#wont go slowly

[psychospeak-blog]

love this idea, this story & this little family! would love to read a little blurb about their first fight as an official couple?

This isn't their first fight as an official couple, because I am planning for that to be in the sequel, but this is a little blurb about a little poor communication causing some feelings:

Y/N leaned over the kitchen island, closing out the browser window, and shutting the laptop. As she did so, the timer went off, and she quickly silenced it, crossing the kitchen. She lifted the lid on the pot, stabbing the vegetables underneath before replacing it.

And then, on the shopping list she had on the fridge, next to the Stars calendar, she wrote "stainless steel polish".

On second thought, after running a sponge over the counter, she added "marble polish" beneath it. And maybe a microfiber cloth would be helpful, too.

Thinking it was too quiet, she turned her acoustic playlist on low, and pulled the back door open, Gerry sliding inside.

"Hi, Ger," she said, peeking out to see if his brothers wanted to come in, but both Marshall and Cash were still laid out in the sun. After straightening a pumpkin on the mantle in the living room, she went back to the kitchen, starting on the dishes that were in the sink.  The front door clicked open as she was singing softly along to the music, followed by the quick pattering of paws.

"What's up?" Tyler said, and then Y/N heard him moving towards her, Gerry at his heels. He rounded the corner with two to-go containers held in one hand, grinning when he saw her, "Hey".

"Hi," she acknowledged, Tyler leaning over to kiss her on the cheek, sliding his sunglasses onto the island.

"Is he sleeping?"

"Mhm," she answered, nodding towards the tablet that was set up on the island, with the image of Bentley's sleeping form and a message letting her know that the room was a perfect 68 degrees.

Tyler nodded, standing up from where he was ruffling Gerry's ears. "It smells good in here," he said, lifting the lid of the pot and looking inside. "Is this for him or us?"

"Him," she answered, rearranging her ice cube trays. "I haven't got started on anything for us for lunch yet."

"Oh, that's okay," Tyler said, "I grabbed some stuff from the rink."

"That's good," she said, watching him slide the containers into the fridge.

"There's enough if you want to share," he said. 

"That's okay."

"Did you eat already?"

"No."

Now Tyler frowned, looking at her. "You okay?"

"Mhm."

"Well, what're you gonna eat?"

"I don't know," she said, "probably something 'low-key'".

Tyler gave her a look, "I feel like you're saying something that I'm supposed to understand but I don't."

"I listened to your radio show," she said, laying out the ice cube trays a little harder than necessary.

"Mmm," Tyler acknowledged, pulling out a piece of sweet potato from the pot and popping it in his mouth, earning him a glare, "it's soft enough for him."

Y/N pushes past him, pulling the veggies out from the pot with a fork and placing them in a mixing bowl methodically. Tyler leaned against the counter, waiting for her to continue.

"So, you listened to my radio show and...?" He prompted, Y/N giving him a look like she couldn't believe he could be so obtuse.

"Do you not remember what you said?"

"I mean, vaguely?" he said, "it was just, like, a standard interview?"

"Low-key," she repeated, and Tyler raised his eyebrows.

"You're gonna have to explain because I have no idea what you're talking about."

"They asked you about the Halloween party," she said, prompting him.

"Yeah, and I didn't say what our costumes were gonna be."

"No, but you said it was gonna be low-key."

"The costumes?" He questioned, confusion on his face.

"No, the party," you said, confusion still on his face, "the team party."

She remembered it clearly: the hosts casually asking about the plans for the team Halloween party this year, and Tyler revealing that he and his girlfriend were hosting it that year, so it was going to be pretty low-key.

"I said the team party was going to be low-key this year," Tyler confirmed. "And you're upset about that?"

"Yes!" She answered, happy that he finally understood and then remembered that she was, in fact, upset.

"And...why are you upset about that?" He asked tentatively.

