#I'll gladly listen (:

[forgotten-daydreamer]

"I hate how they're writing Damian in Batman #146, he can't be that dumb, he's so ooc."

I mean, they're writing him almost as if he were a literal child who wants, no, needs to believe that his father's ideals aren't as fucked up as his mother's, who blindly believes in the man whom he learnt to trust despite being raised with widely different beliefs and ideals for the majority of his so-far short life.

Almost as if Damian were a pre-teen, or young teen at most (because how old can he be here, 13? 14?) who desperately clings onto the belief, onto the hope that his father hasn't really abandoned him, because his father is Batman, and Batman always has a plan, doesn't he? Obscure, complex, but a plan nonetheless, and it (almost) always turns out fine, so Damian needs to trust him, he knows he can, he knows that Batman is safe.

Logically, everyone else is older; I think the one whose age he's closest to might be Tim here, who's about 18 as usual, I guess. But Damian is a child, he's a child who's overall relatively new to Batman's antics, and he's a child who (unfortunately) rarely saw the difference between Batman and Bruce Wayne, a child who rarely got to meet Bruce Wayne at all, if you think of it.

You (you readers, not the characters in the story - because it makes sense for them to be so lost in the plot of their world that they lose sight of things) cannot blame a child for being delusional for believing with his whole heart that his father is not an evil bastard who's attacking everyone, allies included, family included. Because again, Damian doesn't really have a clear idea of how Batman and Bruce Wayne differ, he rarely got the priviledge to be with his father, Bruce Wayne, and not with his work partner, Batman.

You (readers) cannot really tell me that you're putting the blame on a child for 'snapping out of it' so late.

Of course, everyone is free to have their opinions, and if you think that this version of Damian is ooc or whatever, it's a valid, let's agree to disagree. But from a narrative pov, you can't possibly deny that it makes sense for Damian to be acting like this. He's a child, a literal child.

Expecting him to regulate his emotions as well as his sibs do is messed up. Which, by the way, they don't. Dick is a mess but keeping it together - except for the whole "punching your father senseless" thing, but good for him, I'd have done the same there. Jason is a mess and doesn't try to hide it, Steph is baffled and Babs is exhausted. The others are nowhere to be seen (and I'd have done the same pt2). Tim's the only one with a plan that's actually somewhat good - hope he makes Bruce snap out of his fear-induced little gateaway once and for all.

I know not many are fans of this run, but honestly? I'm digging it, it's possibly one of my faves. I love the drama, love the angst, love the plot-twists, like Damian snapping out of it just for Zur to silence him? Backup Robin who grins suspiciously like Jason? Tim ditching his phone - which is ossibly the most shocking thing? I'm hyped as hell.

All of this endless yapping to say that, okay, feel free to hate this or whatever, but please be humble enough to admit that Damian is being written exactly like he should be. I get it, DCAU gave us "Damian who talks like an old man, who never smiles and doesn't understand his peers" and it's cool. He's a bit like that in the comics too. But newer comics have a (very welcome, imho) tendency to write him as 'awkward' while simultaneously keeping in mind that he's a teen. And it's the best thing ever.

I, for one, needed reassurance at Damian's age. I needed an anchor and that anchor were my parents - growing up, the dynamics shifted but it's not the point. At 13, 14, or whatever Damian's age is, you're just a child who needs reassurance, because you're changing, the world around you is changing, and you're disoriented as if lost at sea. Writing Damian like that makes sense, it's not even up for debate.

He's not ooc, and he's not dumb either.

He's just a child.

Feel free to dislike how they're writing him, feel free to dislike literally every single detail about everything, this is a free world. But please don't tell me that needing a parental figure to be there for you, and that siding with said parental figure no matter what because they're essentially all you got left (rip batfam I guess?) - is ooc for a child. Damian is a child, don't forget that.

[erabu-san]

I just start a new account, doing the archon quest again, And I FINALLY See it.

Xiao x Traveler?

Yes.

I SAW THE WAY XIAO LOOK AT THE TRAVELER.

I'M ON THE BOAT NOW, I'M ON THE TRAVELER X XIAO SHIP!

