#Blue and Red make one massive Purple

[ellebellekm]

GOOD OMENS ENDING SPOILERS (only text, no pics or gifs)

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On which characters are right, wrong, equally so, and why our current least favorite character did what he did, and why it’s all going to work out in S3…

Both Crowley and Aziraphale are equally right, and both Crowley and Aziraphale are equally wrong.

Crowley is right that heaven and hell are toxic, and that neither of them needs heaven or hell.

Crowley is wrong in thinking they should run away from it all.

Aziraphale is right that they need to continue protecting humanity. They need to NOT run away, and help.

Aziraphale is wrong about the fact that the best way to do that is through the power of heaven.

The other thing they both get right is acknowledging that they need each other. (They just need to overcome the differences in their “Exactly’s” again, as it were.

And they will. This is just the end of act 2. This is intermission)

ALSO. I definitely suspect that the Metatron conspired to split up Aziraphale and Crowley for this very reason: together, they are extremely powerful. He took note of that 25 Lazerii half-miracle they performed. Imagine what might happen of they tried to do a full blown show-stopping time-bending miracle together to save the world? He knows that if heaven and hell tried to go against the two of them together… well, Aziraphale and Crowley are just too OP.

[anotherpapercut]

I'm seriously having to resist so hard the urge to block everyone on this website over that math color post. if you think math is red I'm sorry but you're wrong and you're going to math hell also. forever.

[andromedasummer]

hav used my birthday money 2 buy clothig :)

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[wifeyoozi]

Lee jihoon - Popsicles for dessert

w.c : 1.5 k ┊ synopsis : jihoon's tired of all the pink underwear teasing and shows you he doesn't wear one┊ content warning : smut , bestfriends to lovers kinda , blowjobs , big dick jihoon , really big dick jihoon

a/n : aka the prompt ask y'all had been waiting for is finally here. Crack and smut.

 It's all because Soonyoung.

He started it.

The whole pink underwear drama. Jihoon, for the fact, does NOT wear pink underwear. Maybe he wore them once for the sake of one of his ex’s kinks. But he doesn't own pink underwear. There's black and there's dark grey and there's dark blue. A red one for when he's feeling extra freaky. Nothing pink.

And yet all of this fuss and teasing. And it was still bearable when it was just the boys teasing him.

But then you caught on that inner joke. Well, more specifically, soonyoung told you. On purpose. Knowing how big of a crush Jihoon had on you, his best friend. And you found that funny too. And then you started teasing him about it. And he's so embarrassed. 

And today it happened again. You two were just discussing your lives lately, and you told Jihoon about all the new make up you bought recently and how much you love that pink lipstick you got from your favourite brand. A sudden shit-eating grin spread across your face and Jihoon instantly knew where this was headed to. 

“You know, Jihoon, what else is pink”

Jihoon groaned, “oh my god, not you too! Not again!"

You giggled at his reaction, “your underwear Jihoon! You wear pink underwear, don't you? Little pink panties?”

Jihoon groaned, burying his face in the throw pillow on the couch. As you continued teasing him, he snapped. 

“God, y/n, I don't wear pink underwear,” he whined loudly, suddenly standing up, “should I show you or something?”

Your eyebrows quirked. “Why not, show me the proof.” There was a glint of mischief in your eyes. Jihoon should have known this was a bad idea. But he was tired of all the teasing already. He hastily untied the knots of his grey sweatpants and pulled them down to his thighs, revealing his slick black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. 

Your eyes widened. And the colour of his underwear wasn't the reason. It was the big bulge at his crotch which you couldn't take your eyes off. Your mouth watered at the sight. “God, Jihoon,” you were speechless. 

Suddenly shy again, Jihoon attempts to pull his pants back up, but you stop him, your hand on top of his as you move closer. He definitely has a really big dick hidden in there for the bulge to be that big.. And he wasn't even hard. Well, yet.

Your free hand moves and cups his crotch. Jihoon flinches but doesn't push you away. Instead, a soft moan leaves his throat before he could think. “Y/n what are you-”

“What fucking monster kind of dick you have in store here, Hoonie,” you can feel his dick come alive under your hand, the bulge growing as if it wasn't massive already. You palm him through his boxers. His hands fly to hold your wrist, stopping you. He really will just cum already if you keep doing that. You look up at him with a pout. 

“I want it,” you demanded, as if you were a little girl asking for candy or ice cream. Not able to hold himself back, his hand briefly looses over yours and you take the opportunity to instantly pull down his boxers, freeing his cock as it springs up, hard under your attention. 

“Oh my god, hoonie, it's so pretty,” you say, taking Jihoon's cock in your hand, examining it as though it was your first time seeing one. It was a pretty thing indeed, thick and long and only slightly darker than his fair face. It was a pretty shade of pink at the top and the purple veins prodded throughout the length. Its shape was just perfect, not too wonky or long and drippy or ugly. It was the kind of dick every girl sees in her dreams and every artist draws for their characters.

Jihoon, on the other hand, was trembling. Two minutes ago, you two were bickering. Now you had his dick in your hand. A shudder passed through his spine and he let out a whine as your tongue suddenly lapped over his head. “Y/n, you-”

“Shh, baby, sit down on the couch. I cannot stop myself from tasting this cock.” It was like you were hypnotised by his cock and he by you. He sat on the couch, his underwear and sweatpants pooled at his ankles. He opened his legs wide, giving you space to kneel in between as you take hold of his cock again. 

You lick over the length again, dragging your tongue along the veins, making Jihoon moan and groan and grab a fist of your hair. You loved when he pulled, the sting making your panties damp. You take the tip in your mouth whole sucking on it slowly. 

You try to take his dick deeper in your mouth, holding your breath as you do, before his cockhead touches the back of your throat, and it's just half way there. You forced your gag reflex to soften as you took him as deep as you can, wrapping your hand around the rest of it. You suck on it, hollowing your cheeks, feeling encouraged by all of the filthiest noises you head jihoon make. 

His hands grab your head, not pushing or pulling, but just holding it as a support as you commit yourself to giving the best blowjob you might have ever given. Your pussy feels so wet at the thought of taking this monstrosity in it. You can't take him today. You're gonna need training for it. But jihoon will help you stretch out for him. And then he'll fuck you till you can't think about anything other than his dick and how well it's fucking you. Your clit throbs. God, you're so cockdrunk over him.

Your other hands come to play with jihoon's balls, who seem big and heavy from his cum. He's close already, you can tell. So you suck on it till he's cumming down your throat with a whiny shudder, his hips tutting up in your mouth reflexively. You drink in all of his cum, the bitter-sweet malty taste making you only want more. 

Jihoon's panting. He just recieved what would be the best blowjob of his life. God, you should be put in a porn film with skill like that. His head falls back, catching a breath, as you climb on his lap, giggling as you lean in to kiss him. It's messy and wet and filthy, but he loves it. He could still taste himself on you. He wraps his arms around your waist.

It's all because of Soonyoung. 

He started the pink underwear rumours, spread it to you, had you tease him and it led to this. He's thankful to his best friend for it, but he wouldn't say it. He might write a nice song for him though as a thank you.

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.

[reasonsforhope]

"Expanding freedom and opportunity to millions

Over a decade ago, researchers, policymakers, journalists, and individuals and family members harmed by prisons and jails helped define American mass incarceration as one of the fundamental policy challenges of our time. In the years since, policymakers and voters in red, blue, and purple jurisdictions have advanced criminal justice reforms that safely reduced prison and jail populations, expanding freedom and opportunities to tens of millions of Americans.

After nearly forty years of uninterrupted prison population growth, our collective awareness of the costs of mass incarceration has fundamentally shifted–and our sustained efforts to turn the tide have yielded meaningful results.

