#I love silly little gay cartoons

[insidereagan]

this being posted on the same day as we get to see a bit of marcy’s diary entry where she’s talking about how she’s “best friends” with anne (but it’s obviously accrush lol) just makes sense to the gay frog & cartoon lovers

[spindlekick]

What's betta than this? Just Gais being Doods!

[jaratedeguadalupe]

i was in the lil pootis season 2 premiere chat for 2 hours and oh my god when i tell you that i ran to the website in the speed of light and whipped out my credit card as soon as the intermission came on you best believe it's true.

[marximoff]

déjà vu | w. maximoff

summary: as you slowly reconnect with Wanda, you feel a familiar feeling of déjà vu.

warnings: heavy make out, smut, strap-on sex (Wanda receiving) mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, canon typical violence, angst.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 10k

A/N: this chapter sure was long awaited (i know it was you horny gays) but before the hot sapphic sex everyone wanted (emo wanda my beloved), this chapter deals with a character study of both r and wanda, to understand a little more about who they are rn as people

((by the way, I'll be taglisting the chapters from now on, so if you want to participate, just say something in the comments

enjoy!

|series masterlist|

|part one| |part two| |part four| |part five| |part six|

《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》

A carton of almond milk, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen eggs, a stick of butter, a can of peas, a bag of soft multigrain bread and a sizable bottle of wine are the components of the plastic basket that Wanda carries slung over her right arm.

She doesn't know that she forgot to get a can of corn too.

But the basket is kind of weighty and she might as well use her magic to levitate the items around her own silhouette, but she prefers that way, holding them down herself with her own arm strength.

Sometimes it's good to keep the sense of normality active. Even if normality just means carrying a basket full of groceries around the supermarket.

She then looks at the face of the brown watch buttoned at the base of her left wrist and checks the time, blinking her greenish eyes after squeezing a long, full yawn in the back of her throat.

A gray-haired old lady (Mrs. Sharon Davis, an elderly widow, all wrapped in her pale blue cardigan) in front of her appears to be in a conflict with herself to find some of the change interred in the lowest of her silver wallet.

And Wanda scrutinizes the establishment around herself, between the shelves stocked with groceries and the glossy linoleum floor; the weary gaze wavering absorbedly over her own white-fabric sneakers and contingently fixing on a dark, even smear on the floor between them.

 Old Mrs. Davis still hasn't spotted her desired coins, and she's been digging into her wallet for the silver pennies for a good few minutes now.

Wanda listens over her shoulder as someone pulls into a shopping cart right behind herself and lets out an audible groan, evidentially annoyed at the delay of the old lady with her change, but Wanda doesn't see the point in bothering to torment herself.

It's not yet six o'clock and she'll be peaceably walking home, for Westview is a small, undisturbed, reticent suburban town where everything is so close and easy to find. And she knows that, with her house being just a few blocks away from the locality of the modest market, she won't be long in coming to prepare dinner for her and her boys (whom she has left securely at the house, both doing their math homework).

She smiles tenderly to herself when she thinks about Billy and Tommy.

After all, she knows she's never loved anyone as passionately as she loves those two little boys (the grace of her life, the reason for her morning smile and for the blaze of keenness pulsing within the fond fortifications of her warmish heart).

For her they are everything, and that is why she would do anything for them – they are the epithet of the purest form of love that Y/N had ever gifted her with; the culmination of their love converted into two vulnerable little creatures that are made up of the best of the two of them.

She just knows, like a good mother who understands both her children so well, that at that moment, the twin boys are probably watching some silly cartoon on the television set beside the broad fireplace found in the corner of the commodious living room.

And she is placid in a supermarket line, getting a whiff of the eccentric consequence of the odd combination of the full-bodied aromas of cleaning product and some sturdy feminine perfume – an even slightly nauseating aroma, kind of overpowering and suffocating.

(In some aisle away from her, a child is heatedly asking his mother to buy him some treats)

Wanda then ponders about making something a little special for dinner, and recalls about the delicious kugel recipethat her mother used to prepare in the length of her childhood days, back in devastated Sokovia, so many years in the remote past that encompasses the beginning of the disasters that marked her life.

The memory that gushes over her is sentimental and bittersweetly recurring to her core; she deliberates about the sporadic months of starveling and a small humble family of four, when her father was lucky with his sales and there was a sufficient amount of money left to buy the soldiers' leftover ingredients.

But then, she retrieves back to the years of her late youth, all lived in the restful caresses of the compound in upper Manhattan. She was still understanding about how to breathe without having Pietro to hold her hand. She was learning to live on her own.

She was coming to terms with the truth that living didn't inevitably have to be a bad experience at all; not when Y/N showed her that there could still be delight in the little things in life.

And it was Y/N who used to marvelously praise the dish when Wanda found comfort in the act of cooking, and she always repeat a few slices every time Wanda cooked it so long ago, when they were just two teenage lovers (and eventually also young wives, both living in a small bubble of love and companionship on the edge of a comfortable wooden cottage surrounded by dozen of yards of apple orchards).

There was the sweet virtuousness of the warmth of two young girls' lives at that time. It was the first time that Wanda was really fond of being young (of breathing and having a beating heart, of having a life to live valuing every little detail of it).

She memorizes the exultant smile of her ex-wife, looking so light and beautiful even while talking with her mouth full (a half-crocken smirk drawn to her left-side, like the smirk also articulated in the innocuous characteristics of her little Tommy after he was born, which reminds her so much of the radiance that used to gleam in the sweet features of her former companion).

Her ex-wife wasn't always a lonesome and distant creature creeping in the corners of her mind, and it genuinely aches inside her chest to remember that.

Y/N always devoured lavishly every traditional Sokovian dish she has ever prepared and promptly asked for more – and then thanked her with a chaste kiss placed on the pulp of her lips, which promptly evolved into the building of an intimate, sweaty moment with two bodies rubbing greedily against each other.

But she soon lets out a crestfallen, rather disillusioned sigh, repressing herself for having gone back to those secluded memories amorously stored in the edge of her brain in the first place (of the concept of two adolescent girlfriends absorbed in love in the purest sense of the word, emulating the seriousness of a relationship with adult bearing, but never losing, at its core, the youthful sweetness worthy of teenage lovers). Two girls playing love in a world that was a little too hard on them.

She glares ruefully at the bulbous base of the red wine bottle and then lets out a sorrowful exhalation.

Her relationship with Y/N felt like it was straight out of the old sitcoms that she always appreciated so much, where no problem was a genuine obstacle and that, by the end of the day, the two lovers would be in each other's affectionately secure arms again (and that perhaps she let have an effect on her a little too much, when dealing about decisions made early on in her adult life).

But then she reminisces that she was merely turning eighteen years old when she became a wanted on an international scale, and that, prior to that, she had also grown up in a war-torn country.

She never knew how to behave like a normal person per se – whether that was before or after she became able to expel bolts of magical energy from her fingertips. She never quite knew how to fit into the role of a child or a young adult in the first place. Not by herself.

There was no time in Wanda’s life to understand precisely how to fit these labels (she was protesting with so much loathe constricted within her heart, volunteering to save her homeland, being made of little more than a lab rat by the clutches of a bunch of mad men, being used by the being that promised her greatness, but only ended up costing her the life of her darling brother).

In the cramped confines of a bleak, sullied cell, with only a modest television in the corner to entertain her mind away from the needles and the brutality, there were not many allusions of love and passions that elapsed through her life outside a square screen.

Wanda was aware that she just mimicked other people's movements and transcribed them into her own actions, as if it was all just a show and she was its young star, trying to intomb in her core the path of catastrophe and violence that had always shadowed her closely; it was only the years of strict therapy, self-knowledge and self-care, right after being blipped and coming back, that edified her to be her own person in a truly healthy way. There would be no more extremes in her life.

Her cohabitation with Y/N at the time facilitated, of course – even though her wife had changed a lot in the time that followed since the blip, at first, things had worked out well between them. Or as well as possible under the anomalous circumstances.

The two of them took care of the (still) newborn twins and of each other, always with great tenderness and affection while they did it. At least that's how it worked for the first year after their reunion – until Y/N got into alcohol's graces for good, that is.

Their relationship had always felt rather light and jovial before Thanos snapped his fingers. And after that she might even have come back, but it was indeed her marriage that had turned to dust in that remote dreary day in Wakanda. In all honestly, she's not quite sure what's changed in that meantime that she's been away (dead, she was dead). And it's uneasy to ponder about it, but sometimes she does – she can’t help it.

Her corporeal existence had disintegrated into a sift of life, crumbling into her own ashes. There was color, and then the dreadfully wide expanse of emptiness (death); she, as a self-aware being, ceased to exist with just a thought and a snap of two fingers.

Her consciousness faded before she could even realize she was doing it – the palms of both her hands constrained firmly against the wound in YN's stomach that was leaking bundles of fresh blood. And Wanda never relatively questioned her existence before that (she only questioned why she ceased to exist in the first place). Returning to dust, as people of faith would say.

Five long years that slipped through her fingers and dripped onto the floor in the form of a veil of dust.

It still feels odd in her guts, even ten years later, to remember that there's a void somewhere in her life that would be filled with the time that was thieved from her by the Infinity Gauntlet. A void that had once been filled by the subtle presence of Y/N's love.

(Once, when the twins were about a year old after the blip, Y/N drunkenly knelt down with her face defectively reclining on Wanda’s thighs and questioned her as to why Wanda and the babies where the ones erased from existence while she stayed behind, abandoned like an old piece of furniture that no one wants to use anymore. Wanda never knew how to answer it, but they got divorced about a month later)

But she imagines that it, the crumbliness of their relationship, has something to do with the fact that they were both a little precocious in getting married before their twenties properly speaking; maybe if they were older and more experienced before doing it, she thinks, standing in line at the supermarket, maybe then they wouldn't have had the sorrowful culmination that they did (the crying faces and the broken hearts).

Maybe they could have risen together, and not just drifted further and further away as the days passed.

Maybe Y/N didn't feel guilt-ridden every time the twins cried in need to be held or fed. Maybe Wanda wouldn't have queried her for the love she no longer knew how to give – she is fully aware of the fact that she has always had a somewhat pushy nature, after all.

Maybe this, maybe that.

She doesn't know why she's been thinking about maybe so much these past few days. But it's not her fault that her ex-wife happens to be so pleasing to the eye.

The person behind her in line grumbles again, and there is a mischievous chuckle that reaches her ears with airs of grace. Wanda is sincerely considering summoning some coins with her magic for Mrs. Davis.

“Oh my God, this wine is divine!”

It is Sarah Proctor who addresses Wanda, the key to undeniably everything in this town. Wanda knows it's the other woman because a sudden pulsing urge to fade away takes over her nervous system as soon as the voice echoes behind herself.

