me recount my whole relationship history,” Alex said. “It’s been every conversation I’ve had today, I swear, and everyone ends up looking at me like I’m the problem, for fucking it up. Like maybe Max is the psycho, has anyone thought of that?” Once Alex started complaining, it was like he couldn’t stop, voice getting louder until he abruptly cut himself off. “Sorry. I’ll shut it and let you drink in peace.”

“No, please,” Daniel said. While Alex whinged, he had started to lean in without even realising, and now he was resting all his weight on his elbows, giving Alex new consideration. “This is the first promising conversation I’ve had all day. All anyone wants to talk about is how sweet they are together. Like, I get it, you thought I was street trash, no need to rub it in.”

“And they’ve only been together for what, six months? Insane. Like, we were literally dating for longer than that, and let me tell you, we were absolutely not ready to get fucking married.”

“But when you’re in love,” Daniel said, fluttering his eyelashes, but he could only keep up the facade for so long before he cracked and started to laugh again.

“So how long do you give them?” Alex asks, a wicked glint in his eye. “Be honest, I won’t tell.”

“Well,” Daniel says, pretending like he was thinking about it for the first time. “If Max can stand to live with George, he’s a stronger man than me. The guy is like — obsessive. I swear half our fights were about the fucking laundry. And he hated all of my friends. He never wanted to come out.”

“Max is a slob,” Alex said bluntly, but he didn’t look upset. On the contrary, he looked a little delighted. “Our living room was a shrine to every online purchase he ever made. I’m talking critical levels of cardboard. He literally never did the recycling. And he was just married to his video games.”

“George hated screen time,” Daniel said gleefully. “He was always trying to make me go on walks or play tennis or whatever.” It was probably bad that they were so happy about the sure demise of a relationship, but he wasn’t about to examine the feeling. Instead, he finished the rest of his free cosmo, letting the vodka drown out any pangs of guilt.

“Perfect,” Alex concluded. “They’re going to tear each other apart.”

“You know what would really piss them off?” Daniel said, the alcohol and camaraderie making him brave. It’s just, it was nice, the way Alex was looking at him, laughing at his little jokes — it was hard not to let a little fondness work his way into his belly.

“If we hooked up,” Alex said, finishing Daniel’s thought and nodding like it was already decided. “Just imagine the brunch dates we could drag them out on, and they wouldn’t be able to say no.”

“You’re diabolical,” Daniel said. “I wasn’t even thinking about brunch.”

“We could watch them fall apart in real-time, one Sunday pancake date at a time,” Alex said, the wicked grin back on his face. “And then we’d know for sure that we weren’t the fucking problem.”

Daniel was sold already, but when Alex raised an eyebrow and jerked his head toward the door, one hand curled around a bottle of table wine, it became impossible for Daniel to imagine saying no.

It turned out Alex was tall, and when they stood up, when he pressed Daniel up against the brick wall in the garden, music and light spilling out of the open doors of the hall into the still, dark night, it felt like he was looming over him. It was hot, honestly, the way Alex leaned against the wall with one hand, bracketing Daniel in, while he let the wine bottle dangle carelessly from the other. It made Daniel think about someone catching them like that, seeing them together, about the news making it back to George and Max, and before Alex even kissed him, there was a satisfaction simmering low in his stomach.

[shootingmorningstar]

Was inspired by bambygourl’s fanart and a TikTok I saw. Dressing up as Roger and Jessica Rabbit for a costume party with Lucifer. I think he’d be all pouty and grumpy about dressing up as such a silly character and not a suave charming character. Especially since he’d take a look at the white button up, red trousers with suspenders, and blue bow tie with yellow polka-dots and see it as a fashion nightmare XD. And don’t get him started on the bunny ears and tail. Tho his mood is sufficiently uplifted when he sees the reader dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. Low cut red dress with a slit and all. Just imagine pulling on his suspenders or bow tie for a kiss, getting lipstick on his mouth and face, and cooing over how adorable and handsome her honey-bunny is.

I've been meaning to get to this request ever since I saw it because it is just so good. I'm definitely biased for anything Lucifer related but god this is just so cute. Anon, your brain is outstanding. I love pouty Lucifer. If you still have that tiktok on hand or ever come across it again, do you think you could send it my way .ᐣ

You didn't include what kind of request you wanted though, and my default is HCs -- but I couldn't help but throw in a little drabble based on them, too. Or, at least I intended it to be a drabble .ᐣ It got away from me, haha.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Lucifer and Female Reader Dressing

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Up As Roger and Jessica Rabbit ~

Lucifer is initially thrilled when you bring up wanting to attend a famous yearly costume party in Pride with him. A chance to show you off sounds amazing, and he's great with costumes. Just the thought of you two matching is enough to get him excited.

You seemed just as excited as he was -- in fact, he was even more excited when you told him you'd already had something in mind .ᐟ He's pestering you to tell him just what the costumes were as soon as the plan leaves your lips, but much to his displeasure, you refuse, saying you want to keep it a surprise.

You'd even managed to resist the very strongest puppy-dog eyes and pout. Impressive. He usually succeeds in getting his way with that one -- who could ever say no to that face .ᐣ Having exhausted his options, he sighs his defeat.

Well, nearly exhausted his options. He was entirely too ready to pretend that you'd won and snoop through your closet the second you walked away. Apparently his quick glance at said closet had given him away though, and with a quick deadpan stare alongside a scary sounding ❛ don't you dare. ❜ has his feet rooted to the floor.

Did his poker face really suck so bad .ᐣ He's definitely practicing it in the mirror later.

Ultimately, though, he trusts you completely and your choice in matching outfits is no exception, so he allows it to drop for now. There's still a few more days until the party, but that time could be spent much more productively by your side rather than whining about clothing.

That is, until the day of the party comes around and you bring out his outfit. You'd never seen Lucifer's jaw drop quite like that before and it takes iron will to stop yourself from giggling at his present state.

He doesn't understand the reference. Lucifer regrets his past decision to give humanity free will. It's obvious, even if he never seems to say it outright. He had given out such a precious gift and so much of humanity chose to abuse it, to be nothing but cruel. Looking at sinners and by extension humanity is just a terrible reminder of what he'd done, so he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. This quite often includes the media of the living realm -- he's never even heard about the movie, forget seeing it.