YES !!!! 😭😭😭 there are so wholesome i love them sm

[total-drama-brainrot]

Total Drama AU/Headcanon: Where everything is the same, except Noah is just as crazy/insane as Izzy and Eva, but he's much better at hiding it (with a sarcastic calm personality) ... Only Izzy, Eva and Owen know his true unhinged colors (and that's why they get along with him so well) .../// Duncan briefly saw it during the Total Drama Island Special Finale, when Duncan grabbed Noah's leg, but Noah escaped, and we didn't see HOW Noah escaped... In this AU, Noah bit Duncan's hand then gave Duncan a silent psychotic grin, which shocked Duncan and gave Noah time to escape (Noah basically pretending the bite and grin never happened) ... In TDWT, imagine if Alejandro ever found out that the sanest one on his Team is only PRETENDING to be sane! 😅

I've seen that one Scary!Noah AU floating about in the main tag lately, and I love the concept. There's so much that could be done with having someone like Noah (scarily smart, mostly motivated by either spite or The Bit, nerfed by his own laziness/apathy/hubris) have the added bonus of Going Apeshit sometimes. Either as a treat to himself, or as the natural consequence of his hidden nature.

It's like that "Izzy Isn't Crazy" theory, but in reverse. "Noah Is Crazy, He's Just Good At Masking".

In this AU, he and Izzy would get on like a house on fire.

Like recognises like, after all; Izzy would clock him as just as unhinged as herself at their first meeting, and probably confront him about his 'game plan' at the first chance she could (maybe that's why she was so quick to swap with Katie? A bid to get herself on the same team as Noah?). Noah would try to deny it at first, because he's supposed to be the 'lazy genius'- slipping from his allotted persona this soon into the competition would jeopardise his strategy!- but Izzy would reassure him that she can practically smell the crazy on him.

He'd live up to his title as 'The Schemer', by means of plotting pranks and other such events with Izzy. She'd use her status as the overt crazy girl to pull them off, and Noah would either help behind the scenes to abate his hunger for chaos, or live vicariously through Izzy's blatant mania whilst revelling in the fact that their plan(s) play out perfectly every time. Imagine how much better Izzy's bear suit prank would've been with a man on the inside- and now imagine how much better it would've been if Noah pretended to get eaten/mauled by bear!Izzy (using smuggled ketchup packets and A Lot Of Screaming to convince the Gophers of his demise)! (He'd play off the incident by blaming the whole thing on Izzy- saying she was the one who used the ketchup, and his screaming was just him being Rightfully Terrified of being eaten. Gotta keep up the charade!)

No one would suspect him either! Who would ever assume that slothful, apathetic Noah who complains about the trials and tribulations of 'hard work', 'effort' and 'physical activity' could be a friend and an accomplice to the unstoppable force of nature that is Izzy? He's always too busy shoving his nose into his book to ever consider befriending the crazy girl, there's no way Noah would even tolerate her! (/s)

I think he'd eventually reveal his true colours to Team E-scope plus Owen once their friendship is cemented off-screen. Noah isn't the trusting type (I'd clarify, but I'd end up writing a whole unrelated essay- maybe another time) and he's habitually secretive- his non-answers in the WT Character Interview and his Sierra-given title of "The Man of Mystery" attest to this- so he'd need to know that his friends are really his friends before letting himself be vulnerable/transparent with them, since any 'friendships' made on Total Drama always run the risk of being a ploy/fake. It is a social game, after all.

As for the Duncan Incident. Having Noah bite people is going to turn into a running gag for me at this point, because it's so fucking hilarious to imagine him in a scenario where he's forced/pressured into violence and immediately starts chomping down on someone. This weasel boy wasn't built for punches and kicks but On God can he use those pearly whites to cause some damage. (The human jaw has a surprisingly strong bite force. Noah absolutely knows this.)

I'd also like to suggest that Noah rips himself out of his cargo shorts after biting Duncan, leaving the punk with a bleeding handful of nerd shorts and an open wound for his troubles. He'd already let go of Noah by that point too; it's hard to maintain your grip on anything when you've got a manic bookworm tearing away at the tendons in your hands. So he's just sat there, terrified and concerned, nursing the throbbing, sluggishly bleeding bitemark on his hand and wondering how Noah managed to contort his usually stoic facial features into a grin so wild and feral.

And Noah races back to Izzy and Eva, face and teeth splattered in Duncan's blood, sans cargo shorts. Neither of them question it; Izzy has an idea of what he's done, since Noah's smugness levels have risen at least three tiers and he's smiling almost contentedly to himself, and Eva has learned how to Mind Her Own Business when it comes to Izzy and Noah's eccentricities (though she often shoots inquisitive looks towards Noah's red-painted face).

Then in World Tour? Alejandro is suffering. Noah's the only person on his team who isn't lacking braincells and/or completely unhinged (or so he thinks), and as such he's the latino's only lifeline to sanity on the forsaken jet. So when Duncan returns in London and seems scared of the harmless bookworm? That's concerning.