Since its peak in 2009, the number of people in prison has declined by 24 percent (see figure 1). The total number of people incarcerated has dropped 21 percent since the 2008 peak of almost 2.4 million people, representing over 500,000 fewer people behind bars in 2022. Absent reforms, more than 40 million more people would have been admitted to prison and jail over this period. The number of people on probation and parole supervision has also dropped 27 percent since its peak in 2007, allowing many more people to live their lives free from onerous conditions that impede thriving and, too often, channel them back into incarceration for simple rule violations.1

"Absent reforms, more than 40 million more people would have been admitted to prison and jail over this period. [2008 to 2022]"

Make no mistake: mass incarceration and the racial and economic disparities it drives continue to shape America for the worse. The U.S. locks up more people per capita and imposes longer sentences than most other countries. Nearly 1-in-2 adults in the U.S. have an immediate family member that has been incarcerated, with lifelong, often multigenerational, consequences for family members’ health and financial stability. Yet the past decade of successful reforms demonstrate that we can and must continue to reduce incarceration. These expansions of freedom and justice–and the millions of people they have impacted–help define what is at stake as public safety has reemerged as a dominant theme in American public and political conversation.

...We have a robust body of research built over decades showing that jail stays and long prison sentences do not reduce crime rates. And fortunately, we have an extensive and expanding body of research on what does work to reduce crime and keep communities safe. The evidence is clear: our focus must be on continuing and accelerating reductions in incarceration.

Black imprisonment rate drops by nearly half

People directly impacted by incarceration and other leaders in the criminal justice reform movement have persistently called out how the unequal application of policies such as bail, sentencing, and parole (among others) drive massive racial disparities in incarceration. The concerted effort to reduce our prison population has had the most impact on the group that paid the greatest price during the rise of mass incarceration: Black people, and particularly Black men.

The Black imprisonment rate has declined by nearly 50 percent since the country’s peak imprisonment rate in 2008 (see figure 2). And between 1999 and 2019, the Black male incarceration rate dropped by 44 percent, and notable declines in Black male incarceration rates were seen in all 50 states. For Black men, the lifetime risk of incarceration declined by nearly half from 1999 to 2019—from 1 in 3 Black men imprisoned in their lifetime to 1 in 5.

While still unacceptably high, this reduction in incarceration rates means that Black men are now more likely to graduate college than go to prison, a flip from a decade ago. This change will help disrupt the cycle of incarceration and poverty for generations to come.

Expanding safety and justice together

The past decade-plus of incarceration declines were accompanied by an increase in public safety. From 2009-2022, 45 states saw reductions in crime rates, while imprisoning fewer people, with crime falling faster in states that reduced imprisonment than in states that increased it.

This is in keeping with the extensive body of research showing that incarceration is among the least effective and most expensive means to advance safety. Our extremely long sentences don’t deter or prevent crime. In fact, incarcerating people can increase the likelihood people will return to jail or prison in the future. Public safety and a more fair and just criminal system are not in conflict.

Strong and widespread support for reform

We have also seen dramatic progress on the public opinion front, with a clear understanding from voters that the criminal justice system needs more reform, not less. Recent polling shows that by a nearly 2 to 1 margin respondents prefer addressing social and economic problems over strengthening law enforcement to reduce crime. [In simpler terms: people are twice as likely to prefer non-law-enforcement solutions to crimes.]

Nearly nine-in-ten Black adults say policing, the judicial process, and the prison system need major changes for Black people to be treated fairly. Seventy percent of all voters (see figure 3) and 80 percent of Black voters believe it’s important to reduce the number of people in jail and prison. Eighty percent of all voters, including nearly three-fourths of Republican voters, support criminal justice reforms.

This is not only a blue state phenomenon. Recent polling in Mississippi indicates strong support across the political spectrum for bold policies that reduce incarceration. For example, according to polling from last month, 72 percent of Mississippians, including majorities from both parties, believe it is important to reduce the number of people in prison (see figure 4). Perhaps most tellingly, across the country victims of crime also support further reforms to our criminal justice system over solutions that rely on jail stays and harsh prison sentences...

We are at an inflection point: we can continue to rely on the failed mass incarceration tactics of the past, or chart a new path that takes safety seriously by continuing to reform our broken criminal justice system and strengthening families and communities."

-via FWD.us, May 15, 2024

[felassan]

John Epler in the BioWare Discord (August 7th, again) -

User: "Since the dialogue wheel is coming back, will our choices set our Rook as diplomatic/humorous/aggressive with varying tone and voice lines similar to Hawke being able to be blue/purple/red?" John: "Not to the same degree - we want to give you the freedom to play your Rook differently depending on who they're talking to (you might be kinder to your companions and brusque with authority figures, for example), but your tone choices will have an impact within a conversation and, sometimes, with specific characters across multiple conversations." --- User: "I have to ask: how muscular can we make the elves?" John: "Reasonably so. You won't be making any massive bodybuilders but like... Timothy Olyphant?" User: "As a follow up what about humans and qunari? Quite muscular a la arnold or big viking type? Or not so much that lvl?" John: "Larger lineages (Qunari, esp) are bigger by default so the upper bounds are going to be bigger, but for modeling and animation we did want to put some limits on it. But your Rook can look pretty reasonably muscled, regardless of lineage choice." --- User: "Are there any time-sensitive quests (in terms of gameplay time, that will fail automatically if not addressed in a timely manner), and if there are please tell me they're at least indicated as such in some way?" John: "There are quests that can go away and technically 'fail' if you don't address them - but, to be VERY clear, this is not an in-game timer, but rather as you progress the game's story forward. That said, we do try to sign post them as much as possible." --- User: "Does Rook ever get the choice to cuss?" John: "Yes. You'll know when you're doing it, and we leave it up to you to make the choice, but sometimes, cursing is exactly what the situation demands."

[character limit text break!]

User: "Does the bioware team read the other channels and if so do they think we're unhinged or endearing?" John: "Little of column A, little of column B. But I mean, I've been online for 27 years, the internet has ruined me as much as anyone." --- User: "all the Rooks we've seen so far are wearing purple, please tell me we dont have to wear purple" John: "Everyone else can wear whatever colour they want but you, specifically, must always wear purple." --- User: "All the games have had unique faction symbols for our protagonist (Warden, Champion of Kirkwall, Inquisition) I assume there will be one for the Veilguard Will the symbol for it get released before the game or is this something that will be revealed in-game/after it’s launched?" John: "Every faction has their own symbol - including the Veilguard themselves! You may have noticed it in some of the art out there." --- John: "As a general comment - one thing I want to be super clear on - even as creative director there are things I can say, and things we're not ready to talk about. I'd rather spend my time answering what I can instead of a dozen 'sorry I can't talk about that yet' - especially since this channel is on slow mode." --- User: "There are blood effects in combat after Rook hits an enemy. And I think a developer shared images of the blood effects on hit after the reveal. Will characters be covered in blood or other environmental effects? Like getting wet from walking in puddles or muddy from running on dirt?" John: "There are environmental effects that persist on characters, depending on the environment you're traversing. They're subtle, but they're there!" --- User: "how many tattoos can we choose from? are there also full bodied ones too?" John: "I don't know the exact number, but there are quite a few. Some are full body as well, though you have control over colours and opacity on a more granular basis."

[character limit text break!]