So without the full context, all he knows is that you've just handed him an absolutely atrocious outfit -- and to make it worse, you expect him to go out in it .ᐣ Seriously, he whinges, red overalls with a blue bow .ᐣ Rabbit ears .ᐣ And to make it worse, you won't even show him your outfit until he gets dressed .ᐟ He can't believe you're laughing.

He sounds completely and totally ridiculous, in your defense. Seriously, has he seen his regular outfit .ᐣ He looks absolutely stunning, sure -- but he also looks like he walked right out of a circus.

It says a lot, though, that despite the complete and total pity party he's currently throwing himself, he's beginning to shuffle into the costume anyway. He's grumbling the whole way, but the fact that he just doesn't have it in him to say no to you warms your heart.

You had been so, so eager about this party, and the way your eyes had shined like stars when you told him had long since burned itself into his heart.

wc ; 1.2k

His seemingly endless complaints had tapered off ever so slightly when you shimmied his grasp off of the ruby red suspenders sagging unbuttoned over his chest. By the time you take the fabric into your own hands his protests faded to little more than a mumble under his breath, and with the very first snap of a button in place under your gentle touch he'd quieted completely. Where a look of exasperation had reflected off his face seconds prior, in its place now is that of silent awe, his gaze trained on your every action. The gesture of intimacy is enough to leave Lucifer somewhat choked up, his heart still not used to receiving such acts of adoration and kindness. You tie the cornflower blue fabric adorned with tiny yellow spots into a bow to accentuate the costume and cover his hands briefly with your own as you slip the gloves onto his fingers.

Not twenty minutes had passed, and he finds his attitude regarding the ensemble shifting with every second you take to assist him into it. Each and every part of it looks ridiculous at best, but the thought of you picking it out solely for him has him warming up to the idea.

Declaring your work complete, you raise your grasp ever so slightly, palms holding each of his cheeks close, your thumbs rubbing soft little circles below his eyes. Your affections are sufficient only when finished with a kiss placed on his forehead. ❛ I'm going to go get dressed, okay .ᐣ No peeking. I promise I'll be right back. ❜

The way his wrists on instinct dart out to catch yours to bring you close to him again as you pull back nearly got you. He's extended his lips in a pout once more. You hate to leave him quite so sad looking but you know he'll appreciate what you have planned enough for it to be worth it.

Bathroom door shutting closed behind you, there's the smallest bit of lingering regret that he can't help you to get dressed like you had for him. The outfit itself takes you barely a few moments to slip into -- it's the makeup that requires precision, time and effort. His pacing around the bedroom is audible, impatient steps sounding into stomps, the sounds causing you to choke on a laugh. You need a steady hand for your eyeshadow and that's hard to maintain during an act quite as cute as this.

Nonetheless, your look is finished within half an hour and therefore Lucifer is put out of his misery. It's not a second after the door clicks open that his attention is caught, snapped to the light peaking out of the doorway. Stepping into the small hallway, your eyes are met with his own -- and the way his pupils widen as soon as he gets a glance of your dress makes both your efforts and his complaining worthwhile. His gaze takes you in from top to bottom, each detail enchanting him further. The dress so perfectly hugging your curves is crimson to match him and absolutely breathtaking -- and are you walking towards him .ᐣ Your strut does well to accentuate the slit stitched into the leg, your thigh tantalizing in its display.

Finally reclaiming your place beside him, one of your fingers reaches out, finding purchase under his chin -- and when you tilt his head up you swear you saw his eyes flash red. ❛ Hello, my darling husband, ❜ you coo, sending his already overloaded brain into a frenzy. Husband . . .ᐣ You wanted . . .ᐣ With him, really . . .ᐣ And although he's beginning to put the pieces together and clue in that such a term of endearment was part of your match, you seemed so happy to say it. He snaps his focus back onto just how stunning you look tonight, but the idea has firmly implanted itself into the depths of his mind.

Back into the present time, his hands have begun to roam -- he wants to commit every detail of you to memory, and that includes the feeling of your dresses fabric under his fingertips. His grasp is met with your own, for it's not long before you're pulling the straps of his suspenders, tugging him forward into a kiss. By the time he's recovered from his surprise enough to reciprocate, though, you're already beginning to pull away. He chases your lips with a whine but you've already moved on, pressing a kiss first to his cheek and then to his forehead. It's only when you offer him a small compact mirror does he understand -- each of your kisses has left behind a little bit of the lipstick you oh so painstakingly applied. Your marks on his face have left him entranced, desperately craving more.

A gasp rips itself from those same cherry red lips in surprise -- you weren't expecting him to summon forth his tail, much less wrap it around your midsection and use it to bring you closer. ❛ Kiss me again, ❜ He pleads, desperate and breathy. ❛ Anything for my honey bunny, ❜ you chime, matching the mark on his left cheek with one on the right. ❛ You just look so cute, ❜ between each kiss is another offering of praise and compliments, the blush left in your wake matching excellently. ❛ Who's my handsome bunny .ᐣ ❜

Your multitude of kisses has left Lucifer stunned and looking nothing short of angelic -- even more so than usual. You're fully intending on giving him several more, leaning in to do just that when the wall mounted clock besides you chimes a new hours arrival, alerting you to the time. ❛ Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, Mr. Rabbit, but I'm afraid we simply must be going. We don't want to be late, do we .ᐣ ❜

Fixing your lipstick takes all of a few seconds, leaving you free to grab a makeup wipe off the pouch resting atop your vanity and wipe all of the stains you'd adorned his face with away. A snap of his wrist catches yours just inches from his face, however, halting your plans in their tracks. Confused, you look to him for an explanation, a soft ❛ leave them. please .ᐣ ❜ being all he offers you. ❛ You're going to go to the party like this, love .ᐣ ❜ to which he nods sagely. He can't bear to part with them -- not when the lipstick marks are yours, not when they declare proudly that he is yours.

❛ If you say so, honey. ❜ You can't deny that the prospect leaves your heart fluttering. A grand, golden portal appears with a simple snap of his fingers and he takes your arm, now linked with his own in an attempt to usher you forward. He can't wait to show you off, to watch as other demons eyes glow green as they stare his way. You stay still, though, prompting him to look back at you with an air of confusion. It's then that you lean close, whispering ❛ be a good bunny and there will be more where that came from. too bad we'll have to wait until we come home, hmm .ᐣ ❜

Suddenly Lucifer can't wait for this party to be over.