Assuming that Noah's a wee bit more savvy in this AU thanks to his subterfuge experience in Island, he probably wouldn't be as outwardly apparent in his distrust of Alejandro during the challenge- either that, or he'd be enjoying torturing Tyler too much to think about how much of an eel Alejandro is. So Alejandro wouldn't have any reason to want to eliminate him, if anything he'd be motivated to keep him around, if only to act as a buffer between himself and the idiocy of Team Chris.

Duncan's re-introduction and allocation to the team would be Alejandro's first inkling into the fact that Noah is more than he seems. When the delinquent is ushered to stand next to Alejandro and Noah, his pupils contract into pinpricks or terror, and his attention flickers between the aloof cynic to his side and an oval-shaped scar on his hand. The cynic shoots Duncan a friendly smile (Alejandro ignores how the smile doesn't quite reach Noah's eyes) and the punk turns sheet white.

Alejandro doesn't know what to make of it.

[trenderayghe]

not to be lame or whatever insult people might wanna call me, but as an aroace this site is fucking becoming unusable, like why is every other post about sex or romance or love, I'm sure it didn't use to be so bad. I simply feel a bit left out, because of course people can talk about whatever they want, but I don't really feel like I belong anywhere. I guess this is basically the aroace experience anywhere, not just on this site.

I have to say, though, I treasure all the posts by fellow aro/aces, they are like a light in the darkness, and honestly the reason why I keep using this site

[katsy-kitty]

that awkward moment when you realize you've been listening to that song/track from mizumono and you wonder why you're sad all of a sudden

yes you dumb (affectionate) sad (caring) bitch (empowering), you put it in your liked songs so sometimes Spotify plays it for you

that's a form of self-harm in my opinion

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Okay but forreal, now more than ever I desperately NEED Aya to eventually wreck Fyodor's shit somehow. I already wanted her to get her revenge before, but I didn't think Fyodor would even remember or know who she was, and would massively underestimate her for that reason (just like Jouno knew that Fukuchi would underestimate her). But now the story has instead created this twisted, fucked-up dynamic between them, where Fyodor not only knows her, but is protective of her for reasons that are not his own: he has taken the pure, noble, kind, fatherly love motivating Bram to protect Aya and warped it into something horrific, vowing to protect her body only while not caring how much her heart and mind has been scarred, and claiming to be doing it for her own salvation, when he cannot possibly understand the selfless feelings Bram had that made him want to protect her and care for her — feelings that he does not have. He may genuinely have some sort of affection for children (the way he treated Karma, "blessings for the children", this), but it is twisted and hollow and is quite possibly only him unconsciously acting out the motions due to behavior instilled in him from the feelings of all the people he's subsumed in the past.

All this is to say that, now the narrative has specifically pitted Aya and Fyodor together as direct enemies: she not only had reason already to hate him because he killed Bram, but because he's also taken Bram's love for her and defiled it, dishonored it and him and all that he was; meanwhile, Fyodor has given himself an arch nemesis that he no doubt takes great pleasure in seeing how much she hates him/how much despair he's brought her, but paradoxically at the same time feels a compulsion to "protect" her that draws himself to her and that he can't ignore. Aya has to defeat him somehow (not permanently, mind you; Dazai will undoubtedly be his final end), and the setup for Bram being able to fight back enough to stop Fyodor from the inside with her help is all right there, too. Their love for each other is still enduring, stronger than ever, Fyodor is proof of that right now, and they will be able to defeat him together, at least enough that Bram can be freed and come back to Aya. Dazai told Fyodor that he would lose because he doesn't understand and underestimates the power of friendship bonds and love, and there is no better a time for that to happen than here, when he is literally using someone's strong love for and connection with someone (acting as that person and claiming to know how they feel and to be the same as them) in a way that he cannot understand, which will be his undoing.

[maahtigor]

Okay. First of all.

WOAH THAT'S A LOT OF PEOPLE.

I did NOT expect 74 people to vote in the poll 😭🙏🙏🙏 (what the hell, where the fuck did y'all come from?????)

Second of all,,

TIME TO TALK ABOUT THESE FUCKERS 😈🔥🔥🔥🔥‼️💯

Just to state it here before I start yapping my ever living soul out, Shiver is an eastern tall-man, Frye is a beast-man (like Izutsumi) and Big Man is a kobold. I can get a bit more into their designs and headcanons in another post, but today I want to focus on the lore.

It allllllll roots back to Shiver and Frye's fathers, who were friends since lord knows when. They were a team of burglars, looters, thieves, whatever you may call them, but in the end of the day just let it be clear that they were BAD. And they engaged in BAD shit, like looting corpses in dungeons and stealing from people's houses.

One day, they hit a huge one, they got into the house of this really rich dude that turned out to traffic beast men and other illegal creatures. And the rich being rich and caring about their richness, the security was top notch, and let's just say they struggled to get out of the place alive. BUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They left in NO WAY empty handed.

