#and it seems like they’ll do that here.

[littlexdeaths]

sweet child o’mine - e.m.

eddie munson x pregnant fem reader

warnings: none, just some tooth rotting fluff

a/n: in honor of father’s day, here is a little repost of an old blurb of mine. enjoy xx.

Lazy sunday’s with Eddie were always your favorite.

He didn’t have to go in to work at the shop with Wayne, the cars could wait for a day. He had been picking up more hours lately, due to the little miracle you were growing in your belly. Eddie was so concerned about having everything you both needed that he was going a little overboard.

Or as Wayne so lovingly liked to call them, new dad jitters. So you didn’t get to see him as often as you’d like, but sunday would always be your day together. The tv was on the in background, re-runs of an old show neither of you were watching. He was currently sitting in the la-z-boy recliner in your living room, guitar perched on his lap.

You were sprawled out on the sofa, watching him fondly as he played around with the chords. Eddie wasn’t playing anything specific, just singing quietly as he attempted to work out this new melody floating around in his head. Your hands were resting lightly over your bump, tapping along to the beat when you felt it.

A little kick.

You sit up immediately, gasping in surprise. Eddie’s head snaps up, nearly dropping the guitar in his rush to get to you, concern lacing his features. But he is relieved when he sees you smiling, kneeling next to you on the sofa.

“They kicked,” you hum as you gently grab his hand and slide it beneath your sweater, placing it on your bump. But the kicking had stopped, much to both of your disappointment.

“Come on little one, do it again,” Eddie pleads softly to your belly, causing you to giggle.

You run your fingers through his shaggy curls as the other caresses over the back of his hand that was still resting on your bump.

“Can you sing for us, Ed? See if they’ll kick again?”

Your boyfriend just grins, nodding as he starts humming the opening chords to Sweet Child O’Mine. He keeps his palm resting on your belly, knotting your fingers together with the other.

“She's got a smile that, it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories. Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky…”

His voice is soft, husky as he sings right to your baby bump. The moment is so sweet it brings tears to your eyes. He stops once he hears your soft sniffles, but you nod for him to continue. Eddie just smiles that goofy grin you adore, pressing a kiss to your joined hands before continuing.

“Now and then when I see her face, she takes me away to that special place. And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry…”

The tears are steadily rolling down your cheeks now, as you feel another small kick. It surprises you both, but soon a look of absolute wonder crosses over his features. You can tell just how much this moment means to him as the tears begin to fill his waterline and slip down his cheeks. Eddie gently wipes them away with the sleeve of his shirt before he rests his head on your belly.

“Whoa, oh, oh… sweet child o' mine. Whoa, oh, oh, oh… sweet love of mine.”

Another kick, but this time it seems to hit him right in the cheek. Eddie looks a little shocked and the both of you burst into a fit of giggles as his warm palm caresses the area once more. He lifts his head then, chocolate hues flicking up to meet yours.

You’ve never seen him look so happy.

“Sorry little one… daddy’s big head was in the way,” his tone is teasing as his nose nudges the swell of your tummy.

You can’t help but giggle again, motioning him over to press a soft kiss to his lips. He does so without hesitation, kissing you sweetly before he leans his forehead against yours.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad, baby…” you hum, unable to keep the emotion from your voice. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Shared Camomile[*]

Elain x fem!reader

synopsis: after months of practically living together, Elain finally broaches the topic she’s been longing to share with you. You’re reluctant, doubtful, nervous. Two females? That can’t be right. So Elain takes it on herself to go out into her little garden to find something to help convince you of what you should already know. That you’re hers. 

a/n: cannot believe it’s taken this long for me to write something like this for Elain

warnings: use of an aphrodisiac/love potion from Elain, technically dubcon, smut, facesitting, fingering, pussy eating, squirting, fluff for my favourite girl 🩷🧡💛

word count: 3,662

“What?” You ask, perplexed, tilting your head slightly before your lips are stretching in a wide smile, cheeks aching as they flush with laughter. “Move in together? You are funny Elain.” 

Dark, rich cocoa eyes blink at you quietly from across the table, her burnished gold hair hanging in full ringlets, spilling over her shoulders while small coils of silky hair quirk and twist over her brow. Between you is a cooling tray, holding the berry tarts you’d spent the morning lovingly making, flour-dusted aprons doing little to prevent the powdery mess from puffing into the air and dusting the fabric of your dresses. The smell is delicious, able to pick out the distinct citrus of the lemon and orange, the pleasant apricot and sweet blackberry, each held within a circle of thick, crispy pastry, golden-brown on its crust and slightly flaky. 

“Do you really find it so absurd?” She asks, a touch fainter than before, and you think you catch a look of hurt across her pretty features. You blink, caught off guard by her expression—you’d thought it a joke. “I…” you fumble briefly, unsure of yourself. “Is it…normal for two women to live together in the human lands?” You ask tentatively. “I had understood it was much the same as it is here, from how you’d spoken about…” She nods her head faintly, neither of you particularly wanting to mention the name of her past human lover. 

“No, you’re right,” she says softly, glancing down over the tray of delicious pastries, still steaming slightly with heat, their centres looking soft and slightly more liquid than they should. Once they’re cool, they’ll possess a more jam-like consistency—a little thicker, and less prone to spilling down one’s front after a bite. “But folk seem more content here. Happy to let people love,” Elain says, warm brown eyes raising to yours, her long lashes fluttering slightly with nerves that only fae eyes could pick out.  

“Besides,” she continues, standing straighter, fingers splaying across the kitchen counter, “you spend so much time in this house, with me, that nothing much would really change…” 

“Yes, but don’t you think people might get the wrong idea?” You counter. It’s a nice idea—lovely, even—but nice things aren’t always possible to have. Elain inclines her chin a little, “and what would be the wrong idea, in this case?” 

Your brow furrows. “That we’re lovers,” you reply, before wincing. “Not that two females loving each other in that way is wrong,” you swiftly amend, “just that, that’s not what it would be for us. People would get the wrong impression.” 

“You don’t…” Elain begins faintly, watching you as if in a daze, before shaking her head, the pretty, dark gold ringlets jostling with the motion. “Maybe we should have this conversation another time. In the evening, when we’ll have longer for a deeper discussion.” 

Elain smiles a little, a familiar softness to her features, and you can’t help the one that spreads across your mouth in reply. 

“Tea?” She offers. 

You nod, happy to accept whatever strange new herbal concoction she’ll serve you.

————

You swallow thickly, reaching for the glass of chilled, crystal-clear water on the small table, speckles of condensation fogging up its sides, small droplets gathering before trickling down over your hot fingers. 

