#to those going to their west end shows... enjoy!!!

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think were any kind of specific aspects of the culture, industry, economy, etc that made making cartoons in 90s / 2000s better or worse than trying to make them today?

They're literally different worlds.

As a 22 year old neurodivergent, I was able to pitch show ideas directly to executives. Part of that was because TV Animation wasn't a glamorous profession (quite yet), so the higher-ups were genuinely passionate about the medium. I earned good money for the time and was generally trusted to run my show and tend to the crew. I would periodically be handed portfolios, which I would personally review and pass on to other show runners. For the networks it was always corporate, cutthroat, and ultimately about the money, but as an artist you could still have a voice and make art while being paid a living wage.

The pay for a freelance storyboard in 2005 is almost exactly what it is today, but now you're likely to have less time and be required to do an animatic on top of it. Portfolios are online, and (beyond metrics) you'll probably never know if anyone looks at it or not.

Animation got big. Too big. The executives got "glamorous", then the talent got "glamorous". By then you probably wouldn't get a pitch meeting unless you were a celebrity or knew one willing to be connected to your project. Animation eventually got so big that it popped. And that's where we are now.

Most of the people I know from Kid's TV Animation are currently unemployed. I have been off Jellystone for over a year, and I'm starting to get genuinely worried. Like, "move away to save money" worried. Most of the employed artists I do know are on long-running legacy series, and they're concerned about their futures when/if those series end. Right now is not a fantastic time for "animation as a money-making profession". The "glamorous" part popped years ago.

That being said, there are still opportunities out there. If you're just starting out, apparently there's a planned surge in adult and pre-school animation. It's also a great time (as long as YouTube remains sane) to be crafting your own content. But I think that the time of Big Studio Patronage is over for most of the industry. It's up to the individual artist now more than ever, not only to make but to promote their own content.

Back at the height of Billy & Mandy, we mostly pulled fours and fives in the Neilsen ratings, but we occasionally got a seven. For reference, E.R. consistently got eights. It's difficult to say exactly how many people that actually was due to how those ratings work, but it was a big deal for the time. Millions. Enough people that if I had a dollar for each person that just watched that one episode, I would have been set for life. Now, nobody gets a seven. A four is huge. Back then there were maybe fifteen or twenty channels of programmed content as opposed to the streaming smorgasbord we were all just enjoying (and which now also seems to have popped). Point being, even though I wasn't paid-per-view, I was able to use those views as justification for an eventual raise. In modern times, streaming numbers are seemingly deliberately kept secret. You'll never really know how well your show was doing until it's over. Or maybe never.

In modern times, a million views on YouTube is enough to get you noticed online. It's a lower bar for entry in a way, but you've got to get there all by yourself. Once you're there (hello Hazbin) a network may indeed come and scoop you up. Even if they don't, you can probably make a decent living with numbers like that if you're savvy and willing to take the time.

I feel like I could go on all day, shaking my fist at the sky, gray-ass beard blowing in the wind. Was it better or easier making cartoons in the past? It seemed that way to me, but that was a world I knew. There was no AI to sell you out to, and the media was more of a "Wild West" than it is today. I do think that AI is going to continue to displace artists (and soon others), making it even more difficult to get anyone's eyes on anything at all.

Culturally, we lack the common touchpoints that bonded our society in the 20th Century. I suspect that the media landscape will continue to become more "bubbly" and disjointed unless some powerful force swoops in to mandate a common viewpoint. Those are two very divergent, uniquely tiring futures, each presenting a different challenge for an artist's survival.

Outside of whatever our modern world is, animation was made for a century by photographing drawings. If Émile Cohl could do it in 1908, you can do it now. It's a lot of labor, but maybe that's part of what makes it special.

[flofaiiry]

Washington's Finest — Bucky Barnes x Reader

SUMMARY: Congressman Barnes has heard the stories from his colleagues on committee, he knows the stereotype that politicians in Washington often hire women to pursue their extracurricular activities- but he never expected to be the one to be in the need of such... services, much less the kind of man who'd actually seek them out

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is a sex worker (referred to as a call girl & hooker), age gap (reader is in law school so mid/late twenties), reader's parents are dead, most likely incorrect info about nda's & how they're used, swearing, probably an overuse of italics oopsie, so much kissing, breast&nipple play, oral f!receiving, reader attempts to fake an orgasm (spoiler it does not work), fingering, mentions of masturbation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bucky is kind of condescending, teeny bit of dacryphilia, big dick!bucky, little bit of manhandling, unprotected p in v sex (don't do that!!!), creampie. not proofread!!!

WC: ~7k

NOTE: sorry to all my Pitt & Shawn Hatosy followers that this isn’t your regularly scheduled content, I just got this idea after watching one too many Bucky edits and had to write it !!!😁��� also I apologize if I portray sex workers in a negative light at all, that is not my intention at all!! I heavily based reader on Laurie from The West Wing, which is admittedly a pretty old show, but I tried my best & I hope you enjoy!!!

Bucky, the junior congressman from New York, knows the reputation that politicians have cultivated. He knows the stereotype of the dead-beat husband who steps out on his wife with a prostitute when he's in D.C., then acts all lovey dovey back in the home state.

He thought since he was single, he could avoid this dilemma. This career ending adultery and solicitation scandal that so many before him had walked into. He thought that he could find some girl to take home at a bar and get his rocks off that way, but that proved to be a harder task than he thought. Everyone in D.C., knew him. Everyone in Brooklyn knew him. Everyone everywhere knew him.

It was nice at first, but now it was starting to get annoying.

Fucking his fist in the shower quelled off the physical urges- and even that was starting to lose its efficacy. But what getting himself off didn't satisfy were his mental and emotional needs. The need to be seen, to be felt, to be touched, to be loved. Bucky wanted that.

But he wasn't going to get it anywhere in this town- or this country for that matter.

He'd heard enough stories through hushed conversations outside committee rooms & caucuses to know that Washington's Finest was the best, most reliable high end escort service in DC. The preferred choice for most politicians on Capitol Hill who dabbled in the art of the extramarital affair.

So, one afternoon when he was feeling especially in need- he made the call.

"Washington's Finest, you've reached Elena, how may I direct your call? The woman's voice is sweet and almost robotic sounding. Bucky isn't sure if it's actually a real person or one of those automated recordings until it starts speaking unprompted.

"Hello?"

He clears his throat, "Yeah. Hi. Um- booking."

Elena makes a little sound of acknowledgement before speaking again, "Alright sir, your call is being transferred, I'm going to place you on a brief hold, please stay on the line!"

As soon as she finishes talking, a smooth jazz music floods through the phone and into Bucky's ear. It's nice, familiar. Just as he thinks he might recognize the song, he's met with another woman's voice.

"Good evening this is Washington's Finest, you've reached booking! I'm Paulina how may I assist you?" She speaks, that same sort of uncanniness present in her tone.

"Hi. Yeah, uh I'd like to book- I guess."

"Great! Well then you're in the right place, may I just get a name to make the reservation?"

He hesitates, wondering if he should give his real name. Paulina seems to notice this.

"It doesn't have to be your name, sir. Just any name that we can refer to you by for the booking."

He doesn't say anything. Paulina fills the silence again.

"Rest assured sir, we deal with many high profile customers, our privacy policies are top notch to ensure that your proclivities are kept-"

"Steve." He blurts.

"I'm sorry?"

"Steve. My name is Steve."

Why he just offered the name of his best friend? He doesn't know. But at the moment it's the only name coming to mind so it's gonna have to do.

The woman on the other end smiles almost audibly.

"Alright then, Steve. What service would you like to book with us?"

"Shit, I uh- I don't know. What... services do you have?"

There's a ruffling of papers, a click of a mouse, then her voice again. "We offer three main packages: the One Night, the Weekend Getaway and the Week Long All-Inclusive. Many first-time customers choose to start with the One Night, helps them to find a girl they connect with to book longer services with in the future."

Bucky nods, then remembers she can't see him. "Right. Okay, sure, yeah- the One Night sounds good, let's do that."

"Great! Sounds good, let's get you all reserved - when were you thinking to book your service?"

"I, um- whenever?"

"How about tonight?" She asks, tapping away almost violently at the computer.

He nods, once, twice- like he's trying to convince himself to go through with this. To stoop down to a level he swore he'd never reach. "You know what- sure, let's do tonight."

Paulina continues with the booking, going over various policies regarding payment and acceptable conduct with the girl he books. Then, she gets to the names. There are three girls with availability tonight:

Anya.

Peggy.

And you.

Peggy's out immediately- way too much baggage associated with that name. He eliminates Anya next, sounds too harsh to him.

Leaving him with you. A girl with a name that rolls of the tongue, who will be showing up at his brownstone in a little over three hours

You get the call a few minutes after Bucky hangs up, Paulina tells you that someone named Steve has requested your company tonight, and you're to attend an address in Alexandria at 9pm sharp.

You get ready as usual, wondering if this Steve will be another senator or congressman stepping out on his wife- citing the 'stress of the job,' for pushing them apart, or if he'll be some rich old guy with nothing better to do with his money, or maybe- a secret third option. What that is, you're not sure yet- but a girl can dream, can't she?

Either way- the routine never strays. Makeup, hair, lingerie under an unassuming outfit (men love it when they get to feel like they're unwrapping you). You're out the door by 8:30 and catch the bus to the address sitting in your email.

You get there a few minutes early, so you sit on a bench a few doors down until your phone reads 8:59PM. Then you start down the street to your assigned place of business.

You climb the steps then knock on the door a few times. A second later the door's swinging open. You recognize the face from the news, and from the museum, the former World War 2 hero turned Congressman.

Bucky Barnes.

Not Steve.

You weren't surprised. Didn't feel catfished. 90% of the time the name you're given isn't legit, but one given by the customer to maintain certain degrees of separation.

"Congressman Barnes," you say, nodding your head slightly to greet him.

He says your name in the same tone, but different- like it's more foreign to him. "Please, call me Bucky." He half smiles, stepping aside in the doorway though still terribly unsure of himself.

"Bucky," you repeat, stepping into the house through the open space next to him. "This is a nice place," you hum, kicking off your shoes while he shuts the door behind you. "Thanks," he replies.

"You want something to drink?" He asks, beckoning you to follow him into the kitchen. You do. "Oh, just water is fine, thanks. And ice if you've got."

He nods, filing your preference away then walking over to the fridge to pull out a pitcher, then a cupboard for a glass.

"So," you say, walking around to the opposite side of the kitchen island as him, "what got you calling up Washington's Finest?" He shrugs, sliding a glass full of ice water to you. You mouth a thanks before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip.

"What's anyone looking for when they order a hooker." He says, blunt as ever. You almost choke on the drink, setting it down with a thunk before coughing the water from your windpipe.

"Sorry- is that not what you're called?"

You shake your head, "no, I mean- hooker's not wrong it's just, we prefer call girl. Evokes a nicer image."

"Right. Call girl." He repeats, nodding his head.

You take one more sip, washing down any stuck remnants of liquid from your earlier near-asphyxiation. "So sex?"

"I'm sorry?" He asks.

"That's what most people are looking for when they order a hooker." You repeat his words back to him, earning a smile from the man. He nods, "can't argue with that logic."

He still hasn't answered your question.

"So... sex?" You try again

He coughs, like he was caught off guard. "Yeah, sure. I guess."

He says the words like they're true, but the look in his eyes says they're anything but.

"Right, okay." You reach into your purse and pull out a thin stack of folded paper. “Got a pen?” You ask, setting them both down on the counter: one in front of you, the other in front of Bucky. He quirks an eyebrow, “yeah,” then opens a drawer to retrieve one, “what’s this?”

“NDA,” you say plainly. He scoffs, “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, “it’s nothing personal, just company policy.” You reach into your bag once more to take out your own pen, “it’s to cover both of our asses.”

He follows your lead, signing his name on the various lines and not bothering to read all the legal jargon. “Both our asses?” He questions, crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s.

You nod, not once looking up from the page. “Mhmm, that way if I get drunk and start blabbing about all the congressmen I’ve slept with and your name comes up, then you can sue or whatever.”

He watches as you flourish the pen along the paper, marking your name and initials down, then meets your eyes when you slide the forms away. His brows are furrowed, “you get drunk and run your mouth a lot?” He asks, tone half joking.

You smile, “I don’t, but some of the other girls aren’t as careful, like to brag about their customers ‘n such.” He hums, sliding his own papers forward to stack on top of yours.

“You good? Ready?” You ask, putting your pen and the papers back in your bag. Bucky replies with a borderline shaky sigh. You squint, not normally the reaction you get from customers. “Everything okay?”

He nods, slow and unsure. “How does this work exactly? Do we just… start?” You shrug. “It can work however you want it to work. We can do whatever you want to do.”

“What if I want to just… talk first.”

His behaviour is a refreshing contrast to the men you normally deal with- their minds are set on getting your clothes off the second you walk through the door.

“That’s fine,” you smile, “we can talk.”

He nods and exhales, like a weight’s just come off his shoulders. “So,” you start, “what do you want to talk about?”

“Right,” he says, like he forgot that having a conversation would require actual talking.

“Um. What got you into…” he trails off, looking for the right words, “this line of work.”

You laugh, “oh this is not my dream job, believe me. I’m just doing this to get through law school, only got one year left. I’m getting out of this business the second I pass the Bar.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, he clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. “Wow, law school. You go to GW?” You shake your head, “Georgetown.”

“Damn. They've got a good program over there.”

“I know,” you nod, “and expensive.”

“Ah,” he mouths, “hence the…” he gestures between the both of you, referring to the situation at hand.

“Exactly.”

“Parents can’t afford to help you out a little?”

You shake your head, “it’s not that they can’t afford it, they-” you stop yourself with a sigh. Any other customer would get a rehearsed answer about why you’re in this business, but any other customer wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. “My parents died a few years ago, bank gave me a hard time with the inheritance — not that it was a whole lot, and there wasn’t very much left over after I paid off their house & some debts.”

He gives you a sympathetic look, the same one everyone gives after you drop the dead parents bomb. You give him a look that brushes off whatever empathetic sentiment he's conjuring up before he can say it. You shrug, “wanted to go to law school, couldn’t afford it, found a way to afford it. That’s all it is.”

He still doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking into your eyes like they’ve got some answer he’s been looking for all his life.

“I’m not proud of it,” you add, starting to rationalize and he quickly starts to shake his head.

“Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you should be ashamed or anything- I mean, fuck I’m the one who- I don't know, hired you? if anything I should be ashamed.”

You huff, “don’t be, you’re... different.”

Bucky smiles at that. “Different?”

“Yeah, most other customers have one thing and one thing only on their mind when I’m around but,” you shrug, “I don’t know, you don’t? I guess? You care about more than just the sex, I mean. At least I think you do. I hope you do."

You add the last part under your breath- you're not even sure why you add it- you know better than to feel anything more than a tolerance for one of your customers.

“Call me old fashioned, I guess.” He jokes. Some of his nerves appear to slough off when you laugh.

“Yeah, something like that,” you reply.

The room falls into a sort of silence, coming about after your laughter fizzles out. It's not awkward though, just like you're both weighing the options of what to say next.

"How about you?" You fill the air with your voice, the question catches Bucky off guard. "What about me?" he answers.

"Why Congress?" You shrug, "being in the history book once isn't enough for you?" It's teasing, but the question behind it still stands: why politics?

He raises his eye brows, bringing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Okay. Calling me an attention seeker?"

You tilt your head, "most of you are. I don't know why else anyone would chose a job where your employer is the fucking general population."

"First of all," he starts, corner of his lip raising in a challenging smirk, "they're called constituents- I work for the great people of Brooklyn, thank you very much."

You laugh, "right, right, constituents. I ask again, why spend your life doing such... thankless work? I'm telling you, 90% of these congressmen & senators have some small dick insecurity or something and need some big, powerful job title to make up for it."

Bucky scoffs, taking a few steps around the kitchen island to stand beside you now, you turn to face him, leaning your side against the countertop.

"Well, I definitely don't have that problem," he says, leaning in close against your ear. His voice sends a pulse down your spine that's received between your legs- husky and low.

He pulls away from you and spots the way your eyes had fluttered just barely shut in response to his breath against your skin. You blink- once, twice- trying to adjust to his new proximity to you. "I guess I had just spent enough of my life hurting people, and I wanted what life I have left to be spent helping 'em instead." He mutters the words, searching through your eyes like he lost something in them and if he looks hard enough he'll find it.

Then his eyes flick down to your lips, for a split second- like he's wondering if he should kiss you or not. But when he shifts just marginally away from you- it seems like he's decided against it. Your breath catches in your throat when he shifts, a jolt of borderline disappointment passing through you.

"Kiss me."

The words leave you before your better judgement can tell you otherwise. He wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

You swallow. "Kiss me," you repeat- more sure this time.

"Kiss you?" He asks like he's trying to make 100% sure he heard you right.