User: "Of the zones/areas revealed what was the most challenging to design?" John: "Each has its own unique challenges. Arlathan seems simple because - well, it's a forest, right? But what about Arlathan makes it different than places you've been before? How does it fit into the established lore? Minrathous is a different kettle of fish because we've talked about it extensively and in a way that meant it HAD to be grander and more impressive than anything we've built before, which can be a tall order. The team did a fantastic job on all the areas, though." --- User: "which faction has the best fashion, in your opinion?" John: "Crows. Largely because 'black leather and feathers' isn't a look I could pull off in the real world but I am glad my Rook can." --- John: "Alright folks. I've gotta head back to work, but please keep asking questions and I'll answer what I can as soon as I can!"

[source: the official BioWare Discord]

There was also this question and answer:

User: "Can we name our saves like in Origins?" John: "I had to double check because I was about 95% sure on the answer, but also, I've been on this project for its entirety and sometimes I remember features that we had to cut (or never actually built) - yes. You can name your saves to reduce confusion."

but the answer may have now been deleted.

[sincerestlove]

Jealousy - R.G.

reneé is SO BEAUTIFUL i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. someone call 911 because i am about to have a heart attack. babygirl is SO FUCKING FINE.

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Request: Regina x reader where Regina and reader are in a secret relationship but someone tries to hit on reader at a party and Regina gets jealous?

Warnings: None; just hot, protective, jealous, possessive regina.

"Hi, pretty girl." Your beautiful girlfriend greeted you at her front door with a smile, pretty white teeth on display. She held her hand out for you, which you accepted gratefully, allowing her to pull you to her car.

You had previously agreed to meet her here so that she could drive the both of you to Gretchen's party tonight. Usually, she would have asked you come over earlier in the day so you could get ready together, but you already made plans to get your hair done. Regina complained about it when you told her, but with the way she was looking at you now, she wasn't upset anymore.

The blonde led you to her passenger's side door, gently backing you against it, before leaning down and taking your lips in a bruising kiss. "You look so hot in that outfit." She breathed out against your lips, her hands sneaking up and under your top. Her touch was so light it was almost ticklish, feeling yourself smiling into the kiss. "And your hair looks perfect."

She always managed to make you feel good about yourself, always make you feel beautiful. She constantly showered you with compliments, even when you weren't all done up like this.

Pulling away reluctantly, you blinked, before meeting Regina's bright eyes, marveling at the way the hues of blue and green with a dash of orange, blended together. You took the opportunity to take in her outfit. She looked breathtaking - tight, black tank top underneath her leather jacket, dark jeans, with silver jewelry adorning her slender fingers, neck and ears.

God, you were the luckiest girl in the world.

"You look gorgeous, Gina." You spoke shyly, leaning back up into her, hands fisting into her jacket and tugging her closer. She kissed you again, warm tongue nudging your lips apart. You got lost in each other for a few moments, pleasant sighs coming from your mouth.

Regina broke apart from your lips, moving to nip at the skin of your exposed neck. You couldn't help letting out the soft moan that bubbled in your throat, head moving back to rest against the cold window. "If you keep doing that, I just might have to take you back inside, pretty girl." She murmured against your skin, sucking harshly, leave behind a few dark purple marks. You sent her a pointed look as she pulled away, a satisfied smirk on her lips. "Just to make sure everyone knows who you belong to."

Regina nudged you aside and opened the door, gesturing for you to get in as your face turned beet red. She was always quite possessive of you, even from the start of your "secret" relationship, but even more so when you went to parties together.

Honestly, it was hot.

She shut the door once you were settled, moving around to slide into the driver's seat. "Buckle up, baby." She flashed you a killer smile before peeling out of her driveway, free hand coming to rest on the exposed skin of your thigh. The touch made you shiver, shifting slightly in your seat. The blonde sent you a knowing look, laughing under her breath.