You drink deeply, but it doesn’t seem to help with the warmth that’s been steadily accumulating within your body. The house shouldn’t be this hot, and yet you find yourself reaching to undo another button on your blouse, enough that if anyone else were accompanying you in the parlour, they would have an ample view of the lace peaking out from beneath the soft fabric of your shirt. 

Anxiously, you rearrange yourself in the large armchair, the circular, hand-embroidered pillows being removed from behind you, and tossed onto the long sofa in the hopes you’ll feel a bit cooler. Quilts hang over the back of each chair, so as to keep warm in the evenings during winter, but as it currently stands you can hardly bear to look at them without a wave of heat washing through your body. 

Taking another deep drink, you attempt to refocus your mind on the little botanical book you’d picked up from Elain’s night-stand a few days ago, steadily leafing through it while your friend works outside in her garden, watering plants, repotting small flowers, and so on. Usually you find yourself sitting in one of the hanging chairs—circular seats woven like bird nests, inlaid with pillows and cushions to prop up one’s back, allowing the user to rock faintly on the comfy swing—watching as the burned-orange of the sun spills over Elain as she works. It’s a pleasant routine the two of you enjoy during the warmer months, while most things are blooming, branches hanging heavy with fruits that’re full and bursting with juice, vibrant petals that unfurl in bright clusters of colour and aroma. 

Instead you’d retreated for the time being, having thought the evening haze was somehow getting to you more than usual, wanting to slink into the relative coolness of the indoors until the heat had passed and you could return. But it hadn’t passed, and you’re really considering undoing another pearly button. Considering hiking your skirts a little higher too, despite the almost sheer fabric. 

————

Elain glances up from the gardening bed, noting how far the sun has descended in the sky, the lengthening of the shadows. 

You’d disappeared a little over an hour ago, mumbling about wanting to cool off, and Elain would guess you’ll likely be wanting to strip the clothes from your body about now. She glances away briefly, a hot flush overcoming her cheeks, the smallest tinge of guilt in her heart. But ultimately it’s harmless, she assures and reassures herself, it’s not like she’s doing something you truly would hate her for. She’s just…bringing to the surface what already exists. Hurrying along the blossoming of a flower by nurturing and nourishing it correctly. 

You’ll be blooming for her in no time. 

You likely already are. 

Elain tugs the fullness of her lower lip between her teeth at the thought. 

She’s no stranger to these mental images, and has grown rather comfortable with them over the years. But she’s tired of having to fight them off, of feeling the slightest ounce of shame in her heart when she’s failed, and has had to look you in the eyes the next morning, knowing yours are the eyes she came to. Your nose, your mouth, your features she’d pictured…your scent she’d tried to imagine…your sex she’d…

Elain shakes her head, raising from the gardening bed. Inside you’re probably melting like a toffee left in the summer’s sun, dripping sticky sweetness for her plunge her tongue into. All she needs to do now is to stop by the washroom to clean her hands, then she can go see how your body is reacting to the sweet ambrosia plant she’d been carefully nurturing these past few months. Reacting to the sun dried leaves she’d crushed up to make a tea out of. 

She can practically taste you already. 

————

You hadn’t realised how far you’d spiral when you’d started. 

Hadn’t realised how deeply the heat would numb your mind when you’d fumbled your way to the sofa on shaky legs, and laid yourself across its plush length.

Hadn’t realised how exposed you would be when you’d rolled onto your side, plucking a cushion up, and shyly placing it between your thighs, starting off with small rolls of your hips before your movements became more languid. 

Now your hair is messy, silky locks having separated from your up-do, baby strands curling at your temples and the nape of your neck. A few more pearly buttons have been popped out, leaving you in the thin white vest you’d donned this morning beneath your dress, and your skirts have pooled around your waist. 

Still you’re too hot, feeling the dampness that’s gathered along your spine, the slight perspiration between and beneath the swell of your breasts and you could cry from the discomfort. If you could only remove your clothes entirely, then maybe you’d feel an ounce of relief…but what if Elain finds you? A fresh wave of heat splashes over you, and you think a moan slips out, burying your face in the pillow you’re resting on. You need to take your clothes off…you’re going to overheat if you keep like this… 

With trembling fingers and weakened muscles you manage to sit up enough to tug the material from your body, the skirts further mussing your hair as they caress over your shoulders. As soon as you can you’re flopping back into the cushioning, panting as you reposition the pillow between your thighs, shifting so the seam is pressing flush with your heat…but your underwear is still in the way…

You whine faintly.

You just want relief…

“Are you—…” 

Your half-lidded gaze meets a fully dilated set of cocoa, a deep, apricot flush on her sugar-powdered cheeks. 

Fresh heat licks across your skin, a soft moan dragging from your lips as your body melts over the sofa. Heavy pants spill from your mouth as you gaze at her, lids fluttering faintly in your attempts to keep watching her. Elain would be perfect…the perfect shape, the perfect feel, the perfect heat to soothe your own… Elain can fix this. 

“E…Elain…” you call out, trying to push yourself up into a sitting position, keeping the pillow flush between your thighs. “Elain…please…” 

Her mouth opens as if to speak, but she can’t find her words, her feet tipping into motion as she’s carried silently across the floor until she’s reached you. “What…—” But you cut her off when you reach for her, fingers linking with her own pristine set, squeezing her lightly. “Elain,” you cry softly, “please… Please, I need…” 

You watch a little fearfully as her lips tug up at the corners, her eyes still wide with infatuation, transfixed on the lithe motions of your form, the way your hips glide over the cushion in attempts to feel some kind of friction. 

“What do you want?” She asks lowly, hunger in her usually sweet eyes, and you could cry. You are crying. “You…!” You beg softly, gripping her tighter, “you, Elain. Please!” She hums with faint amusement, settling lower to the floor so you’re at eye level. “How?” She asks gently, watching you with a leisure that’s not at all appropriate for the undercurrent of energy that’s simmering beneath your skin.

“Hotly. Messily,” you plead, trying to pull her closer, “immediately.”

“Hmm? But we aren’t lovers?” She points out, still smiling faintly, hungry warmth curving her full mouth. Full, berry-coloured lips that you bet would taste far better than any of the tarts on the counter. You don’t know how to respond to that other than with a desperate, pleading look, squeezing her hand beseechingly, inclining your head to shyly offer your mouth. 

Her eyes twinkle, and your heart flutters as she leans forward, dark golden ringlets of hair teasingly brushing against your unfairly sensitive collar bones, lips grazing your own. “What do you want?” She repeats softly, quieter than a breath, able to feel each syllable over your mouth. “Elain,” you answer in return, fingers trembling, so close to getting what you need. 

You feel the flutter of her lashes against your cheek, the ticklish fan of breath across your lips as she laughs softly, before gently setting her mouth atop your own. 