She is the high-nose blonde woman who lives up the street, is a devoted member of the Westview Elementary School parent-teacher association (in the year before Wanda had witnessed her make a young teacher leave the room in tears after a meeting), proudly cultivates the most exquisite yellow roses in the neighborhood and wears a pair of classy yoga pants that would fit a young teenager with half of her age. A self-proclaimed wine mom.

Her daughter is a classmate of Billy and Tommy, and the children often attend both the Proctor and Maximoff residences – which occasioned in Sarah a vague idea of intimacy that only endures in the head of the blonde woman with bobbed hair.

She has already invited Wanda several times to Westview Pool Club girls' gatherings, but Wanda politely declined with an odd smile and a trivial wave of her hand, because she's never been the socially outgoing kind of type—and she's always been under the impression that every attempt Sarah made from approaching her were due to the fact that the other woman knew of her past as an Avenger (as did most of the small-town citizens), and so was trying to turn her into a kind of living-tourist-spot for the eyes of the rest of the world to witness.

(Rumors had it that Sarah would run for mayor in the upcoming election, and having a former Avenger as the face of her campaign certainly sells well with the predilections of the American public. Little does she know that Wanda won't vote for her)

“Oh yes, it's one of my favorites” Wanda retorts, talking about the dark tall bottle of red wine prudently deposited inside her plastic basket “It's been a while since I've had a drink, so I decided to buy a bottle to open this weekend”

“Some special occasion, I suppose?” Sarah articulates a suggestive grin, but Wanda just frowns uncertainly, half squinting at her neighbor.

“What- no, no. No” she flashes a half embarrassed, half awkward smile, chuckling nervously while doing so “Y/N is staying with the boys for the weekend, so it's just a special little thing for me. All by myself. A quarantine-style staycation. A whole weekend... just to myself"

“Y/N, huh?” Sarah raises a well-crafted eyebrow in a pique of curiosity “Your ex-wife, right? I remember seeing her at the twins' birthday party. I mean, she's pretty, yes, but she's quite the quiet type, huh...”

“Yeah, she was never one to talk much… but neither am I, honestly"

“A pair made in heaven, indeed” Sarah then flashes a smile, but the taste that slides across Wanda's tongue is bitter and kind of hard to swallow.

She shifts her body weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

“But wait, she's also an Avenger, isn’t she? Yeah, she's the one in the black and white outfit! Oh my God! Who wore a jacket over it and had that kinda mean attitude, all punk rock and stuff?”

“Herself” Wanda agrees, pressing her lips together in a long, clumsy line. She just wants to go home and cook her damn kugel.

“Oh my, how did I not notice this before? I remember seeing her in the news once, when I was in college. I also had a taste for delinquents back then, if you know what I mean”

Wanda feels a hot twinge high in her face and she bites the inside of her cheek in a rather timid act (but there's no denying that Y/N's somewhat rebellious attitude has always had a lewd effect on her legs as a young teenager with a schoolgirl’s heart).

“She and Black Widow, I think, saved the life of the mayor in that bombing on the Fourth of July in... 2015, 2016, maybe? Yeah, I remember that! She's the one who's super strong, isn't she? Who held up a scaffold once and saved those kids”

 "That's her, yes"

The brunette muss in a limp voice, which seems to draw a slightly indecent laugh from the blonde woman with her shopping cart full of knick-knacks and silver hoops clicking in her earlobes. It is from her that the aroma of sturdy perfume comes.

“Well, I imagine that super strength of hers comes in handy in some… situations”

“Situ-“ but then she blinks just one time “Oh”

Mortification hangs over Wanda like a bucket of paint spilled over her dark-haired head.

She opens and closes her mouth like a golden fish, frowning, and her cheeks don't take long to reach strong shades of scarlet, glowing red like one of the tomatoes inside Sarah's cart.

It's inappropriate, and she knows it, but she can't help but feel a certain tingle in her breasts as lapses of memory enlighten her thoughts with the ghost of touches coursing along her body. Then she thinks of Y/N's warm, measured breath against her earlobe (of strong hands pinning her wrists above her head, of a tense, impassive hip against her own hip, of the cracked headboard and the broken bedframe). A movement and a moan. An electrical discharge in her bowels.

And then, fuck...

Just Y/N tearing her insides apart.

The other woman smiles viciously, and Wanda suddenly wishes she hadn't put on a sweater before leaving the house, because she can actually feel herself starting to perspire at the expectant look her neighbor bestows on her.

She's never been one to deal with such intimacies with anyone other than her ex-wife (merely some casual, unsuccessful and sporadic blind dates that's never been more than a few kisses and a few touches here and there, by no means ending up in her or anyone else's bed).

But she permits herself only to flash a wan grin towards the other woman when she realizes that, in front of her, the old lady has lastly found her damn change.

Fucking finally.

And then, with the memory still boiling hungrily in her innards, like a hungry beast devouring her from the inside out, she takes a large step in the other direction, trying to walk away from Sarah as humanly possible, as if the other woman carries with her a toxic cloud that sickens everything that comes in contact with her.

If Wanda couldn't probably get a nice lawsuit for that (or worst), she'd turn Sarah into a disgusting slimy frog.

“Well, I, I, I need to go, Sarah, but it was really nice meeting you around here. Bye” the enchantress raises her wrist, bidding the blonde woman goodbye with a wave of her hand and a small, introverted (half-awkward) grin.

There is barely time for an answer to be formulated on the part of the housewife. Wanda's cheeks are still red hot as she (virtually) dashes through the small supermarket's automatic double doors like a fugitive on the run. Mrs. Davis drops a coin on the floor on her way out.

ᗢ

You don't know exactly how long you've been raising and lowering the joint of your bent elbow above your head. It doesn't feel right to do it, just as it doesn't do it if it feels wrong. It's just necessary – it’s like cracking some eggs if you're in the mood for an omelet for breakfast.

You just have the fullest conception that a few good minutes have passed since the beginning of all the activity, and as in the rehearsal of a play, you are repeating the gestures until you overcome them with great proficiency and your culmination comes out perfect, from your liking.

And you don't bother to intend to stop doing it anytime soon – such a guttural, animalistic and barbaric action. At this point, the movement is already instinctive after being recorded in at the core of your memory, an automatic message engraved between the ligaments of your neurons.

 You've done it innumerable times before, and you know you'll do it a few more times after this one.

You lift your right arm, lowers your implacable fist constricted like a steel ball, the resonance of smashed cartilage and wrecked bones echoing in your eardrums, all instructed by the figure of a bloodthirsty invisible conductor within the ramparts of your own cranium.

The face of the bewildered guy lying beneath you looks like a loaf of raw, misshapen meat as you repeat a cadence of sequentially delivered punches against his facial bones.

And he, who is at least twice as big as you, lets out a piercing howl of pain from the cavernous depths of his throat, as even a wild bear would do if attacked deep in a forest.

But in that alley on Long Island there is not a soul available to help him to get rid of your uncomplacent fists – not at the end of a passage that is unpopulated, far from prying eyes that could creep in your direction during the action which takes place there, a beacon of environment squeezed between two amorphous walls of scorched bricks, which gives the illusion of a single long, damp, narrow street. 

A sphere of blood is clotted on your face, like an eccentric gemstone, a dark red pearl splattered under the arch of your left eyebrow. And you pant heavily, your veins stiffening.

You've never been one to refuse punching a motherfucker in the face – your forte has always been pounding up things, whether on the countless missions conveyed alongside your teammates or at work during your teenage years, taking advantage of your inhuman gifts to have something to eat at the end of the week.

You've never had a dilemma in whacking someone’s ass. Even more so when that said someone had committed a hate crime against a racial minority and got away with the trial, because that's the way it is in New York City.

The recurring metallic scent of fresh blood squirts in a jet of reddish color, thick and gleaming across your rigid, compact knuckles. The gruesome fragrance is no stranger to your sense of smell, and you're not quite sure whether you want it to be or not.

But it is what you are; as an inherent component of your biological chemistry (like the serum gushing through Steve's veins, altering him from inside out, or the magic pulsing within Wanda's core, changing the structure of her brainwaves), you know that hostility is a primeval part of your nature longer than the placid ends of an ordinary, quiet life.

The peaceable domestic life lived alongside Wanda is long gone, and desolation and wrath are your only roommates within the walls of your morbidly valueless apartment.

You've been living like a cornered animal for fifteen years in programmed mode, always exposing your fangs and your claws at any sign of danger, just self-destructing, dying little by little, not craving to exist for one more day after laying your head on the blandishments of your pillow and staring blankly at the ceiling, whirling through your usual drunken state. Just desiring to somehow wreck your imperishable body that can't be cut or torn by human hands or tools.

People much well-intentioned than you are long gone, and you, by some implausible probabilities, were (cursed) fortunate to have endured thorough all the catastrophes that life directed at you.

The car accident as a child. The blip as a mother and as a wife, as a friend.

The damn journey by the mountain of Vormir, in which three of you went in the grip of that appallingly isolated planet, and only two came back with a chest full of oxygen and life pumping through your nervures. The avid combat for proprietorship of all the six Infinity Stones, and the provenance of the final snap that brought back peace to the equilibrium of the universe by eliminating the existence of its greatest known threat at the time.

You just seem to live confined in this unbearable cycle of misfortune, and it's not fair to others that you are the person left to tell the story of those who are gone.

If only you could, you would swap places with the true heroes who gave their lives for the greater good. You would even be honored to do so yourself.

Your chest heaves and deflates severely within the molds of your leather jacket fitted around your shoulders over a short-sleeved plain shirt, your veins bulging with rushing blood, and you rise to your feet, setting up your knees, and step back to inspect the big man who lies defeated to the floor of the alley, amidst a pool of his own blood and filth typical of places like this — your jacket sleeve shimmering with bundles of fresh blood, a coat of gleaming sweat limping glistening on the beam of skin on your forehead, near your hairline.

He is still alive, groaning in a vital position, and is severely battered. And it was never your intention to kill anyone. He probably learned his lesson. Maybe you should break his legs, just in case.

A tremor rolls under your black sneaker feet as a loud motorcycle passes by in the distance. Sirens also pass presently afterwards, coming and going with their blue and red outcome.

But there, squeezed inside the claustrophobic walls of the dim alley, you are far from any possible intervention. You then register a single shake that travels along the outline of your left leg as your cellphone pulses inside the back pocket of your old jeans, shivering against your hip bone.

 You take an elongated gulp of air before diving into your flickering pocket and hooking the device through your fuming, blooded finger length. You know your pupils are dilated and dark.

Your gaze is empty and brittle as you scrutinize between the digitally formed words before your motionless eyes.

Frequent bursts of oxygen are a method of neutralizing the pulses of adrenaline throbbing in the artery inside your neck. But the taste that slips between your teeth is acid and sour, and you lock your jawbone at the information that is cognitive to you.