While looting the place, Frye's father found a kobold cub, chained up inside a cage in the corner beside other creatures likely being sold illegally. He brought the cub with him, and after almost getting their asses turned into kebabs by traps everywhere, the two companions were like "holy FUCK i ain't ever ever ever doing this shit again man.,.,. Wgart the ehll,,,,,, I'm getting too old for this, hell naw!!!!!!!" and decided to settle down as (this time legal) and functioning members of society. Shiver's father opened a dojo, while Frye's father opened a restaurant.

However, the rich guy who owned the house was PISSED (and also happened to be a black magic user......... woah how unlucky of them) and as revenge for stealing his wealth and freeing their beast men, cursed Frye's expecting father, mending the soul of his firstborn with the soul of a monster. And alas, that's how the critter was born😋🙏🔥💯😭

So yeah!!!!!!! Frye is a beast man just like Izutsumi is a beast man. They're the same typa monster, pretty much, except that Frye is a leopard instead of a housecat.

Anyway, back to the kobold pup; you guessed it, BIG MAN (or Big Dog?), being raised in the Onaga's restaurant, was always raised around the kitchen, both because he was genuinely interested in watching people cook and because he hoped to get food that fell from the floor lmfao-- as years went by, he started working as a server, apprentice, and eventually assistant chef of the family-ran restaurant. (So yeah, Biggie is the party's chef!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He also has an incredible sense of smell when it comes to cooking btw, both because of genuine talent and because of his race).

Ironic to his early years as a burglar, Shiver's dad grew to become quite the overprotective father once his daughter started growing up, wanting her to do anything but follow his steps and become a criminal before the age of 20. That backfired though, because she started running off to hang out with Frye causing all sorts of trouble (and eventually dragged Big Dog into it all too). The three were raised almost like siblings, and later on joined together as a party and continued to cause all sorts of troubles inside dungeons, where they eventually bumped into the other idols and started this whoooole story years later.

(They weren't all like their fathers though, instead of keeping the money they got from dungeons to themselves they gave it to the poor, much like their canon bandit dynamics.)

Anyway, that's the end of the yapping session, I hope y'all enjoyed (and if you did, please enjoy this page I doodled while blasting ToyBox in my headphones 🦄🙏 perhaps I'll outline and color this one day, but not now because it's 1:30 in the morning while I'm typing this out.)

[ghostskiss]

Late Night

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader WC: 3.2k Summary: A drunk late-night conversation takes a bit of a turn Warnings: 18+, Alcohol consumption, Oral (afab receiving), Fingering, Drunk/Buzzed Reader and Ghost, Service!Ghost, kind of a hint to a hand kink in this ?

Taking a swig from your flask, your eyes lock onto Ghost’s from across you. The two of you’d been lazily drinking together, late after a mission. It went well. It was supposed to be a celebration, not…whatever this was. Your cheeks are hot and heated from the alcohol and the question your lieutenant just asked. You’re trying to avoid answering him, but his heavy gaze says he’s not letting it go. You feel dizzy and turned on, pressing your thighs together to relieve the ache. The alcohol isn’t helping. Neither is his hard gaze, or the fact that his mask is pulled up. The edge of Ghost’s lips tip to a slow smirk. Like he knows. He knows.

Clearing your throat, you sit up a little further in the couch, trying not to squirm, but fail anyways. You pass the flask to him, his fingers brushing softly against yours. You pull back like it burned to feel him, your gaze sniping down to the hand gripping the bottle. You avert your eyes, feeling like you’ve been caught. His hands are bare, veiny, and large. They’re strong. You’ve felt them before, innocently of course. He’s placed one of those very hands on a shoulder, praising you after a job well done. You think about his hands on you. On your throat, between your –

“You’re really not going to answer me?”

You shiver. His voice has a husk to it, a gravel that makes you want to jump him. What the hell was in that booze? It feels hot in here, making you dab the back of your hand onto your forehead. Fuck, you’re nervous. Of course you’d be nervous, the topic you two had somehow landed on isn’t one that professional. Totally not professional. Not even a topic most friends get into. Wetting your lips, you watch your hands play with a pillow you’d put over your lap. You’re fidgety. Flighty.

“I… I don’t know. It’s embarrassing.” You deflect, ignoring the way your voice wobbles a bit at the end. You chance a look up Ghost, peeking at him through your lashes. His fingers are mindlessly trailing on the flask in his grip. Distracted at them, you stare, watching them. How’d they feel on your skin? Would he tease his own fingers on you like that?

“Mm. What’dya got to be embarrassed about? It’s not like it was your fault.” He shrugs, his voice jolting you out of your thoughts. You blush again, looking away from him.