A hot tear escapes down your cheek, hips winding over the soft cushion as she rests over you, and you shyly press back, curving up into her as you incline your chin, heart fluttering in your chest wildly at the intimacy. 

“You want some more, don’t you?” She asks when she’s pulled away, and you nod desperately, more than a little out of it, with the flush that’s heating your body, the arousal that’s softening your limbs. “Alright,” she murmurs, still with that strangely wicked smile on her lovely lips, “but keep still.” 

You whine when she pulls away, then shut up when she begins disrobing herself, leaving her bare save for the underwear clinging to her hips, perfectly matching your own state of undress. “What do you think?” She asks lightly, both her arms pulled back from her chest, hands likely wrapped together at her back, allowing you to take her in. Your eyes nearly roll, needing her to put her body on you now, needing to kiss her again, to touch her and taste her. “Let me taste you…” you beg without thinking, causing her flush to deepen, parting the stance of her delicate feet ever so slightly. 

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” she replies softly, undeniable arousal rolling from her body, perfuming the room with a scent like vanilla, but slightly muskier, slightly heavier. It smells delicious. Like something you’d delight in having in your mouth. 

Elain smiles at your dazed expression, before dipping her fingers slowly beneath the band of her underwear, liking how your hips take on a more urgent wind over the pillow, still so desperate as the tea works its properties into your bloodstream, short-circuiting your mind to bring out your basest desires. 

“You want a taste?” Elain recalls, and you whine when you pick up the wet noises coming from between her thighs, how her arousal becomes more concentrated, and you nod your head. “Please, Elain,” you moan breathlessly, “come closer…” 

“I’ll come where I like,” she replies, making your spine arch.

“Please,” you beg, “come over here.” 

It seems she finally takes pity on you, slowly making her way over to you. Your eyes flutter lightly when her fingertips brush hair from your face, the ones with her arousal on brushing teasingly across your lips, and you part them needfully for her. Tipping upward into her touch, so, so, desperate for more. Elain reads that in your expression, and smiles. “If I let you have a taste,” she murmurs, fingers pressing a little closer to your mouth, so close to slipping inside, “you think it might be nice if you stayed?” 

You nod dimly, staring up at her pretty, cocoa-coloured eyes. 

“Answer me, sweet pea,” she instructs.

“I’ll stay,” you whisper back. 

Elain smiles fully, and the moment feels so right it’s almost enough to take you out of the haze. But then she’s carefully swinging a leg over you, her lovely back turned so she can peer down your body, and for the first time that evening you’re aware of your mouth watering. “I knew you’d come round to it,” she says breathlessly, her thighs trembling slightly with adrenaline and anticipation. After all this time she’s so close to having you—it’ll no longer be restricted to her dreams, or her fantasies. “You’re being such a good girl for me.” 

“Elain,” you beg, lips feeling numb and tingly, just so desperate to be entirely swept away by her fragrance, her feel, her flavour. “Elain, please…” you breathe, staring longingly between her parted thighs, able to arrange just how well she’ll fit over your face. 

“Alright, sweet thing,” she murmurs, fingers tracing across your stomach, feeling across the soft expanse as if she’s studying new land under her jurisdiction, brushing the band of your underwear. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

Thoughts and words are obliterated away as she settles over you, the heat of her soft skin feeling so right and familiar, and your eyes slide shut in pleasure. In a far away part of your conscious, your body raises its hands to slide over her thighs, slinking over her hips to pull her flush to your mouth, able to feel the dampness of the fabric against your nose and lips, and—Gods she’s perfect. 

Elain’s fingertips teasingly trace over your abdomen, watching how tiny muscles flutter and contract beneath her ticklish touch, gently prying the pillow away from between your thighs to make room for her own hands. She swallows heavily, spine curving as she experimentally shifts her hips over you, revelling in the press of your mouth and nose against her heat. 

“Open your mouth,” she breathes, fingers trembling as they push your underwear away, licking her lips as she spots the gleaming threads of slick that are webbing between the wet fabric and your wetter cunt. You don’t respond, and she blinks, shifting her hips to glance over her shoulder—your eyes are closed, and she can feel the heat radiating from your body, the absolutely blissed out expression on your features. Her heart fumbles, and she decides to let you enjoy yourself for the moment—her pleasure is secondary to your own. 

“That’s it, sweet girl,” she says instead, palm cupping your bare heat, feeling your hips buck into her hand at the promise of stimulation. “Lay back and enjoy it,” she goads, running her fingers over your cunt, pressing lightly at your clit, feeling how a pulse of pleasure passes through you at the light touch alone. “So lovely and wet—is this all for me?” 

A shiver of pure pleasure drips down her spine at the deluded moan you breathe onto her cunt, thighs parting as she languidly rolls her hips over you, shuddering with blissful exuberance at the feel of your mouth and nose pressing so delightfully against her. Enough so that she raises them just enough to vanish the fabric away, before gently reseating herself atop of you, taking a moment to bask in the intimate feel. The strangely territorial feel as she winds her hips, knowing your nose, lips, and chin will be gleaming with her arousal. Hers. 

Biting her lip, she spreads your legs wider, rolling the pads of her fingers over your clit carefully, guessing how sensitive the ambrosia plant tea will have made you. And she’s completely right. Rewarded with a lovely whimper that causes her skin to prickle, storing away the small noise and already thinking what she can do to make you repeat it. 

“Do that again,” she asks, fingers running down over your wet cunt, light and teasing in her touch, tauntingly circling your entrance, feeling as you try to suction her deeper, tightening around nothing. You release a whine, and Elain smiles faintly, cupping one of her breasts as she thumbs across the peak, soothing their sensitivity as her head tips back from the relief. “That’s it,” she encourages, “all you need to do is keep making those sounds for me okay? Keep telling me what you like, how you’re feeling. Don’t try to hide them from me.” 

You moan loudly when her fingers sink inside of you, two gently plying you apart, pumping and curling while the heel of her palm glides across your gleaming clit, hips bucking needfully up into her hand as your arousal begins to be satiated. “Elain…” you moan without reason, simply unable to think of any other noise to make as her heavenly scent filters into your lungs, spreads through your body, following your instincts to open your mouth, and lick. 

Elain’s spine curves, a moan spilling from her lips as you softly apply yourself, tongue flattening over her clit, swiping up through her centre to kiss at her entrance, feeling dizzy from the eroticism of laying your mouth over such an intimate part of her. Feeling her coat your mouth like a lip gloss. You’d wear her every chance you could get. 

“That’s it…” she moans, fingers rubbing against a spot inside of you, and your arms coil over her pretty hips, pulling her flush against your face, making out with her pussy to hear more of those sounds, taste more of her flavour, have more of her coating you like she owns you. 