Hey, Y/N. Are you really going to come get the boys tonight? I saw in the weather forecast that it will rain later, so I wanted to check with you just to make sure

(seen)

It’s Wanda

(seen)

By the way

(seen)

Yes, you know it's Wanda (your sweet Wanda, the trace of humanity lingering inside your icy chest), that she texted you. And it doesn't astonish you at all (not anymore), because not many people contact you lately during the sunny period of the day.

You two have been keeping in touch the last few days, after all, you told her that you wanted to be more present in the twins' lives. And it's not an untruth at all, but your sly creaking anxiety makes you feel like it's a kind of uncertainty inside your throbbing stomach walls.

Maybe it's not the right decision, the voice inside your head spoke. Maybe at this point in life they don't need you anymore. Maybe this is a breakthrough, or even the commencement of a calamity worthy of a Greek novel, you're not quite sure yet.

You turn on your heels and spin your back on the battered man, so you can send your reply to your ex-wife's number without looking at the ferocious outcome of your latent tantrum.

yup, your avid thumbs type along the digital keyboard provided on the screen of the small electronic device, i’ll be there in 1 hour or so. hope they like cheeseburgers.

And then you slide your upper teeth along the flesh of your lower lip, somewhat unsure of how to proceed.

try to enjoy your staycation btw. you deserve it

(seen)

:)

(seen)

You don't know why you sent her that stupid emoji.

It's not like you're a teenager reproducing a failed flirtation attempt with the girl you have a crush on anymore.

But a lapse of realism is present as your vision aims on the blood folds on your stinging fingers folded around the cellphone, and you feel a heavy ball of constricted lamentation taking shape in the back of your throat when your sorrowful eyes scrutinize thorough the lines of your hands and find there only odious signs of a cavernous viciousness (a raw, physical cruelty also reflected within the mirror of your shattered soul).

In the background, the man is still groaning in pain. And you're not sorry you broke him in a beating. No, no. You're just sorry for yourself, because you didn't bat an eye when you did it.

Vaguely the memory of Wanda placing chaste kisses along your hands invades you, and you realize you wouldn't want her to kiss your unseemly fingers right now (because you find her too pure to dwell on the filthiness of your touch).

The skin on your hands abruptly itches and feels dull, and you don't feel like having those plagued fingers around your children’s immaculate faces anymore.

ᗢ

The twilight of dusk breaks with the trepidation of an ingrained thunder, which rumbles all in a glow of white light that splits along the longitudinal path that comprised the pleasant suburb that is Westview.

So, this is an opaque afternoon resulting from the middle of the rainy day, gray and hazy in its chilly essence, with tenuous threads of a torrential drizzle protecting the foundations of the two-story house on the slopes of the street, making the dewy ivy rustle on its ground, dripping slowly from the eaves of the ceramic tiles.

Standing on the porch of Wanda's house, you ponder that you should have listened to the weather forecast when it was said that during the afternoon there would be a period of rain. Your dark hoodie is really soaked through and your hair, pulled back in a high half ponytail, is damp against the skin of your own forehead. You feel kind of stupid.

Compact, opulent, slate-colored clouds were uneven against the emerald green of the panorama of howling houses, hills and trees, like the leaning of thick smoke from a desolate fire.

A fierce storm, nevertheless, is not anomalous in the face of the oscillating spring climate of the state of New Jersey, which is not a real stranger to the rainy weather of the season. Thus, the nonstop drizzle is not the atypical episode of the day altogether.

The conquering event of such a rank happens when Wanda opens the door and finds you there, standing with your elbows dripping cold droplets water in the light wood entrance, and then pulls you into the cozy embrace of the pleasant climate established within that domestic environment of her own home.

“For God’s sake, Y/N, you're soaking wet!”

She reiterates, surveying you with an apprehensive gaze that runs the length of your head to toe, her slender ringless fingers still pressed worriedly around the outline of your right forearm tucked beneath the humid fabric of your damp blouse – but Wanda doesn't seem to realize as she's still carries with the action, and you kind of don't want her to let go of you anytime soon, so you say nothing about the warm touch tingling on your cold skin.

“Yeah, the rain started when I was halfway there and there was no way for me to avoid it, so I just went with it” you mutter, with a certain lack of interest smoldering in your quiet voice “Sometimes I wish I still had a car...”

“But you didn't bring an umbrella?” Her gaze is accusatory in your direction, the tone of voice sounding dangerously concerned inside your ears.

“Well” you kind of sigh, shrugging your shoulders within your hoodie, without looking her straight in the eye “You see, I, hah… I didn’t think it was actually going to… you know… to rain”

And then you look at her, and the exact facial expression you'd expect to find there makes its way until it slides all over her face. She’s pissed off.

“But I told you it was going to rain!” she then frowns at you, looking a little exasperated while doing it, her beautiful features drenched in an irritated tone of incredulity “Seriously Y/N, you need to listen to what I say more! What if you get sick?”

You flick an eyelid at the grumpy figure of a very upset Wanda standing right in front of you, exhaling aromas of tea and crimson color. It's funny how the pique of nostalgia slips through your bones – there is an air of familiarity when a subtle sense of déjà vu settles into your cognitive system, like the feeling of coming home after a long trip. You feel at home. You feel belonging.

This image is very cherished to your spirit, and you can't help but to articulate a small grin that feels light in your heart in front of your ex-wife, who then aims towards your gaze with a gleam that is an assortment of misunderstanding and irritability flickering in the greenish irises, the color that look like two emerald stones embedded within her eyeballs, curving a single one of her sharp dark eyebrows in an high arching cut.

You feel married to her again for half a fraction of a second – it's like your remote newlywed routine all over again. And the feeling is actually good.

She looks so pretty. It's like you could kiss her lips right there.

“What? What's so funny?”

Wanda questions you in an almost petulant way, and you let out a pleasant chuckle as she tilts her head slightly to the side of her right elbow, her chin pointing toward the tip of your nose – her typical irritating movement as the harbinger of an angry reaction to anything that troubles her spirit.

“You know I'm physically incapable of getting sick, don't you?” you declare, still with a smile carved along the outline of your own lips, and Wanda crosses her forearms close to her chest in an even vaguely embarrassed way in front of you.

She was always a stubborn bratty type anyways.

“It's that super durability mutant thing or some shit like that. At least that's what Banner told me once, and he's a smart guy, so I believe him” you casually shrug, “I haven't had a cold since I was, like, thirteen. Shit, I don't even know if I remember what it's like anymore. You don't have to worry about me, Wanda"

“W-well,” she exasperated in a timidly cute way, even a little childish in essence, pressing her open palms against the sides of her hips well-guarded by a pair of pale mom jeans – the attire so far from the miniskirts and chains and torn clothes she used to wear when she was younger, at the apex of her mean girl phase.

Today isn't the first time you've noticed that her waist got wider as a result of the prudent ripening endowments of late adulthood blossoming into her beautiful body-type. It suits her well. You want to touch her skin through the fabric of those flimsy jeans and the thin white cotton blouse; your fingers itch to do it.

“Just because you don't get sick like other people it doesn’t mean you can walk around in the rain whenever you feel like it. You look like a wet dog right now, you know”

“Alright, alright, I get it” you raise both your hands to shoulder height in a placid gesture of surrender “No more walks in the rain”

“You're impossible, Y/N” she then rolls her green eyes into their sockets, but you just smirk jokily at her reaction.

It only takes a nonchalant magical flutter of Wanda's wrist, with her right five fingers all enveloped in a fading mist of crimson steam, for the well-versed witch to make your garments still swell on your body, expelling from the bristles of fabric, as even in a chemical separation reaction, the water molecules that soaked them in the first place.

It's like a huge hair dryer blowing hot air the entire length of your body and then unexpectedly stopping as if pulled from the socket, making your skin temperature pleasant again like a sunny embrace all around your body.

You find yourself dry in a matter of seconds, from your socks to your underwear, thanks to her remarkable magical gifts.

The tingles consequential from the scarlet mist touching your skin still slither down the length of your body. It is familiar and eccentrically comforting – it's like eating again a candy that you used to eat during the preludes of your childhood; tastes like home and happiness.

“You know what, your powers come in handy sometimes, I’ll give you that” you say in a mocking tone of voice, and she raises a single eyebrow in response.

"I'm still considering throwing you out for dripping water on my carpet, just so you know"

Wanda just casts a weary glance in your direction, but there's a slight lighthearted tone that resides in the green outline of her graceful irises, as if an inside joke has taken hold between you two.

She smiles, and so do you, because you feel comfortable while doing it – a pair of complicit grins from someone whose chest is filled of joy and fullness. The atmosphere that sets in is comfortable, and you feel more relaxed being close to her.

You don't really do it, but it feels like your fingers are entwined with the fingers of her own hand – the specter of touch is written between the two of you, and it's as if your soul can really feel hers at its core, like two magnets that can't stop attracting each other instantaneously. You've always gravitated towards Wanda's overwhelming presence, and things won't be any different now.

“Come on, the boys are watching cartoons in the living room” Wanda says, then turning her back on you so that you follow her lead to the intimates of the house, “You can stay until the rain stops”

You follow after your ex-wife without further circumlocution, the two of you passing through the small and comfy entrance hall as you go after Wanda into the large rectangular living room, your hands always tucked inside the single pocket of your hoodie as you accompany her with phlegmatic steps in your essence.

Your shoulders feel even lighter as she turns to you and casually offers you the sweetest smile you've ever seen in your life.

Torrential rain is still pouring down from the sky outside the house, and the boys Billy and Tommy can be seen wearing warm, comfortable clothes, both the twins snuggled up against the back of the gray linen sofa, their little smart eyes looking smilingly at each other’s faces and not towards the television screen, where some cartoon that seems unfamiliar to you is shown.

They seem to share some secret that only two people with some primal connection as to what unites them would be able to do it, but the sounds of banter irrigated in the air of childish shenanigans reveals the mockery between their giggles.

They are brothers and they are twins, yes, two parts of a whole, born of the same womb that they shared from the beginning of their existence as two living beings, but you were always a little happier to realize the closeness established in the friendship between your children. Billy and Tommy are each other's best friends.

The pair then seem to make themselves aware of the presence of their two mothers as they enter the room, and the smiles of both children scintillate in enthusiasm as the pairs of eyes look up and acknowledge your appearance a little further behind Wanda's still figure, following her very closely, ceasing the small section of chitchats they had between the two of them.

"Mom!"

"Mommy!"

From the sofa the boys joyfully call out to you, beaming in your direction. You can't help but do the same to them.

“Hey, my demons spawn. What are you up to there, huh?”

“We were preparing something! Okay, so, mom,” Billy speaks in response, barely seeming to be able to contain the glee of excitement inside his tiny body.

"Listen to this-!" Tommy complements his brother's phrase, in a tone of enthusiastic anticipation.

"Hey, I want to start it!" but the other twin intervenes promptly, almost indignantly.

