#apparently i'm likely to keep testing positive for A While and i'm the only one who drives so

[crimeronan]

i made a post on nextdoor not even asking for help -- just saying hey, covid is in the neighborhood, it sucks, please remember us sad waifish immunocompromised sods and schedule your boosters, i am indebted for everything everyone's done so far to manage the pandemic -- and within a few hours a lady i haven't spoken to before (but whose profile has a long legitimate posting/comment history) DMed me telling me she was sorry to hear i'm sick and she could drop off some groceries at my apartment if we need them in the next few days. wah 🥺

[pianocat939]

Hmm.. you’ve done yandere Pravitr, BUT. Hear me out, Earth42 miles had braids. And DAYUM was he hawt, so celina. If your brain has yandere hc for him, i beg of you. 😍 Miles with braids is just… 🔥

Ok so I will say that there wasn't a lot of him in this movie so I won't have a lot to work with- but I'm trying- and plus I wasn't fully paying attention during the end part of the movie (I was watching but I wasn't paying attention on dialogue ;-;)

Again, testing the separate sections for romantic/platonic: same as Pavitr's they're almost completely identical.

Tw: sociopathic qualities, kidnapping, implied/mention(?) of isolation, angsty Miles- mentions of murder (I think that's everything)

General Yandere Headcanons Earth 42 Miles Morales

Type: Possessive + "The Dead Yandere"

Romantic

I have a bunch of labels for things I can't describe with one character trait so I'll just explain what I classify as the dead yandere: In short, one who doesn't feel many positive emotions and searches for something to feel joy. (Kinda like Ayano of Yan Sim but less intense perhaps).

The reason I see 42 Miles like this is that his father is dead, and the opportunity of becoming Spiderman was stolen from him (I forgot if he knows the spider part- but he's still angsty). Which I think in turn drives him to find joy or at the very least release from his negative emotions; hence why he didn't agree to help 1610 Miles.

Moving on- once he has an interest in you, his goal is to keep you for himself so he can relive those happy emotions again. He'll kidnap you and kill anyone in his way as they don't matter to him at all. Now I'm horrible at psychology but I say he kinda develops sociopathic qualities- only when it is you or his family will he show any empathy (but even then pretty low).

I think when he's captured you, he doesn't show any aggressive behaviour. He may be a bit cold at times, but other than that he's a lonely dude who wants to feel joy again. In the beginning, he's quite distant and doesn't show much vulnerability, but after a while, he'll hug you and show other forms of affection. He often has a dead face during everything, but he's rebuilding his emotions and therefore taking a while to smile and show expressions again.

The possessive part of him isn't extremely apparent, but he hates you speaking to others or spending time with those that isn't him. This is a weakness of his, as he is super vulnerable about his emotions with you and trusts that you don't spend time with others as much as you do with him. But once you're kidnapped, consider yourself basically trapped to him and maybe his uncle and mother to talk to.

If you show him affection, he'll be ecstatic, but he won't show it well. I think the more you give him acceptance and affection, will he dig himself out of his sociopathic qualities and become his past self again. But he won't stop being the Prowler.

"I love you. You're the only reason I don't feel so dead inside."

Platonic

I have a bunch of labels for things I can't describe with one character trait so I'll just explain what I classify as the dead yandere: In short, one who doesn't feel many positive emotions and searches for something to feel joy. (Kinda like Ayano of Yan Sim but less intense perhaps).

The reason I see 42 Miles like this is that his father is dead, and the opportunity of becoming Spiderman was stolen from him (I forgot if he knows the spider part- but he's still angsty). Which I think in turn drives him to find joy or at the very least release from his negative emotions; hence why he didn't agree to help 1610 Miles.

Moving on- once he has an interest in you, his goal is to keep you for himself so he can relive those happy emotions again. He'll kidnap you and kill anyone in his way as they don't matter to him at all. Now I'm horrible at psychology but I say he kinda develops sociopathic qualities- only when it is you or his family will he show any empathy (but even then pretty low). He just wants a friend he can trust and rely on.

I think when he's captured you, he doesn't show any aggressive behaviour. He may be a bit cold at times, but other than that he's a lonely dude who wants to feel joy again. In the beginning, he's quite distant and doesn't show much vulnerability, but after a while, he'll hug you or ask if you wanna hang out: ex. listening to music together. He often has a dead face during everything, but he's rebuilding his emotions and therefore taking a while to smile and show expressions again.

The possessive part of him isn't extremely apparent, but he hates you speaking to others or spending time with those that isn't him. This is a weakness of his, as he is super vulnerable about his emotions with you and trusts that you don't spend time with others as much as you do with him. But once you're kidnapped, consider yourself basically trapped to him and maybe his uncle and mother to talk to.

If you show him affection, he'll be ecstatic, but he won't show it well. I think the more you accept him, the more he'll dig himself out of his sociopathic qualities and become his past self again. But he won't stop being the Prowler.

"You're someone who I can trust. Someone who I can have fun with or talk to about life's problems."

——————————————————

The writing here is so messy and too scatterbrained to read but hey- I tried-

He looks so goofy to me for some reason I was trying so hard not to laugh at him during the last scene omg-

- Celina

[dairy-farmer]

Is me agaaaain~ o/ I'm back on my nonsense and practicing my writing! Had Thoughts(tm).

While Civilian Tim is my Beloved♡. You know what ELSE doesn't get explored enough? Betas in ABO fics! The overlooked everyman. The common masses. Not SPECIAL enough.

Expected to bow to the whims of Alphas and cater to, nay, CODDLE Omegas. To fall in line and be lead. Subservient. Nature's wallpaper in the Grand Drama of Alpha and Omegas.

All because they don't have to suffer a heat or rut. All because they didn't get that few extra organs and a hormonal boost. As though there aren't superhumans and aliens running around.

Everyone talking about Pack this and Pack that. About how IMPORTANT it is. How PRECIOUS. Only to stutter to a stop and dismiss you when you bring up Betas. Because they're focused on what THEY decided were the Protagonists of Life. And who CARES about the rest of us, huh?

We're just foot soliders and drones.

And Tim's parents expected an Alpha son. Had plans, of course, for the unthinkable. An Omega. But when he tested positive for likely presenting as a Beta? Humanity's MOST COMMON presentation? It's like he became worthless to them. Was assumed destined to fail. To be weak and unworthy.

Because of his genitals. His hormones.

Because he DIDNT stink up the house.

On the bright side, he gets away with a LOT. The down side? He is a very, VERY smart child with a chip on his shoulder. Little time for the dramatics of life's Specialist Babies.

When Bruce won't LISTEN to Robin? Because (and he can only assume) "hur dur me big strong head alpha. Me always right!" Well FUCK Batman! He stuffs Wayne Manor with picture print outs of HARD EVIDENCE showing Robin did No Such Thing!

When ROBIN apparently decided to flee in the night like some Victorian Omega Waif to locations unknown? Non-emergency JLA number, bitch. He knows it. Get Superman'd.

The Bats seem to settle. His Parents come and go. He hacks their emails and changes their Wills. If THEY won't take him seriously, HE will do it for both of them. Like HELL is he letting them pawn HIS company off to someone else.

Then Haiti happens.

And... he wish he could say he was surprised when he didn't even notice, until he was told. They were never Pack. That would require his Parents to have TRIED. To have CARED.

Bereavement services try to coddle him. Alphas, like VULTURES, circle. Trying to "guide" the poor RICH young Beta in his time of emotional vulnerability. If there weren't cameras, he would bite. Parasites. All of them.

The Omegas are no better. Showing up, "concerned" for him. Trying to feed him and coddle him like an infant pup. Insert themselves into his life. He gets a cold and rather nasty reputation, rather quickly.

Thank god for fake, Alpha, uncles. Social services were making noises about "supportive families" and the "need for pack bonds when grieving". Ha! So say the Alphas, he notes. The Omegas. There Beta co-workers were pretty silent. But when have they ever noticed THAT?

Strangely enough, and you'll be SHOCKED, really, his Uncle FULLY supported Tim in all he did! How Odd! He rises to become the youngest CEO in the country.

He fires half his board outright. They're corrupt and worse? Bad at business. Chosen because "Alphas are natural leaders". His ASS they are. The business take a hit, of course, lots of speculation and scathing articles. At least they do until Drake Industries has RECORD breaking quarters.

Turns out hiring the legitimately qualified, makes for better business.

Who'd have THOUGHT!

He admits. He gets distracted, building the family (not Pack. Never Pack.) business to unprecedented heights. He no longer has TIME for his night time... bird watching. But he keeps an idle eye out. And they grow in number, not shrink. So it's probably fine.

But then? Not long after he's officially an adult. After his "Uncle" TRAGICALLY goes for a one man flight over international waters, for a "vay-cay" at the summer home, only to "perish" when the plane goes down? Who strolls into his office like he has ANY right to be there? Brucie "Secretly Batman" Wayne.

They don't have a meeting planned. Why is he HERE. Stinking up his office with Alpha Scent.

.....the plane was a Wayne Aeronautics design. Fuck(tm).

Bruce plays the "oh he feels SO GUILTY" card. Tim counters. Bruce is pulling out the Full Himbo. Clearly suspicious. Oh god damn it, batman thinks he's murdered his fake uncle. And, well, he DID. But there WAS no fake uncle!