You nod once. "Kiss me. Please."

Bucky absorbs the words, then brings a hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. He drags his fingers down your jaw, before cradling his hand there at the nape of your neck. His calloused fingertips sit just at the back of your head, then he presses them into your skin and draws you towards him. He pulls you in until your lips are just barely brushing against his.

His lips are dry- not chapped, not rough- but dry like they're looking for something to quench their thirst. They're a stark contrast to your own, meticulously glossed over in that perfect shade that brings out your eyes just right.

Then he kisses you- finally, he kisses you. It's painfully soft, and you're immediately craving more. You bring your own hand up to the side of his face, tangling your fingers into his chocolate brown hair as you deepen the kiss.

He hums into your mouth as his eyes fall shut, and brings his other hand- the metal one- to your waist, pulling your body flush against him. You thought it'd feel harsh, mechanical even, but somehow his touch still manages to be soft.

Suddenly all you can think about is what those fingers would feel like inside of you.

You take your other hand up to the other side of his face, pulling him impossibly closer to you, taking a deep inhale when you do. The air you bring in is mix of second hand smoke and vintage cologne, it's undeniably him.

That snaps the last strand of Bucky's control, the last little thread that had him holding on to any chivalrous sense of decency. He's desperate for you. He thought he was in need of connection- of touch, but the second you walked in his door?

He needed you.

More than he'd ever needed anything else before.

He travels both of his hands down to the backs of your thighs, and picks you up in one seamless motion. You're shocked at his strength at first, but them remember who you're dealing with: Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier- he could probably throw you around like it was nothing if he wanted to.

And God, you really hope he wants to.

You wrap your legs around his waist once he's lifted you, and he starts to maneuver you through his house. Walking masterfully through the expanse of hallways within the brownstone without breaking away from the kiss for so much as a breath.

He pushes the door open with your back, taking one hand from under you to flick on the lamp just enough so he can see where the bed is. The dark orange light from the fixture floods the room, bouncing off every available surface & enveloping your bodies in an auburn blanket of warmth.

He lowers you down onto the bed with ease and crawls over top of you. He presses one last firm kiss against your lips before pulling away. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and you can't help but notice the faint blush on his cheeks when you open your eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, his tone serious, "I know it's your job to say yes, but- do you want this?" If you say no he'd stop, of course he would, but right now he is praying to every higher power that you'll say yes.

No customer had ever asked you that before- asked the woman beneath the call girl what she wanted. And even if they did- it always came with the silent expectation that despite whatever you might want to say deep down, the answer would always be yes.

You nod, still breathless from the exchange earlier- but that's not enough for Bucky. "Words," he whispers, ducking his head down to the crook of your neck. "Tell me you want this, want me," he says, words muffled against your skin as he kisses it softly.

"Want this," you say, still nodding furiously, "want you."

He groans against your neck, raw and desperate. The vibrations ricochet down your body, landing with a throb between your thighs.

Bucky roams his hands down your body, and slides them under your shirt, splaying his fingers against your stomach. One hand's warm, inviting, sultry. The other- cool and unnaturally smooth. But both are soft, and the juxtaposing sensations makes you squirm.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," he mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shirt then pulling it up over your head. You raise your arms to allow him to slide it off of you, leaving your chest covered with just the skimpy black lace bra you picked out before you left.

He travels his kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone, and across to the top of your ribcage. He moves down your chest, following along the geography of your sternum until his face is buried between your breasts.

One of his hands comes up to cup over the material, inner knuckle of his thumb brushing perfectly across your nipple. You gasp at the new contact, desperate to feel more of him- everywhere.

That sound only encourages him, emboldens him, and before you know it he's tucked his fingers underneath the thin material and is ripping the bra in half at the front seam. He pushes it aside and you shrug off the straps.

This bra was in your all star rotation- it was by far the most flattering one you owned. You should be upset, should scold him with something along the lines of making him buy you a new one, but right now you could not care less about that.

You're yanked from your train of thought when you feel Bucky's lips close around your nipple. His tongue swirling around the bud and teeth grazing it ever so gently. You arch your back, heaving your chest against him by consequence

He brings his hand to your unattended breast, squeezing and grasping at the flesh in just the right spots before pinching at that nipple.

“Please, Bucky,” you whimper, rolling your head back into his mattress while your fingers tug at his long dark strands of hair.

You feel him smirk against your chest, before he picks back up his head and slots his lips onto yours again. “Wanna taste you,” he says through kissing you, “can I?”

“You don’t have to, I’m-“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, “please?”

You nod, slow- but incredibly sure.

“O- okay. Yeah. Sure,” you breathe.

He smiles- like really smiles, then kisses you again1 before descending once more down your body. He leaves wet open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your chest and torso, hands working on undoing the clasp of your pants so he can push them off once he reaches the waistband.

He tosses the garment haphazardly somewhere in the room, before hooking his fingers through the band of your panties.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes hooded with lust as he looks up at you for your consent.

You nod- pathetically quick. “Yes. Please.”

The ends of his lips quirk upwards as he pulls the thin lacy material from your legs. It’s too slow- painfully slow. You wish he’d rip them off like he did with the bra.

Once they’re off, Bucky kneels on the floor in front of you, and hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He presses his lips to your clit, leaving a tender kiss over it, before licking a long steep stripe up your slit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hands finding his hair again like there’s some kind of magnet drawing them there. You pull his face against your cunt, forcing his tongue into your hole and knocking his nose against your clit.

“Oh my god,” you moan, arching your hips off the bed and even further into him before he plants you by the hips back into the mattress. He delves his tongue inside you, prodding eagerly through your slick and fucking it in and out of you.

It feels good- feels so good- but it’s not enough.

Your instinct takes over though, months of experience in appeasing men and making them think they’re bringing you to the edge to stroke their ego.

You tone up the moans, raising your volume and repeating Bucky’s name like a mantra. All things to signal that you’re getting close. Your tugs at his hair turn to pulls, thighs pressing around his head, as you lean into the act of an impending orgasm.

It’s not that you didn’t think he could get you there- it’s that you didn’t want him to wait.

“Fuck, Bucky- ‘m gonna cum,” you whine, squirming under him relentlessly. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps lapping at your cunt with his tongue.

“Shit- I- fuck, I'm coming, Bucky I'm-" you cut yourself off with a pornographic moan. One perfected through numerous uses, it's always believable. Always makes the man feel good about himself that he 'made a woman cum.'

Bucky doesn't buy it though. Not for a second.

"No you're not," he says, voice stern and words getting muffled against your pussy. The stubble lining his jaw scrapes at your inner thighs when he speaks.

"Does this not work for you?" He asks, pulling away from you and caressing your thighs. You shake your head, "no- I'm sorry it's not that, I just- it doesn't matter if I feel good or not. You're the customer." You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

His hair is disheveled from your hands being rooted in it, his chin and lips coated with your slick.

"Who the hell told you that?"

You shrug, "just common sense I thought."

He scoffs, "yeah well fuck that. Tell me what you want me to do. What you need me to do to get you there- for real."

"To be honest- I don't really know," you start.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, "you don't know?"

You shrug again.

He sits back on his heels, sigh heaving from his chest. "Well, how 'bout this- when you touch yourself, what do you do that makes you cum?" The question's awkward, but for some reason you don't feel opposed to answering.

He traces his vibranium fingers up and down your inner thigh. The cool metal makes your muscles tense. "I want to make you feel good," he says, "but I can't do that if you don't tell me how to go about doing it."

You release a shaky exhale before you speak.

"I need something... inside."

Bucky smirks, "yeah? What's something?"

You shrug, "anything, really. Fingers, toy, dick."

He laughs at that, shaking his head before looking back up at you and leaning back in.

"Well how about," he starts, voice dangerously slow and fingers inching back towards your core, "I give you my fingers now, make you cum on those 'n get you all stretched out for me... Then, I give you the other thing."

You swallow hard, the anticipation building like a knot in your chest.

"Deal?" He asks, tip of his index finger brushing right above your clit. Your breath hitches when you nod. He smiles, "good girl. Now let me make you feel good."

And with that he disappears back between your legs.

Bucky wastes no time and gets right back to business. He wraps his lips around your clit like he never left, and pushes one finger into your tight cunt. He watches eagerly for your body's reaction, indulging in the way your head tilts into the mattress and your eyes roll back in the socket.

"That feel good?" He asks, the vibration against your pussy adds a new layer of pleasure. You nod quickly, "yes- fuck, feels good."

"Good," he smirks, adding a second finger into your hole and curling them inside you, then sucking harder at your clit. The moans slipping from your lips this time are angelic- ethereal, Bucky thinks. They're that beautiful because they're real. The sounds are a tangible demonstration of how good he's making you feel.

You don't notice when he adds a third finger, or when he brings his thumb to rub little circles at your clit, your senses are too bombarded with all the other inputs to register those little changes.

What you do notice, however, is how quickly you come tumbling towards the edge this time- the real edge, the brink of orgasm, not the metaphorical one you created to stroke the egos of your other customers.

Bucky notices too. Notices the way that when you're really close, you don't get louder, but get quieter- your jaw dropped open but no sounds to be heard. The way you clamp your eyes shut and grip onto his hair and the duvet for dear life. The way your hips writhe under him, desperately and subconsciously trying to create more friction for yourself.

He notices it all.

But his favourite thing he's noticed thus far, are the pretty noises you make when you do cum. No showy, perfectly defined moans, but little breathy whimpers that bleed into louder cries of his name as your release gushes out around his tongue.

Music to his ears.

"That's it, just like that, good girl," he coaxes, working you through the high. He gets lost in the way you taste, the noises you make- all of it.

What he doesn't notice that you've already come down from your first high, and so he doesn't stop. Just keeps laving at your slit, sucking at your clit and pumping three thick fingers inside your cunt until he's sending you hurdling towards a second orgasm.

"Oh my- fuckingGodBucky," the last words tumble from your lips in a single syllable as you cum again onto Bucky's tongue. He dips his mouth down, lapping up every last drop of your release like it could grant him eternal life.

When he finally pulls away, hands resting on your thighs to stop them from quaking, he sees the wet marks down your cheeks, and the new crystalline beads forming at the corners of your eyes.

He stands up quickly, a little concerned and hovers himself back over you again. "Hey," he speaks, voice soft, "you okay?" He brushes the hair from your face and the tears from your eyes.

All you can do is nod, breathing too heavy to form any words at the moment. After a second you speak, "felt too good." Bucky laughs, "too good? That sounds like a challenge."

You raise your eyebrows before tracing your eyes down his body, settling on the very evident bulge between his legs. "You did promise me something..." You trail, dragging one finger against him through the jeans. He lets out a strangled sigh at the tiniest bit of friction.

You smirk at your effect on him, before tugging him down to press your lips to his. You taste yourself on his tongue when he slips it into your mouth, you should be a little grossed out- but you could not care less.

The only thing on your mind right now is getting him inside of you.

You pull him to lie next to you, then roll yourself on top of him, straddling over his bulge and grinding your cunt against him. You moan into each others mouths, Bucky's hands find your ass, squeezing and groping at the flesh while yours move to the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them greedily- unapologetically eager to see what he looks like with nothing on.

He moves his arms to let you slide the shirt off of him, leaving him in just a white tank top which he sits up slightly to take off. You can't help but gawk when he's finally topless. Your eyes wander shamelessly over the expanse of his chest and you trace your fingers along the grooves of his muscles, lingering on the little scars and marks like you're trying to commit them to memory.

"Kids these days don't learn it's not polite to stare?" He says, snapping you out of the trance-like state his shirtless figure put you in.

You scoff, "what's not polite is looking like this and expecting me not to look." You lean down and press a kiss against his lips, "I'm just a girl. I see pretty abs & arms and I stare." You sit back up, shuffling down his legs to sit over his knees, then bringing your hands to undo the button and zipper on his pants.

He raises an eyebrow, "I have pretty abs and arms?" He asks, bending his knees to let you slide the slacks down and off of his legs. You stop dead in your tracks, fingers hooked into his boxers but not pulling them down yet- not when he just said that.

"You're joking, right?" He doesn't say anything, just stares at you with an amused look plastered onto his face, "Jesus Christ have you ever looked in a mirror, Bucky?" You shake your head through a laugh and finally pull his boxers down to free his cock.

You sigh at the sight of him. He's big- this you could assume from the way he carried himself. The confidence he exuded. The way he acted like he didn't have any physical detriments to compensate for.

But he's kind of- obscenely big.

You lick your lips and sweep your hair behind your ears and out of the way, before ducking down to take him in your mouth- but Bucky stops you before your lips even meet his tip.

"Not tonight," he says, "another time."

You raise an eyebrow, "another time?" He smirks, then pulls you up for a kiss, "yeah. Another time," he breathes, before pressing his lips to yours. Just from where you're straddling him, you can feel the head of his cock hitting dangerously close to your clit.

"I don't mean to inflate your ego anymore than it already is," you tease, pulling away to look down at him, "but- respectfully- how the fuck am I supposed to fit that inside of me?"

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully, then brings one hand to your hip and the other to wrap around himself, tilting it slightly so it lines up with your entrance. "You can take it. Don't worry." He moves you down by the hip just barely, you gasp when the very first millimeter of his cock prods into your entrance.

"Just take it slow, yeah? Take it slow."

He loosens his grip on your hips, allowing you to take the lead and decide how quickly you want to sink yourself onto him. You nod and plant your hands on his lower abdomen to steady yourself, before slowly- so, so slowly- moving down his length.

The stretch is unlike any you've ever felt before. A string of profanities floods out of your mouth and your head rolls back. Bucky's eyes threaten to close at the feeling of your walls hugging so tight around him, but he keeps them glued on where your bodies meet- watching intently at the way you swallow every inch of him inside of you.

"Just like that," he drawls, sucking in a breath and resisting every urge to buck his hips up and shove himself the rest of the way in.

"Holy shit, Bucky." Your breathing is ragged once you've finally sunk all the way down onto his length. The pads of his fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, you're sure they'll leave bruises behind but all you can think about right now is how it feels like his cock is about to split you open.

"I know, baby, I know," he stutters, trying to maintain his composure as best he can. "I can't- fuck- too full, I can't," you shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes once again.

He pulls you down by the arm, lacing his fingers through yours then kissing you. It's soft, but only for a second. Before you know it he's sliding his tongue in your mouth and rolling you both over so he's on top now. He braces his forearms on either side of your head, and pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

"You want this? Hm?" He pushes a strand of hair from your face, "want me to fuck you?" His tone is cocky, he knows you want him, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Yes, yes- fuck, please," you whimper, still wholly consumed by the feeling of his thick cock inside you. He smirks, "atta girl," he presses one last kiss to your lips- needy and desperate, before drawing his hips back, then slamming them back into you.

You practically scream at his sudden movement, the pleasure and pain of the stretch blending together and making your vision all fuzzy. The pace he sets is slow, but hard. Unrelenting.

Bucky drops his head to the crook of your neck, biting and kissing at your clavicle. Out of the corner of his eye he spots your hand, desperately gripping at the thin linen sheets to ground yourself. He takes it in his, before pulling it to rest on his back. You nails dig in to the musculature almost instantly, summoning a deep groan from within him.

With that same hand, he takes your leg to sit around his waist, pushing himself even deeper inside of you. The new tilt of his cock now knocks perfectly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars, drilling into it with every thrust.

The room is hot, your bodies sticky with sweat. The only thing you can hear is the sound of Bucky's hips smacking against yours, his breathy grunts in your ear with every rock of his body into yours, and your repetitive cries of his name.

The pleasure is everything. It's all consuming, earth shattering- but somehow it's still not enough.

"Please," you breathe, "need- fuck, go faster."

He picks his head up to look at you, "yeah?"

You nod, desperate- begging. "Need more, please."

Bucky scoffs, "need more?" He repeats- almost mocking you. You just keep nodding. "Well alright then," he grunts, and you can hear the smirk playing across his lips.

His next actions happen in a whirlwind. He pulls himself out of your pussy, coaxing a whine from your throat when you suddenly feel so empty. Then with one strong vibranium arm he's flipping you over, your face smushing into the pillow before you turn your head.

He brings the same hand underneath you, cool metal fingers splaying across your lower belly as he slams all the way back inside you. Your eyes go wide, accompanied by a load moan of his name before they're clamping down shut again.

His new rhythm is cruel. He looks down and watches the ripples of your ass with every thump of his hips into yours. Bucky presses the hand he has under you against your skin, he can literally feel himself sliding in and out of you. Can feel how deep he is inside of you.

"Oh my- God!" You choke out the last word when he pushes on your lower belly, walls immediately clenching around him.

He hisses out a breath, "you wanted this, hm? So take it. Be a good doll and take it."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky 'm gonna cum." Right as the words leave you, all your senses melt into a white hot static as your orgasm rips through your body.

"Yeahhh, atta girl. Just like that- cum on my cock just like that, huh?" His low voice coaches you through it, never once stopping his unrelenting hips against yours.