She absolutely loved the effect she had on you.

~~~

The party was already in full swing by the time you and Regina arrived. She parked in Gretchen's massive driveway, making sure that no one else could block her in. You really weren't a huge fan of parties, but eventually, viewed it as another opportunity to spend more time with your girlfriend. Albeit, in a setting you didn't prefer, but you could take that on the chin without much of an issue. Any time that you could spend with her was more than worth it.

"You want a drink?" You nodded, following closely behind as the blonde beelined to the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out a colorful drink. She opened it for you, before setting it in your hand. You thanked her gratefully, taking a sip of the drink. It was quite sweet, the taste of alcohol very minimal, which you appreciated.

Regina looked around the room, eyes stopping on Gretchen and Karen. The two girls were sitting in the living room on the couch, Gretchen crying her eyes out. You both could tell they were very drunk. Regina sighed, turning to you. "I'll be right back, going to go check on them." You nodded, taking another swig. "Don't go anywhere, yeah?" She squeezed your hand, lingering for a moment longer before walking off toward her friends.

You watched her off, hips swaying confidently, the crowd moving out of her way without missing a beat. It still amazed you how she could command an entire room so easily.

You were lost in thought for a little while as Regina disappeared into the crowd, until you felt a quick few taps on your shoulder. Spinning around, you were met with the sight of Cady, grinning at you. Since when did she go to parties?

You thought she was nice enough, knowing her on a very minimal level as the two of you shared a math class last year. You hadn't really spoken to her much since then, only a friendly hello here and there when passing each other in the hallways.

"Hey, Y/N, funny seeing you here tonight. I had no idea you were coming!" You smiled at the redhead awkwardly, shuffling on your feet.

"Yeah, Gretchen invited me. And Regina." You smiled at the mention of your girlfriend's name, doing a quick glance over to where she was supposed to be. The trio was no longer in the living room, though, making you frown. Maybe they went up to Gretchen's room to calm her down?

"Where is she?" You looked back over to Cady, noticing that she had taken a step closer to you, leaning forwards. The surprise of it made you stumble back, coming in contact with the counter behind you.

You laughed slightly, hand gripping tighter on your drink. "Oh, uh...she just went to the bathroom. She should be right back."

Cady cocked her head to the side, taking another step closer to you. "Really? Cause I've been watching you for a little while and she still hasn't come back." Her smile got wider, hand coming up to brush your arm. You recoiled at the touch, flushing yourself back against the counter. A rush of panic washed over you, killing what little buzz you had, noticing the smell of alcohol on her breath and the glazed over look in her eyes. "You know, Y/N", she brushed against your arm as she continued, "I've always had a crush on you. I think you are so pretty." She batted her eyelashes, biting on her lip. "Would you want to maybe go out sometime?"

You just blinked at her, completely baffled at what had come out of her mouth. "Oh..." You smiled awkwardly, moving even farther back to create more space between you, "Cady...I'm really flattered, but no, I think we would be better off as just friends."

Cady laughed. "Come on, I think we would be so great together. Don't you?" She leaned even closer, looking at you expectantly.

Was this girl serious?

As your brows knitted together, you was about to tell her no again, when a warm body pressed against yours from behind, all too familiar hands slipping around your waist and pulling you flush to her. The sweet scent of her perfume filled your nose, relaxing you almost instantly.

"I think the lady said no, Cady." Regina's tone was short and laced with anger, her arms tightening around you. You didn't even have to look at her to know that she was glaring holes in Cady's head. The girl turned red with embarrassment, muttering an apology under her breath before quickly running off.

You let out a deep breath you hadn't realized you were holding, nearly going limp in Regina's embrace. "Are you okay, pretty girl?" Regina turned you around to face her, eyes scanning your face. You nodded as she cupped your cheeks and set your drink on the counter, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. You melted into her, leaning your weight against her front. After a moment you separated, smiling at each other, until you heard someone clearing their throat.

Oh, shit. The party.

"Gina, everyone is looking at us." You whispered, feeling anxiety bubbling in your stomach and crawling up your throat.

Everyone had gone quiet, the eyes of almost all of your classmates locked on the two of you. Regina tensed, but surprisingly, didn't let go. "Me and Y/N are together." Regina voiced loudly without wasting a beat, eyes softening as she looked at you. "And if any of you losers have a problem with it, I will burn you to the ground."

The crowd murmured amongst itself and you watched as everyone simply nodded, shrugged and went on with the party as they were. Both you and Regina visibly relaxed, thankful that there wasn't much of a scene.

No one cared, really. Half of the student population already assumed that you two were together. Neither of you hid it very well - exchanging lovesick glances at lunch, holding hands "platonically" yeah right, lesbians, bringing each other coffee and lunch, whispering to each other and giggling. Gretchen and Karen already knew, exchanging smiles as they watched Regina proudly kiss you in her kitchen.

You smiled at your girlfriend, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You never imagined coming out together in this way, but honestly, it was very fitting. Regina hugged you tightly, whispering her love and adoration for you in your ears, loud enough for only you to hear.

"I love you."

Your heart fluttered, feeling a few tears fall down your cheeks. "I love you, Gina." You held each other for a few long moments before separating. The blonde was looking down at you, pretty smile sitting on her pretty lips. "So..." you trailed off, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Were you jealous of Cady?"

Regina scoffed, rolling her eyes. "As if. That girl could never hold a candle to me. She should've taken a hint - there's like, three big ass hickeys on your neck."

You laughed, pulling her in for another kiss, unable to resist. "No one ever could hold a candle to you, Gina." She just looked so hot when she was jealous. "Take me home?"

The blonde grinned, taking your hands and dragging you to the door without wasting another moment. "I thought you'd never ask, pretty girl."

i hope you enjoyed!

as always, please leave requests if you have any! :)

[wroteclassicaly]

Thinking about seeing a Friday the 13th double feature at the theater with best-friend Steve. You’ve both seen them on VHS countless of times, not to mention when they arrived on the big screen. But you again because he knows you prefer horror to any genre. He’s watching you when he thinks you’re not looking, and is completely oblivious when you’re staring at him. Fingers brushing sharing a popcorn, one large Coke to drink with one straw to share - the other fell between the seats, but neither of you care.

It’s he who jumps first, his massive waves tickling your face as he buries his head into your neck, stubble scratching along your jugular (where your pulse suddenly begins to race). He can feel it, and no one has time to react as a shattering of glass from the movie makes you react this time, curling around him. You just simply… hold one another and then you’re releasing with ease. Heartbeats unsteady, Steve briefly bouncing a jean clad knee, Nike shoe sticking to the floor. And you, you’re chewing on your thumbnail, nearly peeling the fresh black paint free.

By the time the movie ends, however, barely anyone can see the two of you backed into a cove by the snack counter. Coke soaked lips, salted butter and sweet candy coated treats on your tongues, his breath mingling with your own, to the wet sounds of your kissing. Your back is piled into the plastered wall, neon in your peripherals, one massive hand pinching at the lace trimming at the bottom of your shirt, the other cupping your face, fingertips tracing at your neck’s nape - making sure you can really feel him, what he can do. You cling to his shoulders, arms beneath his arm pits, squeezing the muscles beneath. Occasionally, he’ll switch up the path of his mouth and allow it to dance across your jawline, over your ear, ending at your neck, that nose nudging all across your face with each kiss.

You’re buzzing, shivering inside. His pupils are blown, glazed over when he does look at you, colors of red, blue, pink, orange, and purple hues reflected in his irises due to the scenery.

More. You want more. You need more. You have to have more.

And so does he…

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort or Normal, Epilogue

WC:1383, Masterpost

Danny glances up from his fight to fit the cufflink into the sleeve of his rich blue suit and smiles at what he sees in the mirror.

“You know, it’s supposed to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

Wally grins, easily, from where he leans against the door frame. “I’m the one in white so I think I’m the bride, in this case.”

“Oh, so putting the bad luck all on me?” Danny asks as he turns to appreciate how his fiancée looks. Wally really is stunning in his white on white tux. Danny hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of traditional black and white tuxes, not with Phantom still being such a raw wound. Wally hadn’t minded in the least going with a brighter color palette.