Tommy frowns, turning up his freckled little nose towards a rather annoyed Billy, who is sitting next to his left elbow. The little boy briefly tilts his head to the left side towards his brother, and you know you've seen similar action in Wanda's characteristic mannerisms.

“No, I want to start it!”

"I want to start it!"

“But I want to start it!”

“I want to start it!”

“Why don't you both” Wanda then promptly interferes with the small disagreement between the boys, increasing her mother's reproachful tone of voice a little, preventing, at the beginning, that the intrigue takes a somewhat bigger proportions “Start it together?”

“Yeah” you support her in a complacent tone of voice “You two came up with the idea together, so the right thing would be to do it together too. Whatever it is, I mean”

"Okay"

"Okay..."

The two of them mutter almost in almost defeated tune, fidgeting together on the couch. You think that they look cute while they're there, tiny and sitting like two baby rabbits.

"You ready?" Billy questions in a low voice, turning to the brother beside him.

“Yeah” Tommy mussed back, nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” says Billy then, almost proudly, “Three, two, one, go”

And then, you can barely contain a smirk when the boys, in different and discrepant voice tones, begin a silly chant in their thin children's voices. In the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice that Wanda also lets out an amorous smile, melting into a comfortable puddle of kindness, dying in love with her two singing little children sitting across from the two of you.

“We like ice cream like any child should” they hum together, vocalizing playful tones as they proceed through the song's component words, “And if we get some ice cream, we pro-mise to be… good!”

Then they look towards the two of you, displaying expectant smiles written all over their childish faces. And you and Wanda exchange glances, and the smile she offers you is very similar to the one that graces the curve of Billy's lips.

"Nice try, smarty-pants, but you haven't even had dinner yet"

“But mama” Tommy replies in a pleading tone of voice “We really want ice cream!”

“Yes, we want ice cream!” exclaims Billy in agreement "We can't wait!"

“Well, we can have dinner first, then ice cream. What do you guys think?" you offer them, your eyes darting towards Wanda's face "But you need to have dinner first to grow to be strong and healthy, and ice cream is for dessert only. Right, mama?"

Wanda looks in your direction, and then smiles. And you smile back, because the situation is prone to do so. You, for the first time in so long, feel welcomed and hassle-free in the presence of others.

The air inside the house is blissful and warm, so unlike your empty, disdainful apartment forgotten somewhere on the West Side of Midtown Manhattan. Wanda doesn't feel like your ex-wife right now – at least, that's not how she looks at you.

“Right” her eyes flash pale green beams towards you “Let's have dinner first, mommy”

ᗢ

You wake up in the middle of the night, but maybe you just haven't fallen asleep at all.

The sheets that grace the bottom of your body are soft and comfortable, and the pajama set you wear is not your property. It's late in the course of the long night, and like so many that have passed before this one, you just know you wouldn't be able to rest your relaxation anytime soon.

How could you even do it? Perhaps you stayed longer than you realized detailing the gloomy ceiling of Wanda's guest room, counting in your mind as you scrutinized every passing second so that you still had control over something (time being something), so that you wouldn't go mad at being dismembered alive by each of your own inner demons.

If the beginning of the night was watered in jubilation and a serene comforting coziness on your part, the firstfruits of the dawn soon came to frustrate you in the form of intrusive thoughts quite harmful to your twisted mental health.

The torrential rain didn't stop anytime soon, and after having dinner with Wanda and the boys (in a very warm congregation, you were sitting at the table with your family, eating the same food as them and breathing the same oxygen, always supported by grins of pleasure as you chatted eagerly with each other), and the twins were slow to fall asleep after two generous mugs of chocolate mint ice cream each.

Your ex-wife insisted that you stay for the night after the two of you carried them upstairs and deposited them in their respective tidy beds, showering each of them with chaste kisses to the tops of their childish heads – Wanda's little staycation was long-forgotten by then.

You let out a disturbed sigh, both palms of your hands polishing the length of the dull face of yours.

What the fuck, you think, what the fuck are you doing there? This may even be your family, but this is not your house. It's not your home. Not anymore.

Reverberating through your insides you find the throttling need for a drag of a cigarette eating away at the bottom of your lungs like a harmful parasite sucking the life from its source, and then you get up to do it, because lying down feels like it consumes you from within in a profuse haze of bubbling anxiety that bursts from your stomach to your mouth, making you feel so weak inside.

It has always struck you as a somewhat ironic cynicism on the part of the universe that you, who are possessed of an impenetrable shell on the outside, suffer so much from the brittle fragility of your own interior – hard skin does nothing to protect a broken mind.

The lavender bedclothes had begun to tighten the muscle in your neck after a while, and in the room just down the hall, you assume Wanda sleeps comfortably cuddling in her bed.

When searching inside the single pocket of your hoodie, the well-folded garment on top of a plain desk in the corner of the room, soaked in the darkness of the shadowy environment, the absconse pack of cigarettes from a brand that you are quite familiar with, that keeps you company in the acrimonious moments of solitude, you take a single cylindrical unit towards the spaces open to your drooping mouth and then you find the cold lighter with your fingertips, leaving for the entrance door of the room offered to you by your ex-wife.

After descending the stairs, stepping one step at a time with your bare feet, you are surprised that the door leading to the backyard is already open before you are even there, and the cold night wind has blown inside the house like a curious, invisible animal, installing an icy feeling of dysphoria within the broad walls.

But before you could search with your watchful eye for some intruder who went beyond the icy specter of the night, in avid state of alert, you notice an apollonian silhouette hunched outside, sitting on the step outside the door, with a long waterfall of soft hair in the color of a raven's down running halfway down her spine.

The restlessness that weighed heavily on your shoulders eased as the familiar full-bodied scent of hibiscus tea mixed with the sweetness of a mild strawberry shampoo slithered into your nostrils and filled your lungs thirsty for smoke and tobacco.

As you approach, you see that Wanda, wearing a sheer silk robe over a red nightgown, is accompanied by a large cup that exhales small clouds of steam, with the tiny bundle that carries the tea herbs submerged into the hot water inside the dark container.

"You really have loud thoughts" Wanda's small, soft voice ripples through the air and then hugs your body as your ex-wife turns toward you with a lingering slowness that, to you, is as familiar as the taste of your unsmoked cigarette.

Her eyes glow an intoxicating green hue amid the darkness of the night, only supported by the silver light of the moonlight coming from outside the residence.

You feel like a frog being studied on a silver platter in some high school biology class.

Wanda's diligent gaze always seemed to be able to penetrate through the cracks of your soul – she always understood you as if she were an expert when dealing with any subject concerning you.

You let out an uneasy sigh, oddly scratching the inside of your throat as you do.

"Sorry if I woke you up, it wasn't... it wasn't my... intention"

“It’s okay” she mumbles serenely over a sip of hot tea, the pulp of her nacarine lips being moistened by the hot liquid she's ingested.

“I still haven't been able to sleep anyway”

And it's no surprise to you, because you slept and woke up next to this woman for several of the component years of your life span, and it was always well known to you that Wanda is a woman quite affected by long sleepless nights, not being able to afford to actually close her eyes and be fortunate enough to have a good night's sleep.

Countless were the nights turned to morning dawns, when you both resided under the same roof in the compound back at the Avengers Tower, so many years before you were there, standing in the middle of her kitchen, silently watching her perform the simple act of drinking tea at her backyard door.

“Still having trouble sleeping?”

“Once in a while”

Wanda answers you, and with her eyes she indicates the empty space next to her right elbow so you can sit there.

“Sometimes I need to relearn how to sleep all by myself”

Without saying a word, you cross the entire length of the kitchen, passing by the island and the marble sink, to be seated on the marble step that freezes your warm skin, next to the woman who smells of hibiscus with strawberries and deep scarlet tones.

Her eyes recognize the figure of the unsmoked cigarette between your fingers, unlit and forgotten like the insignificant little rolled-up tobacco paper that it is, and then she looks toward the profile of your silhouette, blinking once with her thick eyelashes as she does so.

“You start smoking again?”

“Yeah, it's been a while, actually. Not that I'm proud of it”

Your gaze shifts to the small cylinder, turning it between the digits of your index and middle fingers of your tender right hand.

“That shit helps me calm down, I guess. Or at least I like to think so. I don’t know"

Silence touches both of you shoulders, and there is a moment for Wanda to sip more of the tea that has spilled into her cup. When the drink is gone, then all the way into her stomach, she places the container on the floor, close to her left ankle like a tame kitten, safe from her company.

You are still hesitating in the uncertainty of whether or not to light up that damned tempting cigarette.

“Earlier today,” she begins, immediately drawing your attention to her pretty face, and you're met with her pink lip as she clamps her upper teeth over the contour of her wet mouth.

“You and me and the boys... it was good. They like having you around. And I... I like it too, Y/N”

She hums in the sigh of the night. You feel a crackling feeling swelling inside your swollen chest, but you don't say anything in sequence, because it's Wanda who continues to converse in the silver moonlight.

“I had forgotten what it was like. Me and you acting like family. It's good, It’s… really good"

You choke relatively. For Wanda, a heartbeat rumbled in her ears. And then she looks at you, and you look at her.

And suddenly, you don't want to light that cigarette anymore – because she leans her chin forward, leaning her head towards you, and you do the same when your body cries out for her, lips colliding in midair like the consolidation of a wish, a scarlet fever supernova bursting within your own chest.

And then, the full-bodied freshness of hibiscus darts into the half-open breach in the gap between your lips, pressing a velvety tongue against the slit between your teeth, discharging into your mouth a red-sour-sweet flavor, definitely good though, but rougher than usual as the two of you now share a needy, somewhat sloppy, even animalistic kiss.

Even if there is indeed a need on Wanda's part, and you just need someone to scare you away from the evil inside your head.

 Your ex-wife, in a thoughtless act, dives with her clever hands into the thin fabric of the tank top that clothes your impenetrable skin, grabbing the sides of your waist in a needy way, as if all she wanted at that moment was to feel you, as if her entire existence existed based on physically feeling you snuggled into her icy body.

She blinks, consenting to the overflow of her feelings, enraptured by the image of your cheeks burning and your chest heaving.

And she does what she thinks is right to do, which seems to be the only option possible in this small moment of affection and dedication, filled with an ember that if she could name it, she would call it love - because she knows she love you, even if she didn't say it out loud yet.

You are the love of her life, and she is the love of yours.

Wanda then hurls herself even farther forward, a nymph figure smitten with idolatry, and takes her prize, pressing the commission of her red lips against the outlined mouth with the flavor of melancholy that could belong to none other than you, so exotic, and never the same.

You feel the smart hands rest at the end of your spine with an almost practiced disregard, seeking nothing but feeling at first, far from the lascivious idea of consolidating the carnal act. Wanda just wants to feel you close, all to herself, comfortable in her grip.

Between a set of pink lips, a tongue is present, and this tongue curls up in another in a not hasty and exaggerated way. It's elegant. It's careful. It is harmonious.