I still can't believe I'd originally intended this to be 100 words and it ended up over a thousand. I can't help it, I'm so weak for anything Lucifer related. I'm half tempted to write an absolutely filthy post party part 2. If there's enough demand for it .ᐣ I just might.

As always, let me know what you think .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated ~

[plaidos]

"saying white trans women is a dogwhistle" is something ive primarily seen being said and agreed with here by white women. possibly just because this site is very white so there's more white women to see it.

when transfeminism doesn't specifically focus on race it defaults to white just like every other kind of feminism. "saying white is a dogwhistle" is slightly less of a problem than the racism that comes from this site being like 80% white. it's used in transmisogynistic ways (what isn't) but if i primarily see white women using it, my takeaway is that once again white feminists are using it to avoid talking about their culpability in racism.

hey anon? here's evidence it's being used as a dogwhistle to dismiss any trans women of color who disagree with you as white: you are doing it RIGHT NOW. it would take you a matter of seconds to find trans women of color on this website in my notes posting this same stuff. i wouldn't even feel confident or comfortable saying it were it not how many non-white trans women have personally flagged me down and told me that they are constantly dismissed as "privileged white trans women" whenever they discuss transmisogyny. there are trans women of color who fucking liked my reply to your anon even, go check!!

considering that most of the transfeminism on this website -- including most that i value & reblog -- is being spearheaded by trans women of color so much that that are barely even any white trans girls identifying as transfeminists in the first place, i actually disagree that the majority of transfeminism just defaults to white women's experiences, though i do absolutely agree that the voices of white trans women dominate most conversations about transmisogyny in general, and this is obviously a dire problem that needs to be addressed.

the point of this dogwhistle is to dismiss transfeminism as just privileged white people whinging about privileged white people problems. it is what terfs do, it is what transandrobros do, and it's what you're doing, whether it reflects your own interests or not 🤷‍♀️

[prongsfish]

@jegulus-microfic / feb 26 / bed / 576 words

“No fucking way.” 

It took James a few seconds to place the voice. He was barely awake, only just aware of the warm body flushed against his own, the eucalyptus scent his nose was buried in, and Barty Crouch Jr, who he thought was trying to whisper, but was really just hissing words louder than most peoples’ standard volume. He pushed his face deeper into soft hair, feeling Regulus pull James’ arms in closer to himself where he wrapped them around him. 

“Are you seeing this shit, Ev?” Barty continued, and James struggled to resist groaning. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, basking in the blissful feeling of waking up next to Regulus for as long as physically possible, but he knew that his chances of being left alone would decrease greatly if he showed any sign of wanting it. He didn’t know Regulus’ friends very well, but you pick up a few things about people when obsessed with their best friend, and Barty and Evan seemed like the kind of guys who would cut their own arms off if they knew it’d so much as slightly inconvenience you. 

“I am,” Evan confirmed, mock horror blending with amusement.

“They’re shirtless.” He practically gasped, and James thought Barty sounded far too offended for someone he’d seen sticking his tongue down Evan’s throat many times over breakfast.

“I can’t wait to tell the girls about this.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Barty said, and the two lead into a long conversation about just how hilarious Dorcas and Pandora’s reactions would be. James was seconds away from cursing both of them into oblivion for disturbing his peace when Regulus shifted from in front of him. He let out a distressed noise, gripping tighter to stop him from getting out of bed, and Evan and Barty fell silent for the first time since waking, seeming to finally notice that the pair they were talking about were awake.

“Let go, James,” Regulus mumbled, voice still not fully recovered from sleep. James just whined again. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

James huffed, still not entirely happy to let Regulus leave, but loosened his grip nonetheless and felt as Regulus slowly got up.

“He’s never this bloody nice to us in bed.” Barty grumbled, quickly followed by a shout of “Ow, what the fuck!” and the sound of something being thrown across the dorm. 

“If you value your lives, you’ll leave. Now.”

Evan and Barty just snorted. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Evan laughed, and Barty called “See you at breakfast!” as the door opened and they clambered out. 

Regulus sighed as he stepped back closer to the bed again. “Sorry about them, they’re idiots.”

James finally opened his eyes to see Regulus looking down at him from above, light framing his head like a halo, as beautiful as ever. James, despite all his prior whingeing, couldn’t help but smile up at him. He could barely believe he was really here after so long of never letting himself imagine it, limiting the way his stomach would flip over the boy to impossible fantasies and daydreams, but there he was. The dungeons were much colder than the Gryffindor dorms, but James couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him anyway. 

So, when Regulus sat down on the edge of the bed and James rose to lean into his side, he knew he was telling the truth when he said, “S’alright baby, just glad to be here.”

[atopvisenyashill]

What are your thoughts on GRRM’s new notablog post on HOTD S2?

omg i'm sorry so i did not get notified that i had a few new asks, i didn't even see this until i logged in on desktop. tumblr eat shit smh.

ANYWAYS.

I actually agree with Xiran Jay Zhao, here, where they said this was a warning shot. It feels like a warning shot. Like a "hey I'm being nitpicky and pedantic now but if you think I won't go scroched earth you got another thing coming." I've seen so much "this is unprofessional" "this is annoying" "why is he complaining" and I think it is not only mind boggling to side with a corporation and the idiots running these shows (and we know I mostly like Condal and Hess, but come on Condal was the mastermind of Sansa Bolton why are we defending him right now!!), I think everyone is blowing his comments wildly out of proportion. He didn't take a dig at anyone but the writer's room and more specifically Ryan Condal, who he has had a working relationship with for well over a decade. He didn't shittalk any casting, he didn't shittalk any specific writers or directors except one of the main showrunners, he compliments the special effects, he has consistently had (and imo is careful) nothing but praise for the actors, even minor roles like Blood & Cheese. This was an incredibly milqtoast "please remember that every change has huge affects on the narrative later" critique and the people handwringing over his behavior are absolute losers, I'm sorry.