"Because you said it was going to be more low-key this year!" She said, "And you talked about us hosting it together, which makes it just seem like-"

"Would you mind not holding the fork like that when you're mad at me?"

She looked at the fork in her hand, which she had been waving around in her hand as she spoke. "I'm not going to stab you with a fork," she said, exhaling a laugh as she set the fork down on the counter.

"Hey, you never know," Tyler grinned, crossing his arms easily over his chest as he leaned back against the island.

Y/N shook her head at him, but she was smiling this time. "I'm not really mad at you," she said.

"Well, don't say you're disappointed in me because that's even worse," Tyler said lightly.

"No," she laughed under her breath, "I'm just upset that you think it's low-key. Like, I've put a lot of work into the decor, and..."

"I love the decor," Tyler interrupted, looking at the bats that you had trailing up the wall, the dried autumnal flowers and pumpkins by the entranceway, and the spider webs and skulls you had intermingled on the bookshelf.

"And the food," you said. You knew it was probably standard to get things catered at these events, and some of it you were, but you couldn't resist putting together a Halloween-themed charcuterie board and dessert platter of your own.

"I know, it'll be awesome," Tyler said.

"But you called it low-key," she said, "and you said we're hosting it, which means people are going to assume that I'm organizing it because you're busy, and that sounds like I haven't put any effort into it at all. And, like, it's not going to be as nice as it was last year."

Tyler exhaled, taking a step towards her, his hands resting on her hips, forehead moving against hers. "That's not at all what I meant by low-key."

She looked up at him, hopefully. "What did you mean then?"

"I mean that it's going to be in my house, which I've never hosted before because I didn't have you to organize everything and make it all home-y and... Halloween-y," he said, laughing under his breath at his invention of the word, "and that the little man can be here, and he can hang out and then we can just put him to bed when he's ready. So if that's low-key, I love low-key. Like, fucking love low-key."

"You really meant it that way?"

"Yeah, babe, a hundred percent," Tyler grinned, "Like, every other year, I've just been going with the single guys, and then going out after. And this year, I get to bring my amazing girlfriend and brag to her about how she made this house a home. And then, after everyone leaves, I think nothing sounds better than curling up on the couch with her, and a Halloween movie, and some of that Halloween candy."

Her smile grew as he continued talking, that weight that she'd been feeling across her upper back lifting.

"Do you forgive me now?" He asked, his voice low.

"I wasn't mad," she repeated, her hands coming up to his biceps, "but I definitely get what you mean now."

Tyler smiled against her lips, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "What did you mean about it not being as nice as last year, though? You weren't here."

And, as far as he remembered, it wasn't even something that they'd really discussed, with Y/N being in the trenches of her first trimester.

She seemed to be thinking, his eyes searching hers for the answer. Gerry pushed between them, though, and she pulled apart.

"I don't know," she said, turning back to her mashing.

"Babe," Tyler said, following her, and then added teasingly. "Don't give me that."

"No, I actually don't know," she said.

"Well, try," he said, "Talk to me. I'm listening."

She took a deep breath, "Well, when I heard you say low-key, I felt like it wasn't good enough."

"But you didn't even see what last year's was like, I never showed you, " Tyler said, "Unless you were stalking me on social media because you missed me so much."

"No, I saw you not long before Halloween," she said, "so I wasn't really missing you all that much."

"My feelings are hurt, but I love that you're joking," Tyler said, "Unless you're deflecting again."

She shook her head, raising onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. "No, I wasn't Instagram stalking you because I knew you'd answer my call whenever I wanted to talk to you," she said, Tyler's cheeks showing a light flush of pink, "but, it's just, you know how things are."

She extended her arm, gesturing around the room, Tyler following her gesture but not following her thought process.

"Just, like, the family room at the rink, when I went to the spa with some of the other girls, when we go out to dinner with your teammates, it's all very...proper."