But a slow kiss unravels, and Wanda holds her breath and returns in search of more of her favorite flavor to keep in her mouth, only to be promptly reciprocated by a devoted you, a soft nostalgic familiarity edging your silhouettes connected by the lips beneath a star-studded sky, with an absorbed perfection that no one else but the two of you would be able to achieve.

Up and down, side and side; surrounded by genuine attunement, lips moved carefully, following an invisible line that dictates your not so reckless actions.

A waltz of delicate, tangible lips that still fit together so perfectly, so neatly, that you might as well cry.

But the pacified kiss soon takes the form of a fervent kiss as you pant hot against your ex-wife's lips, and the fervent kiss becomes little kisses sprinkled around her neck that soon dissolve into a hollow moan, into a world where there didn't seem to be any more worries as long as you were in each other's arms.

In her own time, Wanda drags her teeth along the lower lip of your mouth, which groans deeply in response with a tingling in your throat, a tiny fraction of time passing until, like a buzz, quick, rough lips take refuge again in a tongue inside your mouth, and you feel an icy hand grasp your breast in a primitive way.

Clever fingers, soaked in crimson, traveled to your scalp, and a light mouth caresses yet another moan of yours. In a heartbeat, Wanda swings a leg over your knees and sits right on top of your lap, grabbing your wrists to put your hands around her waist.

The feeling is familiar. Toxically familiar.

It is the red invading your senses, intoxicating you with dense doses of scarlet.

You know very well that, even before the enticements of alcohol and cigarettes, your primary vice has always been the crimson sweetness of Wanda's body.

And, well… you're not known for being resistant to the temptations of your addictions.

ᗢ

A crimson marble glow glistening under the palms of both your hands. Sweat glistened in the hollow of your groin across your burning hips.

Wanda riding on your lap, naked as a Renaissance painting displayed in the dim light of a museum, her chest heavy like a marathon runner. The long, thick length of the red strap brushed against a specific spot on her inner walls that made her delirious and increasingly pivot her hips toward you, seeking more, brushing against each other like two animals in heat.

There was nothing rational in that animalistic act.

The symphony in the room was that of skin beating wet against skin; of her lascivious wetness voraciously swallowing your cock.

You could see it from the single, retracted drop of sweat that poured into the valley between her own swollen breasts, the two mounds swaying just before your lascivious eyes; a delight modulated to your stormy gaze, profuse as sea water, which clouded your young girlfriend's body with a predatory look, immersed in illicit labor.

Your insides tingled in a white-hot tingle, both clits sliding through the material of the strap, the insides of your thighs strong and wet against Wanda's pulsing center.

Her tight pussy pressing against the erect silicone phallus between your legs, the red of the material buffed with the sticky juices from inside of her. That was her bed, her sheets wet beneath your sweaty bodies, the walls of her room reverberating the pornographic grunts and moans from deep in her throat.

“F-fuck-!” she clenched her teeth, her nails lacquered with black nail polish carving red paths in the muscles of your back, “Y/N, fuck, right there, ah-!”

Her thick Sokovian accent spilled into your ears, and something primal and cavernous rumbled inside you, like a spark that explodes in a raging fire.

You wanted to own her.

You wanted to consume her.

You wanted to eat her alive; fuck her until the mold of your strap was forever etched into the walls of her greedy cunt, which was increasingly squeezing the silicone phallus, a delicious pressure forming a red knot just below her belly button.

“Ah-! Ah-!, pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta-!” she gasped in her native dialect, loud and clear against your ear as you fucked her as hard as possible “Trakhni menya... ya pochti u tseli, ya po-pochti u tseli... Ugh, dorogaya!”

“Fuck, are you close?”

“U-uhum! ” she kind of moaned, both eyes squinted two lewd lines “Please don't stop, don't stop Y/N, ah-!”

The scream was loud as you dropped her suddenly onto the sheets, her sweaty back slamming against the thick material of the mattress, her dark hair spilling across the pale material of the pillow.

You slipped your hands between the folds of both her knees and brought her lower back close, barely giving her time to miss your strap inside her dripping cunt before guiding the red material between her sticky folds, resuming the vigorous action of fucking your way against her coccyx.

Your strong hand pressed itself (as did the bone of your jaw) against the upholstered headboard, and there a rip was deferred by your own touch – as it had done to a plucked pillow, and a lampshade shattered to the ground.

The lamp above your heads flashed white. Wanda's eyes glowed a profuse scarlet that swallowed the moss green of her irises, the darkening of her dilated pupils making her eyes look like two bottomless wells of lust.

You buried your face against the beam of sweaty skin that joined her neck to her collarbone, and placed a generous, savage bite there.

"Fuck- I’m cumming, I'm cumming!" she decreed, panting against your bare neck, pressing her fingers against your buttocks in an incitement to the act they so indomitably committed.

“Cum for me Wanda” you murmured against her ear “Cum on my cock, pretty girl”

The bed hit the wall again. And again. And again.

You didn't stop at the first orgasm. Nor in the second. Nor on the third.

《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》

[fruitwaterz]

What's Up With Jack? - A JFK Clone High Character Analysis Written By a Mentally Unwell Highschool Student

I'm gonna start this essay off with 5 words: JFK is an iconic character. He's not as iconic as…Spongebob, sure, but he is the glue that holds together Clone High as a whole because of his character. I've written an essay on him once, and since then I've always loved him and he was so interesting to analyze. Though, I felt as if I had gotten a few things wrong in that one analysis. So, I'm remaking it. In addition, I'm adding some more stuff and correcting what I've gotten wrong.

We know who JFK is. Not the former US president, the cartoon character. The brute, dumb womanizing jock. The one that's used for comedic relief from time to time. The silly himbo that people have grown to love since 2020.

While Clone High is a very satire show that makes fun of various teen tropes, we get ourselves some very interesting characters like Joan, the shadowy board, etc. So in a way, making this analysis is very silly of me but I'm a Clone High obsessed nerd who relates to some of the characters. Most of all, JFK. I want to highlight some elements that most of the fandom doesn't really dig into that much. Good news for JoanFK and Jfabe fans, I can't infodump without mentioning both of these ships.

This is a JFK Clone High essay, and why I care so fucking much. Contains season 2 spoilers.

LGBTQ: THE SEXUAL MINORITY

To state the obvious, JFK has gay foster dads. Something that you don't see in many other 2000s cartoons. Most people would expect the last thing is for a jock to have same sex foster parents. Jack seeks advice from them. He loves them. However, we do get moments where JFK gets confused about his own sexual orientation at times. For instance, he messes up his words and gets flustered around "John Dark", who is actually Joan. In the end, however, he becomes relieved at the thought of not being attracted to the same sex.

This could either mean that he was "intimidated" by his own sexual orientation, or the fact that he's bisexual in a country that many sexual minorities struggle through– even today. Even if this might be a stretch, this is the 2000s, I must remind you. It was a VERY different time for people who identified with their orientations. Since JFK is so popular in the school, he could've become afraid of ruining his own reputation because he was simply bisexual. So what does he do? He goes to his foster parents for advice.

A lot of people in the world aren't very accepting of people who are queer (hell, people shunned Abe for kissing his friend Gandhi. And while Abe isn't attracted to Gandhi in any way, I feel like this could be a good example).

Let's put ourselves in JFK's shoes for a moment. You'd happen to be a kid growing up in the 80s-90s. You have gay foster parents. You'd get made fun of for having gay parents. I think that at some point during Jack's childhood, he was probably ridiculed for having parents of the same sex. It's possible.

His Personality, His Reputation, And His Feelings

JFK loves receiving praise. He pulls constantly, he's the captain of the football team, and he likes making himself look nice. But it's very obvious that he hides his feelings, he wants to make himself look tough SO much that he's almost forgotten the one thing: It's okay to feel human emotions. JFK has mentioned before that the only girl who ever gave him feelings (before Joan came in) was Cleo– and even if she did, the two were in a toxic relationship. They argued with each other constantly, they put each other down.

This could suggest that he's only ever felt way too empty when he was around with other girls, so Cleo coming into his life brought a little color into his world. Just…not for long. He has a deep fear of breaking up with Joan and losing her, because he has abandonment issues. Yes, JFK, the asshole jock, has abandonment issues, and it's been right in front of our eyes. He himself demonstrates a genuine fear of losing someone close to us.

Now to talk about one of my favorite episodes where JFK gets some character development. Litter Kills: Litterally. If you don't know the premise of this episode, JFK loses his best friend, Ponce, due to him being killed by litter. And. That's pretty much it, everyone go home

Seriously though, while the episode itself is pretty stupid and hilarious, it also remains one of the emotional Clone High episodes. When Ponce dies, JFK is devastated, clearly. He lost one of his only best friends, and as the funeral for Ponce went on, JFK didn't care about his reputation, he didn't care how insane he looked to everyone, he only wanted to be with his friend. But even in the current situation he was in, JFK first refused to be comforted by Abe. This is also the moment of one of the first ever times he ever felt a warm embrace. And by his enemy, of all people.

Towards the end of the episode, we can see that JFK is at least starting to move on.

Now, on to season 2 JFK, I do believe that he had some sort of character growth ever since Joan came into his life, which brings me to number 3:

Loneliness And Insecurities

JFK is noticeably happier when he's with Joan, correct. She's the only person he's ever felt comfortable being with compared to Cleo, whereas the two were in a completely toxic relationship back in season 1.

I want to remind you all that Joan is genuinely the only woman JFK has ever loved, so the thought of breaking up with her makes him…anxious. He has an irrational fear of losing her, same as he lost Cleo (though, the two remained friends). In Anxious Times At Clone High, JFK avoids Joan so she wouldn't break up with him. He runs away from his problems in this episode, to be exact. When he's not with Joan, he is prone to overthinking.

Joan and JFK do share something in common, they both struggle in actually making friends. But in season 2 episode 2, Joan makes friends faster than JFK does. He's spent most of his highschool years being a womanizing stud, that he came to the realization that he actually doesn't have any friends. His only friend was his girlfriend.

So, he resorts to crying in the boys restroom. Which is where we see him become friends with Confucius, as he invites him over to his mansion for a boys night. A very convenient thing that caught my eye was: Confucius also struggles in making friends. So he and JFK also share a thing in common. This is one of the first friends he ever made, mind you.

JFK admits to the fact that he's a "loser with zero friends", after getting absolutely demolished in an internet argument against Topher Bus.

So, JFK is a very insecure person, got it. He insults himself over having no friends. He's afraid of losing someone close to him because he fears he's not good enough for her. He's so scared about the thought of her breaking up with him that it pushes him out of his comfort zone. Though, as the episodes progressed, we do see JFK gaining many other friendships, even becoming friends with his former rival, Abe.

JoanFK (And Why It Didn't Work Out)

I will start off with this section by saying that I do not dislike JoanFK, I personally think they are very cute. They have a great ship dynamic. Goth girl x dumb jock. But, and this is a very lukewarm take: I feel like their break up was fair.