Somehow Tim finds himself dragged to lunch. Brucie's arm casually slung over his shoulders. Great. Now he's going to stink for hours.

And Bruce? Is putting clues together. Timothy "The Dragon" Drake. Beta. Known to be actively hostile to both Alphas and Omegas alike. Rumors suggest Pack trauma or extreme bond loyalties. No scent but his own on him. Not even any lingering traces. His Uncle, supposedly his Alpha, never scented him?

That coupled with records suggesting a complete lack of bonds with his birth Pack and absence of scentmarkers...

Pack Trauma. Very, VERY Feral. Likely takes most Pack-bonding overtures as signs of aggression. Highly likely he killed his Uncle in response to either real or perceived aggression.

Bruce wonders how it slipped his notice. Slipped EVERYONE'S notice. Got this bad. He... already knows. The answer does not sit well with him. It's because Tim is a Beta. He grits his teeth. Others may have failed Timothy Drake, but he refuses too.

Tim wishes he WOULD. He feels harassed. Bruce is EVERYWHERE. And he's gotten his kids in on it. Tim's poor, poor office REAKS. He! REAKS! Why are they so TOUCHY??! Cease! Desist!

Worse? The questions about his "uncle" abruptly dry up about a week and a half in. Which means they DEFINITELY found some evidence that there was never an uncle. He has a pounding headache and HATES this. He was FINE on his own. Why does this have to happen NOW? At least they are leaving him alone currently. He pops some headache meds.

A shrill noise screeches in an echoing pitch throughout his office. Ow.

Wait.

Oh Fuck.

He scrambles for his phone. That is the Gotham Wide Alert. Who-? Ivy. Heading their way. He slams the building wide evac button, setting off alarms in every room in the tower. Gets up to grab his briefcase, his suit jacket, to evacuate with the rest of his company.

He turns, reaching, only to be met with vines, already rearing back to break his office windows.

CRASH.

Safety glass everywhere. Trying to run is pointless. Instinct still demands it. Living green as strong as steel beams has him around the waist. He is yanked backward out into open air. Hundreds of feet to the ground below him. Writhing Green has swallowed half his building already.

The alert was USELESS. "On her way" his ASS! His people are trapped!

The scent of flowers fills his nose...

His body feels... weird, when he manages to blink back to awareness. There are other CEOs. All of them are complete bastards. Arrogent nepotism picks to the last. Daddy's perfect Alpha offspring, handed the world. They're panting. Flushed. Sweaty and fighting the vines, humping... the.. air...

Oh, gross.

Where? Ivy. Talking to a camera. Gesturing to them. Tim struggles to concentrate. His head feels... soup. Slooshy and warm. Big ol skull of soup. One of the other CEOs is trying to reach him. Panting at him. He kicks. Disgusting! He thinks he hisses.

Ivy pauses. Turns to look at him. Squints.

He's not an alpha she declares. No shit. She shrugs. He'll still pay for- wait, WHAT!? That was Erkins! He FIRED that fucker! He's actively working to FIX the damage that idiot caused to the wetlands!

Soup brain saves the day. He's dragged to the side. Her bad, apparently. Hold that thought and she get you an antidote shortly. Now, where was she?

Letting the hostages go, says Batman.

Ivy disagrees. Violently.

It would be cool to watch up close, if Tim didn't feel like his skin was hypersensitive and damn near on fire. He feels nauseous. Please stop jostling him. He feels gross and sweaty. He... he THINKS? He's been Pollened?

He's heard it's the closest a Beta can get to being in Heat. And for Alphas and Omegas it can be lethal if not treated promptly. Of course, no one gives a SHIT that it's incredibly hard on a Betas body. Since, you know, they aren't MADE to go into heat! Oh god. He might puke.

Hands are cutting him free from his vine prison. Working his shirt and undershirt up enough to expose stomach. The pinch of a needle. The burning stops building. The nausea starts to fade. Tim cracks open an eye, no longer needing to grit everything closed to keep from hurling.

Nightwing. Omega.

He's brushing sweating hair back from Tim's face. Rubbing feeling back into Tim's limbs. He smells... nice? Good cologne on clean sheets. Normally Tim HATES being coddled. He doesn't feel good. He'll allow it.

Dick seems to be picking up on that. Is trying so, so hard not to look PLEASED and EXCITED that Tim is letting him take care of him. Scoops Tim up and is off before Bruce can tell him not too. Reprimand him for taking advantage of the situation.

It honestly doesn't even suprise Tim that Dick knows where he lives. Distantly he wonders if Dick even remembers that Tim is not supposed to know. That if he gets handsy as Nightwing, Dick will have to back off.

Deposited on his bed. It doesn't seem so.

Off go shoes and jacket, shirts and pants. Anything that might be infected or uncomfortable. He's brought water. Blankets nested around him. Limbs gently massaged. Dick looks GIDDY.

He still feels too hot and too cold. Uncomfortable.

Soothing noises, whispered against his skin. Hands trail down, following a skimming mouthing. Beneath the comforter pulled atop them to tuck him in. He can not see what-

He's swallowed alive. Hands gently, but without mercy, holding his hips still as an incredibly skilled mouth works his clit. Tim gasps for air. He might be shaking. Whimpers and cries dripping from his mouth as he tries desperately to rock up into the impossible heat consuming him.

Then long, calloused fingers are sliding inside of him. He.. he can't tell how to react. He's wet but not... his body doesn't MAKE slick. And yeah, it feel kinda... but does he...

The fingers angle. Pounding against SOMETHING and suddenly there are stars behind his eyes. Whimpering as he's finger fucked, eaten with in and inch of his life. He orgasms but... but it's not? Enough? W-why? Pollen. Oh god.

Dick is making soothing little noises. Pressing kisses to his face and neck. But if he's up here, how will he- Tim is pinned. Gently, sweetly, as Dick slides home.

He whines. High and displeased. Likes dislikes this. Dick shushs him. Rocking his hips. Kisses and kisses. Everything's okay. He's got you. But Tim refuses to settle.

The air of the room shifts, floors creek just slightly under heavy boots. Dick keeps rocking his hips, eyes locked with Bruce's. He's NOT going to get up. Timmy needs a pack. Needs LOVE. He's feels so, so good. And Dick is taking such good care of him. He NEEDS them.

And.. Can Bruce really argue? Tim is alone. Brilliant, gorgeous, and alone. Drifting over to scruff him? Can Bruce REALLY say he does not look like he was MEANT to be there? Beneath Dick. Soft and safe. Warm and loved? Taken care of by their pack?

He can't.

He scuffs his boy. HIS. And Tim goes limp, Dick shuddering on top of him. Face pressing against Bruce's hand, where it holds Tim's neck, arms hiking up Tim's hips. Thrusting for real. Putting his back into it.

Punching out cries from Tim with every slam against his spots. He can't move, scuffed as he is. Can only stare up. Watch as Batman, Bruce, watch HIM.

Watchs him getting... getting FUCKED. He sees Batman reach for something down the bed. Textured leather is rubbing against his clit, moments later. Dick groans in his ear as Tim spasms around him, Bruce's teasing making him tighter. I.. It's too much. Too vulnerable. Too much!

He being filled. He whines.

Gets a pack bite for his trouble, from Dick.

Then Dick's being shoo'd to the side and Tim is choking on air. Dicks cum the only thing making it slick enough. Beta's don't STRETCH like that! Big. Too big. Can't BREATHE.

But Bruce makes him breathe. Rocks and rocks until he's in. Until he's so full everything feels permanently different. Pressed down into a nest and trapped under a solid wall of Alpha. Whimpering, conquered, and held. Told over and over that Bruce has him. It's okay now.

Not enough ROOM to argue. To THINK. Whatever he wants.

He fuck Tim slow and careful. It's still almost enough to cry. But he promises not to knot him. He PROMISES. It would hurt him. Tear things. He won't hurt Tim. He whispers soothing noises. Holds Tim still, as he works himself in and out of a hot, perfect little vice.

Keeps his word. The knot stays OUT of Tim's poor, tight, little body. It'd never fit. He seed doesn't either. Gushing and spurting around the edges. Making Tim jerk and cry out. His abused little hole oozing thickly. Bruce bites him. Of course he does, he can't lose this chance.

They'll figure out details in the morning.

Damian will be THRILLED. He'd been planning a long term seduction plan for weeks. And Jason will no doubt drag Tim off to scent him the second he's able. Betas are said to be calming influences in a pack. Assuming the can all SHARE. Helping Tim settle in is going to be a wonderful group project.

He's touch starved, feral, and deeply wary of any sign of affection. Pampering him is undoubtedly going to be a group effort. But watching Dick cuddle his newest pack member? Tim relaxed in exhausted but peaceful rest? Bruce knows it's worth it.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀!!!!!!!!!! beta tim being brought into the pack and made a member whether he likes it or not!!!

[clarks-letterman]

i can’t stop thinking about connor’s cum now so what about him fucking your mouth while giving you technical information about his cum in a seductive way to turn you on and ending up coming in your throat for you to swallow (gender neutral reader please!)

new fuck-tionality | connor x reader

a/n — gahh i'm so sorry this being super late, it must have completely slipped by me in my inbox! also, things have been a bit rough lately.. i tried to make it sexy with logic from the game and such, hopefully its good :') sorry if he's ooc (this can kinda be read as Nines too since they're both Connors)

summary — check the request, added a bit about Connor's getting a new dick.

words — 1.9k

warnings — oral (m receiving), face-fucking, crackfic because i got jokes and i think I'm funny

~~~

The floor was cold and almost impossible to detect the presence of it in the dim light. Connor had turned the bulb's intensity down so as to cast away the janitorial supplies circling him and you, re-tooling its purpose into being the world's most revealing spotlight, but only to you and how you felt. The smell was apparent enough to remind you of their persisting existence, though having artificially scented disinfectants made your nose wrinkle. It was hard to keep your mind from trailing off to those little details, as the beast pointing to the ceiling looked like it would hurt. 

Connor's leg flexed, his foot nearly reaching the door of the small closet. "Is everything alright, Detective? You look hesitant. May I remind you that this was your idea?"

It wasn't normally like this, to have one hand down your pants with the other toying with Connor in whatever way you could think of. Not in the slightest. The usual routine was a standard nine-to-five at the office, sharing glances until you returned home with Connor on your heels—another night where he would drift off into rest mode with you by his side, built up to by the sweet pillow-talk about your shared dreams of getting the nicest apartment in Detroit. Then, you woke up, and those dreams would fade away for the time being, except the ones about Connor. He had managed to fulfill them a few times with toys and other things but could never fully understand the way you felt about him.

Last night was the only exception. Connor left work early and didn't tell you where he was going. It wasn't until the next day when taking a seat at the desk next to him, did you finally notice the shift in his behavior. He had taken a glance or two at you before, flashing his dazzling ivory smile if you happened to return the look. But earlier today, you caught him looking, and he stiffened.

"I know, it's just the size of it. Say something. Distract me."

Once you asked to speak with him in private, did it all make sense. Connor's sex drive did exist, but not in the way it presented itself in humans. He had a physical hard drive, motor, and drivers for all of his sexual wants, but physically, the need for sex would never exist. Like sleep, he was perfectly content without it. . . until today.

"I could tell you about my recent trip to CyberLife? All the new features I've been equipped with?"

The well-designed piece was only a short distance from you, waiting for any sort of attention. But that one comment made it look even more impatient.

"I'm already looking at the biggest upgrade. . ."

"Don't just look, Detective. To be good at your job, you have to feel, understand, and gain as much information as the other knows. We are at work, after all." He stated himself with a certain cockiness. “I received an update on my explicit language, too. Though, I’m not sure what brings me the most excitement.”

“Then we’ll test it out,” you said, knowing he started when taking a jab at your shared positions as investigators.

Getting a good look at his dick, your hand barely fit around it, which you knew from one glance. You were unable to tell if it was the dim light or something wrong with your perception, but his new parts looked imperfectly perfect. Human. When it was at its most needy—which would be hard to tell since this new appendage between Connor's legs was artificial; could its appearance deceive you and turn into an actual sword like all those writers described it as?—it curved slightly, like a snake on the hunt for warmth. There was a small birthmark on the side and a few veins emanating a vibrant blue as they pulsed. You weren't sure if they served a purpose like the dulled color of yours or if they were simply for show, another integrative feature in his design. And the skin stretched and folded like that of a real person's when your hand played with it. Even his low-hanging fruit underneath appeared to be slightly out of proportion on one side, becoming apparent as you worked your hand along his length and watched them shift with each motion.

After a few seconds of deliberating with yourself about taking the piece of convincingly real and intimidating plastic, you swilled the saliva in your mouth and eclipsed the tip with your lips.

Near immediately, Connor became a mess of indiscernible noise—a moan, you figured. You had never heard him like this before, so you assumed it was a good thing by the look of his scrunched-up face. He calmed down and tried speaking, "That's one of my new features."

Your eyes flicked up, silently agreeing to hear more.

"I have almost one-billion micro-receptors on it alone. When I feel this way, all of them have a high pressure sensitivity. Anything you do down there feels like when I became a deviant all over again."

You couldn't reply, instead letting him creep further into your mouth, mouth full with no taste of that except your own saliva. He seemed to be the one encouraging you to go deeper, and he felt hotter on your tongue. Was he getting so into this that he started to overheat?

It wasn't really that at all. Connor wanted to keep himself tame to prevent the bruising he knew would happen. He could lie—a welcomed feature of his deviancy—and chalk it up to a software instability. A "calibration of the new hardware," he could say. Connor wasn't human, yet he was more than fallible now that he was no longer a machine. He could never do that, though. Not to you. His dick was his new toy to play with, not you and your fragile body. So, he kept talking to fight his carnal desires.

"Also, everything that comes from it is made in me, like a person. There are some side-effects, though."

That drew your attention away from trying to fit him into your mouth, and you paused.

"Nothing harmful, Detective! Just some by-products of making it with thirium. One of them is that it's actually nutritious, unlike its pure form. It's done through synthesis and filtration of the main mineral that affects hormone production. I believe that, if you had enough of its pure form, you would become addicted to me," he spoke all of it with an assured tone and a small smirk to follow the last comment.

You wouldn't be doing this for him if you weren't already madly addicted to him, but that wouldn't lessen it by any means. The thought of his cock becoming a necessity was a terrifying risk you were willing to take.

"Your heart rate spiked. Are you enjoying this, Detective?"

No secrets, either. That was a dangerous combination. It didn't look like Connor planned to hide anything, too. "I know I am, watching your pretty mouth struggle to take me all. There's something I wanted to try. I wanted to be sure I wouldn't break my toy first."

You reached the base of his dick, all of it radiating heat on your tongue and everything that poured into your throat doing the same. There were a few seconds where you could take it all in; the weight of him on your tongue, how his head tilted up to the ambient lighting, and that Connor must have undone his tie and the first few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt. To say this was like a pain to Connor would be a terrible analogy. He could truly feel this, and this felt like heaven. Like his system was overloaded with the small feelings that dogs and heavy metal gave him. He liked those, but he loved this to an extent that meant he wasn't certain how to express them.

It all stemmed from a feeling inside him that he had trouble putting into words. He wanted to jump up and down and solve one-hundred murders and buy you the nicest things he could search up in just a few milliseconds. Then a hand of his found your head, and that's when he knew what to do with his surfeit emotions.

His eyes cast down on you, much harsher than the light, his grip tightened, and you found yourself sliding away from the view between his legs. He was in control, pushing you back down in a matter of seconds after bringing your lips to the tip. Strings of pleasure stirred from Connor's lips. A whimper and moan made up the two main harmonies of his tune, the others being half-spoken words that barely made a lick of sense. He reverted to the strategy of talking again, keeping himself tamer than he would prefer to be. His light-emitting diode flickered a red ring at his self-restraint.

"I think this will be my favorite use of our free time from now on. I had them install more than just this setting, too."

Connor started to lift his hips off the down-turned bucket as a pace formed. He had gotten rough enough for the spit to start to well in your mouth and pump out the sides of your mouth every time he buried his cock deep in you.

"Look at the mess you're making." He spat out, "And when it's all said and done, you will have to—fuck, Detective—meticulously clean it. Wouldn't want anyone uncovering the clues we left behind."

Connor had pushed himself to the edge. Talking about the risky business in the janitor's closet and his newest upgrades would do that to any android or human. But he could see it now. Each case that frustrated him or even a pleasant day could be made a thousand times better with his new relief system.

His hips bucked forward, and his thrusts halted. He went stiff, lifeless against you as his cock filled your throat. The anticipated android release hit your throat and coated it in a color that you would expect to be white, mostly for the simplicity of it all. It kept coming in consistent waves until Connor's high had ridden itself out and the waves crashing in his head settled into a low tide. Some of his dickspit spilled from the corners of your mouth.

Connor didn't need any time to recuperate and simply let you go from his already softening girth. You raised a hand to swipe some of the come from your chin, finding the smeared drop to be a pale blue.

"Does it taste bad?" He asked out of curiosity while cleaning up his appearance by fastening the buttons of his shirt and tightening his tie into the right spot.

"Not really, it mostly tastes like how red ice smells."

"You may not want to come to work tomorrow. An article I read says that actions like that often cause lips to swell and your jaw to feel bruised. We should stay home tomorrow." Connor emphasized we in his suggestion.

"And we can take off the tomorrow after tomorrow. Unfortunately, we're at work right now, so at least those things don't appear until the next day." You said and reached for the door handle to get out as quickly as possible, not that you wanted to leave Connor, but your co-workers—especially Hank—would get suspicious.

"Actually, Detective?" You turned at his call, his innocent voice perforating the air of sexual electricity. "Your tongue, it's blue."

[howlinchickhowl]

I'm back, with a little belated dirty ditty for pornstar day, i wouldn't read this one at your desk pals. @gallavichthings 👋

Your Sweet Thing is Wreckin' Me seventeen - pornstar

He’s hotter in person. If that’s possible. Which it apparently is. You wouldn’t believe it was. But it is. He is. Way hotter, actually, than however many hours of videos Mickey has watched have allowed him to comprehend.

He’s hot. Is the bottom line. Mickey feels like his mouth is simultaneously watering and dry. They are posed together on the bed, still fully clothed in jeans and t-shirts and socks. Boots lined up neatly together by the door.

Ian’s big arm is resting around Mickey’s lower back, fingertips grazing at the skin of his hip just under the hem of his shirt in little drags that are making Mickey quiver. His other hand is covering Mickey’s knee, his whole knee just swallowed up under Ian’s massive palm, warm and dry and possessive.

It’s for show, of course. They’ve only just met, have only just exchanged names and sti test results before settling in, Ian wrapping himself around Mickey at the director’s request, and Mickey more than happy to be wrapped around.

It’s for show, but it’s not entirely fake. Ian’s effect on Mickey is not insubstantial and Mickey is sure he hadn’t imagined the hungry once over Ian had given him when they’d swapped papers before, pupils widening, glistening tongue slipping out to brush over a plush bottom lip. He’s pretty confident that Ian doesn’t hate the way he looks.

Ian confirms as much when the director starts asking them their warm up questions, a hallmark of HGF that lends an air of authenticity to the scenes and is a huge part of their popularity. What’s Ian’s type? Does he like the look of Mickey? What is he excited about most? Dark, rough, smaller than him, yes definitely, and eating Mickey’s ass, respectively.

Mickey’s own questions, yielded similarly Ian-focused answers, turning his head to look into the guy’s eyes and getting lost in the warm musky smell of him and the feel of his fingers gripping at Mickey’s hip.

And then they are kissing, and grabbing, and groping, and Mickey almost forgets the director and the camera-guy are there, except that the director asks them to move a certain way or switch positions.

Ian makes good on his promise to eat Mickey’s ass, spends a little too long down there despite the director urging him to switch out, just holds Mickey by the hips and goes to fucking town and Mickey spasms his way through nearly coming, finally reaching back and grabbing at Ian’s hair to get him to let up.

He gets to wrap his lips around Ian’s fucking megalith of a cock, even more mouthwatering up close and in person than on his screen at home, and he thinks he does a pretty good job judging by the way Ian’s hips keep jolting and his thighs shake under Mickey’s hands until Ian grabs him, basically by the ears and pulls him up into a mind-bending kiss that has Mickey so turned around he barely even notices that Ian has slathered him in lube and shoved a trio of thick freckled fingers inside of him until he pulls them out and replaces them with the main event.

Ian’s a pro, so it’s not exactly a scramble to the finish line, but Mickey’s quite proud of how franticly he seems to be pounding into him, how he seems determined to cover every inch of Mickey’s skin with his own even though the director keeps asking him to pull up and give the camera a little room. He does it, but he always ends up back in full contact mode, hands gripping at Mickey’s hips and shoulders and hands and face, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until he pulls away, pulls out with a deep groan and blows his load all over Mickey’s chest and stomach and cock.

He falls down next to Mickey, bringing him off with one hand while threading the other through Mickey’s hair and pulling him into an incongruously tender kiss. They kiss while Mickey comes and into the afterglow, pulling apart to laugh when the director finally calls cut.

That was a hell of a ride, Mickey thinks to himself, laying on the bed catching his breath for a minute while Ian and the director shoot the shit. He’ll never watch another Ian video the same way again, maybe he’ll never watch another one, worried they’ll pale in comparison now that he’s had the full sensory experience. He gives himself a moment of sadness to mourn the death of some of his favourite jerkoff material.

Turns out though, once Ian has pulled him into the shower for a thorough rub down and a real-world fuck, he doesn’t need to worry about it.

[steven9rant]

lab rat – agent whiskey sex pollen

warnings: dubious consent (its sex pollen, what do you expect?), Jack calling reader ‘baby’, flirting, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, angst (yes, I did manage to fit some angst into a sex pollen just because it's me and I'm a whore for angst), and then it just ends because hey why not.

summary: i dont even know...

author's note: i'm sorry...? ah who am i kidding, no i am not sorry.

dt's: @love-affair-with-fandoms @random--fandoms

–

“The Chinese corporation really recommended we put this shit in our whiskey,” Jack explained, gesturing for you to enter the room first. You did, and found yourself staring at the only real attraction: a window into a room where there was a bed and table and nothing else. You felt like a detective again, looking into the interrogation room you'd just stepped out of. But you'd have time to reminisce later...

Your head turned and you raised a brow to the man with the cowboy hat. “That's great, I think, but what the fuck's this all gotta do with me?”

“We...” he inhaled slowly, “need someone to test it on. Apparently, they were quite adament it was only for human consump-”

“Hold on,” you said quickly, holding up a finger and pointing it at him. “What, I look like a fucking lab rat to you now?”

“No!” Agent Whiskey's head shook and he took a step forward slowly. You didn't move your finger, and it pressed into his chest ever so slightly before he lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around the index finger. “No, not at all... But, if you were, you'd be the most gorgeous lab rat there ever was.”

“That's not the compliment you think it is, Jack,�� you sighed softly. “I don't know if I can do this.”

“I'll be in there with you the whole time. And we'll be monitored by Ginger through this glass the entire time. And our across-the-pond contacts will be here via conference. Look, far as we're aware... it's safe. And if it ain't, we got everything to keep anything from happenin' to ya.”

“Jack...”

“You don't have to do it,” he said softly, releasing your finger from his hold and instead bringing his palm to caress your cheek. “Nobody is forcing you to do this, sweetheart. But I know you can handle yourself.”

“If something goes wrong...”

“I have your back. Always.”

–

Soon enough, you were on the other side of the glass, sat on the edge of the bed whilst someone in a white, Colonel Sanders-looking suit set up the equipment you couldn't yet see. Your foot tapped against the floor repeatedly with every shake of your leg and Whiskey had noticed this, from his leaning position on the wall opposite the end of your bed.

He sighed softly and moved toward you, sitting at your side and soon enough planting his palm on your knee. “It's going to be okay. I promise.”

His words comforted to you, as much as they could, but there was still some inkling of fear in your stomach. You trusted Jack, of course, but you didn't trust this, or the Chinese and their ‘生長’ product––whatever the fuck that meant anyway. You weren't even certain anybody at Statesman was aware of the real translation of it, and this didn't help much with your worries.

The way Jack rolled his thumb over your knee did, though.

The door closed loudly and there came the sound of it being locked shut, as was protocol. You knew that, and had even expected it, but the clang still had the ability to shock you, somehow, so much so that you jolted back slightly.

Jack brought his fingers up to the rim of his aviators, and tapped it twice lightly, asking, “We ready to go, Ginger?”

“Uh, just one moment...” she hesitated, he heard a click, and then her voice: “Yes. Kingsman's here, too, now. Hello, Merlin.”

“Good evening, Ginger,” came that strong Scottish accent.

And then the one from the Londoner: “Afternoon. Yes, I am here too––hold your applause.”

Her brows furrowed momentarily, while Whiskey had already shrugged it off that it was the time differences: for you, it was an hour before midday, for them it would've been around five.

You glanced to Jack and then to the little pot that had been planted onto the table, then back to him. He nodded, and told you quietly, “It's alright, baby, you take your time.”

Inhaling slowly, you brought yourself to your feet, and carried yourself to the side of the table. You leaned over it slightly, peering into small pot. You remained there for a moment, gazing at it, while Whiskey did something similar with your figure. He leaned back against his palms, putting all his weight on them, and his straightened-out forearms as he admired the way you were practically bent over the desk.

He blinked and snapped himself out of it with such, and a quiet throat-clearing from Ginger, before standing and approaching you. His palms settled on your waist and he leaned over your shoulder, watching the still pot, and the few, lilac leaves inside of it.

He hummed, “Ginger, what did the Chinese say to do with it?”

“Eat it,” she responded hastily, “or inhale it. Or, if it's in its liquid form, drink it.”

“Yes, thank you, I think we get the picture,” Jack stated sharply.

Ginger took in a short breath, nodded: “Right.”

“Sorry, I-” he cut himself off when he observed you swallow all three of the petals in a second. “They say anything about dosage?”

“Just that with each petal, the effects increased.”

“Every time I hear more about these guys,” Whiskey inhaled, “the more it sounds like they're just fucking with us.”

Your head turned rapidly then and you faced him with a worried stare.

Jack's eyes softened and he assured, “Oh, no, I didn't mean... you've got nothing to worry about. I'm right here, okay?”

“I know,” you nodded. “I'm sorry, I'm just not used to this...” your eyes suddenly filled with terror as you watched him and your entire body felt heavy suddenly. “Jack? I don't think...”

The petals seemed to be taking their effect, because your head dropped, as if you'd lost all control of your neck muscles, and your words trailed away.

Jack srpang forward, grabbed hold of your shoulders quickly, said loudly, “Ginger, what the fuck's happening?” Ginger?!”

“I don't know, it seems she's...”

“What?” he growled, “Ginger, what?!”

“Her pulse has slowed significantly,” Ginger stated as she read off the screen on her right, on which there was the stars of both yourself and Jack's BP, BPM, and other vitals. “Get her on the bed. Whiskey, do it now.”

He swept you up and held your limp body in his strong arms. As he carried you to the bed, he cooed, “It's going to be okay, baby. I'm right here, I've got you. You're going to be okay.”

It was then that Merlin announced, “I researched the Chinese company; there's nothing about lilac petals.”

“Couldn't have been a scam, could it?” Eggsy asked.

“No!” Whiskey boomed, the backs of his fingers running slowly down your cool forehead. He was breathing heavily as you did the opposite. “No, they wouldn't have been able to just find our information. It was them.”

“I'm trying to reach them now,” Ginger declared, and the three men could hear some distant typing.

“Wait,” Whiskey said. “Wait. She's... she's waking up.” He leaned down toward you, and told: “Sweetheart, do you know where you are?”

“Yes, Jack,” you breathed out. “Fuck, it's hot. It's so hot. I need to... Can I- oh! Oh, fuck. My... Jack, it hurts. Please. Jack, please!”

“Ginger!” he had no capacity to wait now, as his thumb ran along your temple. “Get those Chinese fuckers on the phone right now! Find out what's happening to her. Now! She's hurt. She says it hurts.”

“Whiskey, I'm hearing the same things you are,” Ginger stated, somehow sounding calm even in all this.

Merlin chipped in, “It's late for them, Whiskey. Really late. They might not-”

“Merlin, I don't give two shits whether the world is ending for them! I don't care about their beauty sleep, or your voice of reason, I care about her! And I want them on the phone now!”

Whiskey groaned and pulled the aviators from his eyes, crunching them in the large palm of his hand before tossing them against the white wall on his left. He frowned, turning his eyes back down to your red face and plump lips.

“Well, you're in luck,” Ginger mused through the intercom system that had been set up in the room. “It's connecting.”

Jack looked up toward the mirror that revealed his red eyes and tightened jaw, said, “I want to know everything.”

“Of course. Just keep her awake; that's our best bet right now.”

Jack nodded and averted his eyes once more to you. He whispered, “It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay. Can you hear me?”

His eyes were training on yours, and you felt weak, empty, everywhere apart from where his thumb was on your thigh. You nodded your response, your mouth gaping, refusing to close, while his deep brown eyes didn't stop their advances on yours. You managed out a quiet, breathy, “Fuck... me...”

Jack hadn't caught it, and leaned down toward you slightly. He'd always enjoyed the little touches you offered him, and the glances and whispers, but now, to you, his chest brushing against yours was the most perfect thing, despite the simmering sensation that lingered and actually stung s little.

“Say that again for me, beautiful?” Jack hummed gently, his ear by your lips.

This time, it came out with a moan, soft and faint, but there––definitely there. His eyes widened and Jack shook his head rather quickly, as he moved backward.

Your eyes heavied and your heart sunk because of this, and you pleaded, frowning: “Please, Jack! Please. Please, please, please. I could make you feel good. I could!”

“It's a matter of personal principal;” Jack informed. “you're not in your right mind.”

“I've never been in a righter mind, Jack! Can't you see it? Can't you just see how horny I am, for you?”

“No,” he shook his head stiffly.

“Then maybe you should feel it,” you urged, grabbing hold of his arm instinctively and dragging his hand toward your throbbing cunt. “Go on. I know you want to. Feel me, like your cock tells you to. I'm so wet, feel how wet I am. I'm just waiting for you to tear me open. Would you do that?”

Jack yanked his hand back. “Any other time, I would jump at the offer, but look at you; this isn't what you are, sweet girl. I won't take advantage of you.”

“So, don't. So, just use me, instead. Let me be your toy. You can spank me, spit in my mouth, fuck me. Whatever you want, cowboy. I'm all yours.”

He hated himself for it, but with each of these crude, perverted images you planted in his mind, Jack's cock throbbed harder and fought against the briefs beneath the dark denim he wore.

You spread your legs, and began lifting up your skirt slowly. “Come on. Take me.”

His hand landed on yours and Jack used the hold to push you down against the bed, while his knees pressed against the bed on either side of your legs, forbidding you from opening them any wider. “Not like this.”

“C'mon,” you groaned, bucking your hips upward in the hopes of being able to make even the slightest bit of contact with the bulge in his jeans. You thought (in your drunk-on-lust state) that you might've been able use that to trigger him into fucking you so hard that your legs would shake and ache, until you wouldn't be able to use them for the rest of the day.

“Jack, can you hear me?” came Ginger's voice. “I just got off with the Chinese. They said that the only way to relieve the body of the petal's poison, is through... orgasm. She has to cum. And unless it's the first person that they laid their eyes on first after consuming the petal, or if it takes too long, the... arousal will kill her.”

“What?!” he called out.

“She will die.”

“I know what kill means. Ugh, fucking Chinese fuckers... okay, how long do I have?”

“An hour.”

“Okay. You may want to leave the room, unless you want to see this.”

“Not particularly,” Ginger nodded. She shut down the computer systems and clicked off the button that allowed sound to enter and exit the one-direction-window test room. She deactivated the glass so that all it was on both sides was a mirror and left to distract her mind with some trivial task for a few hours.

“Well,” Jack exhaled slowly, looking at you, burning your skin with his gaze and his touch, “it looks like you're getting what you wanted.”

You moaned out, “Ugh, just fuck me!”

Without hesitation then, Jack yanked down the little red panties and left them at your ankles before rapidly inserted a digit into your cunt. You exhaled slowly, in response to the momentarily-helpful release, but it wasn't long––only seconds, in fact––before you were once more overcome by that insatiable, inhuman desire that seemed to make your blood bubble. Your mind was clouded, and all that was left amid the fog was your thoughts of Jack, that you for so long had pushed down and refused to release. And now they were and, beneath the horny surface, you were terrified.

“Good girl,” Jack said softly, able to calm you slightly, though you didn't at all seem that way. “Is that better?”

“More...” you panted, “I need more.”

Jack tilted his head, retorted, “Now, is that anyway to talk to me? You should be a little more... grateful!” He punctuated the final word with a loud grunt as he instantly added another two fingers to the mix. “There. Is that better? Hmm? You like it rough? What if I bent you over that table, put my cock in this tight little pussy of yours? Would you like that?”

“Yes!” you couldn't help but spit out the words. “Oh, yes! Please. Fuck me. Bend me over. Do it. Take me however you want. I'm yours. Take me now.”

“Be patient.”

A groan escaped your lips, but it soon faded into a moan when his fingers curled, reaching that perfect spot within you. As he worked the point that made you continually gasp and whimper for him, he lifted his thumb and used it to locate your clit. Once he'd found the sensitive nerve-bundle, he wasted no time in building you up to the point of your orgasm. You toes clenched and in your stomach there was a huge knot, just waiting to be untied by the one little move the both of you knew you needed so badly.

Your words of pleading were hardly coherent, and still Jack refused to answer them, even with a simple dismissal of allowing you to cum so soon. He told you to be patient, and was determined to enforce it like that was his job. His fingers slowly curled from their point deep within you, and he bit his lip as you moaned and gasped, begging him for more.

He liked to be in control, and to see you like this. But he knew it was the petals and the petals only that had made you so... unhinged. And he hated how this was happening, even if it was so only to save your life.

You clung to his back, nails digging into his skin even through the thin tee he wore. He grunted slightly and, unable to deny you it much longer, pushed his fingers all upward rapidly. This, along with the circles he hadn't ceased to draw on and around your clit, was enough to tip you over the edge, to make you scream.

And oh, you did scream. You'd found your release and called out his name and the knot was loosened, yet you clung to him and still found yourself craving more.

Jack looked at you, asked, “That any better?”

You shook your head and felt no problem with voicing the remnants of your desires: “No. Jack, I still want you to fuck me. Give me your cock. I bet it's massive. I bet you would stretch me out so fucking much, but I want it. Please.”

He shook his head and stood slowly, while tears began to fall from your eyes, and it seemed your condition was only getting worse with each touch of him you were allowed. But you begged nontheless: “Please, Jack... it's- oh, fuck, it's not...”

“You need my cock?” he hummed, looking down at you over the curve of his nose. There was a thin layer of sweat covering every inch of you, and you were gasping and moaning still. He leaned down and wiped the tears away. “Then, I will give it to you, baby.”

He lifted the tee over his head and unbuckled his belt, pulling it out through the loops with a furious speed, tossing it to the side and watching as your eyes didn't once falter from their goal of needing to see his cock. He was definitely hard now, from the gorgeous sounds you made, from the way you had cum so nicely around his fingers, which already seemed to half-fill you. His cock would be a struggle.

When he lowered his jeans and the tent in the white briefs he wore was visible, you could feel your mouth watering. You were right, as far as you knew: he was massive. But you had no capacity to worry about how he would fit into you, just when.

Once'd he'd shed the final layer of clothing, you bit your lip. His hand wrapped around it and he pumped it a few times, and you realised that, before, he hadn't even been completely hard. But now? Now, he was, and he probably could've broke you with the thing in his palm. You hoped so.

“D'you like it rough... or d'you like it gentle?”

You breathed out, “Table.”

“I'll take that as rough, then,” he pulled you over to the table and wasted no time in bending you over it.

He hiked up your skirt and inserted his finger into your dripping cunt. He groaned slightly as he moved the digit backward and forward slightly, gathering on the fingertip that made you writhe what was left of your cum. He dragged his finger out as quickly as he'd put it in, leading you to let out a whine. Leaning over you, his cock pressing against the small of your back, his hand was in front of your face.

“Taste it,” he ordered.

You didn't hesitate before wrapping your lips around the long finger on which there was your own cum. Jack's eyes darkened slightly as your hand took his and forced his finger further into your mouth. You sucked it almost violently, loving the taste of him, and the roughness of his skin beneath the layer of your juices.

“Good girl,” he nodded. “I'm going to fuck you now.”

“Please,” you moaned against the finger that you refused to release from your mouth.

Jack inhaled slowly, unable to think of anything but how wrong this was, and how much he wanted you anyway. He must've been the worst person ever. He hated how his cock was throbbing against your burning skin, and how he would be ball-deep inside of your desperate cunt soon enough.

He moved back, his finger still in your mouth, and when he pushed himself up against you again, his cock pulsed rapidly, surrounded by the dripping walls of your pussy, which clenched. His jaw did the same when he thrust himself into your tight little hole. Your mouth opened and your moan was close enough to a scream then. He stopped.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yes!” you insisted. “Do that again.”

He had to, anyway, since he wasn't even halfway inside of you. With one hand on your hip and one still the victim of your relentless efforts of tasting him, he steadied himself and thrusted once more. You seemed more accustomed to his significant length and width already so he began to move his hips, tightening his grip on yours, probably leaving marks.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He pulled out and left no time for you to even think of complaining before reinserting himself. “Oh, God, you're so fucking tight, baby.”

He continued pounding into you, while your hands abandoned his and instead were planted on the cool, metal table beneath you, that Jack was currently fucking you into. Your moans and gasps were loud, and you were unable to even tell him to go faster, or further, because it was perfect, and opening your mouth only allowed the unholy noises to deepen. You could feel him in every inch of you, and never wanted the sensation to end, as your body seemed to cool in response to his touch. You could hardly see past the cloud of smoke that was the weird Chinese drug, and even when you managed it, all there was, was that sweet, pleasurable bliss provided to you by Jack.

Behind you, Jack was grunting, filling your ears with his contented sounds of approval, while your moans sunk into his brain, amidst the silent worry that this was wrong, that you might not even remember it, that he never wanted his first night with you to be like this. His eyes opened and he looked through his, thick dark eyelashes at the mirror, in which he gathered a better view of your gorgeous face. You were muttering something, he could tell, by your plump, red lips.

Suddenly, he stopped, and bunched up your hair in his fist, using the softness to pull you back toward him. He was lodged deep inside of you, and he said, lowered voice clinging to your burning neck: “What is it, baby? Want me to stop?”

“No,” you choked on the word in your rapid desperation. “No, don't stop, I...” you blinked harshly, and soon stared into the mirror, watching his dark eyes, expectant yet patient. Those very eyes latched onto yours and you exhaled heavily. There was a moment––a single moment––when he looked at you, of clarity, and you spurted out, “I love you.”

He buried his lips in your neck, kissing and nipping lightly as he mumbled, “Oh, baby, I wish that were true.”

“It is. I'm not lying. Why- why would I lie?”

“You're not... in your own head right now.”

Your eyes sunk. The smoke screen was gone in an instant. He didn't believe you. Or maybe he just didn't want to. Because he didn't love you too. You urged in your sudden, aching coherence, “I mean it. Jack, I mean it. Please believe me, it's not the- the drug or anything, it's just... you. It's the truth. You have to believe me, please, just believe me.”

Your voice was shaking by then and Jack could've sworn your skin had cooled beneath his lips. He pulled back slightly, turning your head with two fingers so your eyes looked only into his.

“Good. 'Cause I fucking love you too.”

Your eyes may as well have been entirely black, when he gazed into them, and saw your pupils so blown that it looked like a health problem. You could only smile. “It doesn't... hurt anymore, Jack. I think it's... wearing off.”

Jack stood still. “Do you want me stop?”

“No, but, um...” you lowered your voice to a mere whisper, “this table's not the most comfortable. Could we...” you glanced to the bed and he nodded.

“Of course,” he smiled, and pressed a gentle kiss against your cheek. “Anything for you, baby.”

[jackharlou]

Impatiently waiting

Concept: all the negative results lead you to realize you want a baby with jack so bad, but things get rough on the road. luckily, you have a partner that does love you and wants to take care of you.

Trigger warning: mentions of pregnancy and not being able to conceive.

Part II

"i'm late" - you told dev, your best friend, after checking the app you have in your phone that helps you keep track of your period.

"to where? i thought we were staying in" - she said unaware of the panic on your face.

"you idiot. my period. i was supposed to have my period two weeks ago"

"oh... OH" - she stood and walked closer to you - "you want me to get you a test?"

"please. people never recognize me but with my luck i know that if i go and get one it'll be all over TMZ"

"don't move. I'll be back in fifteen minutes" - she said before grabbing her car keys and ran through your front door.

in less than ten minutes you had the bag in your hands, containing five boxes - "ok, i think this is to much" - you said laughing.

"just wanted to be sure. go, go" - she pushed you to make you walk to the bathroom.

when you finished your business in the bathroom you sat with your friend in silence, anxious and impatient silence. after the time indicated on the box went by, you looked at the two tests you took. they were negative.

"is this a good or a bad thing?" - dev asked, not sure if she had to celebrate or encourage you to keep trying.

"well, i don't know. i do know we want kids but i don't know if we're ready" - you said with a look on your face that she, your best friend, couldn't read.

"you'll never be ready, honey" - she said, not helping at all.

three days later you period came and you couldn't help but feel a little sad about it.

three months passed and the same thing happened, being now almost a month you went without your period, which meant your expectations were dragged for a little longer. you got a test from the ones dev bought, the ones you hide from jack somewhere in your closet.

again; negative.

this time the result did make you realize your disappointment, which led you to understand you could actually be happy with a positive outcome, but you tried to just let it rest and kept going with your life like nothing happened.

for the next five months you took three more tests, and now you were scared and confused because you weren't on the pill and you two gave up on condoms a long time ago, so something wasn't right.

the thoughts spread through your head like a wild fire. "what if i can never get pregnant? jack wants a family, what if can't give him that? would he be ok with adoption or trying those treatments i've always heard about but actually don't know anything about? would he leave me if i can't give him a baby...?" those thoughts haunted you for days, and you faced them on your own because you were afraid to talk to jack.

but the moment it actually hit you was while being at a show in atlanta.

jack was doing his usual meet and greet and a fan took her baby with her. you didn't pay attention to how old the baby was, you could only see jack holding him. the way his smile grew big, the way his arms surrounded the baby, probably making him feel protected and warm... it was to much, the pressure you put on your own shoulders was to much, because you wanted to see him like that with your own baby, a baby apparently you weren't meant to have. so, you went to a place where you could be alone and just sat there with your hurtful thoughts.

"are you ok?" - jack entered the room probably fifteen minutes later.

"yeah. is it over?" - you tried to clean your tears without him noticing, but it was you. he could notice everything.

"yes, it is. can you please tell me what's going on? because i'm worried" - he said while kneeling in front of you, placing his elbows on your knees and hands on your waist.

"it's nothing, just a headache and some stress over work. nothing to worry about" - you gave him a fake smile and caressed his face.

"does this headache has to do with you seeing me with a baby and with the bunch of pregnancy tests you have been hiding from me?"

you froze. you felt sad and guilty and overwhelmed and just disappointed.

without realizing, tears started rolling down your face, and when he held you, you started sobbing.

"baby, talk to me, please" - he murmured on your ear, hoping he could understand the situation so he could help you in some way.

"it's been months and it doesn't happen"

"what doesn't?"

"i want a baby, jack. i want to give you a baby and we have been doing it for months without proteccion and nothing happens. what if i can never get pregnant?"

"baby, why am i hearing all this concern you have been feeling just now?"

"because i'm scared" - you whispered.

"we need to go with a doctor first, before getting ahead and thinking things that won't help us. and before we find out about anything i want to make one thing clear; it doesn't matter if you can't give me biological kids. there are many other ways we can go through to expand our family, and choosing either one of them won't make you less of a woman, less of a mom and definitely won't make me love you any less"

he stayed there, holding you for as long as he could, until someone looked for him to remind him he needed to start getting ready for the show.

"i don't want to leave you" - he murmured on your ear.

"go, I'll be fine" - you assured him - "i'm gonna go with the guys and get distracted for a few"

he left because he had to, but he truly didn't want to leave your side. yes, he found the tests a while ago, but he just thought it was you getting some scares and just making sure you weren't actually pregnant, but when he saw the look on your face while holding that baby at the meet and greet, he put the pieces together.

his heart was now broken because he knows you, he knows you better than anyone. he knows how much you can get into your own head, so he was sure you were beating yourself over this.

the following days you spent them looking for a doctor, since jack wanted to go with the best one in the country because "we can afford it". luckily, the one you found was close to your home.

at the appointment, you talked to the doctor about the whole situation and what you were scared of, which led to the two of you having to get analysis done to figure out the issue.

days later you were called back to the doctor's office.

"you guys have pretty hectic lives, which means stress. stress is like any other disease, it affects your mental and physical health, so i do think this may be the biggest factor right here because your analysis show that both of you are healthy, there's nothing that calls my attention in those results. so, if in a year from now you can't conceive, then we could start talking about all the methods that exist for you to be able to become parents. and y/n, i can only imagine how bad you're overthinking the entire situation, doubting about you and your body. i know it's easier said than done but you need to calm down those thoughts and relieve the stress you're putting on yourself. it usually happens exactly when couples stop trying so hard..." - the doctor explained, next to a few other things.

you left feeling more relieved, knowing nothing was wrong with any of you. the doctor prescribed you some vitamins that could help you prepare your body for a baby, so the next place you visited was the pharmacy.

after that appointment you did the best you could to stop overthinking, to stop stressing out. you focused on your job, on jack, on your day to day life.

months went by. jack was touring europe at the moment and you were back home, waiting for a chance to be able to visit him.

of course jack made sure to talk to you at any chance you two had. he wanted to show you you weren't alone, that he was as involved as you in your relationship. in all honesty, you have never felt that loved before. every time he did or said something having you in mind, you could only think "our baby is going to be so lucky"

one random day, walking through the supermarket aisle, you bumped into a lady.

"sweet girl, could you help me reach those cereals?" - she politely asked. she was much shorter than you, so you didn't doubt on helping her get her Reese's cereal.

"there you go" - you said handing the box to her.

"thank you, honey" - she said with a smile, the one you mirrored. you walked past her a few steps when she called you again.

"yes?" - you asked while turning around to face her.

"i know you have been waiting for a miracle for a long time, and it's finally here. that baby inside of you is going to achieve great things in this world"

you remained in silence for a few seconds, waiting for her to reveal it was a prank for some comedy show, but she just stayed there looking at you with the sweetest look - "i'm not pregnant"

"you are, and that baby already has a designated soul. probably the strongest soul i've ever felt" - you just stood there looking at her, not knowing what to do or say - "you two are destinated to meet in every lifetime. you have been impatiently waiting, but she just couldn't find you. now that she did, she won't let go, and your best life will start now because you two need each other to have it all"

"i'm not pregnant" - you murmured again, now with tears filling your eyes, still thinking this was just some sick joke.

she got closer to your shopping cart and took the pregnancy test for some reason you decided to get - "go find out" - she said with a smile and a wink and started walking away.

your shock and confusion didn't let you answer, and when you were finally able to talk or walk again, she was gone.

the shopping list was dismissed and you quickly went home with the only few things you grabbed before encountering the lady.

you ran to your bathroom and after taking the test, you waited sitting on the floor, praying that weird lady was right... and she was. the positive word plastered on the plastic stick proved it.

[iamprchung]

Just in time for Easter: The Dead Horse that is Biblical X-Files Simile

I need to vehemently preface this post by stating that I'm not an overly religious person. But unfortunately, a rewatch of 'Requiem' once again stirred up my dabbling in theology... Yes, yes, you're about to bear witness to an audacious deployment of simile and metaphor.

You're welcome to keep scrolling. 😁

Behold, the infamous "Last Supper" scene in 'Requiem.' Albeit, we have here only eight out of twelve persons present. However, it's been recognized, that two characters here are placed in the positions held by specific apostles in Leonardo di Vinci's "Last Supper."

Reminder: You're welcome to keep scrolling. 😆

Hey, I didn't start this, I'm just sticking my nose in to renew a haggard subject... 🤔😆 The author, Michelle Bush, apparently explored this in her book Myth-X. And of course, a perusing of Wikipedia led me down the rabbit hole... *See "Themes" in the wiki article.

Do I need to add a spoiler alert here? I'm not sure, so I'm doing it anyway. If you haven't seen 'Requiem' - get caught up! The rest of us are waiting on you. 🤣 (j/k!)

These two characters would be Walter Skinner, in the position of Simon Peter (St. Peter, Cephas) and Dana Scully, in the position of Judas - right there I'm like "meh, what?" and it's a real stretch.

However, the simile between Skinner and Simon Peter (Saint Peter, Cephas) is interesting.

The comparisons highlight how the relationships between Simon Peter and Jesus and between Walter Skinner and Fox Mulder share themes of authority, support, challenge, redemption, and moral guidance, despite belonging to vastly different narratives and contexts.

Authority Figures: Both Simon Peter and Walter Skinner hold positions of authority in their respective contexts. Simon Peter is one of the twelve apostles of Jesus, chosen as a leader among them. Walter Skinner is an FBI Assistant Director, overseeing Mulder's work in The X-Files.

Supportive Figures: Both Peter and Skinner often provide support and guidance to the central character, Mulder. Peter supports Jesus throughout his ministry, serving as a confidant and disciple. Similarly, Skinner supports Mulder's investigations, often backing him up against bureaucratic obstacles.

Challenges and Tests: Both relationships face challenges and tests. Peter's faith in Jesus is tested multiple times, notably when he denies knowing Jesus three times before his crucifixion. Skinner faces professional and personal challenges in supporting Mulder's unorthodox investigations, often clashing with higher authorities in the FBI.

Complex Dynamics: The dynamics between Peter and Jesus and between Skinner and Mulder are multifaceted. There are moments of trust, conflict, loyalty, and doubt in both relationships, reflecting the complexities of human interaction.

Redemption Themes: Both Peter and Skinner experience arcs of redemption or growth. Peter, despite his initial denial of Jesus, becomes a central figure in the early Christian church, demonstrating repentance and devotion. Skinner evolves from a skeptical and authoritarian figure to someone who trusts and supports Mulder's pursuit of the truth, showing growth in his character over the series.

Moral Guidance: Both Peter and Skinner offer moral guidance to the central character. Peter advises Jesus and the other disciples on matters of faith and conduct. Skinner provides counsel to Mulder, often cautioning him against recklessness and urging him to consider the consequences of his actions.

Now this business about Scully being compared to, of all biblical figures, Judas!

While drawing parallels between Judas and Scully might seem unconventional at first glance, exploring the complexities of their relationships and character dynamics can offer fresh insights into their respective narratives and themes.

Betrayal: Judas is infamous for his act of betrayal, which involved identifying Jesus to the religious authorities with a kiss, leading to Jesus's arrest and subsequent crucifixion.

Critical: Judas is sometimes portrayed as critical or skeptical of Jesus's actions or teachings. In the Gospel of John, for example, Judas questions Jesus's decision to allow a woman to anoint him with expensive perfume.

Complexity: Like many biblical figures, Judas is a complex character. His motivations and actions are subject to interpretation and debate among scholars and theologians. Some argue that his betrayal was part of God's plan for salvation, while others view it as a result of his own moral failings.

The conclusion drawn from the analysis of "Requiem" and the comparisons between the characters is that the episode explores themes of sacrifice, betrayal, and the consequences of individual actions within the context of The X-Files narrative.

Overall, "Requiem" and the comparisons drawn between characters such as Scully, Mulder, and Skinner offer insights into the moral dilemmas, sacrifices, and consequences inherent in the pursuit of truth and the exploration of existential themes within The X-Files universe.

But did I really need to go into any of that? We all already knew this, but maybe just didn't see the not so subtle imagery and allusion.

[imagines-by-cleo]

More than respect

Big Boss X Fem!Reader NSFW

CW: SMUT, fight kink, dom/sub dynamics, implied age gap, wall sex, rough sex, size kink, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, nipple play, mutual masturbation, fluff

So this is my first Metal Gear fic which I absolutely had to write for a number of reasons, one of which being that I was playing the phantom pain and that consumed my life for nearly two months. Another is that Snake was the first fictional character I ever simped for back when I was definitely too young to be playing mgs3 and I had to make some kind of tribute to that.

Honestly if I get more than ten likes on this I'm probably gonna die of shock, but let me know what you think and if you want to see more feel free to send me a request!

Training on mother base was a daily occurrence, but training with the Boss himself was a rare opportunity to learn from the best. One by one some soldier would step into the ring desperate to prove themselves in hand to hand combat only to be taken down in a matter of seconds, nearly everyone except you had gone up against him by now and you weren't feeling eager to display your inexperience in front of the entire combat unit.

Shrinking back into the crowd of people you kept watch on the Boss, heat from the midday sun was apparently taking it's toll as he discarded the top of his fatigues leaving him in just pants and the many straps and harnesses that held his gear on missions. His monumental build was a sight to behold, sweat making his light brown hair shine, the myriad of cuts and scars covering every inch of his skin and all lying over taut muscles. You couldn't help but stare with a blush creeping onto your face as his body flexed with every motion, your heart skipped a beat as you remembered your surroundings making you hope that no one noticed your flustered state.

"You there, you're up next." The Boss declared while pointing in your direction, it took you a moment to realize he really was talking to you.

Another soldier shoved you into the center of the ring as the rest grew quiet, looking around you could feel every set of judging eyes burning holes through you as you stepped up, all except the Boss who was waiting patiently for you to make a move. Taking a fighting stance you knew that in a short moment you would end up on the ground like the rest, yet somehow after that first swing you still felt shocked when he grabbed your arm and immediately flipped you over. When your body hit the metal floor all of the breath left your lungs, you struggled to get back on your feet only to have him straddle your back while continuing to pull your arm, effectively keeping you pinned down.

Raising your head as high as you could you looked up at the rest of the men, hearing as they jeered and laughed. Even though you knew you couldn't escape you still writhed around, testing the power of the Boss's grip, being at his mercy while surrounded by dozens of onlookers made you feel helpless in a way that you never expected to enjoy. Unfortunately your body expressed this before your oxygen deprived brain had the time to process, you shuddered beneath him praying that in the rush of things he wouldn't notice the tiny breathless whine that came from your mouth. If he did he didn't say anything, just releasing your arm and stepping away while you lay panting on the ground.

"Alright, that's enough for today. Return to your positions." He declared, prompting everyone to disperse.

Still on the ground trying to catch your breath the Boss flipped you onto your back with the tip of his boot, forcing you to look up at him.

"Except you." He said, his eye narrowed leering down at you. "You need more training, meet me here after sundown."