"So you don't think you're good enough for me?" Tyler asked, "Because, babe, you are so out of my league ---"

"No, I know I'm good enough for you," she grinned, and then her expression softened, "But I guess, sometimes, I feel like I'm not good enough for this. Like, the NHL girlfriend thing."

"Nobody thinks that though," Tyler said, "When we had everybody over for Labour Day,  everybody had a good time."

"I know, but I just...feel it sometimes," she said, "Like, when we were over at Jamie's the other day, his place was spotless and completely organized, and there are toys all over the place here and I've got, like, oatmeal or something from Bentley's breakfast on my shirt."

"That sounds like we have a baby and three dogs," Tyler said.

"I know," she said, but she sounded a bit defeated.

"So," Tyler said, taking a step towards her, hands moving back to her hips again, "First of all, I know you crush hosting anything, so you have nothing to worry about with the Halloween party. And, secondly, I think you and I need to go on a date."

"A date," she repeated.

"Mhmm," Tyler replied, "Because I think it's been too long since I took you out, and you're so busy doing the mom thing. Even more so with the season starting."

Which, maybe that was it, she thought, reflecting on all that reading that she'd done about how there came a time in motherhood when you no longer felt like yourself anymore.

"So, I think we should get a babysitter for the little man, put on some clean clothes, and go out, just us. Which, I know you're nervous about leaving him but --".

"But I think I would love to go on a date with you," she said.

"Yeah?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah."

"Well," Tyler said, pulling her into a kiss, "If I had known it would be this easy, I would have asked you a long time ago."

[mohntilyet]

still i think the one of the more fun differences drawn between illario and lucanis that was lost would be illario's ability to endear himself to others but serious lack of empathy, vs. lucanis' (self perceived) inability to be charming but how much he cares. it's interesting that the game has gone with the "lucanis' ability vs illario's lack thereof" because i think illario being the dellamorte 'best in show dog' vs. lucanis' attack dog would have made me so unwell.

lucanis is... awkward. he's not unlikable, because he is usually very polite, but he doesn't speak much and only seems to care about the other dellamortes. he once sent viago de riva a knife with no note (who knows what he could have meant by this). he does what caterina asks of him, and by his own admission, cannot say no to her. he is a dramatic and prolific killer, and that makes how untouchable he is even worse.

and the crows like illario, sure, AND he's a good assassin! he's even a good crow! he's so good that he can make lucanis smile, and so he is the charming, sociable one. he's the one that stays in treviso and can be relied upon to care, illario's even the one people prefer over caterina and lucanis!

but illario is decoration. he's the prize poodle, and even if poodles were bred to be working dogs, nobody will ever pick him to protect the house over the german shepherd that regularly mauls intruders. anyways the analogy is getting away from me. the point i'm trying to make is that i want illario to have a different kind of jealousy/hatred that's not just over 'being bad at killing' but also an arrogant loathing for everyone around him that is getting harder to hide, because they've forgotten he can bite and is just itching to rip someone's jugular out. illario is very good at hiding his family resemblance to caterina, while lucanis suffers under his grandmother's, and his own, reputation.

[just-null]

im so mad at u omg

how dare u make my noritoshi obsession 10 times worse

Noritoshi spews his true feelings when you're upset with him. Similar to a very eager puppy trying to regain your favor by any means...... but realizes what he says and blames you for turning him into a fool. Another downside for him is that he won't take his words back in fear of you getting the wrong idea.

you're just a bully that he hopes will forget about the embarrassing words he blurted out.

hes simultaneously reeling and embarrassed. is this what happens when you make your love upset? does that imply he's your love?!