Elain sighs contentedly, hips rocking over your mouth before she’s dipping down, and you cry out onto her when her tongue swipes across your clit, thighs shaking with the sensitivity—how she licks through your centre, circling and suckling the apex of your thighs while her fingers are working you so well. The pressure she’s creating around your clit, her scent in your lungs and her taste in your mouth, the hot, feminine weight of her over your lips partnered with the delightfully full press of her fingers, how they curl against spots even you hadn’t know you had, her tongue licking at your clit, saliva mixing with your slick…so messy… 

You cry out as you come, and Elain gasps as you squirt, surprised as the liquid arcs from your pretty cunt. Her lips part on the surprised inhale, before she’s being driven by hunger, sealing her mouth over you entirely, tasting as much of you as she can, working her wonderfully wicked tongue to draw out your orgasm, the orgasm that belongs to her.

She feels it as she’s tipped over the edge, at last pulling away from your overstimulated cunt to spread her thighs wider and grind over your mouth, dragging her clit over the hot swell of your tongue, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure and all she can think about is getting to turn around and put her mouth over your own. Which is exactly what she does, before the aftershocks have even completely faded, tasting herself on your lips and tongue, flicking against the roof of your mouth as she presses her body closer to you, thigh now pressing between your own, feeling a strange sense of pride as you grind against her, wanting more so desperately. 

Elain can tell from your scent alone you’ll be needing much more than just one orgasm to get you past the herbal-induced heatwave she’s subjected you to. 

And she’s more than delighted to help you see each and every wave through to the end. 

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[anemhoez]

Desire…

Scar/ AFAB Reader/Rover

WARNINGS: language and alcohol

A/N: so i had an idea haha 😀 this happened at the same time i was writing for Calcharo, that one is coming soon but its going to be a bit, so uh please enjoy this my lovely heathens ❤️ i really hope i can choose to be on the dark side, like wuwa is bg3 or something 😭 I NEED to be with him though!!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The magistrate had grown to trust you with her life, so when you asked to interrogate Scar she thought nothing of it. You had requested for the guards to shut off the cameras, wanting no evidence of your visit if you needed to get your hands dirty.

You entered the holding cell, Scar’s intense gaze meeting yours immediately. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough Rover,” he spoke through his teeth, his arms bound over his head with an anti-resonance beam that stopped him from using his skills to fight back or teleport through portals. “You said something about the Fractsidus waiting for me, I want to hear more about their plan.” your voice was serious as you walked around him. He chuckled devilishly, loving this little game you were playing with him. “I’ll tell you everything doll, but you have yet to hold up your end of the deal.” He tugged at the beam, his muscles tensing and face wincing at the pain from pulling too hard.

You remember the day he was arrested, his twisted smile never leaving his face even after your betrayal. You watched as he fought back against the guards defiantly, refusing to wear the designated prison uniform. He spat, bit and kicked as hard as he could before being sedated, the guards so exhausted from dealing with him that they left him in only his gray trousers.

So now here he was, shirtless and sweaty, watching as you eyed him up and down in admiration. His face wasn’t t the only skin that was scarred. From what you could see so far, he was covered in scars of many shapes and sizes. “I’ll tell you how i got every last scar, you seem oh so interested.” Scar teased you relentlessly, already knowing you had made up your mind to help him. “The friends I’ve made here, they’ll never forgive me if I help you.” Scar laughed, his piercing and mesmerizing gaze boring through you like a hot blade through butter. “Do you really care about forgiveness?” he asked as you moved closer, using your terminal to hack into the security system. “From them? Absolutely not.”

An alarm sounded loudly around the two of you as the beam restraining him disappeared. Scar sighed and pulled you closer, “You still have the gift I left you little lamb?” his voice was low as his hand came to cup your cheek. You pulled out the crimson card he left behind for you from your pocket, the olive branch he left you in his desperate attempt at survival. Whether or not you’d take his offer however, was something he mulled over constantly during his confinement. He took the card between his slender fingers, slowly moving it across your cheek, down your neck and in between your breasts. There was a loud banging at the door causing your heart to begin to race in your chest. Scar chuckled, flipping the card through his fingers as it began glowing a fiery red. “They won’t ever take you away from me Rover.” You turned back to face him, his features soft and calm as one of his portals quickly appeared behind him in a flash. The guards finally broke through the door, the magistrate’s face in shock as she watched Scar pull you into a heated kiss before the two of you disappeared into that deep red abyss.

What happened in an instant felt like an eternity as Scar deepened the kiss, bringing his tongue to play with yours. You hated how attracted you were to him, the power he had over you. You felt your core stir as you moved your tongue against his. “It’s about time you showed up,” the voice of a woman pulled you from the intense make out session. Scar wiped at the corner of his mouth, “Phrolova, you remember Rover?” he said happily pulling you closer by the waist, “They’re our latest recruit.” You waved awkwardly, looking around at the room full of subordinates that you were now in. “Leave us,” the small yet intense woman commanded them all to leave and everyone exited with haste.

Scar looked around the ornately decorated room, “Having a party without me?” he teased and found an open bottle of wine. He brought it to his lips and took a deep swig, moaning in relief at the sweet and refreshing taste. The woman eyed you up and down before walking up to you. “Be nice,” Scar’s cheery voice came from behind you as he now moved to another part of the room to observe a screen that displayed a map of the area on it. “Welcome Rover,” the woman said with a smile and held out her hand to you. You shook it eagerly, hoping to make a good impression after fighting the two of them weeks ago. She suddenly pulled you closer to her, “You may have proven yourself to Scar, but you have yet to prove yourself to me.” was all she had to say to you before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

“And people say I’m scary.” he said as he came up behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, “We’re all alone now Rover,” he huffed in your ear and flicked his tongue out to lick it briefly before nibbling on your lobe. He sent shivers down your spine in the best way, and he knew the effect he had on you by the needy moan you let out. “So cute,” he kissed your cheek before moving away from you to sit at the plush couch that beckoned him to take a rest. “Now strip darling.”

You froze where you stood, watching as he chuckled and took another deep swig. He leaned back, the tight fabric of his pants doing nothing to hide his bulge. You hesitated for only a few seconds before reaching for the hem of your shirt. He watched as you pulled the fabric over your head, taking your bra along with it. He smiled in appreciation of your body, palming at his bulge as you shimmied out of your shorts next. You kicked them aside, now only in your stockings and shoes you waited for your next instructions. He only had to motion with his finger to get you to come over, gods you really turned into putty around him.