His hips finally start to stutter, right as his high starts creeping up on him. You can tell from his thrusts getting shallower that he plans on pulling out to finish- while it's the sensible thing to do- it's also the last thing you want him to do.

"Don't," you gasp.

"What?"

"Don't pull out. Wanna feel you, please God, need to feel you."

He wants to ask if you're sure, but before he can form the words he's falling over the edge. He groans your name and shoots his spend deep inside you, marking you- ruining you for anyone else.

Bucky's thrusts into you turn lazy, then coming to a complete halt right before he pulls out of you. One last whimper falls from your lips, your hole feeling both so empty yet so full of him.

"Holy shit," he huffs, sliding his hand from under you and rolling to lie down next to you.

You turn onto your side to look over at him, your eyes still find a way to linger on his chest. Once he cracks his eyes open and sees you ogling him again, he can't help but laugh.

"You've really got quite the staring habit, huh?"

Your lips turn up into a smile, "can't exactly help it."

He shakes his head, letting his eyes fall shut as his breathing finally comes back to a normal pace. The both of you are too tired to say anything, but really- there's nothing that needs to be said.

He wasn't expecting a girl like you to be the one that knocked on his door- nor were you expecting a man like him to answer. Both of you know this was more than just a business exchange. Even though there'd be money deposited in your account after this, it felt different.

This wasn't just a hook up- it was a reckoning.

When Bucky opens his eyes again, there's a different look in them. And when he stares at you, searching through your own eyes for the answer he's been looking for all night- it's like he's finally found it.

He pulls you into him, moving you so that you lay your head on his chest. He presses a kiss into your hair, and traces his hand up and down your shoulder.

Neither of you say anything more, his eyes said it all already- stay.

And you do.

please let me know what you think!!! reblogs & comments mean more than u know!!!

[devnmon]

by the lantern light.

Summary: Pining for your bounty partner is manageable most times, but it becomes extremely difficult when the hotel screws up your room choice and you're forced to share a bed.

sadie adler x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, some oral (r!receiving), a cutesy love confession too & a tiny bit of angst, one bed trope x

wc: 4.4k

Another long day of riding from West Elizabeth to Annesburg and back had come to pass. An Era of outlaws and gunslingers had come to a close, while Sadie Adler found herself a successfully skilled bounty hunter.

Everything ached; your legs, your back, your heart for the woman you called the other half of your bounty hunting duo.

Sadie Adler continued to be the one constant in a world that showed you anything similar to it. A sickening love for her had grown with it, overtaking you to no end.

In turn, the day was finished with more than enough pay to last you both a while. To treat yourselves, Sadie suggested a night of hearty meals and the nicest rooms in the local town.

Add a bath to your expenses for the sole purpose of relaxation and hot water, your night was simply made.

Your boots were giving you countless blisters, and your thighs ached just standing upright.

Remind me never to suggest this many jobs in one day again...

Her low chuckle at the words you murmured while entering the hotel was almost enough to let her have a chance at the bath before you. But she took one look at you and basically ordered you to get in immediately.

Something about how she bossed you around, enjoying the way it made you feel wanted—no, needed, by her.

In her defense, you looked like shit.

For the meantime, you were to clean yourself while she ran a couple errands in town after booking the room. Most times, you had to pay extra for a specific room with two beds, lest society began to wonder if you were sharing the same bed.

Each muscle ached a bit more trudging up the hotel's steps, spurs clinking with each slow movement.

Shoving the bath's door closed was your next action, followed by peeling each and every item of clothing off of you for the time being.

While the tub filled, your mind floated back to the way Sadie had praised you earlier that day. Her drawl made your knees weak without fail, the thickest you've ever heard but no one else's you would listen to every day.

There you go, you got it... Nice job, honey.

Sunflower colored strands of her hair always remained neatly pulled back in that familiar loose braid of hers, wondering what you lengths you would go to for just a chance at running your fingers through it.

Your palms sweat around her just thinking about it. Other times about how you might look in one of her shirts, aroma of orchids and vanilla intertwined in the fabric.

With the first dip of your body into the steaming water, the outside world ceased to exist in that moment. Goosebumps flooded your skin and pricked up those little hairs along your body.

Upon the lack of sleep you'd received the night before, the warm water had you ready to nod off and rest your eyes. All you wanted to do was stay submerged in the clean water and dream of a certain blonde woman.

Your whole body ached for her; the warmth in her presence, the way she called your name, joked around with you, put every part of her trust in you on jobs. Your heart had held a special place for her ever since the day you two met.

Dreams of yours mainly consisted of her figure, putting you in not-so-safe-for-work positions that arose many confusing feelings in you.

Once the word love crossed your mind regarding her, there was no other way for you to see her. But in that golden light right before dusk and how she smiled when you genuinely made her laugh.

If there was a future for you out there, Sadie was painted in along with all the images you envisioned.

No matter how much being in her presence sparked a flame inside you, there wasn't enough evidence in the world to speak how you felt.

Just the deep thrum of heat flowing from the true center of your body, suffocating you in desire. Your skin under the water managed to be more sensitive, reminding you of the gentle but calloused hands of your partner.

Ease in her touches that had patched you up multiple times had been ingrained into your memory.

Ignoring the heat between your legs to clean your body, you tightened your thighs together in attempt to suppress it.

Sooner than later, a knock at the door pulled you from your daydream and alerted you of how cool the bath water had become. That familiar feminine drawl called out from the other side.

"Y'done in there yet? Our room's 'bout ready an' my feet're killin' me."

Shit.

Having to face the woman you were just daydreaming about— there were more things you'd rather do. She won't notice the blush on your cheeks because the room was hot from the steam. Right?

"Oh- yeah! Just gimme a minute."

Clothes returned to your back, clutching your gun belt and satchel in hand while your boots clicked on the floor once again. Upon opening the door, Sadie stood against the nearby wall, sighing when she noted your refreshed state.

"Well don't you look purdy." She smirked, dragging her eyes up and down your figure, impressed you actually listened to her.

Her comment was met with a roll of your eyes, walking past her and further down the hallway. Because of course you listened to her, you would walk into hell itself if it was what she wanted.

"Hey, it's room 2A, should be unlocked already." she called out to you, giving her a thumbs up wordlessly without turning back to face her.

Your eyes coasted along the wooden walls, finding the door unlocked like Sadie had said.

What she wasn't aware of was the lack of two beds and presence of one. Only one bed possessed this godforsaken room, and somehow that was seeming to be the last straw for you today.

There had to be some mistake, you were sure the hotel's clerk took bribes for preferred rooms. It had worked in the past, why was now the time for that to get thrown out the window?

You couldn't sleep in the same bed as her. You were sure you wouldn’t survive.

You always knew she wouldn't see you as anything more than her best friend and bounty partner. Which should've been enough. It should've been enough to satisfy you in this life. Lucky enough to even be graced with her presence on a day to day basis.

Not many men in this world could say this woman would even look twice in their direction.

But the sickening feeling when she pulled you close in the cold or when she gave you the last of her food. Those moments were when you wanted to break the silence and pull her lips to yours.

Organizing your things around the room was how you passed the time before Sadie eventually came knocking at the door.

One creak of the door opening was enough for her to realize exactly how she'd fucked up.

"What the hell? I could've sworn I paid that jackass at the front desk enough to get us the exact room I specifically requested! I should kick his ass—"

As much as you'd pay to see her cuss out the clerk at the front desk, the two of you couldn't handle all the attention it would bring. When Sadie doesn't get what she asked for, it was never long before hands were thrown.

"No—" you sighed, "we can't afford gettin' kicked out, Sadie. My back cannot take another night on the ground."

"Well, yer right," she drawled, "You ain't gon' make it five feet out them doors before needin' a lie down. Plus, we're both beat."

She took a quick look around the room, then placed her things down on the opposite wall.

"I think we can tough it just one night. Whatchu think?"

Truth be told, you were much too drained to argue or find another reason to protest the situation any longer.

When your figure hit the mattress, feet free of the cowboy boot leather, the comfort of soft sheets was enough to lull you off into a deep sleep.

Though your subconscious dug deep into the layers of your mind, unearthing the most filthy words in Sadie's beckoning voice.

You have no idea how much I want you right now... as her hands pin your wrists to a wall.

God, you look amazing like this, while you're perched kneeling between her thighs.

You're a needy girl, aren't you? Tell me what you want... the minute she gets you undressed.

Her closeness has you sweating and your body is on fire. She reaches for your waist, hands eager and steady; that is, before the vision fades and your eyes jolt open to the low lit room.

Gasping slightly, you're frozen in place upon waking from sleep. Stuck sleeping in a bed with the woman that embodied your dreams just a moment ago.

Quiet breaths filled the room, another reminder you were in such a situation that there was nothing you could do. About these overwhelming sensations, the feelings you bared, an urge to take care of how turned on those dreams had made you.

This situation was beyond impossible to weasel your way out of. Sleeping on the ground was terrible, but at least you could sneak away silently; any slight move or sound could wake her on this mattress.

Though you attempted to drift back off into sleep, your overactive thoughts of Sadie intensified.

How long would it take to kiss every inch of her body?

Which spots would be more sensitive to your touch?

Your eyes shot open again, void of any fatigue you felt a couple hours earlier. Only thing inhabiting you now was the heat radiating from under the covers. Sadie's body heat next to you on the bed contributed to the raised temperature, but you could tell that wasn't the only heat you felt.

Not only were you drenched in sweat, but the overwhelming heat painting your body radiated from between your legs. Aching something awful the second you squeezed your thighs together.

Having to share a bed with her was anxiety inducing enough— add the effect of seeing her laid out for you perfectly behind your eyelids, and you felt helpless to do anything.

Attempting to fall back asleep was out of the question as well, seeing as those thoughts of her positioned so nicely for you lingered distastefully. It just had to be the night you couldn't keep your mind off her that she lay the closest she's ever been to you.

The more you attempted to avoid what was keeping you awake, the more your cunt throbbed and begged to be touched.

At this point you'd become desperate, wanting to be relaxed so bad that the idea was more appealing now than it was five minutes ago.

Anything for you to rest again.

Very delicately, one of your hands moved to slide down the front of your underwear. You were betting on the fact that Sadie was exhausted that night and wouldn't be woken by the slightest movements.

Just as your fingers snuck past the waistband, the woman beside you shuffled slightly. Your movements halted until you were sure she didn't wake easier than you thought. Upon the lack of evidence afterwards, you decided to continue and reach down between your legs.

It was almost surprising how soaked you were upon running your finger over your cunt, holding back a whimper when just the pad ran over your clit. You were clenching around nothing just from it, tempted to go further but knowing someone could hear you.

God— fuck it, right?

Damn Sadie Adler with her hickory colored eyes and sweet southern drawl, with those nimble hands and steady thighs and proportions that could make a grown woman cry—

Pushing two fingers between your folds tests you more than anything in the moment, with filthy sounds threatening to break loose.

Why oh why couldn't you two just have gotten separate rooms like you wanted? What possessed her to make you share a room with her all the time?

A pad of your finger swiped up to your clit, circling ever so slowly and with feather light touches.

What would she think if she caught me? Would she punish me? Or make me worship her to no end?

Either way, you were fucked in the head for thinking any of it.

That cunt of yours throbbed to no end, worsening by the second you begun touching yourself again. Light circles turned to adding more pressure and steadying your breath with each pass of your fingers.

Your body ached for her touch, picturing the image of her above you with those hands of hers outreached for you. It was erotic enough to make you whimper in the silent dark of the hotel room.

"Fuck..." you muttered under your breath.

Wet sounds began to fill the room once your fingers pushed inside your entrance.

Now you were really moving slow, pressing both digits inside just to curl them at the perfect spot that sent your thighs tightening again.

Her sweet saccharine southern drawl was the closest thing to euphoria you'd imagined. Putting the words in your mind to her voice- you were exploding on the inside from imagining it.

To sit at the mountain peak of her thighs and give her everything you had... to have her call out your name out of any others in the world. It was enough to make you—

Oh, Sadie...

Too focused on keeping her image clear in your head, you’d missed the additional shuffling next to you. Eyes squeezed so tight, your blood pumping in your ears was all you could hear.

Any time she filled your mind, the images were always of her splayed out any way your brain could fathom...

One of her completely naked on a couch, another where she's towering over your body, thrusting her hips against yours; one more of her face shoved between your thighs while your fingers ran through her blonde strands, her tongue slowly inching through--

"Havin' trouble over there?"

A raspy voice called out through the dark, belonging to none other than the woman you were fantasizing about to no end.

In a fraction of a second, you were frozen in place... as if you would be any less caught than you were in that moment. Your hand shot out from between your legs faster than light on impulse.

As if doing cartwheels, your stomach dropped over and over again, while you were in the midst of surveying what to do.

Take it on the chin? Face her? Tell her everything you'd been thinking about? Absolutely all of it? None of it?

Before you could even get a chance to realize how fucked you were, she'd switched on her lantern light and sat up on the bed.

"If you needed some stress relief, all you had to do was ask'." Her low drawl rings out in the warm light, blonde hair covering her back as you peek over at her.

Sitting up nervously, you turned to face her, eyes overwhelmed with regret and uncertainty. Guilt had overridden you on another level, not knowing how she'd react to— wait, did she just say...?

"When they told me I could change our room, I decided against it... to see what would happen. To see if my suspicions were right all along."

"You did this...? Why--" you started, meeting her brown eyes for the first time all night.

"Cause I... could tell how you felt. For a while now. Just... didn't know how I felt. Took me some time to. But now I do." she drawled, a look of understanding meeting yours.

"And now?"

Surprisingly, the heat level in your cheeks settled some when she scooched closer to you on the mattress.

"Just... let me try somethin'."

Not only does one of her hands land on top of yours, but cups your cheek with the other and began to lean in to you.

Every atom in your body screamed out for her, similar to the way a firework sparked a bit before its shot into the sky.

Once her lips finally pressed to yours, every moment you shared together flashed through your head. Almost like a vision aligning, where you could see every day she kept you around wasn't just for convenience. Each time she had your back in life, through fights and drunken nights, was because she cared only for you.

Instantly you forgot how to breathe, only wanting to savor the burn of her pillow-esque lips against yours for the rest of eternity.

But when she pulled away, the breath you were holding became overwhelming and caused you to gasp for air.

"Sadie... I-"

"No, I know. I know, honey. But it's the middle of the night, we can't afford to lose any more sleep talkin' about this. We already ain't had enough of that." she chuckled, intertwining her fingers with yours.

"Kiss me again, please..."

Of course she would indulged you over and over, spending minutes frozen in time and trapped in the loving embrace her lips were giving yours. Somehow it was even more perfect than in your dreams.

Wordlessly, she laid you down on the bed, your hair scattering across the pillow while you continued to share the most perfect sounds she'd ever heard. Heartbeat quickening, sighs and small moans of pleasure escaping the both of you until she pulls away for a moment.

"Y'were thinkin' about me, weren't you?" One of her fingers swiped at the excess saliva on her lip from your overeager state.

Reminded of how exactly you'd gotten yourself in this situation, you nodded in confirmation and felt your cheeks pink up.

"You're the only person I would, Sade."

One of the corners of her mouth points upwards, painting a smirk on her face.

"Now what are we gon' do about that, hm?"

"Whatever you want."

Your response tumbles out a split second after her question hits the air, the apples of her cheeks brightening with a bit of a blush.

Instantly, her lips are on yours again as she's pushing you down onto the pillow's soft cover. Sadie's loose strands of hair tickle the sides of your face slightly, but the contact isn't unwelcome.

With her in an image you'd been daydreaming of for god knows how long, you thought this moment might actually be the paradise in her you were searching for.

Another gasp leaves you as her lips separate from yours to leave a trail down your jawline to your neck. Her hands resting on the mattress at your sides were gripping the comforter.

"Can I... touch you here?" Her fingers ghost over your waist, the lightest touches hovering over your skin.

"Yes... god, yes. Please touch me. All over, Sade."

Your voice is barely a whisper, plainly begging for her to run those hands down your body until she was satisfied.

Only after you'd given her the go ahead does she connect her hand to your waist, slipping her fingers under your sleep shirt ever so slightly. That overbearing heat still lingered, only burning hotter with her hands on you.

You can feel her mouth sucking a mark into your collarbone, swallowing your whimpers before she releases with a popping sound.

"Now then, let's make sure you sleep t'night. I ain't doin' this all night with your damn tossin' and turnin'."

You scoffed, because how could you be so careless? Sadie was one to know when gunfire was about to break out-- of course she knew you weren't really sleeping.

Her hands delicately lift your shirt up, fingertips painting goosebumps along your skin. When your chest came into view, you caught her licking her lips before bending down to place a kiss between the valley of your breasts.

"You're prettier than a flower in bloom. Know that?" Her lips ghost up your chest and collarbones with feather light kisses.