[biblically-accurate-dca]

au where moon fills in while sun is "on vacation" and nothing bad happens

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

[mueritos]

trying to be more accepting of the likelihood I am autistic, I feel ive been having this constant back and forth conversation with myself for the past 2 years about it. "you can go to school, be a therapist for people, run errands, win awards, and somehow fit 2 jobs into all of that" and I use that as proof that I am NOT autistic...however, realizing i lose an entire weekend for a trip? distress. fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night and leaves me trembling, crying, and forced to recover? oh boy i wonder why that happened. feeling confused and like i'm constantly missing something when people express themselves in class or in the workplace? hm, it's almost as if I struggle to not take their language literally.

i don't think i've ever been allowed to be "disabled" by whatever neurodivergency and its symptomology, like, ever. god speed any other neurodivergent children of immigrants, but i don't feel allowed to let any cluster of disturbances or schedule changes or social conundrums disable me. I mean, they can affect me privately, where I am forced to stim and cry and process all on my own. But unfortunately i cannot look like the misshapen freak I feel I am, or well, as least not appear so in a socially unacceptable way.

it's funny i carry so much shame. i am unmasking in ways i never thought i could. i am allowing myself to take things literally with people, and I am allowing myself to ask more questions. "what did you mean by that?" "why did you use that word to describe that?" "can you rephrase that?" it's funnier that I am at such a queer and neurodiverse internship; nearly all of the other clinical staff have some sort of diagnosis (usually adhd/ocd/with flavors of trauma), and we all serve a population of the queerest and most neurodiverse students. i feel SO happy when I see a student and they refuse to make eye contact with me, because I take it as an invitation to NOT look them in the eye too! i tell students during our sessions feel free to stim, here's a weighted plushie you can hold, sit where you like, would you like to pace, should I dim the lights? it is even funnier that i am a neurodivergent clinician working with neurodivergent people, and half the time I dont even follow the same advice I give my clients!

i worry about what my life will look like when i've graduated. my master's will say, "hey, this guy is a clinical social worker and is now ready to be your therapist! or caseworker! whatever they have you people do nowadays!" and I don't think i feel ready to enter any workforce. how on earth will i manage my life and wellbeing doing this 40 hours a week? like wtf? ugh.

i dunno. these r just rambles and perhaps im just seeking some sort of comfort from other autistic people, especially because it feels like i have very few autistic people in my life. i know a lot of the validation i seek will be "resolved" if i seek out an official diagnosis, but I don't have time or $ for that. nor do I think I want one for a number of reasons. I should just continue working on my own self-esteem when it comes to most likely being autistic.

oh well

[introspectivememories]

high school timber is all about repression!!!

it's about bernard desperately trying to prove to himself and his parents that he's straight!! because his parents already don't like him and he cannot be gay. not now not ever!!!! so he puts up this front of a ladies man and he picks a girl he cant ever get together with and maybe he kisses like 3/4 of the female population at grieves and gains a reputation but hey! at least he's not gay! but he's so caught up in making sure his eyes don't to stick too long on tyrone's face or michael-from-biology's eyes or kabir-from-study-hall's thick thighs that even his attraction to women is under a filter. and it's not that he doesn't like women, he does! very much so!! but it's that he's soo caught on not being perceived as gay that he cant show his attraction to women the way he'd like to. it's all under this filter of what he thinks Real Men who are attracted to women act like so it's this brash, loud, crass, thing and it's not him at all. it's "ooh tim, ms. winters is soooo hot!" or "hey kayla, why don't you and i get to know each other a little better, if you know what i mean?" or "god her tits are soo big. she's so fucking hot!" and all this other shit when he really means, "tim, why the fuck does your stepmom have such a pretty smile?" or "kayla, you said you liked yugioh? i'd love to hear more about it!" or "god fuck, that girl has such pretty hands. i think if i held them i'd combust." but none of that is how a Real Man likes women so he shuts that shit down before it even has a chance to come up. it's fine, he's fine. so what if no one ever holds him like he holds those girls? it's fine. he'll take the manwhore label and the fuckboy title and he'll give out as many kisses as those girls want and if sometimes when he's kissing a girl he wonders what it'd be like to sit on kabir's thighs or if tyrone's lips really are as soft as they look, that's just the devil speaking. and if sometimes when he walks back into the cafeteria at lunch, lipstick still smudged on the corner of his mouth, after making out with a girl and his eyes skirt over tim's lithe body and he wonders what it'd be like to draw out the same sounds he's heard girls make when he kisses them, or what it'd be like to brush his thumb over tim's hands, or what it'd be like to hold tim or press a kiss to his shoulder, or a million and one other things, well that'll just have to be another one his secrets.