“Never,” Wally promises. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

It’s a vow that Danny unquestionably trusts. Since the curse broke, Wally has been there for every step of it— and Danny has needed a lot of help with steps. Danny’s weakened core not only handicapped him as a ghost but as a living. Many days Danny is able to pass through it all relatively unaffected, other than the cold ache that has settled into his bones, but other days are harder. Other days Danny walks with canes braced against his arms. Other days Danny needs his wheelchair. Other days he can hardly get out of bed unless he goes ghost. And through it all Wally has done everything that he can to make things easy for Danny.

They have a house now, one story and carefully renovated so that on the days Danny needs the wheelchair he can still move around easily. There are electric blankets and soft pillows and this ridiculous massive bean bag that’s big enough for them to both sink into on the bad days.

And there are good days too. There are days where the aches are just a background note, days it all doesn't hurt so much, days where he can fly. Oh how Danny had missed flying. Of all the things that came with being a halfa, flying is what Danny had missed most– not because he could help or be a hero, he missed flying just for himself.

The first time he had felt stable enough to fly, Wally had whisked them out to that same field their first date was in and let Danny loose. Danny had flown for hours, darting around, doing tricks, and floating among the clouds. When he had come back down to earth, Wally had been there, picnic waiting and the biggest smile on his face.

So like everything in Danny’s life, it’s all a balance: the good, the bad, the effort… Danny loves it all.

He loves it not just because it reminds him of how much living means, but because of how deeply it shows that Wally cares. Wally’s love is one thing he can never question. It’s a certainty that Danny has needed through all of the aftermath.

Once Danny had been released from the Watchtower’s medical, he had started small dealing with it all. Coworkers were easy to reply to and he could trust that informing a few would spread the news to the rest. They didn’t push for more than he was willing to give, though he had known he would come back to questions and rumors.

Everyone else was harder.

He had set a video call with Sam and Tucker at the same time. It was maybe a little unfair to not give them each their own call, but he just didn’t have the energy for that. They weren’t kids anymore and hadn’t been for a long time.

“God, Danny,” Tucker started at the same time as Sam said his name.

He held up his hand and their mouths shut with a clack. His smile was tinged with sadness, but it was a smile. “Don’t. You two didn’t do anything horrible.”

“Dude,” Tucker said and for a moment Danny was back in high school. Tucker looked good, still in bright colors and with his hair expertly shaved on the sides with a little pattern. “We forgot about you.”

“We left you alone to deal with all that,” Sam said. Her hair was a more natural shade of black now and her smoky eye an expertly done wing. It was odd to see her lips red instead of purple.

“Because of a curse. You forgot because of a curse,” Danny said, “and then you just did what anyone does, you went on to have a future. It’s not like we had some big fight or anything, you both just moved on with your lives.”

“That still had to hurt,” Sam said.

“It did,” Danny said honestly. He didn’t see the point of pretending the past hadn’t happened. “But that doesn’t mean it was either of your faults. The last thing I want is anyone doing anything for me out of guilt, especially since in this case it’s misplaced. It’s okay that you both grew up. I did too.”

It hurt and it would always hurt, at least a little, but Danny didn’t want any false care now.

Sam chewed on her lip and Danny smiled a little at the sight of the old habit. “I’m still sorry.”

“Me too,” Tucker said.

“Thanks, that does mean a lot, but it’s okay, really.”

There was a level of peace from that talk. Sam and Tucker both asked if they could reach out sometimes, and Danny said yes but with zero expectations. They were different people than they were as children and Danny knew, because he had lived it, that without Phantom there wasn’t much for them to talk about. And Danny had no plans to talk about Phantom. That part of him had ended with a wish seven years ago. He didn’t want to rehash or relive it now, even with them.

Jazz… Jasmine was harder. Sam and Tucker losing touch was just part of growing up. His own sister ignoring him though, that wasn’t the same at all. If it wasn’t for his nieces, Danny didn’t know if he would even be trying with Jasmine, even as apologetic as she was. There were some things that were too hard to come back from.

“Are they here?” Danny asks and looks back down at his stubborn sleeve.

Wally steps forward and takes the cufflink from Danny. He’s gentle as he fits it into the slot and secures it. “They are. And all our friends are here too. Just remember that you don’t have to talk to them any more than you want to. It’s okay to be taking things slow. It’s okay to decide that you can’t do this with her. You know I’m with you whatever you decide.”

Danny raises Wally’s hands to brush a kiss across each set of knuckles. “I know. I’m so lucky to have you. Is it bad that part of me making an effort with them is so that my nieces have family other than their moms and our parents?”

“Nope. I think that makes you a really good uncle. I mean, where would I be without Aunt Iris? Family like that can mean a lot and if that’s the only reason you have for dealing with your sister, then that’s enough,” Wally assures him.

It helps Danny relax some.

“Okay, good. We’ll just… see how it goes. I’m not going to focus too much on them today, not when today is about me and you.”

“I think that’s all good. You’re just wrong about one thing though,” Wally says, his grin just a little mischievous. Danny loves that grin.

“And what’s that, Mister West?”

“Well, soon to be Mister West,” Wally says, “it’s that I’m the lucky one. I could have lost you so many times and so many ways and despite everything, today I get to marry you. I don’t think there’s anyone luckier than me today.”

“Well, not to have our first fight,” Danny teases, “but agree to disagree.”

“I think I can live with that.”

Danny laughs. There’s nothing funny about that, but the laughter bubbles up in him all the same, not from humor but from joy. “Living, that sounds like a very, very good plan.”

---

AN: Aaaaaah we are done!! Not everything is perfect, but Danny is alive and living and Wally is going to be with him for all of it <3. Thank you all for coming along for the ride on this! It's been unexpectedly delightful to write these two together and I'm glad to finally wrap it up with (hopefully) a nice bow.

And yes, this will be going up on ao3 but I need the brain functions to go back to the start and give it a good polish! I'll likely do it chapter by chapter weekly to give myself and my darling beta @mokulule time.

Until then or the next thing here, stay delightful, darlings!

[copperbadge]

Routing the El

@mbta-unofficial recently "routed" the T in Boston, riding through every T stop in the city in a single day. I love public transit and random fuckery so this appealed to me instantly, but even @mbta-unofficial admitted they didn't know how they'd route the El here in Chicago. I know nothing about routing and very little about certain parts of the El even after living here as long as I have, but I'm willing to take a swing.

The first question is one of simple logistics: are we riding every stop, or every train that passes through a stop?

In other words, there are many stops that multiple lines pass through, and the question is whether it's enough to pass through each stop on a train, or do I need to ride the entirety of the line, then backtrack and hit the same stations on a different line? This wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't for the purple line, which is an express from Evanston that covers much of the northern red line branch and a huge whack of the brown line as well. If I'm covering lines, I almost certainly need to start with purple.

Moreover, do I include the yellow line, which is an extension built to serve basically a single suburb? It feels snobbish to ignore it; it is outside of Chicago proper but then so are several stops on the blue and green. But it also feels very Chicagoan not to acknowledge it, and it is going to be a massive pain in the ass to include because there's nothing near it. I would just be riding out to the Dempster-Skokie stop and back, or starting at Dempster-Skokie and then having to backtrack up the purple line.

Which leads to the next question: where to begin? @mbta-unofficial's route began at one of the termini, Braintree, which they traveled to get to, so in theory one could, and probably should, begin at an endpoint, but the T also isn't structured exactly like the El; there is a central exchange, but nothing as cohesive as the Loop, around which almost every line circulates and which every line at least touches except the yellow. But living downtown, I could also begin at a Loop station, or a red or blue line station that touches the Loop.

So let's set some rules for the initial run, and once that's accomplished, we'll see about adding complications.

Every station, not every line. As long as I touch every station while on a train, it counts.

However, if the stations are discrete, I have to hit them twice -- in other words, I have to touch Monroe and Jackson twice, once on the Red and once on the Blue, because the platforms are accessible to each other but separated by a passageway several blocks long. I'll have to touch Lake twice, once on the Red, because it's both elevated and underground.