“I don’t know.” You repeat yourself, brows furrowing, going back to the question he’d asked. Do you like being eaten out? You shudder, thinking back on the dark expression he gave you when you meekly shook your head. When you told him the last time you participated in it, the guy was so bad it turned you off of it forever. That you didn’t even want to bother with the act anymore, in case your partner was that bad again. Then he’d continued, barely blinking, keeping you captivated in his fiery gaze, What’s his name? When did this happen? Tell me more.

That’s when you stopped, that’s when you started thinking about him. Not the guy that’d ruined oral sex. No. Him. Well, that’s a bit of a lie. Sometimes your mind wandered. When he’d walk in front of you, letting you trail your eyes on the planes of his shoulders, his back, the way he walked. Or how his hands looked when he grabbed his gun, or worse, his knives. His jaw under his mask, or like right now, his lips showing you a teasing smile, or the muscle jumping in the jaw when you’d say something. Or when his dark eyes would catch yours.

You’re staring at him, you realize. And he’s staring right back, letting you drink your fill of him. You watch him bite back a smile when you come back from your Ghost dreamland. Sucking in a breath, you glance over your shoulder, to where the clock is hanging on the wall. It’s late. You’re sure everyone is asleep, just like you should be.

“Thinking of leaving to avoid me?”

Jumping, you turn back around, noticing he moved closer while your attention was elsewhere. Fuck. You shouldn’t have drunk that much. You’re not too drunk, but you’re definitely not sober. You watch with wide eyes as Ghost settles himself on the couch next to you. He gets comfortable, like it isn’t making your heart leap out of your chest, his arm coming up behind you, resting on the back of the couch. Blinking slowly, like you’re trying to sober yourself, you turn a bit toward him.

“It’s late.” You say, ignoring his question again, “And we’ve been drinking. I – I don’t think we should be talking about this.”

He tilts his head as he watches you, being quiet for a moment. The silence makes you realize how slick you feel. How heated your skin is. How you’re this close to tugging him on top of you and begging him to fuck you. You try not to shiver under his stare.

“No? You’re the one who started this conversation. What was that question you asked me earlier?” The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, the sight going to be burned into your brain for the rest of your life, you’re sure. “What was it?” His voice drops and he leans forward to you a bit, “‘What’s your favorite position?’”

You choke a bit, astonished that you’d even asked him that. You wave him away, brushing it off like you aren’t seconds from rushing to your room and taking care of this ache you have. He’s right, you’d started it. But it was because…well, you’re not sure. You think you wanted to make him feel as unsettled as he makes you. He’s so stoic and unfeeling, you wanted to catch him. You wanted to trip him up. Instead, he’s got you squirming. He’s got you flustered, almost panting.

“That was earlier,” you say, a bit breathless with proximity of his presence. “I’m tired now.”           

This, Ghost lets out a chuckle at. “Right. Well, I’m wide awake.” The hand on the back of the couch reaches up to brush lazily at your shoulder. His fingers pinch a lock of your hair and tug gently before he pushes your hair from your neck. You’re still. So still and hardly breathing. Like you’re worried any movement will make him stop.

“I think I could change your…aversion.” Ghost says so quietly, so darkly, that you barely hear him.

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to take your eyes off of his. Did you hear him right?

“My aversion?”

“Mm yeah. You know.” He shrugs like you’re not talking about…like he’s seriously not thinking about— “I’d make you come on my mouth. On my tongue. I bet you’d make a real mess too. I can make it good for you.”

Your lips part in surprise, eyes widening, shock spreading on your features. He almost laughs, biting his lower lip to stop himself from smiling at you. Your hands are fisting the pillow on your lap, a flush is traveling up your chest to your cheeks, pupils blown, legs pressing tightly together. You look good. He knows without a doubt he could make it good for you. Maybe even get you addicted to the feel of his mouth. He knows without a doubt he’d be addicted to the feel of you.

“R-right now?” You sputter, hands tightening on the pillow.

His fingers brush against your neck, making you shudder, eye lids drooping a bit with pleasure. Sensitive already.

“Unless you’re tired like you said.”

Shaking your head quickly, you start to say no, no you were lying of course, but Ghost is already standing up from the couch. He gently grabs the pillow from your death grip, settling it behind your back. His gaze is heated as he stares down at you. “Lift up your hips.”

You lift your hips, his hands scooping under you to pull your pants off. You squeak in surprise a bit, earning an amused noise from the man above you. He leaves your panties on, enjoying the way you immediately close your legs to hide the sight from him. He doesn’t mention it until he’s on his knees, tugging your body to the edge of couch. He grips your thighs, making him groan with the feel of you finally in his hands. His hands press up the back of your thighs, making them press into your chest. Your breath hitches, as you realize how exposed to him you are, underwear molding to your wet cunt.

“Hands here.” He grabs your hands and places them on the back of your knees, keeping your legs in the position he put them in. “Keep them there.” He looks up at you, confirming you heard him. You nod, biting your lip to keep yourself from protesting. You hold your legs to your chest the way he wants. Your hips jolt up at the feel of his thumb running up your clothed slit.

“Easy. Ya sensitive, love?” Ghost drawls out as his thumb swipes down, notching against your soaked entrance. A whine catches in the back of your throat as you nod up at him.

He likes you like this. You’re always put together, not letting anything ever get to you. He’s not sure if the alcohol has gotten to you like it’s gotten to him, but he likes it. Your cheeks have a flush, you’re almost shivering under his stare, chest raising in a shaky breath, lips parting in a slight pant. Fuck. You look so good. He’s lucky. He’s so lucky that you’re letting him do this, and he almost wants to thank you. His jaw ticks as he sets it, his heart rate picking up. Not only has he got you like this; he’s got you wet. When did that happen? When the two of you were talking about how he liked to fuck? He’s lucky you couldn’t tell how badly he wanted to take his hard aching dick out and make you suck on it on front of him when you asked him that question. Lucky you couldn’t tell how eager he was to talk about the topic –the positions— he’s wanted you in. Fantasized about you being in. He wets his lips, watching your reactions as his thumb presses a bit harder, running up to press against your clothed clit.

“Y’gotta tell me if I’m too rough, or if you want me to stop.” Ghost’s words come out a bit rushed, like he’s trying to warn you. His chin dips to catch your distracted daze, his thumb stopping the teasing movement that’s got you in a different place. You blink, looking up at him and nod again. He shakes his head with a tsk, “Tell me.”

“’Kay.” You breathe out, hips tilting up, trying to get him to move his thumb again.

A groan slips from him. You’re grinding on him. You’re that desperate. He curses the dumbass that didn’t take care of you, but he’s also thanking him. Thanking him for this moment, for ruining something that he’s going to make so good for you. He dips his mouth to your thighs, running kisses down them. His thumb still teasing your soaked cunt, running up and down in a leisured pace. You’re already trembling, he doubts he has to keep you on edge for long, but he wants this to last. He doesn’t know how many hours are left until sunrise, until this little piece of heaven you’re giving him will be over with.

Your fingers clench around the hold you have on the back of your knees. The light scruff of Ghost’s face pairs well with his hot mouth. A whimper slips from you, your head tipping back a bit at the feel of it. He’s driving you insane, his thumb pressing against you, teasing your clit just enough to make you whine. His mouth trails a flaming path to your soaked pussy. Your head snaps down to watch. His eyes are already on yours as his mouth falls open, his tongue coming out to lick flatly up against your sex. He makes a punched-out noise as he tastes you, your hands leaving the hold of your legs, grabbing onto sides of his masked head. Your breath has hitched into high whine. His hands come up to keep your legs open the way he wants them, pinning you down to the couch. Suddenly, he’s sucking the fabric of your panties, sucking the wetness that’s saturated the fabric.

You taste good. Ghost’s jaw aches like he’s sucking on something sweet, drinking down the slick that your underwear has collected for him. He struggles to keep his eyes open, half-lidded, as he watches you. Yeah. You looked as fucked out as he feels, his cock straining painfully against the fabric of his jeans. He has half the mind to reach down and fuck his hand as he gives you pleasure. The thought makes him groan against your sex, and fuck, you liked that. He needs to taste you correctly. He reluctantly pulls back from you, fingers rushing to your hips to rid you of the barrier from his mouth. He lets the soaked piece of clothing fall to the floor as he comes back to sit on his heels, taking in the sight of you. You blush at his attention, legs about to try and close again. He shakes his head with a soft sound.

“Show me. Show me how wet you are for me.” His hand comes to the front of his pants, squeezing his cock that’s bulging. He groans at the contact, watching with a dark look on his face as you spread your pussy between your fingers. Fuck.

“Fuck, baby,” he lets out a breathless laugh like he can’t believe it, “you’re soaked.”

He’s right. Now that there’s no fabric to catch your wetness, it’s leaking down your entrance to the couch beneath you. He sucks a breath in through his clenched teeth. This entire night is going to haunt him for the rest of his life. The taste of you is going to be something he won’t be able to get enough of.

He moves forward, dropping down to be level to your sopping aching cunt. He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t tease. He collects saliva to the front of his mouth and spits slowly onto your clit. The motion makes you moan lowly as you try to stay still for him. You feel like your body is on fire, the anticipation as you feel cool wetness of his spit gather with your own wetness, the way his hands tense against the flesh of your thighs as he keeps you right where he wants you – everything is consuming you in ways you didn’t think was possible. It’s never felt like this. Never felt this good. You’re trembling when Ghost closes the distance, his tongue licking a long stripe from your clenching core to your clit. You let out a pained noise, not that it hurt, but because it felt so good. You’re not sure you’re all the way here in this moment, his tongue taking you to a place you’ve never been before.

Ghost is in his own mind similar to the way you are. The pleasure is mind numbing, just having you under him. Having your soaked pussy spread open for him, his tongue licking, teasing, moving up and down, side to side, anything that’ll get you to squirm and choke on air. He’s attentive, he’s making sure anything he’s doing to you is giving him a noise that makes his cock twitch with need. The way he’s eating you is sloppy, he’s getting his face wet with you, licking and sucking, humming even. His tongue dips into your hole, fucking into you before coming back out to lap up at your clit. He’s not gentle. Doesn’t want to be. He wants to see your tits bounce with the way he’s devouring you. Even under your shirt. His tongue rasps over your swollen clit and you gasp, back bowing for him. He huffs a breathless laugh against your sex and delivers a hum through you, letting it vibrate against your aching flesh.

“Si—” You choke out.

The broken moan on his name makes him feel insane. He wants to hear it again. Needs to hear it again. He’s drooling for it, his lids barely open as he watches you cry out for him again. He feels your cunt clench and he groans, latching his mouth around your clit to suck. Sucks hard with his tongue coming out to flick the needy little bud. You’re bucking now, like you’re not sure if you’re trying to get away from the pressure, heart rate skyrocketing. You hear yourself chant and moan pleasepleasepleaseplease. But you’re not entirely in your body, you’re hovering above awareness, mind in a haze.

That’s how you cum. And you cum hard. You’re vaguely aware of Ghost moaning against your sex as you gush on his tongue as he laps it up. You’re not aware of the way you shriek, the way your nails dig into Ghost’s neck, scratching and holding him there as your hips falter.

Ghost’s been watching you this whole time. He’s not missing it for anything. He doesn’t care how badly he wants to pull his throbbing cock out and cum with you. He cares about how your moans sound, what you look like when you cum. How you taste. The way you blink down at him, eyes watery, mind not completely there. The sharp breaths you’re taking. Your fucking nails burning and dragging into his skin. Yeah. Mark him up. He eases his sucking on your clit, making sure he doesn’t overstimulate you and works on cleaning you up. He’s drinking down your sweetness, swearing that there’s no way you could pull him away from this pussy. From worshipping you. He wants to make you cum again. He needs it.

“Simon,” you breath out. The way you say his name makes him tremble with need. It’s soft, it’s trusting. It’s just for him. His eyes drift closed like he’s in heaven. “Si,” you start again, trying to get his attention. Your hands wander from their grip on his neck to his jaw. Finally, he looks back up at you, but keeps languorously licking your fluttering entrance. You have his attention but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop.

“Can you make me come again?” You ask, simpering little thing.

Ghost groans his approval of your question against you, fingers coming up to get them wet with you. He pulls a bit back, still hovering close over your pussy so you can feel the air of his words against your clit as his fingers dip into you.

“Thought you’d never ask.” He smiles darkly as you cry out when his thick fingers get knuckle deep. “Take your shirt off this time.”

[mellyoraa]

Saw someone criticize Samo mi se spava like "why do people like this song he's just moaning" and I mean, even if that were true (which it isn't), why are you complaining??

[stratospherey]

they should make a mario movie cut that's just the scenes with bowser and luigi

[cult-of-the-placeholder]

Ok usually I go with the idea of the bishops being birthed by some ethereal force of the universe; they came into existence because the raw power of the world needed a master to yield to when the mortals of this world started to develop sentience

But, lately: I've been thinking about them each being just a normal mortal child that was pushed to the brink by some horrific trauma and that's what earned them their crown. Like Kallamar, for example. His family was set upon my a mystery sickness and, fearing the plague, their village cast them out. Now suffering sudden homelessness, they were ravaged by illness and swiftly died, one by one. Kallamar had been feverishly experimenting with varioid plants and herbs for a cure, and only set upon one when it was too late for everyone but him. After stewing in grief for awhile, he takes the diseased, rotting corpses of his family and throws them into the village well, poisoning the wicked people he viewed as responsible for their deaths

He watches from afar as the plague ravagss the entire village, and refuses to share with them the cure he's found. Tells them this is what they get for being so cruel, and that earns the Crown of Pestilence's respect.

The others go through similar trials: after her family starves and tiny bb Heket is forced to cannibalism to survive, she sets fire to the vast fields that blanket the countryside, burning an entire season's worth of crops and leaving vast swaths of people to starve over winter. Shamura's homeland falls to a warmongering fool, and they vow to put an end to the fighting with nothing but their mind. Studying and researching and honing their thoughts, eventually getting themselves taken in by the Lord himself, a famed lecher. Poisons the wine of him and his comrades, and ends the war without ever taking up a weapon of their own. Narinder's family is executed for heresy, and he does the same to the families of the ones who took his, hanging and beheading them. They come together shortly after, Crowns pushing them to meet and form the pantheon.

[drill-teeth]

By the way I'm mean now, and I will no longer be a people pleaser and no longer feel obligated to interact with folks who stress me out or are weird to me or force myself to reply immediately to people I do like when I'm going through it. If I don't respond to you immediately, it could be for a number of reasons. I could be fucking busy because I have a full time job. I could be tired and in pain because of my chronic pain and exhaustion. I could've straight up forgotten to reply because my memory sucks. I could just not be up for it. I could be frustrated with how you're treating me and not ready to bring it up, which that avoidant behavior is on me but also you're still not entitled to my speedy replies. I could also be fucking sick of talking to you if you've been consistently creepy to me and not wanna hold your hand through why that was fucking weird, which is also avoidant but you know what? My life doesn't revolve around making other people so if I choose to bounce sometimes I really don't think that makes me a bad person lol.

And I honestly don't care if waiting for a reply stresses you out because like. If you know me and are kind to me you should know me well enough not to assume malice from me taking my time and if you were a creep to me then honestly you can just deal with it.

[bibicalico]

Can't wait until next wednesday so I can talk to my therapist about Zelkov...

[rulesofxenia]

This is just a little rant, but maybe some of you can relate...last year has changed me a lot. Well, I've changed myself a lot - hellenism definitely played a huge part in this - and I've never felt as good, I've never been this happy...

...but I sometimes look at myself and I don't recognise the person in front of me. I don't think I know her.

I vividly remember being paralysed by a thought that somewhere in a camp I was working at there was a wild venomous snake, and if I encounter it, it'll likely be my responsibility to deal with it - cause I have to protect the kids -

today a snake happily slithered up my arm and I happily let it do so.

I always thought of myself as of a shy, quiet, infinitely compliant person -

today one of my coworkers said I have Artemis vibes. Artemis. Artemis the goddess of badassery.

I've always been unsure about my future. I still am unsure -

but last week somebody asked me about my career dreams and I blurted out "Oh, I don't dream anymore, I only make plans". Without. Thinking.

That's not who I was a year ago. Definitely not who I was when I moved to this city. It's not the person I thought I am.

And I don't hate it - if anything, I am infinitely grateful to everyone, people and deities, who helped me become this new person.

But it's just... it's a little scary to know so much and so little about yourself. It's a little strange.

Scary and strange are usually not the things that stop me though.

[blaidd-gwyn]

Does anyone want to come and yell with me about the Jaskier crumbs? Literally just jump into my inbox, send an anon, message me directly, whatever. I've tried to resist but it's melted my brain and my adhd has latched on and isn't showing signs of letting go

[weatheredfailnot]

Azem’s shard of the Fifth: Aelle, one of Hydaelyn’s Chosen. Although he was blessed with the echo, he was merely a close friend to the person who eventually became the Fifth’s Warrior of Light.

When Aelle was found by Emet-Selch, he was selected by him to fill Azem’s seat despite Lahabrea and Elidibus’ dissent because of Azem’s refusal to join their cause before the Great Sundering. At the time, Emet-Selch was still optimistic of the sundered’s potential and would entrust Azem’s crystal that he had secretly created to Aelle, hoping to prove the futility of fighting against the Great Rejoining and show him the glory of the unsundered world. Aelle would accept the crystal; he continued his work as a court bard to the throne of his kingdom, finding ways to work his influence within the royal court.

When the rejoining of the Fifth approached, Aelle turned on the Ascians, revealing that he had remained in contact with the Warrior of Light and had become an Ascian to gather information for them. While Emet-Selch and Lahabrea fought against the Warrior of Light, Aelle attempted to use the mysterious crystal (known as white auracite on the Source) given to him by the Warrior of Light against Elidibus in the void, but Elidibus had long seen through his deceit and easily warded off his attack. He killed Aelle without hesitation and would later report his death to Emet-Selch, admonishing him for his naivety in a shard of Azem’s presence. These events were enough to disillusion Emet-Selch and to view the sundered as feeble and distorted reflections of the people he once knew.