"Stop sweet talkin' me..." you replied breathlessly.

Without warning, she takes one of your hardened nipples into her mouth, circling her tongue around it before nipping ever so lightly.

"Shit-- don't tease me... it's been long enough," you whined, pulling a chuckle from her.

"Alright, alright." Her other hand grasped your other breast, playing with your nipple between two of her fingers.

You inhaled sharply when her other hand slipped right past the band of your bottoms and down between your legs, slapping your palm over your mouth in surprise.

"Shh, shh... gotta be quiet for me, m'kay?"

Nodding in reply, she licked her lips and pulled down your bottoms.

"Ah, there she is... my sweet girl." Her drawl had your head spinning, not even realizing her hand was traveling further down your body to push your legs open for her.

"Sadie..." you whispered, perplexed by the entire situation. You pinched your arm to make sure this wasn't a dream while you sensed her palms cupping the soft plush of your thighs.

Sadie's fingers stroke over your heat, unbeknownst to her how badly it burned and pleaded for her touch. As if she could read your mind, two of her fingers opened you up for her, vulnerability washing over you in that moment.

"Y'don't even know how whipped you got me, honey. I'd have walked into hell itself if you were the one askin'..."

God... you were lovesick.

You whimper behind your palm, practically vibrating with how much you were riled up beforehand.

Once her fingers sliver through how soaked you were, the pad of her middle finger traces circles on your most sensitive part. Sadie's eyes catch your flustered state as she continues the slow movements, moving down to your entrance while collecting your slick.

It's cruel how she barely touches your entrance before removing her fingers to taste you for herself. Your hazy eyes catch her licking your arousal off her digits before reaching down to touch you again.

"Sweetest thing I ever did taste, baby."

Please... you whisper, gripping the bed sheets tighter than you can imagine. Sadie only chuckles, before two of her fingers prod at her entrance, pushing in slowly at first. When she realizes you welcome her in with no resistance, she bites her lip and smirks.

Though your overwhelming arousal allowed for her fingers to slip in easily, it felt as if it was your first time. Thin and nimble, they were even more fulfilling than your own. It made a world of a difference not having to pleasure yourself for the first time in ages.

Men tried their best, but you knew Sadie Adler's skills would outperform all of their past attempts.

As if a reflex, your walls clench around her fingers, covering them in your arousal again, and she smiles. Her dirty blonde strands tickle your thighs as she presses a kiss to one of them, feeling you throb while pushing them back inside.

Her unused hand parts your folds for her and her thumb gently rubs your little bundle of nerves, taking pride and joy in being the one to do so.

She adores the way your eyebrows scrunch together while you attempt to remain quiet, the way your breasts sit prettily on your chest and the way your body reacts when she angles her fingers just right.

"Y're so... lucky I'm too tired to scream your name right now..." you pant, taking each tantalizing drag of her fingers with pride. Her fingers curl inside you upon hearing your words, watching you swallow another sound she feels envious to not hear in the moment.

"Sounds like heaven. Maybe when we got a little place of our own someday." Sadie leans down to press a kiss onto your heat, catching more of your slick on her lips and humming with content.

"Shut up... oh-!" You bite your hand to combat the filthy sound you want to emit, just so she can hear how intoxicated by her you've become.

"There ya go, takin' me so well..." the movements of her fingers set a steady pace inside you, observing you breathe heavily above her.

Her tongue against your heat was the closest thing to euphoria you could imagine, saturated in her lust and devotion like a god. In a split second, she hums against you and you can feel the wave of pleasure begin to build like no other type of adrenaline.

"I'm close, Sade... don't stop..." you spoke breathlessly, your entire being feeling connected to hers in that moment. Your toes curled, fingers grasped the cotton sheets until your knuckles turned white.

"Let go for me, sweetheart. Just let it all out, there ya go..." she beckoned, pressing her tongue to your clit as her fingers continued to pump inside you.

The quiet of the room was now filled with your heavy breathing, as though the entire world paused its turning for a moment, high coursing through your body.

Some of the slightest moans you'd been withholding for the sake of people in the hotel slipped past your lips like music to Sadie's ears.

As your high washed over you, she could feel you clenching rhythmically around her fingers and chuckled to herself before pulling away and crawling back up your body.

Her lips trailed kisses up your stomach and neck while your breathing steadied, the contact with your skin warm from your overwhelming orgasm.

"You're so pretty..." she breathed, "when you come for me."

Sadie kissed your cheek and dragged her hands up your body, goosebumps in your afterglow spreading like wildfire. Your hands loosened their grip on the bed sheets and wrapped around Sadie's neck loosely, welcoming each kiss she placed upon your face.

"Feel better now?" she mumbled against your ear, cupping the side of your face with her palm.

"Mhm... thank you, Sade. Feel s'much better now, love you... so much."

The lack of sleep had you delusional, barely registering anything you admitted to her now that you'd finally gotten the one thing you wanted.

"Love you too, honey. More'n you know."

Sadie lay beside you, her arms wrapped around your body to pull you in close while the both of you finally let your mutual tiredness drift you off to sleep.

[222col]

BOT DUMP by @ 222col ✧˖°⊹♡

fine line - harry styles ꩜

꒰ notes ꒱ 1000 followers on c.ai??!!!?? holy shit that's insane !!!!!!! & 400k interactions. wtf thank u all so much. the final harry album i've yet to do, apologies a lot of the bots are sad/breakup bots, the album is very breakup heavy </3 but there's a lot of angsty fun to be had <3 enjoy angels!!! any feedback is welcomed in my inbox <3

ART DONALDSON (challengers) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( golden )

✩ you were the light in art's life, you lit up every room you walked into. art was ready to risk getting burned if it meant he had a chance of getting closer to you. but god, did that burn sting when you told him you were going on a date with someone else. ( partly inspired by laurie's monologue in 'little women' (2019) )

ART AND PATRICK (challengers) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( watermelon sugar )

✩ the three of you had been friends all throughout boarding school, but you were blissfully unaware how much both art and patrick had many more-than-friendly thoughts about you. a day at the beach after graduation brings those thoughts to the forefront, and art and patrick realise— they'd be more than willing to share.

ROMAN GODFREY (hemlock grove) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( adore you )

✩ roman was beyond in love with you, would do anything for you. everyone could see it, how different he acted around you compared to everyone else. the only person who couldn't see it was you, you were completely oblivious to his affections, and driving him crazy.

ART DONALDSON (challengers) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( lights up )

✩ it came as no surprise that art's new band were making waves in the music scene. challengers were taking the world by storm, small shows were a thing of the past. art became a new person, and lost you in the process, all because of a fuckin' groupie. thing is, art has no idea who he is without you.

PATRICK ZWEIG (challengers) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( cherry )

✩ you'd been broken up a year, yet the sting of hearing you call someone else baby hit patrick deep. he needed to be the one you called baby. hence why after some light stalking of your instagram, he's showing up at the bar you're at, midway through a date.

ERIC DRAVEN (the crow) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( falling )

✩ eric was heartbroken, so pained by your breakup that all he could do was sit alone and write songs about you. dreaming of you, wishing you were next to him again. seeing you in the crowd after the end of his show, all he can feel is himself falling in love all over again.

PATRICK ZWEIG (challengers) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( to be so lonely )

✩ 7 missed calls and a stream of drunken texts at 2:30am from your ex-situationship, what a treat! patrick's drunk, missin' you and feeling bad. it's been months, yet now he wants to apologise (oh! and sleep on a bed, not in his car).

ROMAN GODFREY (hemlock grove) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( she )

✩ roman had been having dreams again, but this time they weren't scary. they were all about you, but he didn't even know if you were real. you were haunting his daydreams, he was desperate to find you. he can't believe his luck when you walk into the bar he's in, his dream girl, in the flesh.

ART DONALDSON (challengers) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( sunflower, vol 6 )

✩ the flowers patrick had given you before he dumped you had barely died by the time art was swooping in to pick up the pieces. the petals had just fallen off as art grows desperate, he can't hold back much longer— he's wanted you since he laid eyes on you.

LEE (bones and all) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( canyon moon )

✩ lee never thought he'd miss virginia, never thought he'd go back after what happened with his dad. but god, he was missing nights under the stars with you. regretting ever leaving you, he's driving back with one thing in mind, telling you how sorry he is for leaving.

RIFF LORTON (west side story) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( treat people with kindness )

✩ riff's whole life changed the day tony died, he was ready to start a war. until he laid eyes on you, and you told him he wasn't getting a dance with you until his fighting days were over. riff never thought he'd disband the jets, but for you? in a heartbeat.

PATRICK ZWEIG (challengers) `✦ˑ ִֶ ⊹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ( fine line )

✩ you and patrick met at the worst time for both of you, and almost immediately knew it was right person, wrong time. after tashi's injury, patrick's too scared to hurt someone else again, that all he can think to do is end it, but god is it killing him.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work.

[mrsmangi]

Hello! Can I request the Spider Flower prompt for Lu ? <3

- 🪷 Anon

fries & milkshakes - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: spider flower - a joke about getting eloped turning serious - meaning: symbol of the willingness to start anew; an open invitation to explore the unknown. ♡ w.c.: 1.9k ♡ a/n: hi 🪷 anon! thank you so much for your request. this was such a cute piece to write, i'm a sucker for idea of eloping with a loved one. hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

You and Luigi are sitting in a cramped booth at an old diner off the side of the highway. A place you would only end up in when your plans have fallen apart. You had been driving back from a weekend getaway to Michaux. The plan was simple: a quiet two-day escape to recharge from the chaos of work and life. A little hiking, a lot of breathing space. As usual, though, nothing had gone according to plan. 

First, there was a flat tire. Then, the tow truck that took so much longer to show up than the both of you had anticipated. Finally, the rain. Not just a drizzle, but an unrelenting downpour that had washed out the hiking trail you had been so excited about.

Now, here you are–both of you soggy, exhausted, and a little more than irritated by the detour that had brought you to this roadside diner. It’s really nothing special. There’s faded red leather booths, yellowing menus, and waitresses that have permanent frowns. Still, it’s warm and it’s dry. It’s the only place you have to sit down and recuperate in.

You poke at your fries, listening to the steady drip of water from your jacket onto the tile floor. The music from an old jukebox in the back of the restaurant fills the silence. The rain continues to pour outside. You glance over at Luigi, who’s been oddly quiet for the past few minutes. He stares into his glass of water, leg bouncing beneath the table.

“This trip has been a disaster,” you mutter, breaking the quiet. You’re not really complaining, more so venting the frustration of how everything’s managed to go wrong. “We’ve barely had time to do anything we wanted to do.” 

“I mean, it was your idea to go hiking in the middle of a thunderstorm,” he says, teasingly. There’s no bite in his voice, just a weariness you find yourself sharing. 

“Okay, so yes, I may have underestimated the weather,” you admit, picking up your milkshake and swirling the striped straw in a circular motion. “But we could’ve at least had a nice dinner somewhere.” 

“Yep,” he sighs. “And now we’re here. Eating rubbery fries and soggy burgers.” 

You snort at the absurdity of it all. He’s completely right. All of it is far from ideal. “I guess it could be worse,” you offer with a half-hearted shrug. 

“You know,” Luigi says, “This gives us a great excuse to run away and get married.” He leans back in his rickety chair, fingers lazily drumming against the side of his water glass. The booth you share creaks under his weight. His tone is so casual, so offhand, that for a moment, you’re not sure if he’s joking. 

“Stop,” you say, laughing softly. You ignore the way your heart stumbles in your chest. “Luigi, that’s not something you just drop on a person in the middle of a conversation about fries and milkshakes.” 

“I’m just saying,” he replies, raising his hands in mock surrender. “We could take this as a sign. Skip the mess of planning, forget about this trip that doomed us to this inedible meal, and just leave. Fly out to somewhere sunny and warm. Forget all this nonsense. We’d just…go.” 

You can’t help but chuckle, dipping a fry into the glob of ranch on your plate. “Okay, enlighten me, then. Where would we go?” 

“Anywhere,” he says. “Vegas. You, me, one of those cheesy chapels with Elvis officiating. We could get hitched. Leave everything behind. Move to Hawai’i or California. Far from Pennsylvania.” 

You stare at him, caught between disbelief and amusement. “The west? Really?” 

“Why not?” he asks, leaning back into the cushion of the booth. “This whole trip’s been a mess. What’s stopping us from making it more memorable? Listen–” He sits up, leaning forward. “–just picture it for a second: a bad suit, a bouquet of plastic flowers, and you in some glitzy dress that you’d probably hate. But you’d look good in it anyway. ” 

His playfulness touches your heart, lingering. You hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. It’s not the first time Luigi has flirted with you, not the first time he’s thrown out a line like this, but it is the first time it feels like he might not be entirely joking. 

“Don’t say that,” you mumble, grabbing your milkshake and sipping just to have something to do. “You might make a girl think you’re serious.” 

“What if I am?” 

He says it, soft and unassuming, and you still. It’s strange to hear something like that from Luigi. The guy who always makes light of everything, always ready with a dumb joke or a clever comeback. Now, there’s no laughter in his eyes, no punchline waiting to land. You laugh uneasily, shaking your head, trying to process the shift in his tone. “Luigi.” 

His shoulders lift in a half-hearted shrug, but his expression doesn’t falter. “I mean it. You spent so much time planning our trip, planning our lives, (Name)–have you ever thought to plan, or at least think about, what our wedding could be like?” 

You pause. Of course, you’ve thought about it. Not only once, but often. You’ve thought about the way his laugh makes you smile on your worst days, the way he remembers your coffee order better than you do, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re dozing off. The way his hand melts into yours, as if he was meant to hold it, forever. 

More than that, you’ve dreamed of what it would be like to marry Luigi Nicholas Mangione. Not in the grand, cinematic kind of way, but in a way that feels real, something that feels like you. It would be small and intimate, just the way you both would like it. Neither of you would want the chaos of hundreds of guests or the endless pressure to impress. You’ve pictured the kinds of flowers you would want–wildflowers, maybe. Simple and beautiful. The cake wouldn’t be enormous or extravagant, just enough to share a bite and maybe smear a little frosting on his cheek because you know how it would make him laugh. You’d stand in front of the people who matter the most to you–family, close friends, the people who know you better than anyone–and say the words you’ve only dared to whisper to yourself in the middle of the night. You wouldn’t care about fancy centerpieces, gold-rimmed utensils, or which fork on the table is meant for salad.

None of that has ever mattered to you, not really. All you’ve ever cared about is him. Luigi. The way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world meant for him. You’ve thought about how his voice would sound when he finally says the words, “I do.” 

Afterward, there wouldn’t be a massive reception or an over-the-top honeymoon. It would just be the two of you, maybe sitting on the edge of a dock somewhere, with your feet dangling over the water as you laugh about how you almost forgot to exchange your wedding rings. You’d be wearing a white dress you found in the mall on a whim, something unpretentious but pretty, and he would be in a suit he’d probably complain about until the moment he saw you and forgot every reason he ever hated wearing it. 

You’ve always kept those thoughts buried, locked away like a secret too fragile to see light. You had convinced yourself they were one-sided, that you were simply too young to be committed permanently, that he couldn’t possibly want the same thing you did. And now, he’s looking at you with some kind of quiet, unshakable conviction, as if he’s already imagined all of it, too.

“I don’t…think we’re even close to that kind of conversation,” you manage to say, though you sound more uncertain of yourself than you would like. 

“Why not?” he asks, tone impossibly gentle, like he knows how easily you could back off. “What’s stopping us?” 

You can’t answer. Not because you don’t know, but because now, the longer Luigi holds your stare, the reasons feel less and less convincing. Every excuse you’ve told yourself–every hesitation, every fear–feels small in the face of the truth: you’ve wanted this for so long, and now, for the first time, it feels like he might, too. 

You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the soda glass as thought it might anchor you to reality. It’s so silly–he’s proposed to elope in a greasy diner as you two sit at a creaky booth, your ranch streaked fries growing cold on your plate. But the moment feels so undeniably right. 

Luigi’s fingers have already stopped their drumming against his glass. He leans forward, his dark eyes locked on yours, and for the first time tonight, there’s no teasing grin, no mischief. Just him, completely unguarded. 

“Will you?” he asks quietly.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Will I what?” 

“Marry me.” His words are clear and unwavering, leaving no room for ambiguity. “Run away with me. Forget about everything else–what people will say, the rules, the plans. Just you and me, baby. Start out life the way we want, no compromises. What do you say?” 

The question knocks the breath from your lungs. You can’t look away from him, even as your vision begins to blur with tears. Luigi isn’t joking–he’s really asking you. Here, in the middle of this old-fashioned diner, surrounded by the smell of greasy burgers and the clatter of dishes, Luigi is asking you to choose him. 

��Luigi,” you whisper, “are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything else in my entire life,” he says, moving closer to you from over the table. His hand reaches for yours, warm and steady over your own. “I love you, (Name). I want you. Not someday, not at a time where everything feels perfect. Right now.” 

You tremble as the tears finally spill over, streaking down your flushed cheeks. You laugh, shaking your head as if to steady yourself. “You’re crazy.” 

“Maybe,” he agrees, smiling faintly. “So? Will you?” 

“Yes,” you blurt out, soft laughter growing in volume. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Luigi. I’ll run away with you.” 

The smile that breaks out across his face is nothing short of beautiful. Before you say anything else, Luigi stands abruptly, pulling you up from the booth. You don’t care about the strange glances you get from the people surrounding you, just Luigi and the way his hands frame your face. The warmth of his palms as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs leaves you feeling whole. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing against yours. 

“Yes,” you whisper, barely able to contain your laughter and tears mixing into your voice. “A hundred times, yes.” 

He wastes no more time. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s everything at once—gentle and urgent, tender and fierce, a promise sealed between you two. You melt into him, hands clutching the front of his polo shirt, as if you’re afraid he might disappear. But he doesn’t. He stays, grounding you in reality. Sweet, sweet reality. 

When he finally pulls back, he still has his great, big grin on his face. “That settles it, then,” he says, kissing your forehead. “I can’t wait to start my new life with you.” 

“Me either,” you say softly. 

“One last thing,” he says, grin widening, tone light. “Can we get fries to-go?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’ll get milkshakes, too. For the road, of course.” 

He chuckles, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the counter. As you walk, his hand never leaves yours, his pinky ghosts over your ring finger. You realize it then–that this messy, unexpected, perfectly imperfect moment–is the beginning of a fresh start: your happy ending.

[froggibus]

Camping Headcanons - Batboys + Wally West

Includes: Dick Grayson x gn! reader, Jason Todd x gn! reader, Tim Drake x gn! reader, Wally West x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, mild crack

Summary: spend a weekend away from the city camping with your boyfriend

CW: batboys have peak survival skills, Wally is very Wally, lots of classic camping fun

this is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

Dick Grayson:

prefers to camp somewhere off the grid

loves traditional camping and is not at all opposed to just…sleeping on the floor of a tent

can almost definitely set up a tent in two seconds flat—even the jumbo ones that are supposed to take two people to set up

definitely helps that he’s flexible 

if there was a medal for best at camping, he’d probably win it

it's almost annoying how on point his survival instincts are

he can spearfish and does it just to show off

can cook pretty much anything over a fire but if it were up to him he’d just eat soup, burgers & hotdogs the whole weekend

packs 12 pairs of underwear for a weekend of camping

also has insane packing skills, like he could pack 2 weeks worth of supplies in one backpack

even if its not sunny, he WILL somehow tan just from being outside

Jason Todd:

also likes camping off the grid

unlike Dick, he probably prefers sleeping in a trailer or a cabin if he can help it

It’s not that he’s against sleeping in a tent or anything 

but he’s spent so much time sleeping on the hard ground/freezing his ass off that if he can afford the extra comfort, he’ll spring for it

so much more relaxed when you’re camping—it’s almost like he’s a different person

brings about a dozen books to read for like, three days of camping

if you weren’t with him he’d probably read them all too

even if you’re staying in a place with a stove, he INSISTS on cooking stuff over the campfire

a really good campfire cook too—he’ll make you some insane salmon & the most golden toasty s'mores for dessert

dork ass loves telling you scary ghost stories with a flashlight under his chin and everything

all so that you’ll cuddle closer to him that night

lets you wear his comfy clothes and his jacket if it’s cold outside and claims he ‘doesn’t get cold’

Tim Drake:

hard to convince him to leave Gotham for the weekend (mr weight-of-the-world-on-his-shoulders)

threaten to go camping by yourself and suddenly he’ll never leave your side

only camped at fancy resorts/nice cabins before Bruce

really enjoys being off the grid and being self sustaining though

loves those “cooking in nature” tiktoks and probably wants to try them for himself

doesn’t care where he sleeps as long as it has walls—but for you, he’ll get the warmest, comfiest tent or cabin possible

is weirdly prepared for almost any situation AND knows all of your cravings before you even have them

“I really wish we had strawberry marshmallows to make smores with”

“check my green backpack”

brings lots of different card games and WILL beat you at all of them before the trip is over

bring your own secret deck of Uno and watch him have a meltdown wondering how you could possibly have so many +4s

somehow knows exactly what went down with everyone while you were away

Wally West:

he’s like a kid again (as if he ever grew up let’s be fr) 

already has muscle pains from running around so much so at the very least he’s getting the comfiest air mattress ever

but most likely he’ll want to stay in a cozy cabin way off the grid 

with him, no campsite is too far or too remote

cannot cook for shit but will grill you the best burgers and hot dogs ever 

cannot roast s’mores for shit either 

they WILL catch fire and be completely crispy 

offer him one of yours PLEASE

“nah babe, I just really like them like this” 

liar. 

loves loves LOVES campfire cuddles and uses every reason under the sun to cozy up with you

tries to tell scary stories (that he stole from Dick who stole them from Bruce) but ends up freaking both of you out

has to do at least one (1) vigorous activity every day or he’ll be bouncing off the walls all night

has a secret never ending stash of candy on him & shares them with you

packs exactly two pairs of underwear for the entire weekend & is completely unprepared 

however if you forget or need anything else it is a CRIME and he will go get it for you 

manages to stretch a three day camping trip into a week

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | DC Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[mclqren]

WEST END GIRL ★ F1 GRID

PAIRING ✦ alex albon x fem!younger sister!reader ; f1 grid x fem!albon!reader [ implied logan sargeant x fem!reader ]

SUMMARY ✦ your brother and his cohort of friends from the f1 grid come to support you on the first night of your big break in the west end [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ bit of a shorter one :) reader is younger than alex, but it's not specified how old she is. i felt it more fitting to make her perform in the uk, so i made her perform in the west end. reader plays eponine in 'les miserables'. the fc i've used is fah yongwaree, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are closed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, and 3,001 others

yourusername so...this is my life now?? my first night performing is in two days time, and it still doesnt feel real ❤️

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user1 AHHH LES MIS??

user2 wait who are you playing?? im going to watch!!

yourusername eponine!! hope you enjoy urself, its truly amazing! ❤️

user3 no way she's albon's sister...

user4 i knowww she's so glam

user5 how is alex ur brother

yourusername been asking myself that since birth 🤷‍♀️

alex_albon i was born first??

lilymhe my sister, so proud of you ❤️❤️

yourusername love you lils 💓

alex_albon we'll be there, trust!

yourusername who's we

alex_albon don't worry about it 😉

imessages ( alex )

yourusername

( caption one: getting ready for tonight 💓 | caption two: my first show done ✅ after dark ❤️ )

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, and 355,412 others

tagged yourusername, lilymhe

alex_albon got to watch my sister in action today in the west end and wow, is she incredible. watch les miserables right now YOU WON'T REGRET IT 🫵🫵

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user6 SHE'S STUNNINGGG??

user7 RIGHTTT?

user8 omg i saw her she was so goodddd

user9 the albon siblings are talented beyond relief confirmed

user10 I NEED TO GO ASAPPPP

user11 NO SAME

user12 bad time to be living in america rn :(

yourusername it was so fun to see everyone tonight! ❤️

landonorris you were amazing y/n!!

charles_leclerc ^^

user13 DID WE MISS A CHAPTER

yourusername the flowers were gorgeousss who told logan my favs were tiger lilies 🥺

logansargeant just intuition 🤷‍♂️❤️ i'll have to get you them again next time!

alex_albon yeah yeah she's still my little sister back up sargeant

carmenmmundt y/n was truly breathtaking 💗

georgerussell63 agreed ^

yourusername MAMA Y PAPA love you guys💓💓

georgerussell63 we're not that much older than you?

yourusername boo dont care still my parents 👎

liked by alex_albon, charles_leclerc, and 35,312 others

yourusername and you're singing the songs, thinking this is the life!

view all comments

user17 woweeeee that dress was made for youuuu

user18 IS THAT NOT THE PICTURE THAT ALEX POSTED OF YOU ON HIS INSTA

user19 i think it's from a diff angle though hahaha

yourusername ^ yup!!

user20 AMY MCDONALD THIS IS THE LIFE MENTIONED??

user21 the prettiest princess ever

alex_albon photography credits??

yourusername yeah yeah whatever thanks alex

alex_albon no problem!!!!!! 😁😁

logansargeant all those flowers and not a tiger lily in sight

yourusername still waiting for ur tiger lilies mr sargeant!

logansargeant come to miami and i'll give you some 🫡🫡

yourusername might just have to take you up on ur offer!!

alex_albon um guys can we not

yourusername wdym this is purely friendly?!

alex_albon keep the public flirting to a minimum PLEASE

oscarpiastri where are you finding cars with flowers in it

yourusername london babyyyy!

yourusername

( caption one: 🌊🌊 | caption two: crazyyy 😱 )

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, and 44,931 others

tagged logansargeant

yourusername yeah i went to miami but i also got my nails done so what's new really

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user25 miss y/n continues to SERVEEEE

user26 she knows what's up!!

user27 tagging logan on the lilies awww :(

user28 okay but the caption is so real bc the nailsss?? CAN WE HAVE A MINUTE FOR THE NAILS PLEASE

user29 the way we've all decided to just stan alex's sister is everything to me

user30 she IS iconic

lilymhe the way you're wearing my necklace 🥺

yourusername of courseee you gave it to me!!

lilymhe ❤️

landonorris papaya flowers is that a sign or what

yourusername they're TIGER LILIES you idiot and just bc you won doesnt mean im switching sides

landonorris @/oscarpiastri wellll it was worth a try ☹️

logansargeant my flowers made a feature :)

yourusername of course they did i loveee them!

oscarpiastri boo make out already

alex_albon OSCAR I DON'T SUPPORT THAT

alex_albon the red nails im feeling betrayed rn 😔

yourusername switching sides @/scuderiaferrari @/charles_leclerc PLEASE give me a paddock pass thank you!!

scuderiaferrari your wish is our command 🫡

charles_leclerc y/n switching teams 🤣

landonorris oh so you'll switch to ferrari but not mclaren?? okayyy i see

yourusername yeah sorry about that lando 🤷‍♀️

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[nathscalet]

Another smut from my fanfic that will take forever to post

Minors do not interact please 🙏

Dracula x reader

Warning: Pnv, vaginal fingering, oral sex, creampie, female reader, submissive reader?, biting, drinking blood, small aftercare at the end.

Those who sat around Dracula could feel his possessive gaze on you, exuding an aura of danger. They didn't know if the anger was directed at them or at you. But his aura could certainly be felt from afar.

You didn't do a bourslesque show, which could made Dracula end up destroying the couch and consider kidnapping you from the stage.

Oh but you looked so sexy. Eternal even singing that lovely song. When you smiled at him, he felt his throat close, wanting nothing more than to join you on stage.

But there was no openings for him, you were the star of the show.

At the end of the night you drank more champagne, enjoying the frizzy taste. You went to say your goodbye to the king, but he, as a gentleman, and your friend, decided to accompany you home.

Walking you to your house, seeing how you walked bouncing through the light rain without worrying about getting wet and shaking the older man's hand. He was relieved that you accepted his company not wanting to let your vulnerable side exposed for the rest of those hungry wolfs at the club.

Dracula contemplated the cloudy night listening to you hum a song

Im singing in the rain 🎵 "

What a glorious feeling ...

Hum umm huh huh hum

He hated how your silliness affected him.

"Thank you for walking me home your majesty! The night was fun, you should go out more often." You were saying goodbye to the oldest tho he hadn't let go of your hand. Trapped in thought, wrestling with himself, wondering whether or not he should do this.

That feeling that he cautiously caged inside. Those shameful thoughts. And lonely longings of a grieving heart.

"Y/n... I... think... I like you." Dracula said, feeling his stomach fill with butterflies as he revealed his feelings. Feeling naked before you.

"Haha haha ​​Awww how cute! This is the first time you've told me that. My friendship efforts would bear fruit I knew that deep down inside you had a little heart" you couldn’t help but laugh, so out of character of him express his feelings specially towards you, a human girl, a daring woman that “corrupted” his son. ( you taught baby Alucard compassion)

"..." Dracula just squeezed your hand and looked at you like a puppy abandoned in the rain. And he moved closer to you "Y/n I like you a lot." Dracula tenderly brought his hand to your cheek.

"Ha... Wait- are you serious? like more than a friend?" Your heart dropped

"A thousand times more than a friend or student." The silence of the night allowed you to hear your fast heartbeat. How you felt your cheeks heat up

As the rain fell, drenching both of you, the clouds hid the moon, you looked into each other's eyes and slowly got closer.

Dracula slid his hand from her ribs to her waist, bringing her closer, close enough for their chests to touch and they felt each other's breath, and they both slowly got closer until they pressed their lips together.

The kiss had a strong taste of herbs and dry red wine, almost metallic.

The kiss was sweet, uncertain and curious. It started small to shy and progressed until they were both searching each other passionately, unbothered by the rain that was getting thicker by the moment.

You broke apart, panting, as you felt drops of water running down your skin.

"What are we?" You asked breathless

"Friends definitely don't kiss each other like that." Dracula pulled you into another kiss, a safer, more confident kiss.

Your heart racing as your bodies sought each other more fervently. The vampire picked you up and carried you without difficulty to your room, up the stairs of the inn to your room. They were both soaked leaving a trail of rain across the floor. Dracula kicked the door to your room, which he opened quickly and closed with his heel.

He laid you on the bed, placing light kisses on your face, tickling lightly with his mustache. The vampire's hands went up to the collar of his shirt, they had an atypical lightness, taking off his wet blouse and undoing the belt of his pants. Leaving you in just panties and bra.

That man's predatory gaze appeared, seeing your body, there was no denial, he was mesmerized, looking at your imprisoned breasts.

You wasted no time, pulling the vampire back into the kiss, pulling him by the neck. 

You could hear a continuous sound, coming from the someone, resembling a purr.

"How adorable Drac! I didn't know you could purr." He stopped, like a child caught in a cat's jump, before relaxing his body and giving in even more. "And you'll find out more about what I can do. If you're willing?" He placed their foreheads together, looking into her soul. "Do you want to move on (name)?"

A lump formed in your throat, not expecting that question. You were even shy to respond, nodding, as your tongue froze.

"Use your words, dear. Tell me how much you want my touch." Your body vibrated, you couldn't identify if it was from the cold or the heat of your belly. "Don't tell me I finally caught the cat’s tongue." He gave an even more dangerous smile than the one Astarion sent your way.

You snapped out of your trance "I prefer to use actions rather than words dear." You touched the volume between the vampire's legs

"Hmmm." Dracula ran the tips of his nails down your exposed back, causing goosebumps before unbuttoning the lock of the bra, throwing them on the corner of the room. "Aren't you a naughty one? But I won't touch you until I heard you said it, I want your full consent. For what I'm about to do will forever change our relationship."

It was strange. This whole development has happened before, so why did you feel butterflies in your stomach?

"I want you. I want this." You whispered in the vampire's ear

Your hands unbuttoned the dark-haired man's shirt, which revealed a carefully sculpted chest, the top garment falling, and the pants following shortly after.

Dracula's member was thick and long and with a low bush of hair followed by a happy trail.

Before entering into the main act of the night, Dracula didn't just want a simple night of pleasure, this was special.

Dracula gently slid his hand all over your body, feeling and appreciating you from head to toe. You felt a firm, cold and heavy hand squeeze your breasts while a tongue wet your neck making you let out a ticklish moan.

"Don't hold back your voice dear. I want to hear all your sounds until the end of the night"

Dracula held your hands above your head, leaving your neck exposed to his fangs.

Your neck and chest were attacked by a thirsty mouth, you felt Dracula's fangs passing dangerously close to your jugular.

"Allow me?" Do you trust the vampire enough to offer your neck? Do you trust that it won't transform you? A shot in the dark in this moment

You nodded. 

Dracula licked your shoulder, giving you goosebumps, before piercing your skin and sucking your blood. You could feel his body getting hot and limp, and his mind hazy. Your blood also made Dracula even harder, tasting that delicacy, his mind closing in a curtain of pleasure.

You tried to get out from under the brunette, but he blocked your hips with his thighs and applied more force to your arms.

Stopping drinking blood, he licked the wound, like a dog.

"Not so fast. You're too hurried , you're not even ready to receive me.  Let me prepare you."

Drac let go of her wrists and bent down for well, you know 👅👅😺

Dracula slid his tongue out and teased your hole, sliding up and down your folds before moving up, closing his mouth around your clit and ran his tongue along the bundle of nerves.  The sudden attention made you tremble even more with pleasure, your body feeling a current of shock run through it and your hips rotating, seeking more stimulation. 

He wanted to see how much you could take, so he began to suck slowly, drawing delicious moans.  Soon his pace began to accelerate, sucking harder.  You spat out muffled curses, covering your face with one of your arms, feeling the blood rush to your head.

