I'm sorry but your taste in Bruce Wayne is horrible. None of those guys in the pictures have what it takes to be a Bruce Wayne. They can be a Robin or something but they're so young. They're also all so ... Well I know Bruce is white but your picks are like obnoxiously white looks wise I'm really sorry I don't know how to describe it but you picked the a Bruce Wayne so bad I had to say it in some way shape or form. Wishing better taste upon you
Do you…do you not know about Matt Reeves’ The Batman?
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wait so NO ONE was gonna TELL me that WILSON buying HOUSE a fucking ORGAN was CANON????
I WAS SITTING IN FRONT OF MY TELLIE
SLACK JAWED
WATCHING HOUSE PLAY SOME FANCY BLUES
ON THE ORGAN
THAT WILSON BOUGHT HIM
AFTER I HAD READ A FANFIC WHERE THAT HAPPENED
I didn’t think it could get any gayer
BUT IT FUKCING DID Y’ALL
aAAAAAhhHhhHagHhsbfigenbaifbgoabavdiovfbi
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of course, i havent written fluff in a good minute so idk if it will be good
warnings: nsfw, fluff at the end, mommy kink, age gap (reader is 22, sidney is 32), fingering, getting caught, milf! sidney prescott, dom! sidney prescott
your orgasm crashed into you making you lunge forward. the bottles of soap and facewash fell to the ground, sidney didn’t care. she knew jill wouldn’t hear so she was just fucking into your wet cunt as fast as she could.
it wasn’t until after your orgasm hit that you heard the noise of a knock at the door, immediately sidney pulled her fingers out of you.
sidney opened the door but only to where you could see her face. while her hand moved to your mouth. you knew what this meant, so you took her fingers into your mouth and sucked them clean, listening to the conversation.
“are you done in there? you could hear jill ask, she pushed the door open slightly which had made sidney hold open the door with a stronger force.
“no, ill text you when i am. i’m gonna shower,” as sidney turned to shut the door jill replied
“i know you’re fucking y/n. and you guys are terrible at hiding it.” jill responded with a slight giggle at the end.
both of your eyes widened, sidney still tried to deny it.
“what are you talking about?” she scoffed, the temptation to just slam the door on her face and hide in here forever burning inside her.
“sidney im not stupid. i came down here for a snack and all i here is ‘mommy this mommy that’ if you think i care that you’re fucking her i don’t… just try to hide it better next time. don’t really want catching my cousin and my best friend fucking to be a normal occurrence.” jill said, she laughed it off as she went back upstairs
you felt like you were gonna die, no way she heard all of that.
when sidney shut the door, she turned ti you and immediately started laughing.
“no way-“ she couldn’t breathe from the laughter, making you laugh too. i mean, if she didn’t care, then why should the two of you be embarrassed?
you went upstairs to jills room after you changed your clothes and washed up, she was watching a movie.
“there you are! now tell me, what was that about mommy?” jill questioned, giggling again.
“i swear, if you mention that from now on i’ll probably kill myself” you sulked into the wall.
“nono, okay but for real, was she good?” she asked
“jill!” you cried.
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Thinking about how we always call this "the confession scene" yet the script only calls his expression of self-doubt a Confession, but his expression of love a Declaration. And what a difference that makes - whatever baggage makes us unconsciously associate coming out with an admission of guilt is not the story's; queer love, Supernatural says, is joy and peace and the deepest Truth that saves us from Death.
To quote Mary Cappello, "Queer memoirs should refuse to confess. There is nothing to confess. As a lapsed Catholic, I try daily at least to exit the confessional if I cannot burn it to the ground. So the memoir poses very important questions and narrative challenges to me as a lesbian narrator: Is it possible to narrate sexuality, especially when that sexuality is a prohibited one, without reproducing a discourse of disclosure, causality, or defensiveness against pathologization?"
Cas may have "never found an answer" until overcoming doubt, but Berens did: we don't confess our truth like it's in fact the point of shame we've been led to believe ("the same way our enemies see you," anyone?) but declare it to find peace in ourselves. And everyone who knows that, sees it: through self-love we make our own Garden.
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