And beyond the fact that he didn't make any huge digs, I think this conversation also wildly ignores the way authors have no control over their own characters once they sign the rights over. They can be completely bamboozled by changes and they have no recourse to go "what the hell are you doing." And yet, signing your book's rights away (even if the production sits in developmental hell for decades) is usually what nets these author's the most money - GRRM surely makes a shitton off his books, but most authors get paid absolutely nothing even when they're wildly popular because of how book deals work now. Take, again, Xiran for example - Iron Widow was a huge runaway hit, a good and fresh take on this new boom of culturally based sff. And yet Xiran has talked about how they immediately set to work writing a middle grade novel because they desperately needed the money because they got paid 16k over two years for their runaway hit that made their publishers significantly more than 16k. I think George is not only mad for authors with less control than he has but also, obviously, for himself - I've said time and again, but I do think Dark Daenerys is where we are headed, and the fact that they completely botched showing it has got to smart. And if the ending for Dany is anything other than Jon killing her, that has got to smart too. So he watched these people fuck up his original series and push him completely out of that writer's room as they made more and more changes, and now he's watching s2 of HOTD and seeing some changes and getting some real bad vibes. It's not doomerism to think s3 is going to go massively off the rails when we have seasons 6-8 of the main show to show us just how off the rails it can go!

So anyways, that part of my rant over (and please believe me when I say I checked myself here because I could rant for hours about how it's genuinely so upsetting to see people call him unprofessional over this when not only did he write the fucking series, but he's lived in this series for three decades!!!!! this is his whole life, this is his legacy, of course he's feeling some type of way about how it's handled jesus christ on a cracker, there's people who have said worse about their mediocre nyt pushed bestsellers getting adapted badly!), when it comes to the actual meat of his post....I'm sorry idk how anyone is annoyed by this post because it was hilarious to me. He spent a whole blog post whinging about how Dead Baby #4 and Kingsguard Man #12 are gonna get cut out of the show. I think he framed it in that goofy way on purpose to hide how annoyed he is but you can see where the real annoyance lies - the changes to Helaena, losing one of his grisly death scenes, and being willfully mislead about potential changes to the plot. I think a lot of people missed those points but EYE am not a goofy ass like those people and I can guarantee you that Condal and HBO got the point too.

Of course, I do think he is also irked about Maelor and Ser Rickard's scenes being cut out. He wrote a long ass, highly meticulous, near unadaptable work, and I think when he handed the IP over he assumed he was giving it to people who would rise to the challenge and only make cuts when absolutely necessary. And that just clearly hasn't happened. Incredibly important characters get cut, main characters get their plots wildly changed for no reason, and people get personality transplants on a near constant basis for no other reason than D&D and Condal thought it would look cooler. I think if there was more dedication to keeping him in the loop and keeping true to the story, he wouldn't have bitched so much. But Hess is on record saying she doesn't feel loyal to the story and at a certain point, you reach your breaking point there and I think he has finally reached his. AND GOOD FOR HIM. LET THAT OLD MAN GO APESHIT THEY'VE COMPLETLEY FUCKED HIS WORLD UP!!!

[froggybells]

Home (Is Wherever I’m With You)

synop: meet the gang!

a/n: lololol not proof read. still getting used to writing. this is pt 2 —> pt 1 here

word count: 1.1k

“Yuuji! Arms up more!” Panda yelled from the sidelines, as he watched the pink haired boy get absolutely pounded into the ground by Maki’s weapon. “I’m- trying-!” He would yell in between getting whacked. “Not hard enough!” Kugisaki added, which made the second years laugh.

Megumi walked out to the field where the rest of his peers were watching the (one sided) battle. “What’s going on?” He asked the girl standing next to hom. “Itadori is getting his ass handed to him by Maki!” She laughed. “Oi!” The boy yelled from the field. “Why don't you get down here and try!” Nobara put her hand behind her head and looked away.

The ongoing battle was interrupted, much to Itadori’s relief, by a clapping Gojo, with Yaga standing beside him. “Well done my beautiful students!” He laughed. “Especially you Yuuji! I’ve never seen someone get taken down so quickly! That’s a real skill!” After he said that, Yaga promptly smacked him upside the head.

While Gojo was off whinging, Yaga took his glasses off and began to clean them. “Ahem. Students. I’ve decided that, with the upcoming Exchange event, you’ll need to be able to better deal with a… different… kind of cursed technique. Someone who excels at both close contact and their technique.”

Megumi knew where this was headed, as he could sense her cursed energy since the pair walked down. “What, are we getting a new teacher or something?” Maki sighed, hoping they would get someone a little less… well let's say childish. “Hey! I excel at both of those things!” Gojo continued to whine, but a new presence appeared behind him, giving another smack.

“Yeah dumbass, but he needs someone who doesn't act like a teenager!” You yelled. Yuuji audibly gasped. “It’s a woman! A beautiful one!” He accidentally said aloud.

“Sorry Yuuji! But this one’s taken!” He said, grabbing your face and peppering it with kisses. Yuuji and Nobara stood there with shocked looks on their faces. The three Second Years had met you previously, due to the fact that you had helped Yuta when he first came to Jujutsu Tech Megumi and Yaga both stood there with their hands on their faces.

“Ew Satoru, get off of me!” You said, shoving him away. “Someone… actually likes.. Gojo?” Nobara said, still in shock. “You know… you know him right?! You know his personality!” She asked. “Unfortunately so. But he can be polite when he wants to.” You replied, still shoving him away.

“But hi kids, I’m Y/N L/N. I’m another special grade sorcerer-" "And my girlfriend!” Gojo interrupted. “Yeah yeah you big goof. Now where’s- ah, there he is.” You said, locking eyes with the raven haired boy. “Megumi~” Gojo said, matter of factly, “Aren’t you gonna come give your mom a hug~” He teased. Megumi’s face turned bright red, and all the others went crazy. Now even the second years didn’t know that. “She's your mom?!” Panda yelled. “How could someone so beautiful give birth to someone like him?!” That one was definitely Kugisaki.

“Oh, oh! I’m not his actual mom! Gojo and I raised Megumi from when he was little!” You smiled, patting his head. “Y/N-san, I thought you were in Africa with Yuuta.” He asked. “Oh, I was, but the kid insisted I come back and help you all get ready for the exchange event. By the looks of it, I’m not sure there's much I can do. Aside from that one over there.” You said, pointing to Yuuji, who was still making heart eyes at you.

“HAHA, you hear that! She thinks you're dumb!” Nobara bent over laughing, while hitting Yuuji on the back. That seemed to take him out of his trance. “U-h! Y/N-san! Forgive me!” he said, bowing down. “You’re very beautiful!”

You didn’t know how to respond, but he seemed like a sweet kid. “Thank you, Itadori!” You patted his head. His face turned beet red. “EXCUSE ME!” The young boy said while running off.

You smiled while watching him hysterically run, occasionally tripping over his feet. You turned back to the group to speak. “Maki, nice to see you! How’s that sister of yours?” “Evil as ever.” She replied with a scowl. “Panda! Have you grown since I’ve seen you last!” “Maybe you’ve just gotten shorter, L/N-Sensei.” “Ah, Toge! Look at you! You changed your hair!” “Salmon!” The boy smiled.

You stuck your hand out, making eye contact with Nobara. She returned the handshake. “L/N-san! It’s not too late! You can still run from Gojo-Sensei! There’s plenty of attractive sorcerers that aren’t crazy!” She said, leaning in. “Yeah, but they aren’t the strongest like I am!” Gojo smirked. “Now run along children, we have adult things to talk about! Except you, Megumi! Y/N and I want to catch up!”

(flashback)

“Gumi, you have to eat something!” Gojo sighed as he placed an assortment of fruits in front of the younger boy. “Don’t wanna.” He said, going back to coloring the dogs on his paper. Just as the white haired man was going to beg again, he heard the door unlocking, making both boys swivel their heads around.

“We’re back!” Tsumiki yelled. “And we brought treats!” Gojo ran over to you, panicking. “Y/N, my beautiful girlfriend, please tell that demon child to eat!” You glanced over at your adult boyfriend, who was wearing a sanrio apron and his signature round glasses.

“Satoru… it’s hard to take you seriously when you look like Hello Kitty…” Gojo pouted. “Please my love, he doesn’t listen to a word I say! He only listens to you and ‘Miki! He hates men!” He whined. You looked over at the smaller boy once more, who was happily eating his strawberries next to his sister.

“He seems to be doing fine.” You shrugged. Gojo began to fake cry. “You’re so mean to me, Megumi!” Megumi didn’t spare Gojo a glance. “You’re annoying.”

-

As soon as the kids were asleep, you plopped down in bed next to Gojo, who was reading a book, titled ‘How to make your kid like you’. “That book isn’t going to do anything, you know.” You said, still face down on the pillow.

“But he’s so mean!” Gojo whisper yelled, placing the book down. “He’s just… special. One day he’ll be grateful for what you did. But for now, let him be a moody pre-teen.” You finally lay on your side, facing the beautiful blue eyes you’ve grown to love.

“Y/N, he needs friends. He needs a best friend, and it’s gonna be me!” You threw a pillow at his face, sighing. “He’ll be fine. You didn’t meet Suguru until you started High School.”

“Yeah, well, look at how that turned out.” You looked up for a second, thinking of what to say next. “We still have Shoko, right? And Nanami. Well, me more than you, but you get the point.”

Gojo sighed. “Why does everyone hate me.” He pouted. “They don’t hate you, Satoru. They just don’t get you like I do.” You said, gently placing a hand on his face. He brought his closer to you, until your foreheads were touching.

“Promise you’ll love me forever?” He asked. “Forever and ever, and even a but after that.” You gave him a small peck on the cheek. “Y/N… I have to tell you something important…” He said.

“Yes, Satoru?”

Instead of speaking, he sneezed on you.

“HAHA, I GOT YOU!”

“I’M SLEEPING ON THE COUCH.”

[bucknastysbabe]

hi cal! i love your page sm. i wanted to request more chubby bucky (i’m so obsessed & haven’t seen him in a min) also make sure to take care of yourself and have a good day/night 🩷

HI!!!! Sorry I’ve been such a spazz and awful about my page and askbox I’m in my new era blah blah but YES! CHUBBY BUCKY! Thanks for the well wishes I’m trying to practice ~self care~ and ~time management~ mwah mwah much love. So let’s say this just in the same universe as Poolside Blues!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: body dysmorphia, obsessive thoughts, negative body talk, Muscle chub Buck, Bucky’s shit self esteem is saved by sunshine gf, holiday weight gain, Bucky being a stubborn mf, switch!Bucky, reader has empathic projection, horny texts, body worship, WE LOVE SOFT PARTS AND STRETCH MARKS ROUND HERE, teasing, sub space, daddy kink, pnv!sex, cuddles and fluff, Bucky is just a big cuddly tiger kitty

“Bucky if you stare at the scale any longer I’m going to break it. Holidays are over, you can get back to being in the gym twenty-five eight.”

Bucky eyed his petite girlfriend, frowning from the doorway to the bathroom. He palmed his stupid fucking gut and sighed, he actually had to suck in to see the number! This is why Bucky hated the holidays. Besides being cold. James Buchanan Barnes very much disliked the cold, one could assume why.

He could handle the residual un-moveable pudge leftover from Hydra’s ever consistent tinkering with his bodily functions. But then it all started with Halloween. Wanda and his girlfriend loved to bake. So he’s getting force fed cookies. Then they need to decorate, go to functions, give out candy. No time for gym.

Bucky grumbled and stepped off the scale, padding to his closet. He grumbled more, “Stupid turkey holiday.” Great yes, the holiday known for feasting. Pumpkin spiced everything in his vision. Bucky had a weakness for pumpkin, his ma made good spiced bread. He took a short vacation with his lovely little angel to the mountains. He tried to rationalize that hiking and marathon sex would make up for the amount of food he had ingested.

Tony Stark of course had a grandiose Thanksgiving celebration. Bucky tried to keep it light, he did, he really did. But every refusal got sad eyes or downright offense. The former winter soldier was belly up by the end of the night, all gym plans out the window.

Christmas fared no better. His best gal absolutely adored Christmas. It was the first holiday she’d experience not as an asset to Hydra, just like Bucky. So instead of RUNNING or LIFTING, the Brunette was shopping and ice skating. He’d already gone up a size in clothes December 3rd to be exact. Bucky correctly guessed he would go up another post-Christmas.

He’d whinge and rant to Steve, the blondie listening and telling Bucky to chill— it’s not like anyone thought it was bad. Bucky exasperatedly shouted, “I’m like a goddamn balloon! I don’t need to be on missions like this! I’m going to Bruce, jerk.”

“Punk.”

Bruce didn’t help either. Just said once he got back into a routine it would come off and he’d be at his regular weight. Refused to give Bucky Ozempic either. Some kinda doctor he was, his patient was obviously distraught.

“Are you dressed yet?,” she hollered.

“Give me a second!,” Bucky pouted.

He was going to pout today. Go to gym, get anger out, and pout. So he shimmied on some catastrophically tight basketball shorts and the biggest shirt he could find. Luckily it covered him up. May or may not have been a panic buy. Bucky cursed some more sitting on his bench to lace up his shoes, stupid gut getting in the way.

Red faced and irritated he snarked, “Happy now princess? I’m going to the gym, nothing is stopping me, I will be going to work out.” She grinned and watched him grab his bag, slapping a round ass cheek on his way out. Bucky shuddered at the wobble. Her familiar rasp rang out, “Nice ass baby! Go get em!”

He was too old for this. Technically his girl was ten years his junior if you took off the cryogenic time. He loved her dearly, always bubbly, somehow remained optimistic after all she’d been through. But the little freak liked Bucky’s pudge, loved it. Always grabbing up on it.

Bucky took the stairs to the gym. He needed it. The brunette thought with a smirk that if he had a nickel for every time he had to remove her hands from his ‘handles of love’ he would’ve been a millionaire back during the Depression. He grimaced at the feeling of his chubby tummy and thick thighs.

Finally. He’d made it. Gym time.

Not a soul in sight, Bucky could just relax and get his frustrations out. With a fuck-ton of a cardio and some toning exercises— really didn’t need any muscle to bulk him out more. He felt a bit peaceful for once, a strange bravado coming over him. The soldier stretched his unused muscles and did a bit of breathing exercises.

God, he already felt lighter. Maybe. Maybe he would take a picture and see if the camera made him look different. Bucky’s therapist already hammered him about his ‘body dysmorphia and negative self-image’.

Taking a peak about and tying his hair half up, Bucky propped the camera at a flattering angle and yanked off his shirt. He refused to look in a mirror for the holidays unless he was clothed. Fiddling with the inane controls, the man finally had the thing on a timer. He pulled off his shirt and tried to pose, straighten up his back again.

The flash went off and he ran to the phone, hit send, then sat down on a nearby bench to look fully. The brunette had to keep his ‘body positive!’ thoughts at the forefront. His chest and legs looked good. Face didn’t look too puffy thanks beard.

Disgust picked the earlier bravado up and hulk smashed it. Buck’s eyes were glued to his rounded belly and fat hips, a muffin over those horrid shorts. There, oh my god, there were stretchmarks on him? Bucky never had stretchmarks! Not the red kind! But there they were— mocking him. Ragged lines on his hips and sections of stomach.

He deleted the picture, feeling horrid. He should run more. But not before the pings blowing up his phone. She was strange and texted in 5 different messages that could’ve been sent in one singular text.

“Babbbbyyyy omg you’re so hot”

“Fuck, I’m getting all flustered in this debrief.”

“Look at that pretty body. Wanna lick those pretty stripes, tiger.”

“I’m so horny lmfao get your ass back to the room in 30. I’m gonna fucking ride you so goddamn hard.”

Bucky blinked a bit, feeling himself perk up. He still was a overblown balloon, but at-least the weirdo he loved enjoyed it. “Tiger huh,” he murmured, scratching at the sensitive marks. Bucky had a time limit now, snatching his gear up and stuffing it into a bag, hustling down the stairs to his room.

“Hey Buck,” Sam’s voice was a blur as Bucky entered his room. He smirked a bit hearing a muffled, “Weird ass.” The super soldier kept his mind on the prize— getting the daylights fucked out of him by his girls. Nope he wasn’t going to pay attention to the chafe on the inside of his thighs one bit. Okay...maybe he’d powder the area after the shower.

All he had to do was wait now. Wait. Not get nerved about his very naked body. He felt like a pile of exposed lard but it’ll be okay. Yep. Bucky would be fine. Pussy would fix his problems. As long as she played nice and didn’t tease. That rendered Bucky into a teary, babbling mess. Either he was always a masochist or Hydra made him into one but God— sometimes when she got mean he saw stars.

The door busted open, Bucky feeling relief at her grinning face. She gently closed it behind her, stripping easily while throwing her panties at him. He caught the material, moaning softly as she growled, “See what you did to me in the middle of that debrief? Had to cut it short my pheromones were so bad.”

Bucky inspected the panties, eyes fluttering at the slick wetting the cloth. He gripped and inhaled, hand flying down to soothe his cock. A lithe body crawled to the end of the bed, the soldier flushing as she seated herself in between his thighs. Keeping him in fucking missionary, her manicured nails spreading him a bit. He gasped, body jolting at the exposure.

Her perky tits heaved as she groped at his thighs and slid down to get handfuls of his round ass. Bucky threw his head back and moaned, “W-What are you up to?” Earlier mentioned pheromones were making his body keyed up and sensitive, pupils likely swallowing up blue eyes. She leaned forward, taught body against his cock.

“Mmm- I don’t know really. You just looked so delicious,” she kissed his belly and cooed, “I know you’re upset with yourself right now, Buck, you’re fucking gorgeous. Holiday weight or not. But I’ll even go to the gym with you, know I’ve been a distraction.”

Bucky slurred a name, hands reaching for her waist, she was so sweet. He sighed, “I enjoyed you as my distraction, best disss-traction everrr. Fuck you’re makin’ me horny babydoll.” She crawled up his bigger body to plant a kiss on Bucky’s swollen lips before sliding back to her place. His cock leaked when she giggled, “I know, poor baby’s all achy for me. But I wanna do something first.”

She slid palms up and down Bucky’s muscled arms, soothing him a little. Then the she-devil gripped his chunky love-handles and shook, watching with poorly-disguised glee. Bucky whined, “Baaaby, stoppp, it’s awful!”

“Think of them as tiger stripes, they’ll fade out when you drop weight,” she dug under where his belly hung a bit and traced at his most sensitive stretch marks. Bucky let out an indecent noise, thrusting up into her sweet touch. The fellow avenger cooed, “S’that feel good tiger? Need some lotion. Pretty boy.”

Bucky outright whimpered when her hand wrapped around his weepy cock, already slick from copious pre. She slowly moved her hand, praising him. Pretty boy, smart, handsome, good, kind, helpful.