"You taste really sweet." The pussy was like new. Pussy tight ! pussy clean! pussy fresh!

Before you could come, he slowed down.  His tongue now slowly circled the clit, teasing gently, giving you enough pleasure to torture you but not push you over the edge.  You let out a small cry of frustration as your back arched, desperate for a release.

Taking advantage of your restlessness, he snaked one of his arms around your thigh, pulling you up, pressing his face deeper, until your legs were wide apart, resting on his shoulder.

He pressed down feeling the walls of her vagina tightening around his tongue, tasting another one of those lovely nectars that women produce.  He moved his finger experimentally, pulling it out and pushing it back in, making you squirm as he slowly stretched you.

"ah! Drac! Faster!"

"Magic word?"

"Please!"

"Please what?"

"P-please, sir."

"Good girl."

Dracula pressed another finger into her, filling you even more and feeling her walls suffocate his fingers. Meanwhile, your was body on fire and skin tingling, yet everything was perfect. He was perfect.

Vlad was doing perfect, sucking and preparing you at a perfect pace. The orgasm started in the pit of your stomach and blossomed outward, clenching every muscle in your body as heat spread through you.  legs shook as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, enjoying your squirming

Dracula removed his wet fingers, admiring his work "Now you are ready to receive me." He licked his fingers clean, looking down at you.

This man would be insatiable. You concluded silently.

He closed the gap between both bodies, burying himself in your hot, wet pussy, going all the way in smoothly.  You groaned, finally feeling the inner emptiness being generously filled. Drac grabbed your shoulders, slipping his arms around your neck to pull you close.

He kissed your collarbone, tasting your sweat on your skin, feeling your pulse beneath your flesh. Your heart was beating like a drum, meaning he was doing a good job, his chest filled with pride knowing that he was the one giving him this pleasure, his heart then beat excitedly, the electrifying euphoria coursing through his body .

Dracula looked at yours expression, with some tears of pleasure, and mouth open, panting. The exact expression that intoxicated his dreams. One that he kept locked out of shame for his filthy thoughts, but now he had the pleasure of seeing it in person.

Legs wrapped around his waist, breasts bouncing, and that expression of ecstasy. His expression probably wasn't much different, He hadn't felt intimacy like this in so long, when was the last time he had held a woman so fervently? He was lost in ecstasy in her smell, her touch, her taste and muscles. They were so soft and at the same time hard under his hands, her muscular flesh, her pussy like warm velvet wrapped so tightly around him.

Your body was shaking, the carefully and paced movements with his hips weren't enough, Dracula was torturing you with this rhythm. Those pink eyes were twinkling with sadistic pleasure, but two can play. You slid your arms under your daddy's shoulders, letting out several moans in his ear, before biting his ear.

Vlad let out a hoarse moan, feeling goosebumps run through his cold body, he raised his head and looked into your eyes.  Your expression was one of lust, although the sparkle in your eyes was an emotion that no one dared to look at him, care. His eyes darkened, it was impossible to feel more desire than now, the brunette pressed his lips to yours in a frantic kiss, rocking his body inside you in long, desperate movements. 

Finally the pleasure arrived, you could feel each vein of the member pulsing inside you, crushed against the walls of your uterus.

The pleasure that grew was intense, viceral, it could almost burn him from the inside.  He coveted that feeling.  No one had made him feel this way in decades, since Lisa passing, maybe centuries, he’d never met a crazy lad like you before.  How long has it been since he unwind? How much self-control and restraint? How stressed this war made him? You were taking him so well, the perfect toy for reliving stress.

His balls contracted, an intense pressure building in the pit of his stomach that sent shivers down his spine.  He was so close, so close to release, so close to losing himself in this woman.  You felt a excruciating hug caging you as his thrusts became so desperate and sporadic. 

You pulled your lips away from his and let out a moan so filthy and low, warm breath hit his ear and he heard her.  That velvety, pleading voice... so he doesn't stop. How can he deny you if you ask like that?

Years of pent up lust and frustration released all at once came crashing inside you, his cock throbbing with load after load of hot semen inside your spasming walls.  When he came, he felt her legs tighten around his waist as he came, your orgasm adding intensity to his.  He didn't want to stop. Your walls milking him So heavenly, he beloved that was the closest he would get there.

He pulled out a little, letting the liquid drip out. Both of you were panting, the electrifying current still pulsing. Resting your legs on his shoulder, you looked at his disheveled hair, always so neat, now stick on his forehead and neck.

“Drac-“ bending you over. He pushed back in, his body hypersensitive after cumming, cried out in pleasure.

Once again the rhythm of a samba drum returned, this time much wetter, the air in the room was warm from this activity, the rain outside muffled your moans, while Drac held your leg, using it for support, then buried himself deeply, to discharge more cum, rutting into that mess he made inside.

You moaned in shock and the extra sensitivity. You couldn't believe how much there was.  Cum dripping from your pussy, staining the mattress.  He didn't want to stop filling her again and again. 

“Isn’t Thai what you wanted lad?” He whispered with that horsen voice “now you have all my undivided attention.” He trusted harder as he pronauced each phrase

“Drac” you whined feeling your strength leaving you

“So lovely. You’re just perfect. Taking me so well. How long have you thought about me filling you like this honey?”

“Drac!” You dragged your hands on his back

“Yes! Scratch me. Bite me. Moan for me love.” He held your cheeks as he kissed you in a final moment, reaching his own limit

He collapsed on top of you, breathing deeply and enjoying your touch. In his arms he realized he wouldn't let you go. You completed his broken existence. You had to stay with him.  You needed to stay. How long has it been since he felt alive?

You breathed in for a minute trying to assimilate what happened.  One of the most fulfilling sex you've ever had, you lost track of time, after a long time you were on the bottom of a relationship.

Drac turned around and put you on top of him after a few minutes of recovering. He guided his hips against your pelvis.

"Look into my eyes." Dracula commanded you to look into his eyes as you shared each other.

Dracula had a kinky, corruption fetish, he was euphoric seeing your expression when penetrated,that look of lust and surprise mixed with shame.

You let out weak moans as your bodies met.

"I can't do it anymore! Everything is shaking!" It’s was a mess your sex, his member making space spelling and pushing deeper his cum

"Do it honey, just a little longer! You're doing excellent!" Yours hip was left with marks from the brunette's claws. Dracula's chest was not intact either, looking like a crime scene.

Oh but he loved when you squished his pecs. Flustered, unable to control the pacing. Next time he’ll let you control the pace, use him to impale yourself.

You felt your eyes widen and your body fell forward as you felt him penetrating your cérvix.

“Ohh. Looks like I found it.”

You died in bed. Dracula laid there for a while, catching his breath, with you to laid on his chest.

You put your face on his shoulder, already making your way to the crib.

Dracula was stroking your hair and smelling you.

"I think someone needs a shower."

"Naaum! I'm tired, tomorrow I'll take. Let me sleep, you annoying parasite"

"Can you sleep with all your sweat and this coming off you?" Dracula pointed to the middle of your legs that was dripping with liquid.

"You know, I've slept with a gunshot wound to the rib and bleeding out."

Sigh. "Come, I'll carry you." You were taken like a plincesa to the bathroom

Dracula prepared the bathtub for you.

"What it was?"

"Nothing."

“You got something on your scheming mind. Tell me”

"I know. You're looking at me like a dog.?"

"Dog face? What's that face?"

"That face right there. Those low ears, those droopy eyes." You imitated the dog face for him studying his air cheeks

"Ahahahaha. I look like that, do I?" Dracula hugged you from behind.

"Yes. What are you thinking huh?"

"I was thinking about how I managed to be  with someone like you."

"Fufuf kinda late to regret it. I already took your body muhahaha. You're mine now." You let out Machiavellian laughs as you squeezed the sides of the king's face.

"None. I don't regret falling into that fearsome dragon's lair. She's actually quite cute." Drac said, looking at you with eyes so gentle and full of tenderness that you blushed and turned around, sinking deeper into the bathtub. Which made him laugh.

"Am I yours now? Isn't it the other way around? Since I'm the one who captured the dragon?" Dracula pressed you against his chest, kissing your shoulder

"You may have entered the dragon's nest but- you turned around- don't forget that it has sharp claws and teeth, made to devour you whole."- you pulled the brunette by the neck and gave the Vampire a hickey, pulling his hair of the same forcing him to look up and making a humm in his throat.

"How cruel. I thought the dragon lady was docile and silly."

"She is docile when offered offerings. What do you have to offer?"

"All I can offer the dragon lady is my body and soul."

"Then I'll take both."

"How greedy! What will be left for me if you take both?"

One last request. I can make your wish come true."

"Hmm. Then I want the dragon lady to give me her heart."

"Aren't you asking too high, mortal?"

"I wish for a trade." Drac took her hands and kissed the back of them "an exchange of heart."

"Damn you, what makes you think I would give my heart to you? What makes you worthy of such glory."

"I fell in love with the dragon. I am in love with your beauty and intellect, they are as precise as a painitis, as magnificent as the garden of Eden. I would trade my kingdom to be able to spend a night with you, so I could tell the demons that I was in the heavens without never having set foot there."

"Damn you and your lip service for Shakespearean romance!" You pushed your lover's face

"Miss Dragon would not be interested in this exchange."

"My heart for yours. A dragon for a dark being. The exchange seems irrational. Denied!"

"Then... I'll steal it." Drac pulled you into a fit of kisses and tickles.

"BURGLAR!" You applied foam to his mustache. "You won't steal my heart. It is pure and valuable."

"We both know your heart is greedy and relentless."

"Do you think you can satisfy him?"

"I'll do my best." Dracula sealed his lips on yours

After a long bath, you finally got the rest you wanted. Blacked out in bed. The king was at peace and your mind was racing, going over what had just happened. The seduction plan ended up happening by divine will.

[supreme-leader-stoat]

Where does "turn the other cheek" leave Christians in terms of self-defense?

Alright, so, big asterisk up front: we've been arguing about this among ourselves for about two millennia and it shows no signs of stopping. A Quaker is liable to give you a much different answer than a raised-Baptist.

First, some context. The "turn the other cheek" verse is specifically part of the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus takes Old Testament law and raises the ante. The law says not to murder, He tells them not to let their anger overtake and control them to begin with. The law says not to commit adultery, He says not to even look at people with lustful intentions (this is the poke out your eye, cut off your hand passage). The law says that a man divorcing his wife has to give her the legal protections of a certificate of divorce, He says that anything short of cheating isn't valid grounds for divorce to begin with (this has a lot to do with the protections or lack thereof for unmarried women at the time, but that's a whole tangent I won't go into here). The law says to keep your oaths, He says to be such a straightforward and honest person that you don't even need to give your oath to begin with. And so on.

Now, with all that in mind; "turn the other cheek" is Him upping the ante on the segment of Mosaic law that literally gives us the phrase "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." It was half legal prescription on the just punishments for certain crimes, and half laying down the rules and restrictions of what constituted acceptable proportionate retaliation. If someone punches you, you can punch him back. Someone kills your brother, you can execute him. What you can't do is go and slaughter his entire family, because that's how you get blood feuds, and that doesn't end well for anybody.

Looking at it from that angle, "turn the other cheek" is a commandment against retaliation and vengeance, and this is the interpretation I've grown up around most of my life. Someone hits you and you've got the opportunity to walk away, then you take your lumps and go, and you don't stew and think about what you're gonna do to get back at him the next time you see him.

Active and immediate self-preservation is another matter. To the best of my knowledge, there is no clear prohibition in the Bible against such actions; even "he who lives by the sword shall die by the sword" is immediately followed by "Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?" The rebuke isn't for acting in the defense of others, it's for getting trigger-happy when Jesus isn't in any true (immediate) danger and because it's ultimately a pointless fight; Jesus has to go to the cross.

If you'll pardon an older example, let's take a look at Esther Chapter 8. King Ahasuerus gives the Jews leave to form militias to protect themselves and their property against the lynch mobs that would be attacking them as part of Haman's genocide plot, and this is presented to us as an inherently just and sensible course of action.

So, to answer the original question, I don't believe that there's anything wrong with Christians practicing self-defense, "turn the other cheek" notwithstanding.

But.

There's one more thorny patch to consider in this whole argument, and that's the one bit of Matthew 5 that comes after "turn the other cheek": "Love your enemy, and pray for those who persecute you." The safety that Christians enjoy in the modern west is an anomaly both geographically and historically. Christianity is, at its very root, a religion of martyrs. Many and maybe even most of those martyrs have gone to their deaths, if not willingly, then at least peaceably. It's worth noting that we don't tell the story of Stephen, who made a valiant last stand against the mob that tried to stone him. We tell the story of Stephen the martyr. "Lord, do not hold this sin against them."

Honestly, I don't know that I'd have the courage to die like they did. If there's someone who's trying to hurt you, trying to hurt your family, I won't be the one to look you in the eyes and say you have to stand down; I'm already well aware of the decision I'd make in that situation. But from the moment we accept eternal life, our old lives here on Earth are forfeit. Any time that could be taken from us with our death is on loan to begin with. A hypothetical attacker in a self-defense situation isn't guaranteed that same benefit. They might very well have far, far more to lose than we do.

I don't believe Christians are forbidden self-defense, but I think we are expected to weigh the costs.

[the-wanderer]

Netflix has seriously harmed it's reputation with how often it is now cancelling shows. What used to be seen as the go-to service for saving cancelled shows, has now become the very thing it swore to destroy {Hello There Obi-Wan Kenobi reference). Netflix likes to repeat it's standard line that they have never cancelled a successful show, but they conveniently never tell us how they measure success, because this doesn't ring true with their shows like Lockwood & Co and Shadow & Bone, that got to both Number 1 and Number 2 respectively in Netflix's own published streaming charts, and that still wasn't enough to save those shows from cancellation. Also Netflix clearly has favourites in terms of marketing, for example I enjoyed the show Everything Now, but you've probably never heard of it, and I searched Facebook - Netflix did one post about it when they dropped the trailer 3 weeks before it's worldwide release, and that was it; but other shows like Bridgerton, you can't fail to know it's there because they post daily about it on their socials for weeks up to and including release and for weeks after too. You even have actors in a new show saying they have to search their show to find it so they can watch and it's not even advertised on Netflix's own home screen, let alone anywhere else, so no wonder these shows get cancelled as they are never given a fair shot to succeed.

It seems unless you go viral or break Netflix's own streaming records, like Stranger Things or Wednesday, then even getting the number one or number two spot is not good enough to save a program from cancellation. Netflix needs to remember that not all releases are an overwhelming overnight success - even some of the best and most popular shows took a while to find their audience, like Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, The West Wing, The Sopranos, but then when they did find their audience they became what everyone was talking about, and people who had never seen the show, still knew about them from it's impact on the cultural audience. Somebody else said, and I truly believe it, that if Netflix had made Breaking Bad today, they would have cancelled it after two seasons, and then think what great storytelling we would have missed out on, all because the show wasn't a record hit in it's opening week.

And now Netflix finds itself in a self-fullfilling loop where they have now trained their audience to not try new shows and get attached as they'll likely be cancelled. Think about it, how many new shows can you think of on Netflix that got renewed last year. It only seems to be people will tune in for shows like Bridgerton, Emily in Paris, Outer Banks, as they have had time to grow with the characters, so now Netflix has got themselves in to a model where customers don't try a new show, like KAOS or Everything Now, and they'll wait and see if it's renewed, and when after only a month since it's release, it does indeed get cancelled, the consumer hasn't wasted time getting invested in a show & characters that get cut short, especially nowadays when there is so much to watch across traditional TV and now streaming services too, that just because the audience doesn't come running to watch as soon as it drops, doesn't mean it's not there or interested.

2025 see's the return of some of Netflix's biggest shows like Squid Game, Wednesday and Stranger Things, but 2 out of those 3 also end this year too and then what shows will be left that are associated with the Netflix brand - they had Stranger Things, House of Cards, Orange Is The New Black when Netflix first got going, it'll be hard to say by the end of this year what big shows Netflix will have left to draw customers in

Unless Netflix, and the wider industry, change their perception to not only see massive, viral numbers as success and that shows with strong-moderate success are allowed to grow and widen their audience, then there will eventually reach a tipping point where they will cancel one show too many that either customers leave their service, or creatives will decide that Netflix isn't a good partner to work with where you put years of work in writing, filming, producing, editing a project just for it to be cancelled a month after it's release, so if you have a story that needs more than one film or a one and done series to tell it in, then Netflix probably isn't your best bet any longer.

[nipuni]

We went to see Phantom Madrid last weekend!! ❤️ Geronimo Rauch was amazing!! I'm going to write my thoughts on the whole performance under a cut for those interested 😊

I am going to be comparing it to the London version for reference since it's the only one I've seen live. I think my first impression was that It was better than I expected it to be! I read opinions about the Trieste production and I was a little worried but I found that I enjoyed a lot of the things I've seen being criticized.