He looked at you with his mismatched eyes, “My beautiful Rover, come.” he patted his lap and you moved closer, your naked body straddling him and getting comfortable. Your bare cunt was placed perfectly over his hardened bulge, “I don’t even have to tell you what to do, you want it just as bad as I do, don’t t you?” You admitted there was chemistry from the moment the two of you first met, and you currently berated yourself for letting your deepest desires take over and choosing him. “Now now,” his hand came to grip your chin, “Are you having doubts?” he groaned as he bucked up against you slowly. “I can make a portal for you right now, you can leave and I’ll never seek you out again Rover.” He says this all with a cocky smirk on his face, still bucking up into you and making a mess on his pants. You moaned and began grinding down on him, the pleasure taking over and not letting you think properly. “I havent even gotten my cock out and you’re already dumb off of it, I knew you’d be perfect for me.” He brought the bottle of wine over you, letting the cold liquid pour out over your breasts. You looked down at him once he placed the bottle on the floor and watched his tongue trail along your skin, licking up the wine eagerly as he moaned. You leaned back a bit, letting him reach further down on your body with his tongue. The long muscle trailed from your belly to your neck, his mouth closing to suck heated marks into your skin. “Scar please,” you whined loudly and he laughed against your skin. “Please what little lamb?” He wanted you to beg for it, to fully succumb to him, making sure he knew where your loyalty now lied. He moved to suck your nipples, slowly swirling his tongue around, getting the neediest moans from you. “Fuck me, please Scar.” your voice gave away just how mindlessly desperate you were for him, and he wholeheartedly reveled in it. He finally pulled away from your chest and stood up, lifting you up with ease, “I’ll give you anything you want and more my love,” he kissed you on the lips softly, leading you out of the room and down the hall towards his bedroom. He held your naked form close to him protectively, almost as if he was daring anyone who happened to see the two of you to say something to him. He occasionally slapped your ass along the way, causing you to bury your face in his neck and hit playfully at his chest. Scar just chuckled mischievously as he finally held the person of his wildest dreams in his loving embrace.

A/N: SORRY!! theres two parts cause I need to fuck- I mean, the READER needs to fuck him properly okay?? hahahahehehehhuhuhu 🥲

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

i do wonder what the air is like up there on the high horses that the lonely are sat upon. it must be thin, as it seems to be making them forget things. especially their own behavior.

for our new and returning students, the lonely have been around for quite some time, and they will let you know. they will also tell you how much they know and how important their thoughts are because of it. but it wasn’t the current proprietors who built this reputation. no no. the current cannot match up to the original. nor can they match the level of authenticity their page once held. now, they claim they need to respond to those who they view as tearing down a fandom they believe themselves to be the queens of. they need to stand up to these troublemakers and provide facts . to debunk the lies. they have made their blog’s personality all about pointing fingers and placing blame on other bad actors, while refusing to acknowledge what they have become. they are a shell of their former selves. a joke. long gone are the days of thousands of interactions with their posts, or of being seen as a pillar in their fandom, or even of being a source of actual information. they were once even a frequent target of those who they now call friends and openly post with. poor them. victims always.

in days past, they posted horribly offensive commentary on past girlfriends of the actor who they claim to be fans. namely, of her looks. ask them, and they never did that. now, they are friends with the mods who were creating edits of the actor’s now wife portraying her as a literal child. but that is just fine by them. they are all on the same side now. it’s in the name of cleaning up the fandom. however, you won’t find evidence on their blog of their vile behavior and former comments; no, that's because they deleted it all in order to hide the evidence. they’ll claim it never existed.

it does. i’m sure their new friends have the proof, too.

these two groups who have now merged, they do not only create burners, send anons, and send hate to others, but they send it to themselves too. please sympathize with these blog mods who are victims of this online meanness. if you don’t feel for the victim, for them, you are a monster and that’s your burden. you are also delulu and just want this actor to pick you. they had thousands of interactions in months and years past but now get less than a handful of likes. all of these current likes and notes come from the former enemies but now friends blogs. they post nothing about the actor they claim to be here for. they post no news, nothing about his projects other than the widely reported pap photos. they have sources but know nothing about upcoming projects. claiming you have a photo does not insider-info make. they just want to tear down the other side.

they claim to have sources such as pics of the couple’s house. other sources that want to talk about his private life. but they will not tell you or show you. their new friends have the floorplans of a house that is where the actor is from, so they do too. a new friend travels to the area and it is definitely not there for the actor, but to question it means you'll be made fun of relentlessly. that magazine article is definitely going to happen. this fall. maybe next spring. there is no way they would get false info. they are too experienced. they know all and are the voice of the fandom. don’t you dare question them.

do you want to know where your following went, lonely? you pushed them away. you insulted them. you are arrogant, rude and lost all credibility to have those nuanced conversations you so desire. you made your personality to be about prioritizing getting a rise out of the other team. you, and I mean both of you, have become a laughing stock, blocked by so many.

you have me blocked, but everyone knows blocks don’t mean anything when screenshots fly around within minutes. feel free to call me names. to send your burner accounts after me. you have become a joke. looking forward to your next post and its three likes from yourself and your “friends”. or your reasoning for now being friends with those who spoke so horribly of you.

how disappointed queen and mrs potts must be with you and what you have made their account become.

[modelbus]

Have I ever mentioned I’m a Greek mythology nerd? If not… here’s a good time to drop that. This is HEAVILY Orpheus and Eurydice inspired!!

This is just a little writing EXERCISE, I know it’s not good :) I will be posting an actual writing thing on WEDNESDAY!!

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader

He Doesn’t Look Back

You’d follow your lieutenant through fire if he asked you to. And he never did ask, but you still did it. Bullets pinging at your feet, all you can do is grip your gun and keep your eyes trained on his back.

Ghost doesn’t look back.

Hesitating for even a second would get you both killed, and he knows it. Glancing back at you, even just to confirm you’re alive and following, would end with a bullet in his head too.

It’s not far from cover, a building you two can duck into to reload and go back at it. Call Price for an evac, inform him the mission went sideways.

Damn intel leaks.

This was your mission, technically. You were sent out alone, collecting information on a mobster from afar. It was simple, safe.

Until the Task Force servers were hacked and your mission was leaked.

Being disconnected from the team unless you called them left you unable to know what happened. When the mobster suddenly went into hiding, you searched the city high and low, trying to figure out what had triggered it.

Ghost was the one to come into the city to tell you, to save your ass. And now he’s the one helping you get out, helping you live, continuously saving your ass.

Despite what everyone says, Ghost is hardly callous or emotionless. If you chose, you’d liken him to a tragedy. For all intents and purposes, he’s the makings of a hero: strong and brave, loyal enough to dive into hell to save you. But he’s got the air of a dead man walking, someone who has so many ghosts that they’ll drag him down. Ironic, considering his Callsign.

You let out a muffled curse as a bullet zings past you, barely missing. Ghost doesn’t turn, too busy dodging his own bullets.

There’s just a few more paces, then you’ll be in the safety of cover. This is the last time you’re letting Price put you on undercover work, you swear. Soap will probably tease you for days for needing Ghost to come rescue you.

Your hands tighten on your gun instinctively, glancing over as you catch a glimpse of fabric. Honestly, you’re not sure you’ve been in a worse situation. At least in other times you had all of 141 to back you.

Finally, Ghost ducks into the doorway of the abandoned house, looking back at you before he’s even fully in. You can see his eyes through the mask, relief clear as he reaches back to haul you through with him.

You lower your gun, stretching to grab his arm, eyes only on him and the prospect of safety.

Neither of you ever sees the grenade.

It flings you back, the ground seeming to erupt beneath your feet as you fly. You slam against someone’s abandoned car, scrabbling for purchase as you’re sent tumbling across its hood. Glass tears through your sleeves and gloves, piercing through to your skin.

Ghost shouts your Callsign, but you can’t even hear it past the ringing in your ears. Like everything is muffled, you can barely get yourself to focus on pushing yourself to a sitting position.

Pain shoots through your body, but you ignore it. You have to get up, you have to get to Ghost, you have to fucking live.

You look up, right into the barrel of a gun.

A man you’ve never seen before stares down at you, sneering. As you watch, his hand tightens around the grip.

Ghost is nowhere in sight. He came back for you, but at what cost? He looked back to help you, to make sure you were still alive, and you were a fool for dropping your gun to reach for him.

The man above you squeezes the trigger.

Ghost’s name is the last thing on your lips.

[hotchocolatefanfics]

Pretty pretty PLEASE give me a au where Koba , getting lost in his PTSD yelling “HUMAN WORK”

And when Ceasar stances up this time? (If he does?) perhaps Koba gets a bit emotional- and gets consoled like he needed in the moment instead-

(If Ceasar and Koba were that close it’s what should’ve been done 😭)

Sorry for the late reply, I really wanted to write this out! :D

"Human Work"

The banging of rock against metal did nothing to comfort him. Even as he watched Rocket and Ash destroy the guns, all Koba could think about what was those weapons meant. What they could do to the apes. 

Being shot by those things would be a quick and merciful death…But humans could do far worse than killing an ape…

…Cages…Bright rooms…Needles…Blood…

Grey, who was sitting next to him, was trying to get his attention but Koba didn’t notice. Despite being close to a fire, the bonobo felt cold all over. Just like he did all those years ago. 

The longer he sat, the more he thought and the longer he thought, the sicker he felt… 

…Something in his mouth…Vomit…He couldn’t breathe!

He couldn’t take it anymore! Koba got up and made his way over to Caesar. That sick feeling in his stomach giving way to frustration at the ape king. He knows what the humans could do to the apes, HE SAW them kill apes! Hurt apes! But he gives them a chance anyway?!

“If they get power, they’ll be more dangerous!” Koba blinked and he was now standing in front of Caesar. Signing angrily at him but somehow still coherently.“Why help them?!”

“They seem desperate.” Caesar replied simply. Koba had to stop himself from scoffing at him. “If we make them go, they’ll attack.”

They’ll attack anyway, you fool!

“Let. Them.” Koba said out loud before quickly signing. “We’ll destroy them while they’re weak.”

They could do it. The humans were stronger when they escaped and they still defeated them. Sure, the goal was to escape rather than kill but they still fought the humans. 

The image of Jacobs falling into the ocean came to his mind. One of them many humans that made his life miserable. Koba had killed him. He was gone now. He could no longer hurt him, or any other ape, ever again.

That memory usually gave the bonobo a sense of peace and relief, but it did nothing for what he currently felt. 

And it was only made worse by the frown on Caesar’s face. “And how many apes will die?”

His words stuck with Koba. Apes would die anyway, regardless of how and when humans attacked, but that did not mean the bonobo didn’t care. 

He just did not want anyone to suffer. Not like he had suffered.

Caesar might not have meant it that way, but the implication that he didn’t care if the apes died made a lump form in Koba’s throat. 

“We have one chance for peace…” Caesar went on. “Let them do their human work. Then they’ll go.”

Human work.

That cold, horrible feeling came rushing back. All his life Koba struggled to understand what was happening to him but Caesar, unknowingly, just summed it up in two words.

“Human. Work?” He asked.

Caesar didn’t respond. Which Koba took to mean that he didn’t care. The thought that he didn’t would have cut deep into his soul but Koba couldn’t focus on that. One moment he was here at the Ape Village, the next in a cage. 

“Human work.” He pointed at the scar behind his ear. Both of his ears felt hot right now. Why was it getting hard to breathe again? He felt as if something was covering his whole nose and mouth, preventing him from getting any air. 

“Human work!” His voice was a little louder when he pointed at the scar on his arm. The sharp pain he felt came rushing back to him. How they strapped him down on the table. Their shiny objects cutting into his skin! 

Blood. HIS blood, just spilling everywhere! 

“HUMAN! WORK! HUMAN WORK! HUMAN WORK! HUMAN WORK!” 

The scar on his face and his blind eye, the ones Tommy caused. Humans in the labs messed with his eyes too. Blurred vision. It stinging to blink…

His whole body was covered in scars. His back, his legs, his stomach! All the ways they mutilated him, destroyed him. He wasn’t in the village anymore. He wasn’t in the forest at all. He was back on that table. Ripped and torn open and bleeding and humans standing over him. 

Back to his cage. Back to being his cage! Maybe he never left it. Maybe this whole time he was dreaming. 

Pain. There is just no escaping it. 

They restrained him. Holding him tighter and tighter. His arms, his legs, his whole body. Keeping him still, preventing him from thrashing around. Any moment now, one of them will stick him with a needle or cut him open again and-and-!

“Koba! Koba! Koba!” 

Caesar’s voice cut into it. Slowly, what he thought were straps that held him down became arms. Fury, strong arms. Despite the warmth around him, Koba was shaking and his teeth chattering. His throat hurt from yelling so much. 

Blinking, the world began to stop spinning. He was back at the village, as if he always had been. He had never left. 

And Caesar was holding him. Not just hugging him, but had his arms wrapped tightly around the bonobo. When Koba looked at him, his frown was gone. The expression on the chimpanzee’s face was softer, gentler. Worried. 

“I’m sorry, Koba.” Caesar signed with one hand. He knew Koba was the least likely ape to trust the humans but he had failed to think beyond that fact. It made sense that Koba’s trauma would show itself, with everything going on. Not helped at all that the humans were within their territory.

But he saw it now. Koba wasn’t just angry at the humans. He was scared of them.

Caesar put his hand on the scarred bonobo’s cheek. He was still shaking but he seemed calmer now. 

“I promise.” He looked Koba in the eyes. “I will not. Let them. Hurt you again.” 

He wouldn’t let the humans harm any of the apes but Caesar knew Koba especially needed to hear this. To know that he was safe.

Koba blinked and felt something roll down his cheeks. It came in waves and only slightly blurred his vision. He wrapped his own arms around Caesar and laid his head on his chest. His soft sobs muffled by the chimp’s fur. 

All he was feeling before. All the anger, the hate, the frustration, and panic. And all the pain. It all came out in the form of tears. Koba would normally find openly crying like this embarrassing, an awkward and clear sign of weakness but he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. 

He couldn’t even tell if he was crying for himself, for all the pain he felt in his life, or for the intense and freeing relief he felt in his chest. Relief that Caesar did care. That he will protect him despite him never asking him to. 

The apes had been watching this whole time but, out of respect for the scarred bonobo, went back to whatever they had been doing before. Staring with Rocket continuing to slam a rock into a gun and Maurice assuring anyone who asked that Koba was ok. 

Only Blue Eyes kept watching Koba. Though the young prince had never seen his honorary uncle in such a state before, he didn’t think less of him for it. Rather, seeing him like this made Blue Eyes realize how much his past affect him. 

Koba always seemed so strong to him. Untouchable, like his father. He took pride in his scars but the circumstances of how he got them still caused him pain and Blue Eyes never knew that until now.

Caesar once told him that Koba only learned hate from humans but Blue Eyes disagreed with that. Hate wasn’t the only thing. Humans also taught Koba that he was nothing. That he had no control, not even of his own body. The he was just an object for them to destroy, manipulate, and break apart.

…That he was broken.

He felt so sad for his honorary uncle. Sad and horrified that he went through all that.

Sniffling, Blue Eyes crept over to them and wrapped his arms around the two. He still loved and respected Koba and he would make that clear to the bonobo everyday from now on. 

Koba hardly noticed Blue Eyes joining them. The feeling that overwhelmed him now only growing as he got lost in the comforting embrace of his friend. 

That he was safe. Finally, at long last, Koba felt truly safe. Maybe even loved if he dared to believe it.

[dinodaweeb]

Deadly Indifference | one-shot

Deadpool X M!Reader

tw: swearing, mentions of sew a slide thoughts (from both tbh)

Summary: Deadpool wants you to show emotion. (And bugs the crap out of you.)

You sat tied to a chair, remarkably composed despite the circumstances. It’s been your third time getting kidnapped this week and it’s only Tuesday. The man who kidnapped you must’ve died already because a man in red and black walked through the door. He mimed the motion of up and down that you felt too familiar to notice.

“Hey there, buddy,” Deadpool chimed cheerfully, pacing around you. The ropes that tied your wrists to the chair felt surprisingly loose.“You know, most people would be sweating their balls off right about now. But, you’re just chillin’. I like that.”

You glanced up at him with a mild shrug, a gesture that only seemed to fuel Deadpool’s curiosity.

He’s a chatterbox.

“I gotta admit,” Deadpool continued, leaning in close with an exaggerated whisper, his mouth touching your ear. “I’m kinda into this whole ‘I don’t give a crap if Deadpool kills me’ vibe you’ve got going on. It’s refreshing. It’s… kinda hot.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression betraying a hint of amusement. What is he even saying?

“Are we gonna do this or what?” you asked, your voice flat.

Deadpool stepped back, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Wow, straight to the point! I like it. No foreplay, just bam, let’s get this show on the road. Alright, let’s see if I can make you squeal.”

“Good luck with that,” you replied dryly.

“Okay, tough guy,” Deadpool muttered, starting to circle you with exaggerated steps. “You know, most people are all ‘Oh no, Deadpool, please don’t hurt me! I have a family!’” He gave a side eye (somehow?) through the mask. Or they’ll say ‘No, I haven’t closed my tabs and my web browser history isn’t deleted!’ But you, you’re just sitting there like you’re waiting for your Uber Eats.”

“I did order some food before I got kidnapped,” you replied. “It might be waiting outside.”

Deadpool paused, tilting his head. “What did you get?”

“Chimichangas,” you said with a faint hunger in your eyes.

Deadpool’s eyes widened behind his mask. “You’re serious?”

“Yep. Thought I’d try them out.”

Deadpool’s posture relaxed, and he leaned against the back of your chair. Putting his arm on top of your head like you’ve been childhood best friends. “You know, I like you. You’ve got style. Most people don’t appreciate a good chimichanga.”

He said, as if he wasn’t trying to kill you two minutes prior.

“Are we going somewhere with this?” you asked, your tone still indifferent. You brought this question up a second time. Was he still trying to kill you?

“Right, right, getting sidetracked,” Deadpool said, snapping back to the task at hand. “So, here’s the deal: I’m gonna try and scare the crap out of you, and you’re gonna react like a normal human being. Got it?”

“Sure,” you agreed, not sounding convinced.

“Alright!” Deadpool clapped his hands together. “Let’s start with something simple. How about… I cut off a finger?”

You held up your hand, which was still loosely tied. “You gonna untie me first, or do I do it myself?”

Deadpool rolled his eyes. “You’re really killing the vibe here, you know that?”

You shrugged again. “Look, man, it’s been a long week. Just get on with it.”

Deadpool sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay. Plan B.” He suddenly leaned in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “We are going to start an only fans.”

You looked at him, deadpan. “Seriously? No one is going to pay for that shit.”

“Hey, people totally dig the whole “I got kidnapped by a hot anti-hero and now I’m slowly falling for them.” Deadpool retorted, pointing at the screen, hoping whoever reading this did not have a watt pad phase.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.

“You’re right,” Deadpool said, standing up straight and tossing the a coin aside. “You know what? You’re impossible to scare. So, I’m gonna make you wish you’d never crossed paths with me.”

Without warning, he drew one of his katanas and sliced a shallow cut across your cheek. The cold steel was sharp, precise, and for the first time, you felt a sting of pain.

The burn of cut flesh.

“Finally,” you muttered, almost relieved.

Deadpool noticed the change in your eyes—the hint of happiness, the glimmer of anticipation. He smirked under his mask, raising the blade as if to deliver the final blow.

You closed your eyes, ready to embrace the end. But then, nothing.

You opened your eyes to find Deadpool standing there, the blade poised but unmoving. He tilted his head, studying your reaction.

“Aw, were you actually looking forward to that?” Deadpool asked, his tone mockingly sweet.

Your expression darkened, and anger flared in your eyes. “You…”

Deadpool sheathed his katana, chuckling. “Gotcha. ❤︎ Think I’m going to let you die? Nah, you’re my new piss boy!”

“You are such an ass,” you snapped, genuinely pissed off now.

Deadpool laughed heartily, clearly enjoying your frustration. “Finally! A reaction! See? I knew you had it in you.”

He ruffled your disheveled hair. “Who’s a good boy?”

You glared at him, what a loser. “Actually fucking kill yourself.”

“Not today,” Deadpool said, still chuckling. He untied your ropes with a flourish. “Let’s go get those chimichangas.”

As the two of you headed out of the warehouse, you couldn’t help but shake your head at the absurdity of it all. Were you getting kidnapped again? Did it count if you voluntarily? Would Deadpool ever shut up and just kill you?

“So,” Deadpool said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “How’s your spice tolerance?”

“Depends,” you replied. “Are you paying?”

“You wish.” Deadpool chuckled.

Bitch.

a/n: Lowkey kinda cringed. But eh. Can’t wait for the deadpool and wolverine movie to come out so I can write for the two of them. (making out) feel free to request :)

[jonkentdeservesbetter]

So I watched 3x02. I…have thoughts on Lois having cancer, but I don’t know how to write it all together in a way that makes sense? So I’m just gonna ramble my thoughts *shrug*

I guess I’ll start off with the blunt truth (in true Lois-Lane-style): I don’t want this.

Something that’s being said a lot by a good number of fans about this, is that, after both seasons 1 & 2 - S2 especially - this really does not work. Lois has pretty much only had really traumatic and/or emotionally devastating focus, if it’s just hers I mean. Obviously there’s been some fluff in this show, but…first we had Lois feeling less important to Clark in S1 to his other stuff, then her miscarriage storyline, then the almost dying because of Tal and losing her husband to brainwashing and begging for his life, then S2 starts and she’s reliving her trauma with her mother abandoning her, her sister betraying her and her career+integrity being questioned (no resolution to the Ally plot WRT Lois, honestly, which still tastes bitter to me). The whole of season 2 for Lois following that - like. do I truly need to go point by point? Literally S2 was Awful to her.

And now, S3 opens, and she discovers she wants another baby. But not only can she not have that right now (and Clark seemed hesitant but playing along, so maybe not at all and she’s gonna havefta find out later, as she’s dealing with Everything Else), she’s got aggressive, deadly cancer! Hooray 😒 /s.

Like. Why the fuck is it only this? Always?

I hate it. And don’t mistake me: I am very, very chronically ill myself, I KNOW what kind of strength it takes to be THIS sick, to be so weak in the limbs, having to lock yourself in the bathroom for hours because of the more gross stuff, being so fatigued you just can’t shower without help, etc. This is absolutely a storyline that can show strength, because, frankly, the mental fortitude required, and having to completely reshape the way you think, all while grieving losing the autonomy, the functioning of your body, is MASSIVE.

But Lois has been through E-FUCKING-NOUGH ALREADY. We know her strength! We know she’s badass! This is just. It’s just utterly unnecessary and painful and cruel.

This isn’t the storyline she should’ve had.

That’s it. That’s my post.

[sunmoontruth-stiles]

I need a completely rewritten teen wolf series with Derek Hale as the main character. I think it would heal me.

[quietwingsinthesky]

youtube stop recommending me that five hour long “fall of doctor who” video challenge. there is not a video i could be less interested in watching.

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Okay no one talk to me bc I haven’t watched the race yet but I just finished Nightbane by Alex Aster and am currently Losing It. I need the third book rn.

[loptrcoptr]

Lmao one of my friends is getting married in August so the friend group is planning trips etc. and my friend and her partner were thinking of flying into the us and then roadtripping from here (New Mexico) to LA, which I had volunteered to drive for and to take everyone to the Grand Canyon on the way, you know, all that jazz

So they are trying to buy tix from Heathrow to Denver and then not fly here but instead drive which is six hours and I’m kind of like… have yall ever driven for that long before, let alone on the wrong side of the road in a backwards car? Like my American ass did the 5 hour drive from London to wales once, first time doing the wrong car on the wrong side thing, and let me tell you I loooove long driving roadtrips and six hours is literally my preferred length of driving day but that 5 hours s u c k e d oh my god I was so scared the whole time, just white knuckling it the whole way.

They want to spend as many days in Colorado as possible, which is great and all, but still need to come here to meet me and, theoretically, take my truck to LA instead of a rental car. And I just know that if they drive all day to get here they won’t want to do anything the next day because they’ll be exhausted, so we won’t do anything fun and I won’t get to show them around and stuff and then we’ll get right back in the car for two more days. And I get a little irked when people don’t consider that there is, in fact, tourist stuff to do here. Honestly tourist stuff is the only stuff to do in this whole damn state, and where I am is just Colorado Adjacent™️, same damn landscape. but when I moved out here I thought it was gonna be like the Sahara or some shit, so I assume that’s what they’re thinking, and I don’t know how to make it clear to them that they should spend two days here if they intend to drive from Denver so they can see stuff, and if they tell me the kind of stuff they want to see, then I can plan accordingly. Because I think we’ll all be sad if they don’t get to spend any time here, because they’ll get here and go “oh wow it’s actually pretty, I would’ve liked to check it out” and idek? I don’t want to be pushy but may have to be like “listen if you bypass me because you think there’s nothing to do here I will be butthurt about it and feel like I missed out on sharing my new life with you” because I mean I’ve never been to Denver so maybe it’s awesome and they should just stay here but… don’t you want to come crash for free and let me chauffeur you around and go to ruins and tourist traps and national parks and go swimming in beautiful mountain streams and have a ride on my pony? I guess it’s one of those “I would love this, why don’t other people love this” kind of things

[crowsyart]

Some of these have way more meaning than others some are just vibe based I’m a bird guy I gotta birdify the soul eaters

Maka - Carolina Wren

Soul - Osprey

Black☆Star - Common Kingfisher

Tsubaki - Black Heron

Kid - Black Vulture

Liz - Red Tailed Hawk

Patty - Rough Legged Buzzard

Crona -Kauai o’o’

Ragnarok - Loggerhead Shrike

Medusa - Crested Serpent Eagle

Marie - Buff Orpington Chicken

Spirit - Red Crested Cardinal

Stein - Harpy Eagle

Death - Andean Condor

Justin - Turtle Dove

Giriko - Hoatzin

Eruka - Potoo

Mifune - Snowy Owl

Sid - Ostrich

Hero - Grey Catbird

Asura -Magnificent Frigatebird

Naigus - Groove Billed Aini

Asuza - Western Jackdaw

[callixton]

oh i am on the Brink of a mental breakdown. and like a real one. i am going to feel so so fucking terrible and guilty if i don’t go to the first week of mac rehearsal bc i need to recover but i am also getting the sense that i Need to recover. i have never been this burnt out or genuinely terrified of starting a new semester in my life.

[prettyboysmlm]

ah. help.

(tw sa mention in the tags)

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I’m really starting to feel like Gregor Samsa now