Saved By The Knoll was the breaking point, where in one of the scenes, JFK…cheats on Joan by making out with Harriet. And while they both apologized and admitted it to her, it's still treated as cheating by Joan (however forgives them both in the end).

I believe that JFK letting Joan break up with him in Spring Broken was a very responsible thing to do of him, and he goes on about how Joan needs someone with her that's not just sexually. And JFK…makes a lot of sex jokes. He's not a perfect person. He has flaws in relationships, this includes Joan. Even though it was a pretty emotional scene, and Joan was saddened by JFK's suggestion, they are able to work things out in episode 8, Sexy Ed.

You get where I'm going with this. I personally think that JFK and Joan are better off as friends, they have an excellent platonic duo dynamic that could work out so well. The whole entire relationship thing was doomed to fail, and couldn't last long as a result. And while they both look out for each other and care for each other, I don't think I'm the only one who thought that the relationship was quickly gonna sink like the titanic.

Jfabe (And Why It Does Work Out)

I'm not saying JFK and Abe have to be a romantic couple, like JoanFK, they could also form a cool duo dynamic that we pretty much have little to see so far. I can only hope that in season 3, we could have more moments between them where they're just a powerful brotp.

I'd like to point out that these two are complete opposites; Abe is tall and lanky while JFK is short and buff. I like the thought of the tall loser boyfriend x short jock boyfriend ship dynamic. They both influenced each other's goals, Abe was determined to get Cleo to be with him because JFK was competing against him to also get the girl, and JFK wanted to win the presidential election because Abe was getting himself into danger (as said by Joan). In season 2 episode 10 however, they both agreed to the fact that, "Hey, we actually do great as a team!"

I believe that JFK and Abe could work out things if they were to be in a relationship together, such as JFK learning from his previous break up that he needs to improve. I figured that Abe could be his emotional support. The one who's always there for him, willing to help JFK out whenever he needs it. Just wanted to share my thoughts.

Conclusion

For a satirical highschool comedy, JFK is an interesting antagonist to supporting character despite being the stereotypical highschool bully, and that's probably part of why people like him so much. While they have watered him down a bit in season 2 I couldn't be more grateful that we at least got some more JFK content to work with. He has been rotting my brain asides from the show itself i think i need help . Thanks for sticking around

[homobrainjuice]

HELLO!!! I am HomoBrainJuice. HBJ for short! Welcome to my tumblr! My little space where I dump my gay thoughts through art! (Banner by @akalikestodraw) (pfp by @fizzycereal)

GO FOLLOW MY STORY “WILD” NOW RIGHT HERE @wildofficalblog

youtoob: https://m.youtube.com/@HomoBrainJuice/featured

some important facts about me:

I’m multi fandom (FANDOMS INCLUDE, OSC, FNAF, TADC, MUSICAL THEATER, HAZBIN HOTEL/HELLUVA BOSS, PJO, VARIOUS CARTOONS, AND ANYTHING ELSE ILL ADD IN THE FUTURE)

I’m Nonbinary and use they/them pronouns

I am a MINOR so please keep things sfw on here

I’m a huge theater kid

my birthday is June 14th :3

my favorite color is red :}

my PJO cabin is cabin 13 :P (FOLLOW ME OR FACE THE WRATH OF SKELETON ARMY 🦴🦴🦴🦴💀💀💀💀🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴💀🦴💀🦴💀🦴💀🦴💀🦴💀🦴🦴🦴💀)

IM AMERICAN (BIG STINKY DUMB DUMB/j)

I am rapidly approaching your location 🥰

(I also created a II x BMC au that I share with @fizzycereal, aswell as an II x RTC au)

THINGS I CAN DO!:

draw! (90% of my blog)

animate! (I’m still practicing)

voice act/ sing! (I am a major theatre kid and do all my school plays)

write! (I love making stories!!!)

please be nice and respectful on my blog.If you know me IRL DO NOT use my legal name online Anyone who doesn’t follow this WILL be blocked

NAMES YOU CAN CALL ME >:D

HBJ or BJ: okay, this is the default most ppl call me

Bgay: WHY NOT :) (thanks @fizzycereal)

HomoBrainJuice: fine but you sure you can consistently type that all the time?

Rel: ONLY IF YOU ARE THE FOLLOWING PEOPLE: (@akalikestodraw (my qpp :3 <3) (@fizzycereal MY BEST FRIEND >:D) (@hollow8007, Bc you know me irl) WHY? BC I CONSIDER THIS NAME TO BE VERY PERSONAL SO PLEASE DONE USE IT UNLESS I GAVE YOU PERMISSION

My legal name: BIG NO NO 😡

any random silly nickname: only if we moots :P

this might be edited in the future :D!

SONA REF SHEET:

[fizzledlines]

A silly little book cover type thing i drew for a fic of mine :) Check it out on ao3: Paper Stars - lemonadeglaze - The Owl House (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own]

SUMARY: Luz is hurting, she can't sleep at night, and she certainly won't ask for help, but there is no way that will stop the girls from being there for her. A story of tough love, gay thoughts, and of course, the power of friendship.

[toh-proship-positivity]

i think about wittecest every moment of my god damn life. philip’s actions toward his brother were more similar to a jilted lover than an abandoned brother and his obsession can easily be read as romantic. it adds much needed coherency to his backstory if you read it from the angle that he was hopelessly in love with caleb, and it makes his creation and destruction of the grimwalkers even more disturbing. philip and caleb are characters from a silly little gay incest gothic horror period piece set in the 1600s that were somehow trapped in a children’s cartoon. sometimes i like to imagine them in a fluffy domestic setting where evelyn never existed and they fell in love as fellow witch hunters. i just think they’re neat.

that is adorable!

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

I really really wish I could watch some actual episodes of Fredbear and Friends. like I just know it would be so fun just to watch all the silly little shenanigans Fredbear and Springbonnie get into in every episode. just to watch them, see their personality and them interact. oh and also the gay moments. I just know it was a hit

oh yeah same i think about it a lot. Just this cheaply animated cartoon airing on 1 local Utah station <333 I think about how the mascots would've been characterised a lot I do love it.

[shit-taster-connoisseur]

BOO!

Haha, Did I Scare Ya?

Anyways I Noticed That You’re Looking For Some Silly Questions, So Your Wish Is Granted Mate!

A Simple One Of Course, What Are Your Thoughts/Opinions About One Of The Villains Such as The Interesting Twins?

JXJDB sure did

These guys, are by far my favorite villians, also im sucker for sibling dynamics

Wished they were taken more seriously, but won't deny some of their episode were my favorites by far (especially OP T.R.I.P). Less because of the gags they thrown them in, but rather we do finally see glimpses of their own personalities cause up until then there rlly wasnt much on them besides them failing and falling out a whole damn window all the time xxbdj honestly, that calls into question how resistant these guys are holy shit

The sister(if anyone got any name suggestions for them plz tell so I can steal them too/j), is fed UP, and I love her for it, cause with the amount of shit she's face i'd go fucking insane too. I vote we should give her gun, all her problems would be solved/j but actually, i enjoy that she's a little shit, impulsive, arrogant, etc, but i think it kinda stems from a fear of failure because how else would they've been known as father's bestest spies? Sector V had knocked down a pedestal, and that fucks with her head, but then their failures began to pile up and now she's becoming increasingly desperate to prove that she's still somehow #1– in turn she because implusive, impatient, etc. Sbe 100% cares for her brother, so at the same time she feels like she's dragging him down, it all piles on. Maybe a vaca would do her some good.

The brother, I absolutely adore him – tbh I adore both of them equally. He seems more like the younger of the two in terms of personality, we seem always following his sister's lead despite how irrational it could be. His loyalty and compassion to her is something that kinda pushes him to being my fav twin spot, cuz well im a sucker for good brother characters. And despite his more "softer" attuide compared to his sister's, they're both evil and flawed equally on the same level ‐ mo manipulation or pressure(well kind), nah-da. As the brother is just as implusive, selfish, and arrogant, but he hasn't let their failure get to his head just yet – in turn, he has more clearer head than his sister, so he ends becoming a voice of reason than a leader.

(Readmore cuz this is long jdbdb)

It's pretty popular theory that they're delightful, which is something I think about a LOT when it comes to their characters. And a bit more headcanon here: their non-delightful selves are still conscious, as to me(inspired heavily by my SS au with a friend), being delightful serves as just a filter for kids. Kinda like you feel the urge to chuck a plate, but because you're delightful, it's like a parasite keeping your hands folded in your lap, controlling your behaviors and words.

And they both don't like that their delightful-selves are fighting against old comrades because they were probably ex-KND operatives. perhaps got caught during a mission in Father's mansion, and faded to obscurity in KND history. Either that, or maybe they were father's first delightful experiments? Before the DCFDTL? Maybe that's why they aren't as insync as the DCFDTL, cuz you'd think them being related by blood would strength that bond.

Honestly, i just want an AU where they're happy:))

More headcanons:

Lesbian/Gay solidarity and hostility

They are the entire Evelyn Evelyn album(or not idk, havent listen to it in awhile)

If they ever do end up being undelightfulized, they'd have vastly different asthetics out of spite. Not sure which ones yet

They'd marathon Saturday morning cartoons to get the full childhood experience!!

They consider the DCFDTL sort like cousins, a familial connection is there at least

They're presumed missing, so they live alone in a house bought by Father. They're able to split the chores usually, but the Brother is the better cook between them, so the sister just does the dishes.

Alternatively they also live in Father's mansion, but because they keep falling out of windows at comical heights, they're in bed rest planning their next schemes, therefore more out the way

If they got turned into animals, they'd probably be panthers or owls idk

(Lord save me it's nearly 1am on a school might xmsb)

[quarktrinity]

quark watches star trek season 1 episode 25

welcome to Space City, a City in Space

The Mines

love when star trek is a horror show

this dude is obviously gay for his boss

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IM SO SORRY I KNOW IM MEANT TO BE TERRIFIED OF THE MONSTER OUT OF FRAME BUT ITS SO SILLY

the knowledge of the Fire Monster is gathered the same way as several celestial bodies: not by direct witness, but rather by observing its effects on its surroundings

i know spock is genuine when he says "fascinating" but he makes it sound SO sarcastic

this episode is kinda lovecraftian. i love it

"something happening in the reactor room!!!" a reaction, perhaps?

spock says dont touch chemical burns kirk. idiot.

i should add "limited time until certain death" to the bingo card

i love kirks hair

the Fire Monster does not like people

"silicon-based life"

kirk tells scotty to kiss a pipe

noooo not the red shiiiirrrrt ohhhhh nooooooo

LMFAO THE FIRE MONSTER LOOKS SO DUMB

ITS LIKE A WRITHING RED CARPET BLOB

LIKE A FUCKING SEA SLUG

LIKE THAT BUT ROUGHLY THE SIZE OF A SEA TURTLE

kirk has a truly impressive ass ngl

kirk dramatically walks away from spock to give him a good look at his impressive ass

spock is sad about killing a potentially endangered species

kirk wants to keep spock safe. dude

more weird vulcan psychic powers. can we get a little exposition on this please

sooooooo much spirk flirting

HAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH THE MONSTERS SO STUPID LOOKING

HAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

fire monster responds to death threats

its kinda cute actually

it may be nice <3

spock is so in love with kirk

this dudes walking around in a pink onesie. alright man

the monster has a boo-boo :(

oh those silicon orbs are eggs arent they

spock shouts "PAIN! PAIN! PAIN!"

the monster can write imperfect english

it is apparently intelligent

this episode is less lovecraft and more childrens cartoon

spock takes psychic damage

star trek says species endangerment and/or colonialism bad

these things got Lore

I KNEW IT I KNEW THEY WERE EGGS

star trek says environmental preservation good

"let us Employ the fire monsters"

mccoys got goop on his hands

spock says the fire monster is smarter than you idiots

now everyone is friends!!!

the fire monster thinks spocks ears are hot

spock is offended at kirk noticing his character arc

gayer than gay sex i keep saying this

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Also shorter ones today… mostly related to our previous replies and posts!