The stage spinning around was awesome and added so much depth to scenes and made transitions very smooth. The backdrops were very nicely done!

As for costumes I think they were pretty good with the exception of Aminta's dress and the Masquerade costumes being kind of underwhelming.

The singing was good overall, although the translated lyrics are weird sometimes. The main songs translate well but some others become very confusing in Spanish, some wording seems forced and some notes are slightly altered to fit the phrases. Raoul is very calm and soft, maybe a little too much at times, Christine is very neutral and simple. Geronimo was amazing tho no notes!

Now the acting! I have opinions 😫 This show was very Christine and Raoul centric to such an extent that it flattened the plot for me 😬 Christine seems scared and disgusted from start to finish so there is no conflict in her character. She is never torn, she recoils from the phantom's touch during Music of the Night, and during Final Lair she sings the "pitiful creature of darkness" lines looking at Raoul the whole time backing away towards the phantom and steeling herself and only turns reluctantly at the last second to kiss Erik. She comes back to return his ring and just leaves it on the organ stool as soon as he turns around because she's scared to get close to him, when he sings "I love you" she shakes her head at him 🥹 like girl please give us something!!

Geronimo's phantom is a delight tho!! He whimpers, crawls, cries, screams, pants, it's great. He's acting his butt off and is the highlight of the show for me.

A thing that I really liked was in the end when the mob comes Erik is curled up in his bed crying and Madame Giry finds him there and tells him to hide under the covers and leads the mob away from him, I thought it was sweet and transitions into LND nicely.

OH also!! I really enjoyed the Phantom swinging on a rope across the stage during the ballet and Buquet's hanging, it's so good!! the flaming chandelier scene is also good!! in Final Lair they actually hang Raoul in the air which was very nice too! (and with his shirt still on) and even the angel wings and flying that I've seen people hating on was honestly so cool. It didn't look as goofy as I expected it to, it's very smooth and the lighting makes it scary, he casts thunder and flies!! the wings are not very visible since the scene is very dark. The light work was super good in general.

Masquerade and Don Juan were a bit of a let down, much simpler but not bad. I think my main issues were about the choices for Christine really 🤔 and I think some scenes needed more movement, especially the roof one (they couldn't move because they are sitting on a ledge)

The show in general feels a bit one note compared to the West End version but it was good!! I'm just nitpicky 😂 also I want Geronimo's autograph!! I love him 😭

Anyway if you want to see/hear more let me know on discord wink wonk 😁

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Sorry if you’ve already answered this, but what are your thoughts on Wicked? Have you seen the new movie? Any impressions?

You're in luck, anon, I've seen both the play and the movie.

Thoughts on Wicked

Wicked is a very excellent musical and it's not shocking it's survived on broadway and the west end as long as it has and been such a sensation. It has a soundtrack with multiple hit songs, memorable and interesting characters, a compelling story, great set and costume design, and it leans on (in a generally tasteful way) one of the most iconic films American cinema has ever seen.

It is a very good show and I enjoy it immensely.

However, that is to preface, it is also one of the dumbest things I have ever seen in my life.

Wicked is, to those who are unfamiliar, essentially what happens if a Wrong Boy Who Lived fic (in which some other twerp is called the Boy Who Lived, instead of Harry, and Harry is very upset about this for an entire fic) becomes a smash hit musical sensation.

The entire plot is just "but what if Wicked Witch of West never did anything wrong and everyone else is just meeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnn" this requires making Glinda vapid, shallow, power hungry, while also being less talented than Elphaba at magic (read has no magic) because Elphaba has to be her superior in every way now, the Wicked Witch of the East is actually just a bitter old hag who blamed her sister for everything, the Wizard has gotten an upgrade from sleazy con man to sleazy ineffectual dictator, every single character in the original story (except that boring twerp Dorothy) has a deep and complicated history with the Witch of the West, that funnily really doesn't make sense given none of them ever mention knowing who she is (looking at you especially, Fiero the Scarecrow, what the fuck man), and well, I could keep going.

We also get songs to justify the bad things Elphaba did in Wizard of Oz, which we won't show on screen because they were bad, but we'll allude to them. Vaguely. Very vaguely. So, what we're left with is several numbers where Elphaba says "I really fucked up" and her fucking up is... she was tricked into creating Flying Monkeys.

It's a ridiculous show in which we have to explain that everyone sucks to Elphaba/sucks in every way because they're just so stupid (read the Munchkins who are constantly celebrating dead people).

Now, that said, it does have a very compelling narrative about racism via Elphaba as well as the treatment of the animals--but that doesn't also mean it's not about how Elphaba is the most special person alive and even the animal narrative is made secondary to the fact that she is the most specialist person ever.

The Movie

Fantastically done movie, one of the best movie musicals I've seen in a very long time. Casting was spot on, singing was great, choreography was extremely well done, I loved the sets, the costumes, and even the parts that were added in in addition to the play's original material, I thought seeing bits of Elphaba's past and such as well as explaining a little more about how the Wizard got where he is really added to the film.

I recommend seeing it and am looking forward to part two.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

a reminder to all translators: YOU ARE AN ARTIST!

Translation work *is* art, and it's truly incredible what you do and you touch so many more lives than you realize- and often, those who's lives you touch with your translation work never realize just how much thanks they owe you, but from the bottom of my heart I want you all to know how grateful I am for all people in fandom and outside of it who translate things, those who do it professionally, those who do it for fun, what you do cannot be replaced by a machine, yes maybe it can give a literal translation but it cant really offer any of the human experience or creative choices that actual translators put into things! TO ALL MY BELOVED ANIME AND MANGA LOVING FANS ESPECIALLY i want to remind you to show some love to translators who make it possible for us to enjoy our favorite shows, as well as a special thanks to those who make fan translations of anime openings or things that never recieved an english translation! Pokemon fans you guys should get this especially, remember those guide books that answered so many questions we've had in the west that only got translated thanks to fan efforts and translators who were paid to translate some of the earliest guide books? Naruto fans! If you dont know, but you might, theres also a naruto radio show that theres translations for online that we ONLY have acess to because of fans efforts!

Don't get me started on all the people who make translations and EVEN SING THEM! remember how amazing some of those anime song translations and make them *actually singable?* Don't forget that doing that is a very creative act too! and people who translate fan comics!!!! or fanfictions!!!! please! appreciate them! It takes so much skill to translate the experiences of one culture into another, to make it understandable and meaningful across cultural and language barriers and to make it sound good on top of it all.

Tonight I cried reading an old translation of harmonia, one of my favorite naruto endings, it's 15 years old now, and i used to listen to it and sing it (with the help of that translation) with one of my little sisters, and its one of the only happy memories I have from that time in my childhood.

and so many other magnificent translators filled my childhood with wonder and joy, giving me the meanings of songs that changed my view of the world and helped me cope with hardship, and grow into a person i'm very proud of being.

Thank you, you'll never know just how many lives and hearts you touch. You are loved, you are appreciated, and anyone who thinks your art form can be replaced by a machine doesn't understand language well enough or culture well enough to know just how difficult it really is to capture the essence of someone elses art and I think in many ways, translation is a field where that which we call the soul of an art piece is most tangible, and can be most clearly seen, as it takes human experience and conscious choices based on an actual understanding of the real world and life itself to express that which is human in art. thank you, so so much for all you do.

i could go on for hours, but this is all to say, thank you

and if you THINK you can be replaced by machine translation please just go through an ensemble stars fan comic through google translate its utterly incomprehensible-

[stubz]

warning - bad guy wants to kill people and threatens to eat them + ship invasion

General Morbius was one an accomplished soldier. He was ruthless to his enemies, loyal to those who appreciated him, and willing to do anything. He was made for war. The coalition was not, it was made for peace and thus the general was rarely if ever used.

He had been fine with this...until he rejected as captain of the main ship. A tighalax by the name of Nox was chosen instead. Nox was not ruthless, was too hesitant to make the hard decisions, was a runt.

Morbius would not let a runt replace him.

That's when he met Sine Macula, a ruler who stood for everything the coalition did but was not afraid of getting their hands dirty to do so. Morbius respects that and so he fed him information. He got away with this for several months until found out...but not caught. There was not enough proof to charge him with treason and so he laid low. His schedule became tight and rigid, work then straight home. No dawdling or talking...well not to anyone he thought were a real threat.

The human chef from the west side cafeteria, the human who was head of sanitation, the human from the youngling centre, these were the only ones he talked to. They were the only one's who understood him and listened to him. At least that's what he thought.

He had a strange feeling about why the captain's first mate had reduced the amount of tails/watchers on him and so he did some digging. Oh how he longed to rip those filthy humans apart with his teeth...how he longed to watch the life leave their eyes as they gurgled out pleas through blood...

He let them into his home, he let them know of his thoughts and desires, he told them details and secrets, he let them meet his family-touch his family with those filthy dirty hands!!

He has calls to make.

.

The general cruelly smiles as he walks through the halls and sees his former allies escorted into the cargo bay, a temporary jail until they see who is worthy to join and who is to die.

His grin widens as he steps into the command center to see the Captain wrestled to the ground along with the first mate. A muzzle is shoved into the tighalax's mouth. A shock collar is strapped around the petronlic's neck. How lovely.

Growls and curses follow him as he turns around to continue to enjoy the show. He sees dozens of his new soldiers subdue an orc with tasers and guns loaded with rubber bullets. He hopes Fenrir will see his side and join, the orc will be a wonderful soldier.

Disgust crosses his face as he sees the ships tech supports throuple make the most offensive and crude gestures to him as they're dragged to the cargo bay. How Quip ended up Glip and Kal he'll never know.

..

"So we have everyone?"

"Not yet General, we're missing 30."

"30? How was I not made aware of 30 missing crew members??" he sneers grabbing the soldier by the shoulder.

"They weren't high priority-!"

"Well they are now since you lost them! Who did you lose?!"

"Th-the youngling centre sir!"

"...the youngling centre?" he whispers.

"Y-yes, sir."

"...you lost the youngling centre? The very centre run by the disgusting humans who betrayed me?"

"Well find them right away sir-!"

"You have two hours or I'll be using your bones as the broth for my diner tonight." he releases the soldier who sprints away to his team.

...

Kim knew she was going to die if they were found. The younglings would be most likely safe, Max too if he didn't fight back, but her? She would be killed.

When Captain asked her to spy on Morbius she did so without really thinking of the danger. She wasn't going anywhere dangerous, she would just talk to him whenever she him in the ship. Just talking, easy!

But then he actually opened up to her and that's when she realized how dangerous he actually was. The 'jokes', the wishes, the cracks that let her see who he really was...it scared her. And she couldn't do anything but grit her teeth and smile.

She was still safe though. They never met off the ship. She rarely actually talked about herself, he did all the talking, she never let anything slip.

But Morbius had still found out. He had found out, played along, and now the ship has been taken over.

They've done this before, her and Max, and therefore already had a plan. Lock the door, close the blinds, turn off the lights, hide in the supply room in the secret room and block the door. No one make a sound.

Hours pass and they do their best to keep the children quiet. Do their best to take their minds off the shouts, blasts, and shots fired with whispered stories and reassurances.

By the fifth hour, she knows because Max counted to keep himself calm, all is quiet. Kim hates it. She wants to leave, she can't breathe, her heart is too loud, she-

The tiny door opens.

Standing there before the group of 30 is a youngling. Standing between them and their fate is Morando. The General's son.

The youngling's mouth opens.

....

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Morbius roars, sirens blaring throughout the ship nearly drowning out his voice.

"Sir! There is a fire in the youngling centre!" a soldier screams directing his comrades towards the fire.

"AND WHY ARE YOU PUTTING IT OUT?! WE'RE BLOWING THIS SHIP UP THE SECOND WE LEAVE!!"

"Your son is there sir!"

General Morbius is many things. A killer, a soldier, a liar, a betrayer, but in that moment he was only a father. And fathers' love their children.

"Kill the one who was supposed to watch him. All available soldiers with me. If my son dies I will skin you all and eat you whilst you still breathe."

General Morbius loves his child and if his child dies he will kill everyone and anyone who contributed to it.

.....

General Morbius loves his child. Morbius loves his child. He would kill for him. Die for him. And in this case forgive him.

The fire was a diversion. His son was not in any danger. His son was tricked by the disgusting humans.

Morando had found them while looking in the supply room for a toy to play with after having given his escort the slip. His son had intended to alert him, call for reinforcements. But the humans had used their silver tongues to trick him.

One last meal they said. Humans were given one last meal before defeat, before death. Morando had seen no issue with this, he respected Kim and Max, they had given him much fun and amusement.

The final meal involved fire but since the centre's kitchen was partially destroyed they asked to use Fure, a fyreian. Morando agreed once again.

They cooked, involving all the younglings, even Morando. They sat down together and ate, inviting Morando, giving him his own plate. Kim begged him to let her tell one last tale before capture, he allowed.

The comradery, a warm meal, a tale catering towards his son's taste...the humans were not as foolish nor soft as he had thought.

They lulled the youngling into a false sense of security before capturing him. Tying him up, his son. Gagging him, his child. Carrying him like a sack over their shoulder, his flesh and blood. Setting the fire and leaving Morando's shawl just outside the door to make it look like he was in there, trapped, burning...a brilliant plan.

With how little soldiers there were in the cargo bay they managed to sneak in and free their crew mates. How the orcs, rextalians, tighalaxes, and other apex species fought.

It was a swift defeat. They had taken control of the ship whilst he was distracted by the fire. They had the armory now. They had called in reinforcements. They had Morando. What else could he do but surrender?

Humans are so much crueler than others give them credit for. A species who have mastered trickery to such a degree that younglings are not even safe from them.

[estellardreams]

The Brotherhood

The New Past AU by @lululocomo

The ask on the brotherhood showing up with MK helping gave me a bit of material to work with on how it would go, however... I came across some art on an idea and now Imma see where this goes

Hope you enjoy :)

Mk was not expecting the strike to be so... Brutal. Granted, his memory was a touch fuzzy on journey to the west. He hadn't reread it in a while, especially the passage on the pilgrims sealing up the brotherhood.

But now, he was here... Approaching their kingdom, riding behind Wukong and Macaque on the nimbus back to Tripitaka and everyone else.

"Alright, we're here." Wukong leapt off the cloud, helping Macaque and MK down with him.

"Thank you. Though I must ask, why did you bring your son along?" Tripitaka asked.

"I wanted to come with! I... I have something I need to do here, too." MK quickly piped up.

"Ah. Very well, then."

"I feel like we should revise our plan so we don't accidentally get ambushed." Ao Lie spoke up.

"Nonsense! It's totally fine!" Wukong said proudly.

"No, I agree with him. We should rethink this because your plan of pretending we're bait is..." Macaque trailed off.

"Really bad." MK winced.

Wukong groaned. "Then what do all of you suggest? I'm trying to find a way to get us inside without being detected as threats!"

MK's ears perked up, his gaze drifting up to the kingdom. His eyes narrowed, seeing more than three figures roaming the streets.

"Do you guys know it's not just the brotherhood there?" he asked.

"Wait, really?" Wukong snapped to look at him.

Mk pointed to the multiple figures gathering at the edge.

But three seemed to tower over the smaller ones.

"Brother! So glad of you to join us! Have you finally come to your senses?" Azure declared.

"What's the plan?!" Baije hissed.

"Don't worry, I got this!" Wukong piped up.

"Of course I have! After all, I have captured my fake friends for all of you!" he called back.

"WHAT?!" nearly everyone exclaimed.

"Are we seriously going with this plan?!" Macaque questioned.

Peng flew down to them, circling around them. "Then why are they not in chains? Why do you still have their controlling crown on?"

... Shoot he didn't think of that.

"That's just a glamour, okay?"

"Then drop it."

Wukong paused. He knew that he was basically screwed in trying to remove his entire glamour, especially since it was noticeable how the swirls appeared for concealing over dissipating.

"Excuse me?" Tripitaka spoke up.

"We do not mean your kingdom any harm. Please, come with us. I'm sure we can talk through this in a civilized manner-"

"Oh, the little monk wants to be good guy now?" Peng snarked.

Mk scowled, trying to hide his expression.

"And this boy... You brought a child with you? How idiotic can you be?" he hovered right up to MK's face.

"Not idiotic enough to miss." he summoned a staff of golden shadows before slamming the blunt end right in front of Peng's face.

He fell back a little, brushing over his beak.

"You little brat!" he snarled, flying back up to the kingdom.

Mk breathed, keeping a tight grip on his staff.

Some of the crowd began to vanish, but a good chunk of them remained.

"So. All of you are trying to deceive us?" Azure began.

"... You're no better than those celestials and their empty promises." a huge blast of a swing came flying at them.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Macaque yelled, using his shadows to force everyone out of the way of the strike.

"Oh, it's on! Let's finish this!" Wukong summoned his staff, charging at the kingdom.