I'm going to disqualify the Yellow not because it's suburban but because it doesn't touch the Loop. This is the rule I'd most likely revisit if I was going to attempt this several times.

I am also going to disqualify the purple line, not via the "loop exception" but because it will knock almost half the red line off the map for me in about a third of the time it would otherwise take, but even so having to start at Linden kind of fucks me. Given the purple line's extremely limited running time, there's an argument for disqualification, but this is another rule I'd revisit on a second attempt.

Removing the purple line makes routing a lot easier. And I think the starting point then becomes both obvious and poetic: we start at O'Hare, where it costs double to board the train.

O'Hare blue line all the way to Forest Park is an easy first leap, and from there I think it's most rational to bus to the green at Harlem/Lake and ride it all the way to Cottage Grove. From Cottage Grove, backtrack to Garfield to cover the Ashland-63rd leg of the green line, and then again back to Garfield to disembark and walk to the Garfield red line, which I can take south to 95th/Dan Ryan, then north again to Roosevelt (another two-touch stop). I can catch the Orange at Roosevelt south to Midway and back north again unless there's a fast bus to 54th/Cermak; presuming there's not, depending on stop times I can either take the Orange line back to hit any missing loop station or transfer to the Pink and then take that out to 54th/Cermak. Either way I need to get back into the Loop and catch the Brown out to Kimball, then back to Belmont (or Montrose and bus to Wilson), north to Howard, then south to Harrison on the Red line. Convenient to end at my home station -- I didn't plan it around that, but it's a nice touch.

If I really wanted to get ADHD about this I could sit down with timetables and work out ways to catch trains within the loop to shave minutes off, but El timetables are essentially worthless these days.

I think that's a functional plan. Working off my base knowledge of the trains and also with the reminder that I'm pretty time-blind, I'm estimating:

Blue line O'Hare to Forest Park: 2hrs

Bus to Harlem/Lake: The 318 picks up every 15 minutes and takes 8 minutes, so guesstimate 30 minutes to be on the safe side.

Green Line Harlem/Lake to Cottage Grove: 1.5hrs

Cottage Grove back up to Garfield and down to Ashland/63rd: Again no idea, but probably at least 30 minutes

Ashland/63rd to Garfield and transfer to Red Line Garfield: 30 minutes?

Red Line Garfield to 95th/Dan Ryan and back to Roosevelt: 1.5hrs

Orange Line Roosevelt to Midway: 30 minutes

The 54B bus comes every 20 minutes and take 40 minutes to get from Midway to 54th/Cermak, which is still I thiiiink faster than doing Orange back to Washington/Wells and then Pink out and back. Mulling this one still. Either way, Pink line gets me to Clark/Lake

Walk to Washington/Wells, Brown Line around the loop to hit the missing Loop stations, to Kimball: 1hr

Kimball to Belmont: 30mins

Belmont Red Line to Howard: 1hr (Red line to Howard is HIGHLY variable, I've had it take anywhere from 40-90 minutes from Harrison)

Howard to Harrison: 1hr

About 13 hours in total, let's say my time to beat is 15 hours.

I can't do it this coming weekend; I have all-day events both days. I can't take a day off next week either, I'm going to be slammed at work ahead of an event. So my best bet is either Saturday or Sunday the 20th/21st, or taking Wednesday the 24th off...

Or this Friday. I could call in sick with few ramifications.

Well, I'll keep prepping for now -- find the bus I need from Forest Park to Harlem/Lake, then maybe run the whole route through Google Maps to see what it thinks the timing estimate would be. It might even have some ways to shave time off -- still looking at that Pink-Orange transfer and wondering.

And I need to find places around transfer points to take bathroom breaks since the El doesn't have public restrooms. I can probably get to a bathroom at Midway and back in the 12-minute delay time between arrival and departure...

[sirenmoth]

Monster Mash - Drider

CW: Bondage, body worship, vaginal fingering, restraints, cum smearing, scent marking, scent marking via cum, spider anatomy, cum insertion, (i promise it makes sense), (literally looked up if spiders have dicks and how spider sex works)

Monster Mash Masterlist

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Legs sore and trembling like a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time since opening its eyes, sleep still heavy and ever present on your mind as you try and traverse the massive manor you all share using the walls as support, still as naked as the day you were born. The sudden sound of quickly fast approaching scuttling footsteps and a pair of drow arms around your bruised waist alert you of a new presence as you are lifted into the air.

The relief you feel once you are off your feet, legs no longer shaking to keep you up-right, as the drider carries you away and towards his web, gently placing you into the centre like an ornate piece of porcelain, closing your eyes and letting yourself sink down into the sticky mass of string below. Your mind barely registers your limbs being moved around, lovingly and carefully being tied and secured in place by the driders own silk.

Eight spider legs and a set of drow arms come into peripheral vision as the drider climbs into his own web, taking his spot between your spread legs. Eight sets of eyes, six spider and two drow, borrow deep into your skull, never once looking away as the drider takes in his work.

A soft chitter echoes in your brain, "Still awake, my dear?" A breathy chuckle follows his question, "We are far from done, I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun." He says, nipping at the bite marks on your neck and shoulders, his silver snow-white hair falls over his shoulders, the light from the window casting a dull halo around it. "He just loves to ruin you for us, doesn't he, takes all the run out of it." None of them used each other's name, a way of showing their still burning distaste for each other.

The drider starts to rearrange your limbs once more, moving you this way and that until he finds the perfect positions for you to be relaxed and comfort, and for him to worship you and love you. Once your arms are resecured and restrained once again by his soft silk string, he moved onto your legs, replacing them, so your knees were pulled up close to your legs and spread open as wide as they could be. Small click and chirps of approval leave the drider mouth as he works, clearly pleased with his work and your compliance.

With your arms above and legs spread, nothing was left to the imagine, more than it usually was. You lie your head back into the web, the room the drider picked and claimed as his nest was always warm, despite being in a drafty attic, must be all the tightly-packed webbing the covers every corner and wall.

He covers your body with his, his torso slotting between your immobile legs, his spider legs curls under his spider abdomen as his drow arms trace the marks that dot your body left behind by the vampire, tiny hisses and grumbles can be heard every time he examines and assesses a new one.

"He does this on purpose, knows how sore you get after he feed, knows we have to go easy or wait until you heal enough." He tsks as he traces a bruising mark on your hip, "Don't worry, my darling light, I'll be gentle. Make this all about you." The drider kisses a huge mark where your neck and your shoulder conjoin, a bright red now turned blue-ish purple hue, carefully places his hands on your damaged thighs, lightly kneading the flesh, mindful of the bloomed bruises and healing bites that litter your skin.

Rolling your head to the side as your drider leaves a trail of kisses up your neck, his mandibles that sit where his drow half connects to the spider half move lightly, the small fangs at the ends of them gracefully dancing along your lower abdomen just above your cunt, careful not to puncture your skin. Soft kisses are placed just below your left ear, like the drider is trying to fix the marks your vampire lover left.

Those eight eyes always looking in your direction whenever you are near, no matter what either you two are doing, observing your action. He worships you like he would his drider queen, but only you have the pleasures of begging with him.

Little butterfly kisses are pressed against your temple and check, a small distraction while his finger trail downwards towards your dripping slit, tapping your clit with featherlight touches, you softly whimper at the feeling, mind still foggy from sleep and the soft silk webbing underneath was only adding to your delirious mindset. Unable to move due to the strands of silk that weave over and under your legs, you can only lay there and take it as the driders move lower, teasing your entrance. Twitching and squirming as the drider timidly plays with you.

You are like a fly, stuck in a spider's web, waiting in anticipation as the spider plays with you until it decides to devour you. Slowly, the drider slides three fingers into you with no warning, your body accepting him with ease. He pushes and pulls and presses at the sensitive nerve deep inside you, calculated strokes to make you fall apart all over again but to ensure you aren't hurt, the drider mandibles toy with your clit, nibbling and nipping at the exposed nerve while he studies you expressions, watching you moan and whimper, watching your attempts to squirm as you beg for more, for him to move faster.

Your drider takes pleasure in treating you like the most precious thing in the world, something that could break so easily, and he found joy in making you break while he had you tied up like this and his fingers deep inside you as your mind shatters in pleasure, sometimes he would use one of the toys you have, though him and the other eight never understood why you have toys when you have them, all you had to was ask, and they'd let you ride them or fuck you, or you fuck them, until you were satisfied. They do admit it is fun using the toys on you while they do their thing, they never use them as they do nothing for them.