Anonymous asked:

After seeing Eel Floyd with Riddle

AND THOSE BITE MARKS 👀👀👀👀

I gotta know -

Did Floyd slip and slide in Riddle?

Or

Also

Did Riddle magically goldfish form and the two had merman sex???

Honestly I wasn’t thinking about Riddle also becoming a merman, but they absolutely have to have merman sex at some point, otherwise it just isn’t fair (to me) lol

And to answer your first question, yes, there might have been some slipping and sliding in Riddle involved~

Anonymous asked:

re: the gaslighting Jade ask. I randomly stumbled on your blog from other ones, and I literally blocked you because shroudcest triggers me. Ultimately, we are responsible for our own safety. As long as it’s properly marked for (which yours clearly is since I blocked you the second I made a tumblr), really all we can do is filter the things that hurt us out.

(im agreeing with you btw. draw what you want i cant stop you. just feel like i in particular make a point worth mentioning from seeing that. you can answer this or not bc obviously i probably wont see it anyway)

Anon! Whether you see this reply or not, thank you very much for writing this despite having us blocked lol

You really are making a good point, and I am glad that you are taking care of yourself and avoiding uncomfortable stuff. I really encourage it. Thank you for understanding and for approaching this issue with respect.

Have a good day.

Anonymous asked:

Gaslighting IS Jade’s love language. Also mushrooms.

Facts, Anon <3 He doesn’t waste his gaslighting and mushrooms on those he doesn’t find entertaining love!

Anonymous asked:

Honestly I can totally see Cater as the kind of guy that now and then buys a random manga just because the cover looks aesthetically pleasing, although if they are BL they are probably more oriented towards shonen-ai than explicit content. But also he wouldn't really read them because he finds the stories and characters a bit ridiculous (is he a bitter anti-romantic? or maybe his sisters used to collect shojo manga and he associates the love story genre with them?). I bet when he had roommates he had fun leaving one of his manga lying around, just to see people's reaction and go "aw, shoot, you saw it? that's sooo embarassing..." or something like that

To be honest, I can see that too. Cater seems like someone who isn’t all that into anime and manga, but is aware of it enough to recognise that the cover is pretty and that there is something gay inside (he might figure out the latter thing later as he looks inside the book lol). His sisters really could be into it though, so I can see him having certain associations.

lol Cater’s roommates “finding” his manga though… Don’t act so coy, Cater 😭

Anonymous asked:

Goddammit! Idia, you cannot escape me for long, one way or another, your chest will be licked! *shakes fist at the sky*

I love how this is turning into a Looney Tunes cartoon…

Anonymous asked:

Idia doesn’t have nipples. He accidentally shaved them off. Tragic 😔 L in the chat for his nipples.

Damn. I’m afraid I have bad news for the previous Anon.

Anonymous asked:

Do you have any HCs for Neige and/or Chenya?

We do have HCs about Neige/Vil and Chenya/Riddle (1,2)!

Anonymous asked:

It is I, 🐩 anon,

So I got a friend into twst and tell me why her favorite character is goddamn Crowley? I'm currently trying to convert her to Divus supremacy. Enough about this. Let me ask my silly little question.

Is there anything about TWST's story plot that you dislike or wished it was worked on more? Or character you wish were more fleshed out? 

Your friend has quite the taste… She is probably a genius of sorts 😔🙏

I feel like I was pretty vocal about it, so I am sorry for talking about it again, but I really didn’t enjoy how Ch2 was handled and Leona in general, to be honest. I wrote a post about my grievances a whole year ago, but my stance didn’t really change. We’ve rewatched the majority of the main story since then, and I thought that maybe with fresh minds and fresh eyes we would enjoy Leona at least to some degree, but unfortunately it didn’t really help. The events don’t really help either…

There might be some other things, but this is the one I think about every time when we talk about the flaws of TWST writing.

Anonymous asked:

what is your notp?

A bunch of Leona ships come to mind, i.e. Leona/Malleus, Leona/Vil, Leona/Idia 🤔 But also a bunch of Trey ships, like Trey/Jade or Rook/Trey…

Anonymous asked:

if you had to go on a date with one of the twst boys who are you picking? i'm picking idia

Idia is a great option, Anon; he would be so uncomfortable and awkward, getting nervous about the smallest inconveniences and whispering “thank god” every time you don’t force him to do something… I would pick him to, but my second option would be Jamil. I think he’s pretty chill.

Katsu would've picked Jade because of course, this is the best pick.

Anonymous asked:

any old fandoms that you feel out of love with?

Can’t think of any, Anon… I feel like we never fall completely out of love with anything, just move on, but there is always an opportunity that we’ll come back at some point. Things like Homestuck are still on our minds constantly lol

There are some titles that we kind of started watching, but then stopped because it wasn’t fully out yet, and since then we kind of lost interest for this thing. And with some of these titles it’s very unlikely that we’ll ever go back, but it’s never 1000% impossible. But then again, it’s not like we loved these titles…

Anonymous asked:

Funfact: The crowley that crowley is named after used to perform sex based magic with men

Damn I hope this is what our Crowley also does. This is his dark secret that is very poorly hidden

Anonymous asked:

I think Riddle would be a really good teacher's pet

Oh he would <3 He is a teacher’s pet.

Ironically, I feel like this makes him a bit boring for Crewel…although it depends…🤔

Anonymous asked:

What is a ship you rarely draw but you love

I don’t draw any of them enough, I love them all! Waaaaah :(

I feel like I don’t draw Sebek/Silver nearly enough for how much we love them, Rook/Epel is also a rare one but we love it, Sebek/Idia could use more love, anything with Jamil too…

Anonymous asked:

Please share with us a full list of the preference of the TWST boys? Top or bottom? I typed up a list for you to use!

Anon, we have a list in our pinned post! But since you’ve typed up a list, I’ll go through the list again :) We also have a post in which we explain our reasoning for each choice, so you can read it too if you’re interested.

Oh! And if you meant some other types of preferences, please let me know. In that case though, we have a list of the boys’ kinks, which isn’t the same thing, but pretty close; so you can read this one too if you want <3

Riddle – bottom

Ace – top

Deuce – bottom

Trey – top

Cater – top

Leona – bottom

Ruggie – top

Jack  - top

Azul – top

Floyd – top

Jade – top

Kalim – top

Jamil – bottom

Vil – bottom

Rook – top

Epel – bottom

Idia – bottom

Ortho  – top

Malleus– bottom

Sebek  – top

Lilia  – top

Silver– bottom

[total-feminism-takes]

Lesbian Courtney anon, oh I am sorry about Blaineley x Courtney ship. I didn't mean to say they get to together but more of sisterhood on set of movie plot then they get their own romances like Blanineley with her own oc or another character of her age. And Courtney maybe realizing romance is wonderful, you know what is better? Being herself and having friends/mentors that actually care about her,

I just get upset sometimes that we- some- or even me sometimes make Courtney suffer a lot for the plot or so called the one! For the name of romance but the truth is we forget her agency, her Courtney self from TDI to ALL-Stars, and I think is troubling for a little girl growing up watching that since I watched as a child.

Courtney deserves better with along the other characters.

I wish you all the best and well.

I love Courtney but I really wished she in canon or lesbian fandom Courtney been treated more better not so seen like villain without arc of growth or just disrespect so often for angst instead we shove Duncan, Gwen, Heather, Scott, and whoever to 'save her' or 'fix her and show who to care/love in general'. I like to think we or Courtney is old enough to just realize I don't need to be pity and saved. I need to grow, heal on my own as well as get comforted by someone who cares and loves me doesn't need to marry me somehow end of the day.

Courtney has a lot of range as a character but hitting Duncan and yelling like him is a no go because it not safe type of love or system to treat people, yet the writers did it as be joke. The joke which is a problem more in society standards of trauma bonding relationships or two teenagers clearly love each other but need more mental health and their parents to put more nurture into them. It shouldn't be funny but sadly this kids' cartoon were farts, throwing up, hitting, and other things are supposed to be silly haha hehe no brain thoughts but come on? Really making Courtney the villain and it states in the Duncan wiki that he is on the creators' favorites like Duncan get arc of grow and oh it's okay he can be loved but nor the crazy ex trope. I think and believe both Duncan and Courtney didn't deserve that as a couple as well as their own characters.

Heck Duncan even loved Courtney being like that with him until they chose to rewrite their characters once more just for the Duncan and Gwen situation to happen which didn't need to happen in my opinion. Because it could be better for plot if Alejandro and Tyler be rivals somehow like Tyler struggling warn the others aa well as help Heather with Alejandro trying use the girls in the plane. Then Alejandro someone blaming all on Tyler as Heather lost her other ally and somewhat male healthy friendship a long the way.

Then Courtney vs. Heather vs. Alejandro for the 3rd season, get my vision? Heather sure wants Alejandro but puts it side with Courtney who was used by Alejandro then they work together to defend him against winning!

Bam it's Heather vs. Courtney but Courtney feels hollow not really in the game in it anymore her relationship with Duncan is more stable or they couldn't save it depends on the fan I guess, her growing friendship with Gwen is rocky since she left and took Gwen out the game, and now she might win! She has that AH moment maybe money not that worth it if the game made her power hungry.

Anyway, that's my code of choice saying Courtney I love you and sorry for being a shitty write on your character at times, and all girls of total drama deserve why better that being connected to a man/boy to make them better.

Shout to lesbians and those who write lesbian Courtney I l0ve you too. But please be better to my girl Courtney... stop dragging Scott and Duncan into it?!

Maybe make Courtney barely out the closet lesbian and her gay roommates who are dating and happened to be her supportive ex boyfriends Scott/Duncan? They can be good friends over time not oh scary evil Exes!