He was going to bust a nut before anything happened. Bucky barked, “B-babe, stop! Stop!” Her pretty brows knitted together, hand jerking away as she asked, “What’s wrong bub?” He panted, “Gimme a second, w-wanna fuck you so baaaad.” She gently stroked the outside of thick muscled thighs, padded with love in her opinion.

“Thought I was going to ride you?,” she asked, face beginning to flush.

Bucky shook his head, managing to push himself up to get face-to-face. His soft body filled the tight space between them, making her whimper now. Bucky used one hand to caress the side of her face, the other massaging her pretty tit. Long lashes fluttered, her lips falling open.

Score. He managed to somewhat fumble through the pheromone fog.

Bucky rumbled, “Nuh-uh, all this talk about my body and you don’t want me to pin you down and fill your pretty pussy up? Hm sweetheart?” He punctuated the sentence with a deep kiss, the sweet thing easily giving up to him. It was fun when she played mean but Bucky had more experience— he could play his girl like a fucking fiddle.

“C’mon,” smack, “use your,” smack, “words baby,” smack smack. She didn’t want to stop kissing, sucking on his bottom lip as he pulled away. She blushed, embarrassed on how fast the situation had flipped. His girl whined, “Yeah, c’mon fuck me, fuck me full daddy.” He grinned and laid back, strong arms pulling her atop him.

She squealed, eyes widening. Bucky purred, “You know what to do, Daddy’ll let you on top.” He bit his swollen lip again watching the tip of his clock get swallowed by molten heat, the pair of them shuddering in ecstasy. Her little hands planted on his chest, panting and whining at the fullness. He’d get to work, holding that pretty waist and fucking up into her tight cunt.

It wasn’t long before she was crying out and laying atop his body, gasping, “Y’feel so good! Ah! Soft and oh god s’fucking hard!” Bucky sucked at her neck and thrust into her with downright pornographic slaps. He grunted and gasped, legs wonderfully getting another workout.

He murmured into her ear, a hand stilling all that writhing the poor thing was doing, “Yeah doll? Daddy fucking you good? Feels good to lay on Daddy and get your pussy pounded huh?” She sobbed, clenching and spilling tears on his neck, “Yes daddy! Yes! Don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck, s’rubbing my clit! I love you Daddy!”

Bucky’s eyes crossed for a second. What?

The evil flab that curses his very existence is a free clit rubber? He moaned in delight. Bucky changed their position some to milk out that new fact. Might as well abuse it before it’s gone. His baby was clinging to him now, mewling his name, pussy spasming sporadically. Bucky tilted her head up, melting at her pretty eyes. He rasped, “Come for Daddy baby, know you’re close, let go babydoll.”

He was grinding the tip of his cock into her soft spot while cooing at her. She hiccuped on a sob, the entirety of lean frame tightening down on him. His baby was a lot stronger than she looked. He could feel her core clamp and soak his cock, sending Bucky reeling into his own orgasm with a hoarse shout. He whimpered at the feeling of his balls drawing painfully tight, emptying all he had pent up.

They laid in a pile of sweat and spend, probably love. She was still subbed out, nuzzling into Bucky, only making a soft noise when his soft cock slid out. The brunette guessed it was his turn to return her earlier favor. He felt like the man of the hour. Crazy little kitten thought her geriatric overweight cyborg assassin was hot. Even with the holiday pounds.

So he pressed little kisses, rubbed her back, waxed poetic nonsense of his love for her. Bucky was a lover boy back in the day, just a little rusty, not like his Babygirl was on planet Earth right now anyways. She murmured into his neck with a dopey smile, “Tiger.”

Once again, crazy fellow asset saving Bucky’s wavering self-esteem. How lucky was he?

[leupagus]

Still working on the "No Seriously, If Crowley and Aziraphale Ever Did Have Sex, They'd Have So Many Weird Conversations About It First" fic

"You already have a penis?" Aziraphale demanded, his hands on his hips. "Since when?"

Crowley tried to recall. "Turn of the nineteenth, I think?" he ventured. There'd been a fountain, and a lot of wine, and Jane challenging him to see which of them could hit the fish statue in the middle.* Afterwards he'd kept it — it was fun, being able to take a piss if you felt like it. Not to mention you could stir up a lot of trouble in public toilets if you were in a mood.**

"Really?" Aziraphale looked halfway between surprised and intrigued. "Don't you find it a bit — floppy?"

"Eh, a bit," Crowley admitted. "But they do amazing things with underpants these days."

Aziraphale laughed, the startled hiccough he gave sometimes when he wasn't quite ready to be out of his sulk. It was one of Crowley's favorite noises. "Very well," he said, adjusting his waistcoat. "Let's have a look."

"What? No," said Crowley. He'd been looking forward to showing off his cock at some point, but Aziraphale was eyeing him like the Queen about to inspect the troops.

"Why not?" Aziraphale whinged, his lower lip puckering dangerously near a pout. "We're going to have to take our clothes off when we have sex. Unless — actually, I think that's on the list of kinks, you know, sex with your clothes on, but it seems terribly awkward, not to mention you'd have to get everything cleaned afterward. Although I do have a rather good 'dry cleaner,'" he made the inverted commas with his fingers and everything, "Who's an absolute miracle worker." He paused. "Well, not a real one. At any rate, come along." And he gestured at Crowley's crotch.

Crowley, who'd had millennia of practice with Aziraphale's careening monologues, was still halfway through unbuckling his belt before his brain caught up. "I'm not pulling my cock out in the middle of your bookshop," he said — with absolutely perfect timing, since Muriel chose that moment to come bustling in.

They stood frozen for a moment, blinking at both of them as they clutched at the doorframe. "I think I, erm, heard a… noise?" They smiled, and backed out slowly. "I should go. And check, on the noise, because noises are sometimes indicators of—" Whatever else they were saying was lost with the slamming of the door.

"Small mercies," Aziraphale huffed, and wriggled his fingers; the sign on the door flipped to "CLOSED" and the door locked with a pointed flourish. "Now then!"

*Neither of them had, and it had nearly gotten them arrested, all the moreso since they'd been in Spain at the time.

**With or without an anus.

[mwesrik]

Okay bit of a different post for the finale than my usual meme rant because I’m just done with everything today

Fandom is my safe space. It has been since I figured out what the internet was. And frankly I’ve been having a really shitty time recently.