One of the driders hands cups your left breast, squeezing the mound of flesh and pulling at the nipple between his fingers, tugging after each squeeze to create an unwavering, rhythmic sensation that sends euphoric shockwaves through your body. His fingers and hand move in opposite tandem of each other, when his fingers pull out his hand squeezes, slow and calculated, as he leaves small barely noticeable marks over the previous ones.

"So soft, your skin feels like the finest silk ever to exist," the drider mutters into your neck before biting over a mark the vampire left, "and all only for me." They all shared their own and mutual possession over you, displayed through the words they spoke while having a few fingers or a cock, sometimes cocks, pumping inside you, trying to outdo each other with their mark and claims.

Your whimpering and moaning only fanned the flame, the drider fingers sped up to a leg-shaking pace, or what would be if you could move your legs.

Low hums as the drider worships you and your moans fill his web as he coaxes you to cum on his fingers, "That's it, my darling, cum all over my fingers, mark me as yours." The squeezes on your breast grew more aggressive as his fingers move impossibly faster, the butterfly kisses turn into bites. You scream as you cum hard around his fingers as he curls them just right to hit your g-spot, your hole tightening as the mandibles stop their tweaking on your clit, resting against it as you catch your breath.

"So good, looked so pretty for me, so beautiful." The drider remarks, pulling his fingers out to admire your mess, mesmerized by the glimmer of white slick coating his fingers and the way it caught in the light. Bringing the slick covered fingers up to his mouth, he runs his tongue over the digits while keeping eye contact with you. Once he deems his fingers clean enough, he leans over you, "Lay back now, going to reposition you." He whispers into your right ear, you can do nothing but submit as he readjusts you, pulling you lower half high, so your sopping entrance lines up with his clicking mandibles, another chip and soft click once he finds the right placement.

You feel one of the fangs tracing your cunt, flinching at it as it runs up and down, collecting your cum. The drider pins you down under his drow half so he can work undisturbed, one of his hands stays put, playing with your hair while the other collects some of his own cum, letting it drip and run down your body, painting white streak with it across your skin as you try and piece together what the drider has planned. "Going to make you smell like me once I'm done, both inside and out, you'd look so breathtaking dripping with my cum."

Another kiss pressed just behind your ear, "See them try and get rid of my claim now."

One fang carefully slips into you, barely more than a few centimetres, while the other recoils in on itself, his free hand exploring your body like it's brand new to him all over again. The wetness between your thigh grows, you lift your head to watch as the fang that recoiled in returns with a clump of drider cum, pushing it into your gummy walls, quickly the drider reinserts his fingers back into you, forcing the large goop of white substance further into you, only retreating when the opposite fang wants to add its own ball of cum to the mix.

Your head falls back onto the web as your lover repeats the same process, the mixture of slick building between your thigh runs down and pass your ass, onto the web below to combine with the silk, making it near impossible to tell what's web and what's not. "Cum for me again, my love, I know you can do it." The drider murmurs, forcing your dreary head back up to watch as one of the mandibles insert another large goop of seman into you, the drider picks up what didn't make it in and smears it on to your skin. You watch as fangs switch, left right, left, right, the drider re-entering the same three fingers back into you between the pattern, fingering his cum far into you.

Your legs shake in the restraints, your hole clamping down on the drider fingers as your mouth falls open in a silent scream of ecstasy as you cum hard on his fingers, the drider slows down until he deems his cum is deep enough, only then does he pull his fingers out. More kisses are left on your cheeks and the hand comes up from your cunt to stroke your hip, your cum joining to the messy streak on you, the driders warmth bleeds into your own as you both lay chest to chest with each other, staying in this position even after you've both calmed down, his arms around you and his legs under his abdomen.

"Hey, are you going to untie me now? My limbs are going numb."

"Oh right. Sorry, my love."

[simmeradventures]

Boba Legacy Challenge (TS3)

I have taken a break from sims 3 and while I am still working on my lepacy, I sometimes need a break and so look for more challenges. @tomatosoupcat posted a Boba challenge and didn't see a TS3 version so decided to covert it. THIS IS NOT MY IDEA AND I MIGHT NOT BE THE ONLY ONE. I kept within the theme and didn't write a massive story to them but did try add a creative spin.

GOOGLE DOC!!!

Gen 1: Brown Sugar

Leaving home is tough, but you will always have mum's cooking to keep you safe.

Traits: Couch Potato, Natural Chef, Green Thumb (Randomise The Rest)

LTW: Bottomless Wine Cellar OR Master Chef

Career: Nectar Maker OR Culinary

Skills: Cooking, Gardening and Nectar making

Colours: Brown, White

Master LTW

Marry a sim with 2 matching traits.

Max out skills

Gen 2: Blueberry

The farm life was nice, but there's a great big world waiting for you.

Traits: Non-Committal, Loves The Outdoors (Randomise The Rest)

LTW: Seasoned traveller OR Grand Explorer

Career: Part-Time Jobs Or Skill Based Profession (after quitting business job)

Skills: Fitness or Martial Arts (or both if your fancy), Scuba diving

Colours: Blue. Purple

Reach level 3 of the business career before quitting to travel

have a one night stand on your travels

never marry

Travel until child is a young adult

Max skills

Gen 3: Matcha

You've seen the world, but now all you want is a career and a forever home...or mansion.

Traits: Ambitious, Snob, workaholic (Randomise The Rest)

Careers: Any (based on degree)

Skills: logic (plus whatever is related to the degree.)

Colours: Light green

Go to university and graduate

Befriend and date co-worker (either break up once you reach level 10 of career or get married.)

Go to the spa every weekend

Complete LTW

Max Career

Max Skills

Gen 4: Passionfruit Mango

All work and no play so pick up a guitar and play anything you want.

Traits: Socially Awkward, Family Oriented, virtuoso (Randomise The Rest)

LTW: One sim band OR Rockstar

Career: Music

Skills: Guitar, Bass, Drum, Piano

Colours: Yellow, Orange

Play instruments throughout childhood

Date and marry someone with the Avant Garde or artistic trait

Go on art dates (museums or a cute art café)

Complete Career

Max Skills

Gen 5: Sakura

You are a party girl, but also a lover girl.

Traits: Flirty, Family Oriented, Hopeless Romantic (Randomise The Rest)

LTW: Master Romancer OR Master Mixology OR Surrounded By Family

Career: FREE PASS

Skills: Mixology, Charisma

Colour: Pink

Have a high school BFF

Sign up for online dating and date 5 sims (and fail)

Marry BFF

Complete LTW

Gen 6: Dragon fruit

Who needs love when you could rule the world?!

Traits: Evil, Childish, Irresistible (Randomise The Rest.)

LTW: Heartbreaker OR Gold Digger OR Emperor of Evil

Career: Criminal

Skills: Charisma, Athletic

Colours: Dark Red, Purple

Marry a wealthy sim and have them get into a "tragic accident."

Have a negative relationship with children

Max career

Max Skills

Gen 7: Taro

Never give up on your dreams even if life throws a baby at you.

Traits: Genius, Cat person (Randomise The Rest.)

LTW: Scientific Specialist OR Become A Creature Robot Cross Breeder

Career: Based on LTW

Skills: Science, Handiness, Logic

Colours: Light Purple

Join after school club (idk if its a mod but there's a chess club, can add other ones through Nraas)

Go to university and drop out when pregnant (if not using mods or using mod that allows you to go to university in hometown then drop out and then get pregnant 

Work part-time till the baby is a toddler

Go back to university and graduate

Adopt a cat. 

Gen 8 Lychee

“You're always on that damn phone!” and “I hate normal people.” made a baby 

Traits: Unflirty, Loner (Randomise The Rest.)

LTW:  Blog Artist OR Forensic Specialist

Career: Based on LTW/ Free pass

Skills: Social Networking, Science

Colours: Pink, White

Have a plant sim

Max Skills

Max Career

Gen 9: Thai Tea

Sometimes it's good to look back. Spread the founder’s love of food! 

Traits: Adventurous, Perceptive (Randomise The Rest)

LTW: Star News Anchor OR Professional Author 

Career: Journalism OR Writer Profession

Skills: Writing, Photography, Cooking

Colours: Orange

Visit France, China and Egypt to collect recipes 

Throw dinner parties (once a season.)

Max Career

Max Skills

Gen 10: Sunset

Humans have been fun, but everyone knows the supernatural have the most fun.

Traits: Hopeless Romantic, Good  (Randomise The Rest)

LTW: Master Mysticism OR Resort Empire

Career: Based on LTW

Skills: Scuba Diving, Alchemy, Painting

Colours: Purple, Red, Orange

Fall in love and marry a supernatural (if you choose resort empire LTW then you have to marry a mermaid.)

Decorate home with your art.

[cameronspecial]

Hello! It’s me again (the one who requested the You Are In Love fic). I absolutely loved it!

I’ve been wondering if you could do a reader x Rafe Cameron where they attend The Eras Tour because reader is a swiftie! (they ofc are in front row because Rafe spoils her)

You Are My Lover

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