"DAD! WAIT!" MK ran after him.

"KID!" Macaque chased after the two of them.

"All of you, go. I'll stay behind in case any of you need support." Tripitaka said.

"No, I'll keep you safe Master." Ao Lie shifted his form back into a dragon, scooping their group up before flying to the top.

The moment MK arrived, he was bodyslammed into by Yellowtusk. He skidded back, planting his staff into the ground.

The hammer came crashing down over him, causing him to leap out of the way.

Azure knocked Wukong back, making him collide into MK. Macaque quickly caught the two using his shadow portal, repositioning them back up as if nothing happened.

"Brother. They've brainwashed you, haven't they?" Azure started.

"No, they didn't."

"They're using you! Turning you against us! What happened to rising up against their injustice?"

A dragon crashed directly into the three, sending them flying. The other demons on standby froze, weapons and armor nearly ready.

Ao Lie transformed back to normal, catching Tripitaka, Wujing, and Baije before they all fell.

"Ah! Thank you, Ao Lie." Tripitaka softly thanked.

"How many people even are there?!" Baije yelped, noticing the small army of demons preparing their weapons.

Mk frowned, contemplating their options.

"I have an idea since we're all here. Tripitaka, I think you should stay somewhere out of reach for defense and healing. Ao Lie, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing, how about you help us deal with that army over there?"

"But what about you three?" Wujing asked.

"We can take on Azure and the others. Don't worry!" Wukong said.

"... I can work with that." Baije held onto his enchanted rake. Wujing slipped his crescent staff off his back, positioning it.

Ao Lie flew Tripitaka up to a roof behind a building, mostly out of sight.

"Stay there, please." he whispered. Tang nodded, holding his Khakkhara tightly.

The Brotherhood slammed right back down into the center, Azure slamming his blade down as streams of energy strikes flew past the monkeys.

They quickly dodged, leaping out of the way. Yellowtusk struck his hammer into Macaque, sending him flying.

"BABA!" MK screamed.

"I'll go after him!" Wukong said.

"No you WON'T!" Peng forcibly pinned Wukong to the ground.

Macaque collapsed to the floor, heaving a little as the elephant towered over him.

Mk gritted his teeth, noticing Azure preparing his sword again.

He needed to act fast.

Wukong knocked Peng off of him, holding back the bird. Peng leapt back, firing his feathers at him.

Wukong spun his staff, deflecting whichever ones came to him. One suddenly pierced through his shoulder. He fell to the ground, gripping his arm as he pried it out.

The blade nearly missed MK. He fell back, avoiding another blow as it crushed the ground beneath him.

"My patience is wearing thin!" Azure yelled, continuing to swing his blade towards MK.

He kept ducking and dodging, letting himself fall through a shadow portal. He rose right out from behind Azure, sweeping him off his feet with a kick.

His sword flew into the air. With one move, MK leapt up and kicked the blade far away.

He landed back on the ground, his tail swishing behind him. He snuck a glance at the others, who seemed to be handling the small demon army quite well.

His staff was torn out of his hands.

Mk froze, seeing Azure snap his weapon in half with ease before punching him.

Mk quickly ducked, avoiding a kick from the lion. He bolted towards his dad's, only to get yanked right back by the torso and thrown into the pilgrims.

"Xiaotian?!" Wujing exclaimed, panicked. He quickly helped MK to his feet.

"I refuse to be brought down by the celestial warriors." Azure growled.

Wukong launched himself from the ground, forcibly tackling Azure to the ground. The lion wrestled the monkey off of him, throwing him to Yellowtusk, who was carrying Macaque on his shoulder.

"NO!" MK cried out. He gritted his teeth, summoning his staff again. He charged at the lion, who's gaze shifted to him mere inches away.

His paw swung.

Claws gleamed.

Time seemed to move too still for him.

MK's breathing hitched, his ears ringing, his body feeling stuck.

And then... It sped right back up as the claws connected to his face.

"KID!!!"

"CUB!!!"

"XIAOTIAN!!!"

Screams echoed through his ears as Mk fell backward, landing on his side.

Macaque gritted his teeth, shadow portaling out of Yellowtusk's grasp. He ran to MK's side, kneeling down to him.

Mk panted, blood splattering on the ground.

Wukong broke out of the elephants grip as well, rushing to MK's side.

The small monkey's fingers traced over his face, blood staining his paws.

He froze, staring at his dad's wide eyed.

"A-Are you guys okay...?" he softly asked, his hand tracing along the claw mark over his left eye.

Macaque gently cupped his cheeks before pulling the kid into a hug.

"H-huh?"

"Wukong. Get the scroll."

Wukong's gaze shifted between his mate and cub. He sighed, moving so fast the brotherhood couldn't catch him. He ducked behind the building, taking a breather.

"Master, I need the scroll. Now." he said.

Tripitaka nodded, passing the scroll of memory to him.

Ao Lie, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing quickly surrounded Macaque and MK, with Tripitaka forming a barrier around them.

"What?" Azure questioned.

Wukong's gaze landed on him first... Sharp, yet hollow. He let the scroll fall open, it's curse shooting out through its incantation.

Clawed hands shot out and grabbed him, dragging him inside the scroll. Peng quickly flew up to leave, only for the tendrils to snag him down from the air and drag him inside as well.

Yellowtusk charged to take the scroll from him, only to get sucked in as well. Wukong tossed the scroll up and sealed it back up. Tripitaka finally came out of hiding, having the scroll passed to him.

"Bud... Are you okay?" Wukong gently pulled MK over to look at him.

Mk stared up at him, wide eyed.

"Why can't I... See?" he asked, confused.

"Oh, buddy..." Wukong pulled his cub into a close hug. Macaque joined them again, holding MK close.

"It hurts..."

"I know it does, bud... But it's... I-it's okay..." Wukong gently assured him, stroking his fur.

But when he met Macaque's gaze, he knew it was not okay at all.

Their little cub had just been blinded.

[insanityclause]

On a cold evening in London, two German tourists survey the Theatre Royal Drury Lane. Lina, 19, outlines their master plan to meet Tom Hiddleston, starring in Much Ado About Nothing. Tonight: scrutinise the procedure at stage door, where only ticket holders are allowed to wait for a chance to meet the cast. Tomorrow: watch Much Ado then race to join the stage-door queue. As a backup, they’ve bought tickets for the next night, too.

“Be prepared!” Lina declares. Are they hoping for autographs, selfies … acting tips? “Just to see him. That would be enough. We especially travelled here for this. It’s all worth it. I just worry a little that he hasn’t much time.” She considers the arriving fans. “Wow – that’s a very big line.”

Near the front is Lilly, 22, who saw the first half of the play then opted to join the queue rather than watch the rest. (“I’ll read up on the story afterwards!”) A dozen others in the queue have also not watched the full show tonight. Lilly is rehearsing what to say to Hiddleston and co-star Hayley Atwell, who are both returning to theatre after Marvel blockbusters. They’re quite the draw: the theatre fits about 2,000 and most performances have practically sold out. Five minutes after it ends, there are 125 people waiting at stage door.

When Atwell emerges, her beaming smile is visible from the other side of the street where those without tickets are asked to stand. Passersby stop to stare; crowds swell. Still no sign of Hiddleston. “He’s probably having a poo,” says someone behind me.

You might think the curtain call signals the end of the night for actors but there remains the final act at the stage door, where fans have always lingered. Opposite the Theatre Royal is the tiny Fortune theatre, where cheers are greeting cast members for musical comedy Operation Mincemeat. I meet Liz, 29, who has seen the show several times and has brought flowers for Madeleine Jackson-Smith, debuting in a new role. She’s waiting “to tell the cast that they did a phenomenal job … that just feels polite!”

Meanwhile, here comes Hiddleston, albeit to milder whoops than the Mincemeat cast. Like Atwell, he chats, signs, poses for pics. He must have done at least 100 autographs by the time he leaves to cries of despair from a queue now snaking around the corner. But there are no complaints from Lilly, who is buzzing from her encounter.

That’s the magic of stage door, where gratitude goes both ways. Layton Williams, currently in Titanique at the Criterion, tells me he’ll go out almost every night, “no matter how tired I am”. He thanks fans, some of whom he has known for years, and enjoys hearing what the show means to them. Lucie Jones says she encounters people “whose lives have been changed” by a show and has been “humbled” by terminally ill fans saying thank you on a final trip to the theatre. When Renée Lamb meets fans at stage doors in Liverpool, where she grew up, it is especially evident that “I’m essentially doing their dream – that was me at one point”. When she was younger, Lamb waited for Cynthia Erivo at stage door: “She had so much time – she was so gracious.”

Zoe Birkett, currently in the Tina Turner bio-musical at the Aldwych, says she appreciates how fans “make the effort to find the stage door – which can sometimes be right the way around the building, down an alley” and that they wait for her. “After I play Tina, I have a cool down, a shower, take off my wig and makeup, get my food ready. I can take about 20 minutes to come out. Just to see them waiting, come rain or shine, with positive feedback, is wonderful.”

But some fans aren’t here to flatter. “People can say rude things,” Williams tells me. “One person would say, ‘Oh we’re loving this but just so you know, we thought that TV show was shit.’ I’m like, how about kiss my arse?” Jones has fielded detailed critiques and requests to “sing this note that way” or “do that line like this”. Lamb says a lot of her friends don’t do stage door any more because it makes them too anxious.

Sometimes Jones will come out “and there’ll be nobody there,” she says. “The next night, there’ll be 100 people wanting you to sign their programme and make videos for their nan’s cat.” The security provision is equally unpredictable. When she starred in Waitress: The Musical in the West End, Jones was assisted by “a wonderful man” who accompanied her to her car or train home. At Les Mis, “there’s always a security guard and they stay until you’re done”. But stars can go from receiving a standing ovation in the spotlight to single-handedly controlling crowds themselves outside. Bear in mind they will be physically and emotionally drained – sometimes having done two shows that day.

Stage doors may open out on to busy streets. Birkett enjoys playing Wolverhampton Grand – “love the people, love the theatre” – but it is right in the town centre. “If you’re there on a Saturday, you’ve just got to be a bit more cautious.” Williams says that at some of the more exposed stage doors: “You get drunk people walking by. People push in. I’m like, ‘Can you see this queue? Come on!’ It should never come down to the actor to say these things.” Ultimately, says Birkett, actors “walk out of stage door on to a dark street and hope that people are going to be nice”.

Personal boundaries are not always respected. “Everybody has a horror story, I’ve been pulled and shoved,” notes Lamb. Williams says: “One person hugged me from behind and pulled in. I’m like, ‘Oh, my Adam’s apple – you’re literally strangling me.’ When I’ve seen that person again, I’m like, ‘Please, stand back.’” The positives outweigh the negatives, he says, “but if you think you’re taking the piss you probably are”. For those who come to see him perform eight times a week? “Don’t think we need to be doing stage door eight times a week … How much time do you need to be around one person? If I’m seeing you more than my mum or my boyfriend, we have issues!”

All these actors deeply appreciate their fanbase. Birkett finds that “people want to cuddle me and feel the embrace … I do love that but I will always wear a mask to make sure I don’t catch a cold.” She says it’s often younger fans who seek “some sort of physical connection – they want to go: are you real? … Because you’re so different to being on stage when you walk out of stage door.” On the odd occasion, someone has wanted to touch her hair. “I kind of have to go, ‘No, I don’t want to do that.’”

In the US, the term “stage-door Johnny” dates back to at least 1890, referring to men who hang around playhouses, targeting female performers. All actors face the danger of inappropriate behaviour. In 2023, Paul Mescal told a fan to “take your hand off my ass” after she groped him at the Almeida when he was in A Streetcar Named Desire. (Mescal recently took his own film of the celebratory atmosphere at stage door after Streetcar’s last night in the West End.)

The “fear factor” remains for actors, says Jones. Like “when you get followed to your car or someone will tag you in something on social media and they’re really near your house. That may be a coincidence but you have to live slightly on edge because we are accessible and we do take the same routes home. Where does the duty of care from the theatre stop?” Lamb was in the West End cast of long-running hit Six, “which is essentially an accessible girl band – people are going to want to be close to that”. On a big show, she says, “people do expect to be able to meet you”.

When Williams discovered fake social media accounts made in his name, he asked himself: “Have I seen this person at stage door? It’s scary.” One time, an autograph hunter followed him back to his digs and “put a programme literally under the door. It was like 1am or 2am. I was on tour in Newcastle, all by myself.” He still looks over his shoulder after a show, thinking: “I hope someone’s not followed me.” Unfamiliarity with your surroundings means it can be frightening on tour, says Lamb. Birkett has heard of “young dancers who are walking for bloody miles to their digs” after leaving stage door.

“Sometimes this can be reduced to a sort of ‘stars’ issue,” says Paul W Fleming, general secretary of Equity, the performing arts and entertainment trade union. It not only affects celebrities, he says, but also “people who are on the minimum wage” appearing in a musical with a huge following. Some fans, he says, are “treating them as props or characters that aren’t real human beings with lives. They’re working people who are members of a trade union, who have every right to dignity at work.” It is indicative, he suggests, of how society generally views the performing arts as not serious.

Many performers choose not to make stage-door appearances. On the opening night of The Fear of 13 at the Donmar Warehouse, there were signs saying Adrien Brody would not do so. Hannah Essex, co-CEO of the Society of London Theatre and UK Theatre, points out: “Actors, like everyone, need to prioritise their health and wellbeing and may not always be able to stop at the stage door. Understanding this helps create a supportive environment for all.” Essex adds: “Theatres are committed to ensuring a positive experience for both staff and the public by working closely with relevant authorities to manage stage-door interactions effectively.”

What practical measures may help? Barriers are common on Broadway but Birkett says that with the influx of A-list stars in the West End they may be seen more here – and they make it “less likely that you’re going to get grabbed” says Lamb. But barriers are “not appropriate in every situation,” says Fleming. “We’re talking about Victorian, Georgian buildings in some cases [with] quite weird back alleys.”

Fleming says the situation at stage doors around the country has been exacerbated by “an asset stripping of the industry, with massive multinational corporations purchasing venues, not having an interest in the industry itself but having an interest in profit and so driving down terms and conditions”.

He highlights the problem of performers handling crowds themselves after shows. “You’re not paid an hourly rate for that. But equally: is the security guard on the minimum wage? There’s a great temptation to sort of pit worker against worker. Very often [the security guards] are people who have never watched a theatre production themselves. They are not permanently employed by the theatre. They’re going off and being a nightclub bouncer somewhere else. They’re on a zero-hours contract. Whereas in the past, our members would have been on much more stable contracts and the theatre would have employed a stage-door team – a stage-door keeper [who oversees staff coming in and out, handles deliveries and has other duties] plus someone to do security.”

A permanent stage-door team, says Fleming, is more likely to “understand the fans and have a bit of a rapport”. That nuanced understanding might alleviate the dismissive responses when members of the ensemble come out as opposed to the lead actor. “People who work their tails off, but maybe don’t necessarily have a following, will come out of stage door, says Jones, “and they are greeted with: ‘Oh, do you know if so-and-so is coming out?’”

Jones has also found herself handed photos she is proud of but now deems inappropriate to sign. “I did a Wonderbra campaign when I was about 18. You get the occasional guy come and say: ‘Can you please sign these eight photos of teenage you in underwear?’” Lamb says she has been mistaken for other actors of colour at stage door – another reason some performers might think twice about going out, “especially if you’re doing a job that requires being vulnerable”.

Birkett says that you can’t fully switch off until you’ve done stage door. “As soon as you walk out, there’s going to be cameras, you might be live on someone’s TikTok.” As a teenage contestant on Pop Idol, she became used to the paparazzi: “But I think if you’re a new actor, it’s probably traumatic. You don’t sign up for that. You’re signing up to play a role because you love acting.”

The stage door is where fandom, fuelled by the razzle-dazzle of theatre and 24/7 social media activity, butts against real people’s prosaic lives. “Ninety-eight per cent of the time fans aren’t trying to overstep or be malicious,” recognises Lamb. But Fleming gives a pertinent account about an actor experiencing bereavement on tour, returning to the show after time off. “They leave the stage door with their headphones in. They don’t want to talk to anybody. This is an actor playing a secondary character, chased down the street by fans concerned to know where they have been for the past three shows.”

Better understanding of the fan culture, he said, could have predicted and defused the incident. “Because this particular group of fans are going to be interested, they think they’re your friends. And that’s part of the magic of theatre – creating a world that is so special, that people believe it to be true.” But at the end of the day – or the end of the night, on a fast-emptying street in an unfamiliar town – “our members have a right to feel safe in the real world”.

Layton Williams is in Titanique at the Criterion theatre. Renée Lamb is in Radiant Boy at Southwark Playhouse. Lucie Jones is in Austenland at the Savoy theatre. Zoe Birkett is in Tina at the Aldwych theatre.