And what the OFMD fandom is doing rn is frankly making me really fucking pissed

I understand being upset at character deaths. I understand being upset over budget cuts or lack of character development that you wished for. I understand being upset over the direction a show has taken.

But the way people are literally ABUSING the writers of a show that has been GROUNDBREAKING makes me sick.

YES! The budget cuts messed up the pacing and character development. You can think of Izzy’s death whatever you want. But to drag down a show, that has done so much for the queer community. With writers and actors and crew who have done their absolut best to make us feel seen and heard and to give us a mainstream story which is filled with queer joy. It just sets my teeth on edge.

I liked the finale. I cried over Izzy and wish HBO were less of a cunt firm and had given the show more episodes. I wish Ed and Stede had talked and I wish we had more episodes.

But I was overall happy. Because the main couple had their cheesy, happy moments. They literally said they loved each other for fucks sake. And everyone is fucking focused on Izzy and not even talking about the the main couple anymore. Not because they suck but because they’re not their blorbo they can project their angsty fantasies onto. And I like Izzy, I really fucking loved him but he was a side character. One that was quite obviously doomed to die since season 1. So saying the show is ‚literal dogshit now‘ is just such a wild jump to me.

His death was also obviously rushed because of the lack of time. It’s not the fault of the crew!!! that they had to adjust their script to the funds and time they were given.

I can’t come onto the internet to be happy about my favourite show being queer and dramatic and campy, and sure a bit messy because everything is fucking DRENCHED in toxicity and whinging.

Sorry if this offends anyone, if anyone even sees it but this really pissed me off today. My one thing that cheers me up made me even more depressed today because people have no inhibitions anymore as soon as their favourite media isn’t perfectly aligned with their image of how it should be.

TL,DR: I’m really over the OFMD fandom being toxic over Izzy and other issues while ignoring all the brilliant things this show has given us.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Shrink

Astarion x Y/N - Drabble - 800 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: I AM NOT A THERAPIST TAKE EVERYTHING I HAVE TO SAY WITH A GRAIN OF FUCKING SALT, therapy, trauma, analysis, isekai, flufffffffffffffffff

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

“What did you say your job was?” Astarion asked as he looked at you from across the tent.

“I’m a therapist… or I was at least.” you smiled at him and shrugged. 

“And what exactly do you do?” he asked, looking up from his book.

 “I listen to people tell me about their lives and help them navigate their feelings and/or trauma, learn coping skills… all sorts of stuff.” you said as you played with sparks between your fingers, entertaining yourself.

“So you listen to people whinge?” he said, raising an eyebrow at you, an unimpressed look on his face. 

“Not exactly. People certainly did complain to me about stuff, but the point of therapy is to heal.” you said, smiling softly at him. 

“And you think people can do all that through talking?” he asked.

“Absolutely. Talking is how you get everything out. Action comes second.” you nodded at him. 

“So what can you tell me about me, mighty therapist?” you could see the mischievous glint in his eye but you also saw a genuine, almost nervous look. 

“You really want me to “shrink” you?” you asked him, letting the sparks dissipate from your hands, scooching closer to him. 

He nodded at you with a small smirk.

“Alright… well… you are a deeply mistrusting person, you see everyone around you as a threat, and I think deep down you are scared and in pain and just want to be loved and cherished and protected. I won’t try to completely define you or your experiences because I have only scratched the surface of 200 years of your life… but I look forward to being with you and helping you when you want me to.” you struggled to get your answer out, not wanting to overwhelm him or get too deep without properly analyzing him.

Astarion hummed at you, leaning in to kiss you. You kissed him back before leaning back, eyes wide. You looked at him with a bit of confusion, most people not exactly loving when they are mentally looked over at a moment's notice. You searched his eyes for any sign of discomfort, yet found none.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to offend in any way…” you said, quickly trying to cover yourself and your words. 

“Darling, if I didn’t want to hear it, I wouldn’t have asked.” he smiled at you, gently caressing your cheek.

You nodded, kissing his palm. “So… what do people usually tell you during therapy?” he asked, pulling you into him so you laid together. He played with your hair as you played with your sparks again.

“Whatever they want, it is a judgment free zone.” you shrugged.

“Everyone must be in therapy,” Astarion said “it sounds like something everyone could use.” 

You laughed rather loudly, Astarion looked down at you with confusion. “Sorry love… it’s just… not everyone believes therapy to be helpful. And for them it may not be, but a lot of people just don’t give it a chance.” you tried to explain. 

Astarion let out a hum, “Did you like your job?” 

You smiled “It was rewarding, but also had its not so great moments… like every job I suppose.” 

“Did you work hard to become a therapist?” he asked, trying to gauge the schooling you received to do such a fascinating job.

“I went to university for eight years getting multiple different degrees and licenses so yeah… I worked pretty hard.” you chuckled, remembering all the blood, sweat, and tears that went into your life's work. 

Astarion stole a spark from your hand, making it dance between his fingers before it fizzled out. “Do you miss it?” he whispered. 

“I have a new job now.” you said quickly.

“What's that?” Astarion asked as he continued to steal your sparks.

“Adventure! Slay enemies, eat cake, love, lust, cry, celebrate…. All of it. And best of all, I get to be with you while I do it. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” you said as you leaned up and kissed him, wiping out any and all negativity in Astarion. 

He kissed you back, “Well… Let’s hope you have time for your favorite patient from time to time.” he smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. 

You smiled, “For you? Hmmmmm, it’ll cost you…”

“Oh? Cost what?” He kissed your cheeks.

“A kiss.” you blushed.

“Just the one? Darling, don’t cheapen yourself.” he smirked before kissing you deeply, you were sure there were sparks circling your head because you felt dizzy when he pulled away. 

You pulled him back to your lips by his collar, “As many kisses as I want?” you questioned before kissing him softly.

“That’s a bit more economically sound, in my humble opinion.” he smiled before kissing you and pulling you on top of him. 

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Naboo's Note:

This is such a dumpster fire of a fic. I work in mental health and idk this just came to me but I kinda fucking hate it so who knows how long this will be up. AGAIN - I am not a therapist or counselor so if my analysis of Astarion isn't to your liking please remember this came straight out of my sleep deprived dome at 3 AM after working a double. A little grace if you please. Thank you all for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests. TTYLXOXO!!!!!!!