A/N: I'm glad you liked the first request! Hopefully, I got all the tour stuff right.

Masterlist

Rafe spoils his princess like there is no tomorrow, so when Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, he knew the next thing he had to spend his money on for her. Of course, it is no problem getting her the tickets. He has connections and he isn’t above bribing people to get it for her. Y/N doesn’t have to worry about anything except what she wants to wear and buy. She is a little nervous about leaving it all to Rafe, but he assures her that he is going to get it no matter what it takes. And he did exactly that while looking at his favourite picture of Y/N on the desk. The one taken at the Christmas village. He refrains from texting her the good news, wanting to tell her in person. 

When she gets to his office that day, she has a worried look on her face. Rafe hasn’t texted her anything, so she assumes he has bad news for her. However, as she walks through the door, she can see the massive grin on Rafe’s face. “You got them?” she squeals with a smile. He can only get nod before she runs toward him to tackle him in a hug. Her lips find his as he laughs and she pulls back from him. “Where are we sitting? If it’s nosebleed tickets, that’s okay. I’m just happy that we can go,” she asks. Rafe scoffs, “Princess, I’m Rafe Cameron. I got us floor tickets.”

——

They stand at the front of the crowd. Rafe behind her to protect her from the pushing fans, who are trying to get closer. His light blue shirt matches her pink and yellow dress to form the colours of Taylor’s Lover album. The tiny red heart earrings made out of polymer clay dangle from her ears as she sings with everyone around her. When they get to “Delicate”, Rafe remembers to scream the chant with Y/N because of her constant schooling about the tour. He takes every opportunity he gets to photograph the happy look on Y/N’s face. During “All Too Well”, she feels a little tired and leans against Rafe’s chest. “Are you okay?” he whispers with his mouth pressed against her ear. She looks up at him with a smile and wraps his arms around her waist, “Yeah, I just can’t believe I’m actually here. Thank you, Rafe.” “No problem, Princess. Anything for you,” he kisses her cheek. 

When Taylor passes by their section and Y/N is able to touch the singer’s hand, she feels like she is about to pass out and is very glad that Rafe is filming the moment. He can’t help but chuckle at the way his girlfriend is freaking out. The couple continues to watch the concert, participating in the tour’s traditions and singing the songs. 

——

They are walking to his car when a girl about ten years old comes running up to Rafe. “Can we trade bracelets?” she asks, holding her arms out to him. He smiles down at her and displays her arms for him to pick, “Of course, which one do you want?” Y/N and Rafe had spent the afternoon yesterday making bracelets while listening to Taylor’s songs. The girl analyzes her options and picks a purple bracelet with Speak Now written on it. He hands it over to her, looking over his options on her arms. He spots the perfect one and she gives it to him. He walks over to Y/N, who is waiting for him by her car. He holds out his hand and she places hers in his. He slides the bracelet over her wrist, opening the passenger door for her. He shuts the door once she is in and makes his way to his side of the car.

As he drives out of the parking lot, Y/N looks down at the bracelet he gave her from the little girl. Her heart warms at the sight. Most of the bracelet has light pink beads, but the ones at the top of her wrists are white with black letters. On each side of the sentence, there are pink heart beads. She reads over the words, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. You are my lover.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[rhaenzokla]

Meet-Cute

Yuuji and Megumi x Reader (separately)

Summary: How you first meet them!

CW: yuuji is nervous so Nobara helps!, Gojo makes reader a bit uncomfortable in Megumi’s! (Can do a pt2 if anyone wants)

Yuuji Itadori

Yuuji had been pulled into the mall, along side Megumi by Nobara.

“This place is so big! I sure you two can find something to buy. You two losers don’t know the benefits of retail therapy and it shows!” She jabs them in their sides as she makes a b-line for Pink.

Megumi grumbles under his breath as he starts making his way downstairs, most likely trying to find anywhere they wouldn’t end up. Hoping for some peace and quiet.

Yuuji follows Nobara in, not paying attention to the other side of the store, Victoria Secret.

His eyes go wide and his face heats up as he walks behind Nobara, trying to find anywhere to look that he wouldn’t feel like a perv anymore.

“Kugisaki! Why did you drag me in here with all of this stuff?” He whisper yells, to which she chuckles.

“I dragged you in the mall, but I did not make you come in here.” She hold up a blue lacy set and a red satin set. “Which do you think would look better?” She asked Yuuji, very much teasing the blushing boy.

Their conversation gets interrupted when a worker makes her way into the conversation. “With your complexion, I’d go with the blue if you’re set on one of those two. If not, I’d recommend one of our purple sets.” You say with a smile, just wanting to help.

Kugisaki listens and takes your advice, looking over the purple collection while Yuuji stands in place, staring without meaning to.

“Is your boyfriend okay? He looks like he saw a ghost.” You ask the kind girl and she scoffs. “Him? Me? You’re kidding, right? Not in a million years! Haha!” You’re taken slightly aback by her statement.

Okay, if they’re not together, but why the immediate disgust? You couldn’t lie, he was cute. With his bubblegum hair and his rosy cheeks that seemed to be accentuated with symmetrical scars under his eyes.

“Oh, sorry for the confusion! I just assumed since most of the time it’s the boyfriends coming in with girlfriends. Especially since you asked for his advice.” You chuckle and blush yourself this time, rubbing the back of your neck.

“We’re just friends. He’s a bit overwhelmed so I was just teasing him to get him to calm down. I think I’ll grab this one! Thank you for your help.” She smiles.

“That’s no problem. If you’ll follow me, I can get you ringed up myself!” You start towards the register but pause as you realise the two stopped following you and started talking.

You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can tell that she’s trying to convince her friend of something and he’s not so sure. A few moment later and they’re both at your register.

“That’ll be $47.98.” You say with a smile. She pulls out her wallet with a small piece of paper and writes something down. Handing you her card and the paper.

You ring her up as you’ll see what else you’ve been handed when you have free time. “He was too embarrassed to give it to you himself. Have a good day!”

You chuckle and look over at the young man next to her. “That’s my line, but you too! Hope to see you again!” They walk out and only then do you sneak a peak at the paper.

The not-so-boyfriend’s number

XXX-XXX-XXXX

Oh, you’re definitely texting him when you get off.

Megumi Fushiguro

Gojo had busted into Megumi’s room that morning to ask (beg) for him to go with him to go shopping for the other teachers at JJT.

Megumi declined his offer but decided it would be easier to just go with him than to listen to him whine about it all day, or worse, all week.

So here they are, pulling into the parking lot of the closest Bath and Body Works. “They have a massive sale right now! We can knock out all the women now!”

Megumi rolls his eyes at his mentor as he makes his way in. A warm “welcome in” travels to his ears as he enters. Combinations of the smells is a bit overwhelming for Megumi at first.

He starts looking around for his mentor as he realised he no longer behind him like he anticipated. Megumi finds him speaking with a young woman wearing an apron.

“What would you recommend for adult women?” Gojo asks the employee as Megumi walks up behind him. He reads your name tags before looking up at your face.

His cheeks run hot for a moment, heart beating just a bit quicker.

What is this?

“That depends on if you’re looking for something more floral, sugary, or fresh! My personal favourite, that I’m wearing now is Rose. It was discontinued a few months back but it’s now part of our limited time spring collection!” You give the white haired man a warm smile before looking behind him. “Do you need some help too, sir?”

He steamers for a moment. “N-no. Just looking with him.” He hums and rubs the back of his neck.

You nod and start leading them to the scents you’d recommend for each scent type.

“So uh… you have a boyfriend?” The white haired man asked, taking you aback.

“Uhm… no. No I don’t. Why do you ask?” You look to him cautiously.

“Oh c’mon, can’t you see that made her uncomfortable, Gojo? Leave her be. Why do you need to know her love life anyways?” Megumi asked, defending you when he saw the uncomfortableness in your eyes.

“It’s okay. Thank you,” you leave the end open for him to give you his name.

“Fushiguro” he curls his lips slightly and looks down to the floor.

“Fush-“ you’re cut off by the man named Gojo.

“Megumi here is also single, and I was just thinking maybe you could exchange number or something. He could use some more friends.”

Megumis face turns beat red and he starts to say something when you chuckle loudly.

“Sorry! It’s just that I don’t have many friends either. I’d love to exchange numbers if you’re up for it. I work a lot so we might not be able to meet up a lot, but I’m the friend you share your life story with anyway-“ you chuckle as you print a blank receipt, writing your number down.

“I get off at 7 tonight, by the way.” You smile and send them on their way to check out, smiling once again as they go to leave, giving him one final “have a good evening” as they leave.

©️RhaenZokla

Hope you enjoyed!

Thank you for reading!