and it's about tim who's in a relationship with stephanie and his dad knows he's robin and he doesn't have time to figure out why his mouth goes dry when the light hits bernard's hair just right. he's too busy trying to figure out a way back to his nightlife. and so what if bernard has pretty pink lips that look very plush? so what if he's looked at some of his teammates and thought they were handsome? he's not blind!!! he has a girlfriend! and he loves her! and so what if his hand brushes bear's during fourth-period bio? so what if the tingles last all day? it was just some static! and it doesn't matter that when bear laughs his eyes get squinty and they water over -- cause bear always laughs so hard he almost cries -- and it sounds like bells. and it doesn't even matter, that sometimes when bernard walks back into the lunchroom, 10 minutes before the bell rings, lipstick smeared across the corner of his mouth, lips tilted up in the most charming smirk he's ever seen, that his chest fills with jealousy. it doesn't matter that his hands clench into fists so hard that his nails leave crescents marks all day. it doesn't matter that he wants to be bear's flavor of the day, week, month, whatever. he wants to leave the lipstick marks!! he wants to know if bear really is as good as he hears the girls speak about!!! he wants to know "that thing bernard does with his tongue!" is! he wants to drape himself over bear the same way he sees those girls do! he wants to know what bear's hands feel like gripping his waist. he wants, wants, wants!!! but it doesn't matter. it doesn't. he's got a girlfriend, her name is stephanie, she's gorgeous and, most importantly he loves her. he's too busy for bernard anyway.

[rhapsoddity]

So what’s the difference between Scott’s hypnosis and Xor’s mind control? Or is there much a difference besides way of activation?

while scott's hypnosis compells people to do stuff but they'll remember afterward that the weren't actually willing, xor's mind control controls the victim completely, including their thoughts, so they can choose to make them think it was willing. control-wise xornoth is far more powerful than scott... but he doesn't want to use his powers. it feels icky forcing ppl to do shit so he doesnt

[fisheito]

yakuya in MY swamp? in MY ecosystem? no . i am still in disbelief. i hope you all know that my particles are bouncing off the everything. i am using periods as punctuation but the state of my mind is naught neareth final.

[passerinesoncaffeine]

tonight on thinking about homura and madoka.

[psychospeak-blog]

Ok but picture this. Tot bentley being absolutely obsessed with his newborn sissy brooklyn and being all protective of her. And ty barely being able to hold his daughter because bentley is like 🤚no dada

🥺🥺🥺

Bentley would be very excited to be a big brother and would love his role! Especially with being used to helping take care of the dogs.

[th3swarm]

you ever feel a hyperfixation coming on . like i thought my mom said the title of the thing and i was like 👁👁👁👁 . if i watch this its going to take over my whole brain and its gonna be awful

[nenelysian]

Just watched "I Saw The TV Glow" in cinemas and boy did I get chest kicked all the way back to my derealisation episodes when I was like 6 years old.

[filmbyjy]

so umm remember when I said I'll be focusing on my mafia series and hybrid series?

yeah well...it's going well but I umm yeah😁

[soon-to-be-ruined]

ughhh need to fuck someone with a strap so slowly, pushing in all the way, as deep as they can take it, and then pulling out completely and leaving them empty. just keep doing that until they cant help but gasp and come but its not enough to stay on that high so they just keep getting more and more sensitive but never fully satisfied

[frostbeees]

nyr @ cbj · 10.14.23

bonus: