#POCKET PANTHERS...

[peanut-with-wifi-access]

[outdated] THE COUNCIL HAS REACHED A DECISION

vaporeon is in fish purgatory jail for the crime of being unidentifiable as a real creature

[brw]

Skottie Young's Black Panther is unparalleled.

He is only an apple tall........

[skippyin]

V E N G E A N C E

[suzie-guru]

I never knew October 27th was National Black Cat Day! Thank goodness I was made aware of it before midnight or Monroe never would have forgiven me…

Remember, friends, black cats are best cats! 🐈‍⬛

[roseamongroses]

she has the black panther super strength so she can carry her gf’s textbooks back to the dorm

[prettylittledevil13]

CHUCKY CHUCKY CHUCKY CHUCKY

i knew it was coming scoring against his bf is a must 🙂‍↕️

[apatheticsunday]

Fatherless Behavior

AKA "Danny Fenton is actually Batman and Catwoman's son. He likes his bio mother a lot more than his billionaire furry bio father, and Bruce is just trying to be a good dad to another surprise kid" prompt idea!

I like the idea of Madeline and Jack Fenton being good parents who love their kids so much. Maybe Danny still got zapped by the ecto-portal and died, but he immediately went to his parents and they helped him adjust to being Half-Dead. So, obviously, if he's old enough to die, he's old enough to be told the truth. Maddy and Jack adopted Danny from a woman named Selina Kyle, who's contact information state she's in Gotham City and willing to re-connect with Danny when/if he's comfortable.

Maybe Danny says he's okay, doesn't need to know who his biological parents are, because Maddy and Jack are enough for him. But it's also okay to be curious, right? He's like... seventeen or eighteen at this point. So, he says he's going to tour Gotham-U and maybe, possibly hunt down his birth mother if he has some extra time.

Fast forward to him standing in front of a very posh apartment complex, the doorman refusing to let him in, and he's incredibly embarrassed. There's an older couple coming out the doors. The older man looks like he's going to walk over, possibly intervene, so Danny just begs asks the doorman, "Can you please just call Selina Kyle? I'm her son."

And Bruce, who's having date-night with Selina, nearly passes out. Because under the bright lights of Selina's apartment lobby, this kid looks exactly like the perfect mix of Bruce and Selina. He's got his father's unruly black hair, Selina's catlike blue eyes, and has several dark freckles on his neck like Damian. So... this is a Not Great situation because Selina had a kid behind his back?? Selina's gripping his wrist like a panther with an antelope's jugular and says, "Not in front of the child, Bruce." And if there's one thing Batman is good at, it's keeping his cool (or pretending to).

They all end up in Batburger with Selina and Bruce looking comically overdressed while Danny's in ripped jeans and a NASA hoodie.

Selina is kind. She got pregnant and then Bruce was presumed dead (Batman's Time Stream incident lasted how long?? I feel like 9 months is reasonable, right?), and she wasn't prepared to be a single mother. She also hadn't wanted Danny to have a criminal for a mother ("Wait, what??"), but didn't feel comfortable aborting.

"Our relationship can be whatever you want it to be, Danny. I'm not trying to replace your mom. I'm just here to help if you want." She doesn't try to touch him, doesn't treat him like a kid, just speaks calmly and respectfully to him.

Bruce, unfortunately, isn't as tactful. He begins with: "And I have an extra room in the Wayne Manor. I can pay for your tuition at Gotham-U, get you a job at Wayne Enterprise, and introduce you to my kids. Tim would like you, you're about the same age-" before Selina shoves an elbow into his side. The damage is already done, though. Danny practically shoves from the table (after slipping two Batburgers into his hoodie pocket since clearly Mr. Money-Bags can afford it, the presumptuous asshole).

"I came here to talk with my mother, Mr. Wayne. I don't want your money or to be a nepo baby at your company." Danny snarls a sarcastic little thanks before hauling ass to his hotel, muttering about rude-ass rich folk.

(Selina, still at the diner with Bruce: Look at what you've done! You've scared our son off!

Bruce: Maybe if you told me I had a son, I could've been more prepared for a surprise visit!

Selina: Maybe if you stayed dead like everybody thought you were, you wouldn't be surprised that I had a son. You weren't there!

A squeaky noise can be heard. It's a waitress trying to quietly write on a whiteboard that says "Days Without a Wayne Argument". The tally is changed from 4 to 0.)

Anyway, I want Selina to be more like a Cool Aunt instead of a mom. She gets that Danny already has a maternal figure in his life, doesn't really want someone Mother Henning him, so she becomes a safe space for him to let go. Watches the Neil deGrasse Tyson docuseries, offers him wine during girl's nights, lets him rant about how unsure he is of the future without giving unsolicited advice.

Danny pretty much sees Bruce and is like, it's on sight, old man. Bruce sends an expensive telescope to his house. It gets sent back with a book that says "How to Know When to Give Up: For Dummies". Bruce tries to catch Danny while going to Selina's apartment and Danny screams stranger danger so loudly that Bruce is momentarily worried he accidentally accosted the wrong teenager. Danny makes a comment about "another billionaire frootloop wanting to keep me in his basement" and Bruce is even more concerned now. He responds with, "Daniel, I would not keep you in my basement." Yeah... that definitely didn't help.

Oddly enough, Danny is now also being harassed by Batman and his Bat Cult.

[etakeh]

I was looking through some 2020 stuff and found a pamphlet published by Vanport Mosaic, and was like, Who's this? So I looked them up, and got a whole-ass education about the city I was born and have spent most of my life in.

I'm sure this is a sanitized version of events, but even sanitized it's kind of. wow.

[comatosebunny09]

off the grid | sylus

summary: his chest swells with emotion. there’s this gnawing feeling in his gut telling him not to leave. that he belongs at your side for the rest of the day, drawing little sighs of his name from your mouth. “fuck the deal,” he husks with pinched brows, dipping down for a taste of your honeydew lips. warning(s): female anatomy described, cunnilingus, bodily fluids, p-in-v intercourse, mating press, unprotected sex, explicit language now playing: fire - sir notes: thank you so much for reading!

He says he has some business to attend to.

Ever the businessman on the move, even while on vacation.

You don’t pose much of an argument. Offer a slight pout, clawing at the side of the king-sized bed where his body’s residual heat and indentation still reside. But you’re surprisingly docile. Trusting, knowing he always comes back to you in one piece.

Sylus promises he won’t be long, locking eyes with your reflection in the mirror. Finishes buttoning his shirt, straightening his collar, and fussing with his cufflinks. He turns with a hand stuffed in his pocket to fully appreciate the view on the bed. And what a pretty picture you pose.

You’re quiet, playing on your phone. Have the gall to be so gorgeous in the calm glow of the sun, hair fanned around you on the pillows like a halo, breasts swelling in his dress shirt. Thighs thick as honey, legs splayed open and inviting on the ivory sheets.

His fingers twitch with the need to touch as something primal stirs in his belly, mouth filling with sand.

You catch his gaze over your phone. Offer a demure smile and a wave before returning to whatever’s got you so enraptured.

His chest swells with emotion. There’s this gnawing feeling telling him not to leave. Telling him he belongs at your side for the rest of the day, drawing little sighs of his name from your mouth, mapping out the contours of your body until the moon sits high in the sky.

It isn’t often he gets to sweep you away like this. Has you tucked all safe in a beautiful bungalow on an island far away, the air dense with salt and the idle crash of ocean waves enmeshed with the soothing cry of distant seabirds.

He scoffs inwardly. Wonders when you made him such a clingy mess as he studies his feet. Shakes his head, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck while losing that internal battle with himself.

He leans against the dresser with crossed arms, pondering how long he can stave off this deal he’s worked so hard to orchestrate. And yet—

You giggle, tickled pink by a video on your socials. The sound of it makes his heart pull. Makes his lips crook with a smile. He pads towards you without thinking, wrapping a tender hand around your ankle. Smooths his thumb over the jut of bone with such reverence, watching you with all the fondness of the world. His cute little kitten.

Goddammit.

Sighing, he resigns himself to his fate. Glances off to the side as if the beach beyond the window can offer some sort of solution. An out. He circles back, foolish to think he could resist you.

The twins can manage this, he muses. And suddenly, he’s pulling free the buttons he so carefully fastened on his shirt. Climbing over you like a panther onto the bed, bracketing you between lean muscle and heat.

“Fuck the deal,” he husks with pinched brows, dipping down for a taste of your lips.

You squeak, but the surprise soon peters as you wrap gentle hands about his wrists, your phone on the floor long forgotten. He hums all throaty, smiling against your lips. Kisses honey-slow, committing the texture of your lips to memory whilst easing your hands over your head, twining your fingers together. Pushes a knee between your thighs to encourage them further apart, and the heat of your muff radiates up his quad, burning through the material of his slacks.

He’s glad he stayed. Couldn’t live with himself if he left you like this, all hot and pliant, wasting away in bed. You deserve to be worshipped, savored, devoured.

You melt into the kiss. Keen all pretty for him, arms instinctively snaking about his shoulders, and he swallows the intoxicating sounds you make. Chuckles low and alluring, notching his hips to yours, anchoring you to the bed with his weight half on you.

“Thought it was—oh—important,” you breathe when he breaks away with a soft smack to brand your neck with the heat of his lips. “Your deal.”

Who can think about work when you have the audacity to smell this good? Like night-blooming jasmines and everything inherently safe.

“Was,” Sylus parrots on a deep rasp, mouth on an unhurried excursion over your throat, and your laughter is bewitching. Heady, transitioning into a pleasured exhale when his teeth graze your carotid.

He shackles your wrists together beneath one hand, freeing up his other. And it’s dangerous, skating over the pucker of your nipples, the swell of your tits. Coasting over the ripples of your ribcage, making your body vibrate and curve with excitement.

“Nothing outweighs this.”

He drives his point home, knuckles trailing down your belly, down, down, down to the swell of your pubic bone. You arch, and he bows into you when his palm closes around your muff. And he’s open-mouthed on your neck, sighing hot, his dick heavy and throbbing against the inner curve of your thigh.

Two fingers curl inward, teasing the seam of your cunt. Circling in the way you like until the lewd squelch of your pussy kisses the air. You bite your lip. Head falls back against the pillows, and you do that endearing sad puppy thing with your brows. He admires the sight of you through parted lips and lidded eyes, wondering how he could ever think of leaving you alone.   

You’re so pretty like this. So perfect, your lips kiss-swollen and shiny, formed around a whine. You arch so nicely for him as his fingers play between your legs, stroking you until you’re nice and wet. Swollen and pulsing, outer labia spilling over the seat of your panties.

He’s wasted enough time, he thinks, your earthy scent overpowering his senses. He frees your wrists, easing down your body and between your legs in favor of something more appealing. More appetizing. The crooks of your knees find his shoulders. And he’s enamored by how the fat of your thighs crater between his fingers when he holds them apart, slightly hauling your hips up to fasten your thighs to his shoulders.

He licks up the span of your cunt, tasting you through the cotton of your panties. Growls something distant and abrasive, gaze flicking to yours through the headiness. His pupils blow wide, and his heart pounds a war cadence in his skull.

You’re a dream he doesn’t want to ever wake from. A spell that’s bound him to earth, but he doesn’t think he would ever want to leave.

His irises burn like the flicker of a flame. And he doesn’t look away as you ruck your hips up against his tongue, chasing that sparkling edge pooling in your stomach.

You thread your fingers in his riotous hair, guiding him into a choppy rhythm against you, your hips stuttering each time his tongue agitates your clit. He doesn’t fight it. Loves it when you take control, when you take your pleasure. Use him like the docile toy he is, fucking his mouth until he’s red-faced and panting.

He steadies you, briefly taking his eyes off you to drag your panties to one side. His mouth waters at the sight, and he sucks in a ragged breath. Your pussy is all sticky and puckering; gossamer strings of your nectar spread like dew-speckled spider spins between your lips and panties.

He splits you nice and open on two fingers. Spread like a flower bending towards the sun. His gaze finds yours once more before he dives in, working your pretty pussy with a wide and sweltering tongue.

You’re scrambling for purchase of the sheets, keening all nice for him. Rock your hips in tandem with the glacial pace of his tongue, and he reaches out to tangle your fingers together at your sides to anchor you.

You’re so cute; it makes his chest pull. Makes his heart all fluttery, and he’s a flushed, sloppy disaster beneath you. All for you. Just for you.

He ruts against the sheets as he feasts. Grunts into your pussy, not caring that he looks unhinged or that his pants are stained dark with pre. He’s chasing that unfathomable rush of endorphins. Pursuing the upward arc of his own pleasure, mind awash with how pretty you sound. How good you feel. How wonderful you taste, and he’s more drunk off you than any bit of brandy or whiskey.

He eats until he’s full. Until your hips leave the mattress with no intention of coming down, and his hands mold around the globes of your ass to keep you steady. Straining on toes dug into the mattress, calves stretched taut, fingers squeezing his wrists in a vice grip, and your thighs locked around his head.  

You’re wet and sloppy, arousal dribbling down the cleft of your ass to stain the sheets. His chin is slick with it, and he licks his lips after reluctantly leaving the bewitching seal of your cunt.

There’s a smile in his eyes. Devilish as you pout, and he lowers you back down to the bed as if you’re glass that will shatter if he doesn’t handle with care. He kneads your thigh placatingly, the heat of his palm promising something better. More filling.

You watch with shrouded intrigue, all hot in the face and panting. Drag your fingers over your lips, biting down on your middle. He could come from the sight alone. You spread open and leaking, gaze screaming fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Sylus sits back on his haunches. All big and smug, palming the heavy throb of his cock through his slacks. Looks down at you from his nose, your eyes tuned to his every move, tongue swiping greedily over your lips.

You’re an eager little flower whilst he unlatches his belt infuriatingly slow, tugging his pants down with equal sluggishness. Down, down until his dick springs free from his briefs, slapping his belly intimidatingly, a glob of pre-spend dribbling honey-slow from the tip.

“You should see yourself,” he husks around a chuckle, gathering up his pre to smear it around his cockhead, and stroking himself so good. Bites his lip, dragging a languid hand down your sternum. “I’ve hardly had my fill, and you’re already about to blow.”

He traps a pretty nipple between his knuckles and pulls, luring a bitten-off sound from your throat. Angles himself forward to take your nipple between his lips, sucking in that way that makes your thighs quake and your voice come out all shrill and broken.

He then teases a thumb between your pussy lips in search of your entrance. Finds it once more with laser precision, and he rubs at it meticulously, slowly shoving your juices back into you.

You keen and clench around him at the knuckle, thrashing against the sheets, your tongue wrapped around his name. He groans in reply, caught in the haze of it all. You ruin him. Bring him to his knees, but he’d never admit it aloud.

“So eager,” Sylus teases. Like his voice isn’t strained from the effort of pumping his cock into the clench of his hand. Like he doesn’t want to spear you on his dick; feel your velvety walls squeezing the head of him so good.

The thought makes his hips stutter, and he’s squeezing his sensitive tip to reign himself in. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough, sweetheart. Just be patient.”

And you are as he taps his heavy dick against your muff with a wet and sticky plap plap. You ruck your hips up to chase the feeling, squeezing a sound through grit teeth. Hate when he teases, when he edges you like this. But he doesn’t keep you waiting, pressing the mushroomed head of his dick to the pucker of your pussy. Eases home past the tight ring of muscle, pushing into you with a sound as thick as seafoam curdling in his chest.

“So beautiful. So perfect.”

He can’t help himself. You feel so good. So wonderful, swallowing him up to the hilt like that. You sigh in tandem at the union. Relief wading through your bones, and you lock eyes through the dusk as the sun seeks shelter behind the horizon, casting you both in its otherworldly glow. Sylus needs no further goading as he grabs your ankles, driving your legs up until your knees press into your tits.

His mouth falls open. Gazes at you through his bangs clinging to his forehead. Through thick lashes, and you’re even more beautiful like this. Ethereal, and he could never tire of the sight. Of the sounds you make, so pretty for him as he rolls his hips, abs contracting and relaxing with each movement.

He plays a steady rhythm thereafter, rolling his pelvis like the slow drag of a tide as he fucks into you. Feels every detail of the channel of your sex constricting around him, and it takes every bit of him not to fuck you harder. He wants to savor this. Has all weekend to drive you wild; to orient himself with every sensitive clump of nerves in your body. So for now, he’ll take his time.

And he does. Driving into you at a maddeningly slow pace. But then, you’re sobbing and thrashing and clawing at the sheets, and he knows you’re close to spilling over the edge.

He doesn’t stall. Reaches between your bodies to find the unfathomable button of pleasure between your legs. Presses and rubs until your voice is shrill and stuck in your throat. Until you’re a shuddering mess, and the look in your eyes tells him all he needs to know. His own peak creeps progressively up his spine, tingling like static, prickling in his stomach.

He suddenly bows forward, your thighs clenched in his palms as he presses his torso fully against you, mooring you to the bed. Pistons in and out, battering against your cervix, your breaths choppy and intermingled, bodies bathed in a dewy sheen of sweat.

You cling to him with arms snaked around his neck. And his mouth seals to yours, swallowing your pitiful huffs of air. You’re his vice. His IV drip, and he can’t live without you. Doesn’t want to, finding himself chanting your name like a broken hymnal as the beginnings of his orgasm seep through him like magma.

He’s coming before he knows it. Ushered to the brink by your walls shuddering around his dick with your own orgasm. And there’s so much of it, his cum dripping hot and milky white down the inner trajectory of your thighs.

He catches himself on shaky arms before he collapses onto you. Laughs while trying to catch his breath, and you chuckle alongside him, hands perched on his waist, ready to catch him if he falls.

You’ll be the death of him, he muses, craning his head down to kiss you. To write the sweetest words of all against your lips, and he thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

masterlist

[triplefrontierbabe]

can i request prompt 6, driver 10, w/ format 1 pls? i miss my pookie logiebear 💔 maybe they were childhood bsfs and got married super young and didnt tell anyone 🤭

Miss Americana and her Heartbreak Prince

summary: you and Logan got married… a while ago but everyone is just now finding out

pairing: f! reader x Logan Sargeant

prompt: Logan Sargeant x wedding hard launch x smau

a/n: omggg I love this one!! I miss seeing Logan and his signs of life 😫

600 followers celebration

yourusername

liked by lilyokin, yourbestfriend1 and 7, 690 others

yourusername I got a pocketful of sunshine ☀️

view 23 comments

vickyschaff bottoms up

↳ yourusername 🥂

yourbestfriend2 passenger princess vibes

↳ yourusername just doing my job of sitting pretty

kyle_kirkwood thanks for being the snack supplier

logansargeant

liked by alex_albon, coltonherta and 790, 883 others

logansargeant memories from the beginning of May

view 392 comments

yourusername big panthers guy

daltonsargeant big dawg?

↳ logansargeant big dawg.

flapanthers unstoppable with Logan in the house🏡

f1babefan he looks toooooo good

sargeantnation2 this guy fcks

f1tearoom does he do anything aside from golf

yourusername and logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, davidmalukas and 1, 793, 223 others

yourusername 6 months late, but who’s counting? officially the sargeants 💒💍🕊️

view 7, 893 comments

lilymhe omg you guys?! congrats!!!!🫶

callumbradshaw._ logan the type of guy to not mention he got married

daltonsargeant news bombshell of the century

vickyschaff finally, been waiting for this to happen for yearrrsss

alex_albon so happy for you two!

yourbestfriend2 I love you guys so much😭😭😭😭

f1wagtea no bc wdym he’s been married and we’re just now finding out

↳ motorsportgossip01 let alone who knew he was dating anyone 🤯

paddockprincess5 I’m sorry lemme just pick my jaw up off the floor

yourusername

liked by vickyschaff, lilymhe and 293, 994 others

yourusername 🍯🌙

view 1, 773 comments

lilyokin come back home soon so I can meet the floof 😩

↳ yourusername omw!

neil.verhagen I see log’s not much of a fan of sunscreen

↳ yourusername what’s new?🙄

lilyzneimer miss you both dearly!🤍

yourbestfriend1 mama y papa

mtrsprtgossip16 like actually this is insane they’re married

logansargeant

liked by neil.verhagen, patriciooward and 1, 223, 931 others

logansargeant finally got around to going on our honeymoon and adopting a dog

view 2, 894 comments

vickyschaff whose idea was it to get a dog?

↳ yourusername 100% Logan, he probably told Kyle otherwise

↳ kyle_kirkwood that’s confidential info

yourbestfriend2 okay body is teaaaaa yn

↳ yourusername 🤪🤪🤪

callumbradshaw._ obligatory boat pic

formula1babeee omg I miss him so bad

jamesitsvaltteri7 yk maybe it was for the better that he got dropped bc now he’s living his best life

f1wagteaparty literally who is she? she came out of the woodworks

yourusername

liked by f1fan01, lilyzneimer and 280, 883 others

yourusername it’s you & me🌊🩵

view 245 comments

lilymhe my fave people in the entire world

↳ yourusername I love you 🥲

daltonsargeant cmon no pic creds??

↳ yourusername 📸pc: dal

↳ daltonsargeant ugh thank you

↳ lilyokin 😭😭

logansargeant forgot to mention the caption was my idea

↳ yourusername 🙄

williamsfan232 thank you yn for the last pic we all say in unison 🗣️🗣️🗣️

logansargeant

liked by stingrayrobb, patriciooward and 989, 783 others

logansargeant that’ll doooo

view 993 comments

yourusername married man activities

↳ logansargeant nice to see you here, wife

↳ formulafan22 omggg they’re so cute

callumbradshaw._ whipped

↳ daltonsargeant mega whipped

↳ kyle_kirkwood ultra whipped

yourbestfriend1 pda

paddockteapage he’s so frat boy coded

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

taglist: @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @bernelflo @f1updates4you @r0nnsblog @meglovesmclaren

[almostempty]

psa clint isn’t joel miller and if you’re flattening him into a joel archetype we need to talk about race again

i’m aware they both wear plaid, have a daughter, battle with grief, and are hot covered in blood and enacting violence

this isn’t a callout i just don’t remember where i saw these specific posts about the red handkerchief and clint as a ‘blue collar’ man. but i know i’ve seen plenty of clint = joel posts floating around. 

AND i wasn’t going to say anything bc i thought i was just being gatekeepy bc i didn’t wanna see clint get the dbf treatment which would be my personal problem and i can happily write about him on my own blog how i want etc etc and i know i don’t have to read anyone else’s takes BUT then i thought about it and once again…it’s always about race…

edit: i apologize for using such a specific example without reaching out to the person that made the post—i could have taken the time to find it before using it as a launching point, that's on me. the handkerchief post wasn’t part of a huge fic or broader take on clint’s character (sorry for the jumpscare).

it did, however, stick out to me as a strong illustration of how important cultural context is. the issue is systemic not interpersonal. the rest of my examples weren't based on any one post—the blue-collar, marlboro man, works-with-his-hands, joel-coded/lana del rey-coded/ethel cain-coded vibes have been everywhere: fics, tags, comments, posts, tiktok edits. i know there’s nuance in fandom culture—tropes, memes like “close enough, welcome back joel/javi,” “____ coded” jokes, music, etc. and if we can understand that level of context for internet culture, we can understand the importance of racial context too, right?

i stand by the rest of what i said and will continue to argue that cultural context matters if you consider yourself an anti-racist reader or writer.* re: the post i saw somewhere about someone having a head canon about clint having a red handkerchief as a snot rag - sorry i forgot where i saw it and this isn’t an attack on whoever wrote that, but an fyi to anyone thinking about him the same way… if you’re writing a latino man in 1987 oakland—especially someone working street-level jobs or tied to criminal economies—and you think a red bandana is just a ‘snot rag,’ you’re missing major context

fyi, in 1987, color politics were not optional if you were a man of color in california. even though bloods (red) and crips (blue) originated in LA, their color codes and the larger gang culture around them were already known across the state. in northern california specifically, norteños (tied to the nuestra familia prison gang) wore red. their rivals, sureños (tied to the mexican mafia), wore blue. 

who cares? well, even though oakland wasn’t dominated by bloods and crips the way LA was (in part due to the black panthers), it had its own street crews, plus a heavy norteño/sureño influence by the mid-80s. even outside organized gangs, the association between red and gang affiliation was strong enough that wearing a red bandana could get you profiled, targeted, or attacked—by cops, by other crews, or by random people trying to read your allegiance.

if you were a latino man in oakland in the 80s—like clint—you wouldn’t carry a red bandana by accident. it would be flagging. even if you weren’t affiliated. as a street smart guy, survival would mean being hyper-aware of how you present yourself, especially in neighborhoods policed by gang dynamics and racial profiling. cops would use color displays like a bandana as probable cause for harassment searches or worse during the height of the ‘war on drugs’ and the crack epidemic. 

characters like clint—latino, working-class, street-adjacent—would have understood the consequences of being read wrong. this doesn’t mean no one ever had cloths, handkerchiefs, or functional rags. it means the color and the way you carried it mattered: what pocket, what visibility, how deliberate it looked.

throwing a red bandana in your pocket wasn’t neutral. it wasn’t folksy. it wasn’t just blue-collar roughness. it was a risk, and survival was about reading the street, not walking through it like color codes didn’t apply to you.

clint wouldn’t casually rock a red bandana like a cowboy. latino men have never had the privilege of being casual about how they're read in public, especially not in a city like oakland, especially not in the 1980s.

re: clint as a ‘blue collar’ character there’s a difference between being ‘blue collar’ and being trapped in criminalized labor. wearing a plaid shirt and working with your hands doesn’t automatically make someone a blue-collar worker in the traditional sense. 

blue collar historically refers to wage labor—construction, manufacturing, trade work—where the worker is paid (poorly) but still operating within the boundaries of legal employment. union jobs. often unionized labor, tied to systems that, at least in theory, protected workers through collective bargaining, benefits, and job security. those protections were never equally available, especially to workers of color, but they existed as part of the larger working-class structure. 

clint’s labor isn’t protected. it isn’t recognized. it’s criminalized. he’s not just a man doing rough work for low pay—he’s disposable labor, surviving in a system that sees him as expendable from the start. calling him ‘blue collar’ erases the fact that he’s not inside the working class safety net. he’s on the outside, paying off debt with violence he didn’t choose.

it carries a specific context of class exploitation, yes, but it’s still different from the kind of criminal coercion characters like clint are caught in.

clint is not a proud working man making an honest living. his entire arc in freaky tales is about being forced into violent labor to pay off inherited debt he had no choice in. he is not rough and gritty because he chose a rugged life. 

he is rough because he was born into a system designed to keep him indebted, desperate, and expendable. he’s not working a blue collar job—he’s surviving in a criminal economy that feeds off people like him, using violence he doesn’t even want to enact just to stay afloat.

flattening clint into a vague ‘marlboro man’ archetype (joel coded)—rough clothes, kind heart, good intentions—it strips away everything sharp and painful about his actual story. it whitewashes the complexity of being a latino man criminalized by birth and survival, not by choice. it reframes his struggle as a generic americana fantasy about working-class virtue, when what’s actually at stake is how structural violence forces people into roles they never asked for.

especially when it’s a latino character, this flattening isn’t neutral. it erases the realities of racialized labor, racialized criminalization, and survival. clint’s tragedy isn’t that he’s a gruff tough guy with a soft interior. his tragedy is that he was forced to become violent in order to pay off a life he was never allowed to own, and he carries that weight without any guarantee of getting free.

you can’t understand clint if you don’t understand that. and if you’re not willing to sit with that discomfort, what you’re writing isn’t really him—it’s just a projection of a character he was never allowed to be.

clint and joel might overlap in aesthetics, being single girl dads, and physical strength—but reducing clint to a copy of joel misses everything that actually defines who he is, and why his story matters.

joel miller is a texas man—a man shaped by frontier mythology, southern survivalism, deep mistrust, and violent individualism. he is, by his own admission, a man whose grief and guilt hollowed him out so badly that even his brother was scared of him. he’s not just traumatized; he’s actively dangerous, closed off, and isolated. his story is about losing his humanity and clawing parts of it back, maybe too late.

clint is not that. clint is an oakland man—east bay, west coast, working-class and criminalized, not because he chose violence but because he was born into debt he could never pay off. he’s an underdog, not an antihero. 

he’s soft with his woman, he lights up under her attention. he’s goofy in the video store with the clerk. he’s not some hardened loner who scares everyone around him. he’s just a man trying to survive a system that was designed to use him up.

when you flatten clint into joel, you’re misreading two characters with different emotional cores and fetishizing the aesthetics of pain and ruggedness while ignoring race, class, place, and survival context.

clint isn't a texas cowboy. he’s not steeped in frontier violence or manifest destiny myths. he’s a west coast underdog who knows every step he takes could get him crushed, and he still tries to protect the people he loves without letting it rot him from the inside out.

the tragedy of joel is that the world took everything from him and he let it turn him into something colder, crueler.

the tragedy of clint is that the world gave him no choice- he says he was born into breaking bones to pay off his father’s debt, and he still tries to hold onto his softness anyway.

if you can’t tell the difference, you’re not seeing clint, you’re just projecting a fetishized joel trope onto another character… 

[patrocles]

what if they traded brad marchand to the panthers for 3 nickels and pocket lint so he can sabotage their cup run and resign with the bruins in the summer since he’ll be a UFA anyways

[chaeyoei]

Eeek! Hellooo. Could I request Jing yuan with foxian! Reader who can shapeshifter into an actual fox. And she change the size of her fox form so she can be pocket sizeeee. Imagine Jing yuan carrying her in his pocket in meetings (sleeping on his chest). I kinda got inspired by the manhwa “a symbiotic relationship between a black panther and a white rabbit”

Lmao some of you people are so creative and I'm happily going to dump my mediocre writing here.

"General, I thought you said you were bring your wife with you today?" Fu Xuan looked at the silver haired gentleman.

"Yes. She's here. Well.. in my pocket." Jing Yuan chuckled and placed a little fox in his plam. The fox jumped out of his hand transforming into a foxian.

"..My divination never predicted this." The Diviner stood half impressed and half baffled.

Jing Yuan never foresighted getting a wife who'd be with him every step of his life.. literally. He was amused as well as befuddled.

"Can you transform into a microscopic fox?" He didn't know why that came out of his mouth but it did.

"No."

"Can you go larger than this building?"

"I think so."

"Can I ride you?"

"Probably."

"I've gotten all I wanted."

Ever needed a wife fluffy enough to forget all your problems? Easy.

His golden eyes shimmered despite there being a frown between his brows. The recent alliance meeting had him stressed because it would apply significant changes in the Loufu and his brain simply couldn't formulate a concrete plan to enforce this change.

A whisk of softness came into contact with his skin, the alluring figure of a fox there to remind him that he wasn't alone in his endeavours. He had a wife who'll support him through thick and thin.

He let out a distressed breath he didn't even know he was holding. The fox nudged him, licking to his jaw to divert attention to her. The corners of his eyes softened and the frown disappeared. Impulsively for more comfort, he buried his face in the soft fur. After a while, she transformed back to a normal foxian, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Troubled again?"

"No. It disseminated with you."

Did I mention he loves her fur and brushing it brings him comfort?

His hand would always be in her hair or her fur depending on which form she resides in for that moment. It's subconscious thing and she doesn't mind. His gentle caress are his way of affection.

Now the meeting thing.

No matter how professional and luxurious a building may be, people will bicker like children in serious alliance meetings pointing fingers at each other. The term fish market fits well here.

He usually fell asleep whenever this happened but not anymore when he has his spouse to talk to.

"My ears are about to bleed. They bicker like middle school students. Even kindergardeners have better coordination than them." She complained, jumping for his head to his pocket, unable to bear the loudness of this meeting.

Now to adress the downside.

She kinda hunts all the sparrows that rest on him. And well he cant do much about it.

Unfortunately my brainrot ends here. I'll update it if I do get any idea.

[sleepn0tfound]

as a peace offering for disappearing again and in honor of my new obsession with marvel rivals (which is why nothing has been coming from this account...) these are the voicelines I think reader would have with marvel characters if she was in game

Allies

Reader: Nice aim as always, Barton.

Hawkeye: You’re not bad yourself, kid.

Reader: So... are you gonna heal me or not, Laufey? Kinda dying here!

Loki: Not my fault you can’t stay alive.

Reader: I got your back, Spidey.

Spiderman: Right back at you, Foxy!

Reader: Thanks for the shield, Rogers.

Captain America: Be more careful next time─! HEY! Stay behind me─

Reader: Guess it’s you and me Buckaroo.

Winter Soldier: Don't stray too far, kid.

Winter soldier: Having fun pasting stickers on my arm, kid?

Reader: It adds some personality.

Iron Man: Hey kid! One of your special gadgets could really help us out right about now!

Reader: Yeah yeah old man, on it.

Reader: Go for the backlines, I'll support you from the front.

Black Panther: I knew I could count on you, kid.

Reader: If you need some spare parts you know who to ask.

Rocket Raccoon: Appreciate it kid, need help repairing anything before battle?

Reader: Nah i'm good. Let's get this started.

Reader: Wall me up, groot.

Groot: I am Groot!!!

Reader: Thanks buddy.

Reader: Mjolnir is truly a work of art.

Thor: Hey Kid─ What did we say about lifting my hammer so casually?

Enemies

Reader: Is that all you got old man?

Iron Man: Just getting started, kid!

Reader: You're mischief is proving to be quite irritating.

Loki: It's in the name, sweetheart. What else did you expect?

Reader: What a pity that we're on different sides this time.

Winter Soldier: Give me all you got, kid and don't hold back.

Reader: Never planned to.

Reader: Infinite bullets? How troublesome.

Rocket Raccoon : This kid is insane! She's walking through bullets as if it's rain!

Reader: All those arrows can't save you now, Barton.

Hawkeye: Dammit kid! I knew you were a good shot but what is this!

Reader: Having trouble reloading? Figures.

Reader: You think your shield can protect you, Rogers?

Captain America: No but it's─ AGH! Enough to stall you!

Reader: Always going for the backline, Panther? How predictable.

Panther: You're too perceptive for your age, kid!

Reader: I'm sure that was established long ago.

Reader: You think you're the only that can fly, Spidey?

Spiderman: Woah woah I think we should chill for a bit! I have your favourite coffee─ OH NOT CHILL NOT CHILL!

Reader: You didn't actually think these walls could stop me, did you?

Groot: I am Groot...

Reader: I've always wondered how you will react if your own weapon is used against you... I guess I'll finally find out today.

Thor: You wouldn't dare!

Reader: Watch me.

Lemme know if yall want more cause I prob have a LOT in mind. (Might even make some small one shots for some of them) Also anyone playing on asia server on console for marvel rivals wanna carry me 🥺🥺 I need a duo desperately cause my frnd plays on PC and we cant rank tgt. If anyone's curious I'm a Luna Snow main btw I hv her mirae 2099 skin hehe (I CAN BE UR POCKET LUNA PLS CARRY ME)

📷: sleep._.n0tfound

[billthedrake]

GRANDDADDY ISSUES

I tried not to seem too eager, waiting in the living room. The Christmas tree was still up and various cookies and candy still out. Mom always went all out for the holidays, even if it was just the two of us.

Thing was, my mother was happy I was close to her father. Always had been and even more so since her divorce. Granddad Paul didn't live super close, but he made an effort to come visit at least once a month. Catching my lacrosse games, being there for my birthday each year, and just completing out the rump family Mom and I had. As a single mother, she held it together, props to her, but Granddad made it feel like a family.

Summers I'd spend a month with the man. He was a high school history teacher and football coach, and had down time to spend with me. I was 16 before I realized his appointed, or self-appointed role, was to be the father figure in my life. Teaching me guy stuff, man stuff. Fishing, camping, home repairs. Birds and the bees. Guy talk.

Of course Mom would freak out, and more, if she new Granddad Paul and I had fooled around the summer after high school. Testing the waters, then diving in. I thought I was confused sexually, but when Granddad went down on me, and sucked a healthy load from my 18 year old jock balls, I knew I wasn't confused one bit. I learned how to return the favor.

I heard him pull up, an old but reliable pick up truck. I looked out the window to watch him get out.

Granddad was the perfect man in my book. 5'10 and barrel chested, walking slightly bow legged like an overgrown jock, he strode up to the door, hands in his jeans pocket. He had on only jeans and gray sweatshirt emblazoned with the high school he'd coached at. He'd let his normal short hair cut grow out to a medium length, almost shaggy and fully gray.

"Killer!" he beamed when I opened the door. I could see the silvery stubble on his chin and smell his aftershave as he pulled me into a tight hug. I now knew how to return the bear clasp myself, patting Granddad's meaty back and feeling his cool cheek next to mine before we pulled back, matching smiles on our faces. Yeah, Granddad missed me, too. He gave a wink and patted my upper arm.

"Merry Christmas, Dad!" I heard my mom behind me. My cue to step aside.

"Linda!" Granddad said. "Merry Christmas." He greeted my mother with a gentler hug. "You're looking great," he said.

My mom had been taking care of herself lately. She had a new boyfriend, Gary, who'd come over for Christmas dinner. I suspected they were more serious than Mom let on, but she didn't want to push things too fast with me. Not that I cared.

For his part, Granddad always had Christmas dinner with my uncle and his family, who lived closer to him. So the day after was Christmas part two for us. Presents and an afternoon light dinner before I threw a couple of bags in the cab of his truck for the hour ride.

It was great this year. Mom was in a great mood, between the boyfriend, her recent promotion at work and my return from college. I did my best to help in the kitchen so should could have time with Granddad.

I'd bought Granddad a new electric shaver Mom said he wanted. The irony was clear to me when he opened it, his scruff fully evident. He even made a joke about it. "Guess it is time to get more presentable," he said.

He got Mom a gift card for the local department store. "You know I can't pick out what you want, Linda," he apologized.

"I'll make good use of it," she assured him, getting out of her chair to give him an affectionate hug.

I was blown away when I opened the small box for my present. There were two tickets to the upcoming Panthers game.

"Jesus, Granddad," I let out, then checked myself. Mom didn't like me to swear, though I didn't do any outright cussing.

He looked like he couldn't wait to read my reaction. "They're as much for me as for you, even if the Panthers aren't doing so hot this season," he said. "I figured it would give us something to do this week."

It was a week and a half I'd spend with the man, but who was counting?

We ended up hitting the road by mid afternoon. Granddad wanted to get us back before nighttime. On the ride it was a lot of catching up. Mostly me giving a monologue about my first freshman semester, what classes I was taking, and what I'd signed up for in Spring.

I could tell something was on Granddad Paul's mind. "You, um, talk to your dad, Drew?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, sir. we talked a little yesterday," I said in a flat tone. I didn't get along with my father. He was pretty absent and I had a lot of resentment.

Granddad looked over with a deep emotion and reached over to massage the back of my neck. It was affectionate and perfect. "I know it's tough, kiddo." Pulling his eyes back to the road he kept his hand there. The touch was getting me hard.

And as I looked over, taking in his weathered face and deepening wrinkles that framed his ruddy cheeks and roman nose, I was getting turned on for real now. I was wired for men, older men. Old men, really, though I was a low-key resentful that none of the men in the "mature" porn matched Granddad's hotness. He was well-preserved and yet clearly in his 60s. That combination was electric to me.

The man seemed to read my mind. "You know, Drew, we don't have to do anything this week. Anything you don't wanna."

I nodded. But my tone was upbeat, eager. "I wanna Granddad," I assured him. "It's kind of all Ive been thinking about the last few months."

"Is that right?" he chuckled. I felt his fingers tease the hair on the nape of my neck. "I figured Killer Stenson would have some fun to keep him occupied in college." Stenson was my Dad's last name, and mine too.

I spread my legs. I was officially bricked now. If Granddad had said HE didn't want to fool around, I didn't know what I would have done. I would have respected his wishes, and yet...

"No, sir. I guess I'm not wired for college guys, really," I said. It was a big admission, and one I'd rehearsed in my head for several weeks now. Turns out, Granddad Paul made me feel comfortable. It was all coming out easily now.

"And college girls?" he prompted.

"Not wired for girls at all, actually."

He nodded, taking it in. "You told your mother?"

I shook my head. "No, sir," I replied. "I haven't told anyone. Other than you."

"Well, it's no one's damn business if you don't want it to be."

We were getting close to Granddad's place and soon he removed his hand as he turned into the gravel driveway. He was a widower and when he'd retired, he'd bought a mountain cabin. We pulled up, and I got one bag, and Granddad the other. As we entered, I was reminded of the distinctly masculine space of the place. Wood paneling and woody-smoky scent from the fireplace. Framed photos of mountains and nature, a signed football jersey framed behind glass, and not much else for decoration.

Granddad could get in no-nonsense mode and already he was leading me back to the second bedroom, which was the guest room when I visited. "Everything is here for you, Drew," he said, setting down my bag.

I gave a quick look in. Basic bed with wool blanket rather than a duvet or comforter. I wanted to respect Granddad's space, but I had to take a chance.

"I was kinda hoping I could be in the master bedroom," I said, nervously looking into the man's blue eyes.

That caught him by surprise. We'd fooled around the previous summer, a lot actually, but it had felt very exploratory, a naughty new game for both of us. Maybe this was my way of ratcheting that game up. But I'd had almost four long months to imagine this visit.

Granddad was caught by surprise. "For real, Killer?" he asked, in that "are you sure?" tone. Then giving me a wink, he added, "I snore, you know."

"I don't give a fuck, Granddad," I said, emboldened by the fact he hadn't said no.

There was a look of lust on that handsome face of his, and Granddad closed the distance between us. I felt his breath and then the scruff of his stubble before our lips touched. A gentle peck, then I opened my mouth. Granddad has a thick tongue and I could feel it snake in between my lips.

Oh fuck, we were making out, and this felt different than before. Granddad pulling my body into his and me feeling up that strong body through his sweatshirt.

"Easy, Killer," he finally mumbled into my lips. "Soft kissin can be kind of hot, too."

And then Granddad showed me a new speed, a new technique. He was right, this was incredible, and amazingly the gentler approach was fueling my boner just as much.

I did grunt, though, as I felt Granddad's paw grip my crotch.

He had a big smile as he pulled back. "Let's take this to my bed, young man."

We made our way to the master bedroom and quickly stripped down. I loved how Granddad's eyes were on me the whole time. "You packed on some more muscle at school, stud?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, sir. Been hitting the weights hard," I added. I wasn't playing lacrosse at college, but I wanted to maintain and develop my jock body.

His eyes swept up and down my near nakedness. Appreciative, even as he got his lecturing tone. That Coach tone. "I hope you're doing it for yourself, Drew," he said. "Not for anyone else."

"I am, Granddad," I said with a slightly annoyed tone. Maybe he was right that my body issues and insecurities were driving my obsession with lifting and putting on muscle.

"Well, you're the kind of stud who makes me thankful I'm a man."

Then I watched Granddad slip off his underwear, showing off that full magnificent 65 year old body. Muscular but with some loose sag to the beef, that build was covered in a thick silvery fur trimmed evenly, at least until the darker bush, where gray pubic hairs grew longer and stray next to the brown ones. Granddad Paul's cock was just shy of 6 inches and cut and pretty thick, especially at the base. He'd confided to me that he took pills for a mild case of ED, and maybe he'd taken one that day, because his prick was sticking up hard.

"I'm thankful you're a man, too, Granddad," I joked, even as I slid off my boxers and showed my grandfather my erect dong. I wasn't as thick as him, but I had a good inch and a half in length on him.

"Goddamn," he hissed. I loved how the man let loose with the swearing when it was just us. Especially at times like this. He stepped up and reached down to gently stroke my hardon from base to tip. "OK if I suck this, Drew?"

I didn't know why he was being so coy, but then I realized he'd had four long months to imagine us having sex again. Anticipating. Not knowing where we'd pick off, or even if we would.

"Um, yeah, Granddad."

He looked up from my dick. "You know, my name is Paul."

"I know," I said. It felt weird being on a first name basis. The tone in my voice suggested I never would be.

That got a chuckle out of him. He hadn't let go of my cock, instead he slowly stroked it. Without lube it felt more of a tease motion rather than a jacking off pleasure. I loved it. "If you're game, there's some stuff I want to try this week," he said. A little nervousness was behind his mature experience.

"Yeah?" I asked excitedly. I reached forward to feel up his torso, feeling the thickness of his aged muscle.

He nodded. "You tried fucking yet, Killer?" he asked with a grin.

"No, sir," I said. "Been thinking about it, though. A lot."

That brought a smile to his face. "Your mother would kill me," he said.

"She's not gonna find out, sir," I assured him.

Granddad released my dick and then crouched down in front of me, His strong hands ran up and down my outer quads as he stared at my dick. "We're gonna have a lot of fun this week, aren't we, Killer?" he breathed.

"Yes, Granddad," I answered.

He leaned in some and skinned back my foreskin. "You know I'm not a big fan of your father, but I'll give him credit for leaving your skin intact."

I felt his tongue taste the tip then watched him open up and take me in. I still got a thrill from seeing this masculine man being so enthusiastic sucking dick. He didn't got slow either. Taking just a second to get used to me and my size, he began working me up and down with long steady mouth strokes. Twisting his head slightly and giving a gentle tug of my balls.

"Granddad!" I urged. My lock was loaded and my sexual response was far more primed than I expected. If Granddad kept it up, I wouldn't last long. I even gave a half hearted attempt to push his shoulders back, but he kept on me. I looked down on his almost entirely gray hair and his mature body. He was bobbing faster now, and sucking more fervently. "FUCK!" I gasped.

I heard the man choked down my heavy load in successive swallows. His moans around my spurting prick were deep and appreciative as he rode out my orgasm with his slowed down sucking.

"Goddamn, buddy," he finally said as he pulled back and wiped his chin. "That's one helluva load. Please tell me you have more in the tanks for later."

"Probably," I laughed, enjoying the way my dick stayed rigid after cumming so hard.

He took his time standing up. "Think I can feel you up for a bit?" he asked. Already he was climbing on to the bed and scooting over to the other side to pull out some lube.

I wasn't sure what he was wanting but I got in bed, too. He squirted a good deal of lube on his dick and started stroking before turning back to me. His free hand ran along my bare torso.

"You got a beautiful body, Killer," he said, openly massaging my chest and abs. I wasn't completely smooth but compared to him I was.

"Thank, Granddad," I said. "I love yours, too." I reached out and began to touch his furry chest.

"I'm old," he said with a laugh.

I looked into his eyes. "Don't take this the wrong way, Granddad, but I like em old."

"You into the daddies, Killer?" Granddad smiled.

"Older, even," I admitted. "A man has to be 60 before I notice him. I'm kind of messed up."

"Hardly, stud," he said. He took his hand and moved to touch and caress my chin. "I got a good bud like you."

I tried to pick up on the implications of what he was saying. Put two and two together. "A boyfriend?" I knew Granddad had gone mostly for men after Grandma died. Said he didn't think he was up for another traditional relationship and that there was too much lost time to make up.

"No," the man replied. "Just a deep friendship. He's married now, but craves a little coach time, you know?" I could tell he was hesitant to tell me about this.

"A former player?" I asked.

"That stays between you and me, Killer."

"Yes, sir." I ran my hand down, past his moving fist, to cup his balls. "I'm just glad you got someone looking after you, Granddad."

"Oh kiddo," he breathed, closing in the gap for another kiss. This was less soft than before but it was amazing. Real heavy making out as Granddad moved back to feeling my body as he jerked off. He had a slower sexual response but it didn't take him long. He pawed at my chest more aggressively as I felt the tension rise and release in his body. He grunted into my mouth and I felt his hot cum splash on my belly.

We embraced and held each other after our orgasms, making out some but also just feeling each other's bodies.

"So... the older man thing," Granddad said, breaking the silence. "How much of that is me?"

He asked the thing that had been on my mind. "Some of it. But I think if we hadn't fooled around, I would have found someone who reminded me of you."

That got a soft grunt from the man. I knew the words hit him in an emotional and sexual place. "Is that what we're doing, Killer? Just fooling around?" There was an edge to his voice, teasing yet sexual.

"Oh god, Granddad," I hissed. "I've been trying not to get ahead of myself."

He gave me a thoughtful look, his blue eyes set off by his gray hair and weathered face. "Well, we got all week to figure things out."

"Week and a half," I corrected.

Granddad smiled. "You serious about what I said earlier? About trying more?"

I felt his strong biceps, pumped beneath the looser skin. "I'm not very experienced, sir. But I wanna be. I want you to be the one to show me."

We kissed, soft again, super slow. I was hard but not eager to cum again, just enjoying the proximity to him. I could feel Granddad's cock plump out, too. It was dark out, pitch black dark, and we had only the light of the bedlamp. I had no idea what time it was, but my stomach rumbled.

That got his attention. He pulled back and looked me up and down. I had the feeling I was his Christmas present, more than the electric razor. "Let's get some food in you, buddy. And we can take our time with the rest, OK?"

I got up. Granddad handed me one of his T-shirts and a spare pair of sweats. I loved wearing his clothes, and I loved that he trusted me to start a fire in the fireplace while he made us some burgers. Granddad is particular about the fireplace being set up and lit the proper way.

Even if the meal was casual, washed down with cans of cold lager, it felt like the most special date night I could imagine.

Maybe I was a little too silent as I ate. Even when I was done, I sipped my beer and looked at Granddad Paul's handsomeness and felt like the luckiest man.

"What are you thinking, Drew?" he asked softly.

I blushed. "Just crushing out on you a little, sir. Sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry. I'm crushing out on you, too, buddy. More than a little."

I felt flush hot with desire and emotion now. I threw hard, I couldn't help. Granddad noticed and chuckled. "Just be patient with me, Killer, I'm an old man and don't have the sex drive I once did."

My turn to laugh. "You do just fine, sir." This time I took the initiative, setting down my beer and moving over to kiss him.

I lost track of time again. Both of us did. I never fished my beer. I was tired enough anyway, when Granddad wordlessly led me back to his bedroom. Our bedroom for the week. No more sex that night, just spoon naked against one another. But Grandad Paul was right: we had all the time we wanted to take together.

[shapelytimber]

Wanted to paint some of my favorite characters, nothing more nothing less

[COMMISSIONS]

Way too much yapping like an embarrassing amount, the individual portraits and the template I used below vvv

I shouldn't be allowed to talk about my favorite characters- especially to people who (presumably) don't know them xjfkdk apart from the very popular ones ofc

ILLYA KURYAKIN (The man from U.N.C.L.E)

gay ass little Russian spy I love him he is so *dramatic* and a huge nerd and a Beatles fan and into fashion design- perfect pocket size blorbo ;w; also seeing a Russian character being given a positive leading role in an American tvshow from the 60s ?? Yes he lives in New York and works for UNCLE America.... But he is still a communist ?? Incredible ! Also I really like the fact he isn't given the cliché personality traits often given to Russian characters i e anger issues drinks a lot violent ect (looking at you shitty(imo) modern remake... What did you do to my little guy ;;). In a close contest with Spock for the "gayest man from tvshow" of the 60s..... And in my heart he is winning djdkd for me the gay subtext of muncle hits so much more because it's not a scifi show- it's closer to home, Napoleon and Illya were *like that* in the present day of the 60s, they were both human, and no alien fuckery made them go to the village more than once or play house in the suburbs or get attached ass up to get pegged on a regular basis... Truly a show that feels written by an old queen and a guy with the biggest fem dom fetish jkvjjkb (don't get me wrong tho I adore star trek tos and spirk too <3)

KUROO HAZAMA and PINOKO (Black Jack)

sometimes I rewatch some of the oavs from the 90s when I'm sad :) I had a huge phase a couple years back when I read nearly all the manga (should really finish it... Or reread the whole thing frankly), watched *all* the shows (bar young black jack, hated that shit) and idk I just love this venal bitch so much- him and his daughter and his conflicted feelings for his tboy ex that he still loves kfkfkf btw I'm dying for a modern take on this like please please please I'd love to see Kei Kisaragi's story rewritten a bit (trans character in the 70s sure was progressive but oh boy-), because him and black jack's relationship makes me so *weak*.... And maybe see him a bit more than in one story- anyway ! When it comes to his daughter Pinoko, it's very hit or miss- when the writers lean on the cute father adoptive daughter relationship it's great, when they lean more on the whole "she has a crush on him" (very much like a child in most case, and he *never* reciprocate thank god) and bring up the fact she is technically 18 a lot (she was an evil tumor trapped in her sister before he created a body for her- black jack shit dw), and she gets jealous of other women.... Well it's terrible and I'm uncomfy :(

EVA KANT (Diabolik)

Look.... You just can't show me danger diabolik 1968 and not expect me to become insane djdkdkdk she is so cool ;; !!! Her and her devious eel of a man (here as a panther, because even tho I haven't read the comic yet, I'm taking an educated guess that all the panther imagery is here to represent him, the lethal twunk always in the all black gimp suit... And if it's not then fuck my entire life ig fjfkkd), the cuntiest het couple you've ever seen, such freaks I love them ! Partners in crime that will blow up the tax offices of the whole country if you try to put a bounty on them <3 they are in the guilty faves category only because I'm this invested in these characters after 1 (one) movie fkfkf watched the first two remakes and was hmmm let's say underwhelmed, could have been worse but going after the 60s one ie peak cinema was hard... I went in fully invested in these heterosexuals and they still fucked up their romance and relationship ;; (don't spoil me the third one btw haven't seen it yet ! I know it's the yaoi one- which doesn't give me much hope for Eva tbh...) I'll soon start reading the comics tho ! Managed to find all twelve volumes of "Il grande Diabolik" in french for pretty cheap so I'm excited for that :D (might scan them and upload them online because omg I tried finding scans in *any* language and only found a dubious website that sold digital copies for 7€ a volume ??? What is this)

UTA (The Void / Тургор / Turgor / Tension)

Apathy girlyyyyy she just like me for real for real nfkfk what absolutely charmed me about her is yes her design, but more importantly her chamber's design (if you've never played the void, a sister's chamber is a space that represent her. You get a sense of who she is by exploring her chamber before finding her and talking to her soul it's great). The lonely island out at sea, her laying down on a suspended steel boat in a grotto, looking passively at the moon by a crack on the ceiling.... And the moon is looking back. Incredible ! I love this game so much

KIM KITSURAGI (Disco Elysium)

Do I really have to explain this one ? When I played the game with quiji I remember I kept saying "when Kim talks, we *listen*" djkdk we did get a good grade in Kim Kitsuragi and got him to dance in the church <3 this fucking centrist cop wormed it's way into my heart and many others because of course he did. The only Kim K in my eyes. Also funny anecdote : before I played Disco Elysium, I had one concept art masterclass where a kinda famous concept artist came to give advice, make us really stressed then give us a shitty grade.... And when I tell you this man looked so much like Kim ??? Same haircut, glasses, face with a scar *exactly* where Kim's portrait has a stark shadow on his cheek and he was dressed in an orange top- truly uncanny. Anyway, Kim is so fucking cool how does he do it

DARK VADOR (La guerre des étoiles)

*sight* not surprising if you know me... and to be clear when I say Vader I don't mean Anakin Skywalker, post barbecue only zouz here. I refuse to yap about this man djdkdk I already do that way to much in ao3 comment sections

And here is the template I used ! Don't know who made it tho sorry...

PS : all these where made in 2-3 hours each :D wanted to challenge myself by painting quickly, and I mostly (looking at the Eva Kant one that gave me trouble) succeeded !