If I make no sense I didn't sleep well and I lost my glasses if misspellings

I love you hehe

Fight me fandom who dare make Courtney out to be so unlovable and abusive too. We can say the same thing about Duncan guess what!

THEY WERE TEENS, UNDER SO MUCH STRESS, AND PROBABLY HEAD INJURINGS, ETC.

If you in a abusive relationship it's never you fault either and don't stay with them please no matter what, you don't need be the toxic couple like kids' cartoon made your favorite ship to be!

Hello hello Lesbian Courtney anon, this is mod emma and I will say I do understand but I wish your ask was more specific about it as Blaineley and Courtney making a movie together and falling in love apart as without any context or anything makes it sound more of a romantic thing. I do hope that in the near future it’s more clear. 😇

- 🧡

[tallaxia]

(For the ask game) - 5, 8, 12, 22 & 23, for jack, scott AND lon suder >:)

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Jack: Army of Lovers - Obsession

The lyrics, the unhinged video, the 90s trash...it's perfect.

Scott: The Prodigy - We live forever (and a lot of other 90s Prodigy Tracks like Firestarter, No Good or Timezone Bomb )

It reminds me strongly of the chase scene. Could be a perfect alternate music video imo!

Unfortunately, I can't think of anything at all for Suder... any suggestions?

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Considering how little fanwork there is, it's hard to say. I really haven't read anything yet that I really despise.

Jack: Maybe Jack taking hard drugs? He's the only one of all the characters who doesn't smoke, neither weed nor cigarettes. He certainly wouldn't have a problem getting his hands on all kinds of pills, but I rather see him eating sweets and junk food all day long. (he should try weed though, dude needs to chill)

Scott: I totally go along with Scott being closeted gay or maybe bi, that fits SO well! But I absolutely can't picture him with Raimi or anyone from the Humanist Alliance. It's a fun crackship tho XD

Lon: Somehow I can't picture him in a former relationship. He gave up his place in civilized life and we know that even among outcasts, the Maquis, he's the odd quiet outsider. He's so off and consumed by his compulsions that he isolates himself and therefore can barely build a real relationship with anyone.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Jack's signet/logo on his shirt he sprayed everywhere looks very similar to the character in the cartoon loop at the beginning. His drawings, which are scattered all over the place, are quite scruffy, but his technical drawings of Warbeast were very clean and accurate, which means he can actually draw well. Maybe the loops are his own animations? So the mad cartoon scientist is basically his OC. Scott: Scott is quite young for a chief executive (I mean, Richard was 29...) He climbed the career ladder way too quickly and got power and a lot of money very fast. Maybe he didn't always have such a big ego and only became jaded by the industry and became such an asshole. When he's alone, insecurities and worries certainly come through, but he wouldn't show them to anyone.

Lon: I think he was born the way he is. Not necessarily that violent to that extent, but without any telepathic abilities. This cut him off from much communication with other Betazoids and he was also an open book to everyone else. Children his age could read his thoughts, but he couldn't read theirs, and that made him an outsider and despicable weirdo from the start.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

Jack: His past and probably many years in CHAANKS basement are always an interesting theme to explore, but tbh...just put this weirdo in situations and I'll feel entertained. The strange mixture of a silly cute goofball, dangerous creep and lonely socially awkward genius is what makes him interesting to me and I just like these "wtf is wrong with him?"-moments. Besides that I see him as a switch and obviously kinky AF. He can be really mean and his kink for all kinds of weapons, preferably lethal, is so obvious, but deep down he's also a sub with a mommy kink. I really love him on both sides, but have a slight preference for needy sub-jack.

Scott: He is a slimy asshole with way too much ego and I love it when someone makes him shut up. Verbally, maybe literally. He definitely needs a lesson and I just love the scenes where he's really scared: not a trace of his arrogant attitude left. A bit of backstory and stuff that happened at Chaank pre-canon is also always appreciated!

Lon: Probably the character with the most lost potential. I particularly like stories where he survives and tries to fight his demons. His death was an easy way out of a moral dilemma and I love to read about a possible future on the ship. And of course I like the twisted psychosexual dynamic with Tuvok. I don't see them in a classic romantic relationship, but they both have a very strong fascination for each other and Suder definitely has a crush. After the meld he would do literally -anything- for him. And I'm sure Tuvok is always there to help him control his remaining violent tendencies.

23. Favorite picture of this character?

It's a pity that there are no really good official pictures of any of the three... all potato quality ;_; so some nice screenshots instead~

[ronaan]

i started watching the movies (for the first time) after finishing reading the hobbit and lotr, and here is my take on the thirteen dwarves' design after seeing an unexpected journey:

thorin. why does he look like a model? it's not exactly uncanny valley (like a certain other drawf i will be mentioning later), but he still looks instantly out of place among most dwarves. i wish they at least did something wild to his beard. but he does look cool and my gay ass isn't immune to a hot guy, even if he probably shouldn't be hot, so i'll give you that. 6/10

balin. WHY IS HE SO FUCKING OLD? this feels like a hate crime. he is literally canonically younger than thorin, and he looks like he is one foot in the grave. like, i understand that they are both a little under 200 years old at this point, but pick a fucking struggle?? either make thorin look like an old wrinkly man as well, or make balin look younger. also, the design itself is boring as fuck. 2/10

bofur. this one is my favourite. he looks very cozy but also a little scary. he could be heading out the back with an axe to chop some wood for a nice little fireplace. he could also be an axe murderer. he's actually the sweetest dwarf you'll ever meet. he reminds me of my grandpa. 11/10

kíli. WHY THE FUCK IS HE YASSIFIED? he literally looks like what i imagined aragorn to look like while reading lotr. he barely has a beard, his hair is just... long. this is some fucking guy. not a dwarf. i do not care that he has a romance plot - you don't need to yassify a dwarf for him to be in a relationship with an elf, just ask gimli. 0/10

fíli. this is a solid design of a younger dwarf. he has more braids in his hair than i can count. he has a weird long ass mustache and it's also braided. i can see him growing into a more unhinged look that most dwarves clearly have as he becomes older. but i do feel like he was cleaned up a little for a lesser contrast between him and his brother. 7/10

ori. he looks very cute. his design instantly makes him stand out and i feel like i already know his personality just by looking at him (which is great for a trilogy with such a huge cast). he's a silly little dwarf. perhaps a little naive. must be protected. 10/10

nori. somehow, i feel like this was the last design they worked on. what is going on on that head. is he the inventor of middle earth hairspray? if he is, he's doing the worst possible thing he could with it. this isn't quirky or interesting - it just looks bad. the beard is kind of cool, but there is still something off with it. 4/10

dwalin. this guy is here to maim and kill. i feel like his haircut choice isn't even due to male pattern baldness. he just wanted as much hair as possible AND head tattoos. he found his look. he has a scar on his face. 10/10

glóin. i haven't seen lotr yet but i know what gimli looks like in the movies and the goal with gloin's design was clearly to make him look as much like gimli's dad as possible. this guy is already walking in his son's shadow, but i don't mind. overall, a solid dwarf look. i love the metal thingies in the beard. 8/10

dori. when i look at him, i have that "look at this distinguished gentleman" sound in my head. he's got a very intricate braiding situation going on in his hair, and i kinda love it. he has clip on piercings on both his ears and he has clearly constructed his whole look so he could show them off. 9/10

óin. we are evidently starting to run out of personalities, because this guy is also here primarily to maim and kill. to be fair, that's what a lot of dwarves are, so i'll allow it. i like the two giant beard braids - i'm pretty sure he has more facial hair than i have hair on my head, which is exactly the kind of impression a dwarf's beard should be giving. 7/10

bombur. he reminds me of obelix from the french cartoons. he has an entirely insane beard-works-as-a-moustache-extension situation going on as well as a huge circular braid which i can't even tell where that's coming from. it's a nice unique design. 8/10

bifur. he's got an orc axe stuck in his head. i forgot that was a detail in the book and i also did not understand what it was until i googled it. i thought it could just be an accessory choice. but i might just be stupid. i can, however, tell that he had an emo phase and he still meticulously dyes strands of his beard jet black, so he could have a trendy dark-and-silver look. 7/10

[bug-decal-kissing]

Hey friends!

A new work, A Moment with You by SoyLee, was published today, with 1/1 Chapters released! It has a rating of General Audiences and Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, with additional tags "fanchild"

You can read it here:

MERRY CHRYSLIS ! WITH A BABY !! THEY ARE A FAMILY <33333 delicious, delicious fluffy writing <3333 I think Scarab deserves to have a little contentment, as a treat <3/silly

NSFW works are below the cut :].

A new work, A Taste For Him by ineedlemonade, was published today, with 1/1 Chapters released! It has a rating of Explicit and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dom/sub Undertones, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character, Manhandling, Smut, Not Beta Read, Shameless Smut, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Genitalia, Mildly Dubious Consent, Hair-pulling, Masochism, Dominant Bottom, Short & Sweet, BDSM, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Gay Sex"

You can read it here:

Prismo with a hair thing makes me cheer TUG THAT BITCH YEAH !!! He is so in love with Scarab it's going to make me violent/j. RAAAAAGH KISS EACH OTHER (they are literally having sex) !!!

Interlinked, by Finn565, was updated today, with 12/14 Chapters released! It has a rating of Explicit and Graphic Depictions Of Violence, with additional tags "Human AU, Blade Runner AU, I played pretty lose with the lore so forgive me for that, Violence, not too gorey tho, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Orbo is a piece of shit, sorry I just made him that way in this fic, Prismo is just a lovely guy, Prismo is going to teach Scarab to love fr, Kissing, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, smut in later chapters, Confessions, Trans Scarab, they’re in love your honor, Suicidal Thoughts, someone dies but I have a plan I promis, Just stuck with me, The suicidal thoughts are just for a moment and they do not kill themselves, Okay I promise there is a happy ending for this"

You can read it here:

NO NONO NONNONONONONOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOO WE WERE SO CLOOOOOSE SO CLOSE TO A HAPPY ENDING !!!! NOOOO IM GOING TO CRY PRISMO !!!!! WHY WHYYYYYYY AAAAAGH FALLS TO THE GROUND AND DIES

A new work, Tense by a__pigeon, was published today, with 1/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Explicit and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "human prismo, Out of Character, Smut, Cunnilingus, Coming Untouched, Alien Biology, Scarab's got a an alien cock, and an alien pussy, Prismo has a cock, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Bottom Scarab (Adventure Time), Top Prismo, Praise Kink, Subspace, Tags May Change, Begging, Stress Relief, Hand Jobs, Aftercare"

You can read it here:

Sometimes you are letting your friend-not-really-friend-but-kinda-friend vent out his frustrations and then you guys have sex and that's just how it is/silly. Scarab finally gets to be VULNERABLE MWAHAHAHAHAHA YESSS!!!