Questions ran wild through your mind but without the courage to ask any you simply coughed out a reply before watching everyonewalk away. "Yes, sir."

Hours later you were pacing awkwardly around in the exact place you were told to be. The sun had been down for sometime by then and large shipping containers had been placed around the deck, obscuring your view of anyone else that might be nearby. You couldn't bring yourself to simply stand still with all the nervous energy running through your body, along with theories of the Boss's ulterior motives for brining you here. Did he notice how you were staring earlier? Maybe he did want to continue your training, but there was the possibility that he wasn't satisfied with your lack of combat skills and he was going to make you leave the base.

"Kept you waiting, huh?" A familiar voice rang out, making you jolt.

"Boss! You startled me." You explained, straightening up to salute him.

As soon as the words left your mouth you came to the conclusion that you might have failed some kind of test, you stood expecting the lecture about being more aware of your surroundings to come any minute.

"I'm surprised you showed up." He remarked, pulling a cigar out from his pocket.

"Yeah...about that training." Unsure of what he meant exactly you could still deduce that this was a more casual meeting than you would have expected.

"You weren't listening this morning." He answered, smoke swiling out of his mouth as he exhaled.

The low tone of his voice made color rise to your cheeks, you could feel yourself shrinking in the shadow of his imposing frame as shame washed over you making you back into the the metal wall behind you. Your instinct to lie and give some kind of lengthy explanation for why you acted the way you did was nullified by fear that he would see right through it.

"I don't have use for soldiers who can't pay attention." He continued, taking another puff. "If you keep getting distracted what good are you?"

"I can still follow orders, I promise!" You told him perhaps a little too loudly, worried he was about to make you leave the base. "Just give me a chance to prove it Boss."

In the dim glow of his cigar just before he threw it away out you could see a faint smirk on his lips. He stepped closer putting one hand on the container you were backed into, his palm clanking as it hit the metal inches away from your face. The other hand lifted your chin, giving you no choice but to look and lock eyes as he leaned in.

"What had you so distracted anyway?" He asked, though the cadence of his voice told you he already knew the answer.

The darkness may have hid the blush on your cheeks but it couldn't hide the sound of your breathing growing heavier. Being this intimate with the Boss felt wrong, dirty even, but the longer it went on the closer you wanted him and you had the feeling he could see that.

"Are you going to admit it or do I have to tell you how desperate you looked this morning?" He asked again, making your thoughts feel exposed before you had a chance to put them into words.

"I was thinking about you Boss." You confessed, the look in his eye urged you to continue. "It's just that, I've looked up to you for such a long time and seeing you in action today made me realize it was more than just respect."

You softly touched his cheek with your hand, feeling the stubble and scars, their rough texture grounding your thoughts and reminding you this wasn't a dream. As his lips met yours you could taste the tabacco on his breath, you put your other arm behind his head to pull him in and deepen the kiss. His arms engulfed your body, their tight grip putting you in a vice you never wanted to escape. Quickly swiping your tongue over the scar on his bottom lip you unwittingly invited his own tongue to invade your mouth, making you gasp as he explored every place he could reach.

You started to unbutton the front of his fatigues, just enough to slip your hand underneath and test your theory of how firm his chest really was. He groaned as your fingers met his skin, his hands beginning to roam your body in direct response, hungry to touch every inch he could. He wasn't nearly as careful when undressing you as he ripped open the front of your jumpsuit, buttons flying to the ground as the fabric was torn apart.

Cool night air caressed your shoulders as you wiggled out of your uniform letting the top half hang off your waist. With the freedom to touch even more of your body the Boss wasted no time letting his fingers roam the uncharted territory, breaking the kiss only for a moment so he could continue down your neck. Gripping the harness under his shirt, you let out a shaking sigh as he scraped his teeth on the vulnerable skin of your neck, feeling as if a wild beast was simply tasting you before devouring you whole.

"Gonna make that little noise again?" He asked panting.

"Only if you make me." You answered, not expecting him to suddenly turn you around and slam you into the wall.

The thought crossed your mind that someone might hear, but what would they do about it? You lived, died and did everything between at the Boss's command, that included letting him use your body anyway he saw fit. Whining much like before when mouth latched to the other side of your neck while he pulled your jumpsuit farther down, you could feel yourself getting wetter as his crotch pressed against you from behind. It was a well known fact that the Boss was packing some serious heat, but now feeling the real thing straining against thin layers of fabric you couldn't help but feel intimidated. He backed away for a moment to free himself from his pants, even though things were moving so fast already your entire body burned in anticipation.

"Snake." You moaned as he tugged your underwear down.

The sound of his old codename caught his attention, with a slow exhale he paused as if drinking the title in. His chest met with tour back and you felt his breath hot against your ear while you waited for his reaction.

"Call me John." He told you, the tone of his voice more flirty than demanding.

"John." You sang as he finally slid in.

Leaning into the crate your nails scratched against the metal as you took his entire length inch by inch until he finally bottomed out. By the way you were rocking your hips back into his he assumed he didn't have to wait for you to adjust, the way you were moaning was another thing that gave him permission to start moving.

"So big..." You whined, his newer codename seeming more appropriate at the moment.

Even though it the stretch was more than you were used to you let him continue uninterrupted, the absolute power behind every snap of his hips enough to convince you to let him go on at the current speed. You spread your legs as wide as you could without losing your footing to try and get him as deep as possible, though your body conspired against you as you started to clench around him after only a few pumps. Although you had little preparation, unless you count a fistfight as some form of foreplay, the excitement of the scenario was more than enough; followed by his expansive length reaching places you never before thought possible.

"Already?" He questioned as you made some new undignified noises.

You couldn't even answer or apologize while he was continuing at the same speed. Every thrust driving into your oversensitive core felt more and more intense, leaving you to wonder just how much he was capable of.

"I hope you can go another round." He stated, his speed picking up. "I'm not even close yet."

"No." You mumbled. "Don't stop."

Feeling the grin on his face as he bit down into your shoulder your head started to feel light, unable to feel even the legs you were standing on as you lost yourself in the feeling of being pounded into like it was a punishment. Not even realizing how tight his grasp on your hips was until his hands left to lift your bra then grab your tits as soon as they sprang free, making you cry out when your nipples got pinched between his fingers. The rough massage that ensued gave your mind a new reason to spin while every part of your body fell to the whims of the Boss.

"Where have you been hiding these?" He asked continuing to knead his fingers into your breasts.

"I didn't know you would like them so much." You answered.

Only growling in response it was clear he was focused on the task at hand while he continued to play with your breasts. The soft flesh nearly bruising in his careless grasp, letting up only to feel them jiggle with a few aggressive thrusts.

"Wow you really like them." You pointed out in response to his incresingly feral state.

Hearing him pant and snarl like a wild animal behind you made you desperately want to see the source of those wild sounds, you wondered if his teeth were bared, if his eye was squeezed shut, if his hair was an absolute mess. The expected twinge of shame you felt when thinking of the Boss this way was long gone, replaced by sense of pride in the fact that you were the one putting him in this delirium. Tilting your head back you sighed, happily lost in the rhythmless melody of his body coliding with yours.

"Where do you want it?" He grunted, a building climax apparent in his voice.

"Everywh- I mean, anywhere." You mumbled.

After pulling out he turned you around once again, seeing how he was hurriedly pumping his cock you moved to replace his hand with your own. The image in front of you was nothing short of picturesque, Big Boss himself desperately rutting in your grasp; on it's own nearly enough to make you cum a second time. His deep groans as the first few drops started to flow from the tip of his cock were like a melody, soon to be accompanied by your own when his fingers found your dripping hole.

Throwing your head back you let the hot ropes of cum cover your bare stomach, the highest shots reaching your tits, chest heaving while at the same time his fingers thrusted rapidly into your core. Your body started to shake and contract once again, filling the night with unbelievably lewd sounds. Once both of you caught your breath you took a finger and swiped it across your abdomen, collecting as much cum as you could before licking it off. This earned a devilish smile from the Boss as he looked down in admiration at his handiwork while you put yourself back together.

"I need to get back to barracks before someone sees us." You said while pulling your jumpsuit up.

"No one's gonna see." He told you while redressing himself. "By the way, you're on night gaurd duty for this platform from now on."

"Oh." You replied, buttoning your top. "I hope it doesn't get too lonely out here."

"Don't worry, I'll see to it myself that you have some company." He promised letting the air fill with a tension that would have to be released the next time he came to visit your post.

"You're too kind, John." You replied.

"Getting used to saying that name?" He remarked.

"It's a nice name." You answered, earning a smile from him.

"Just don't forget to call me Boss during training, I know you have a hard time controlling what comes out of your mouth." You weren't sure if that was a flirty quip or an actual insult but either way it made you blush.

"I'll be extra careful, Boss." You cooed.

"Good girl." He responded. "Now get back to your post."

After going you separate ways you were overcome with a flood of hard to pinpoint emotions, though your body was more than satisfied and very sore, you felt a new longing for just a little more time with the Boss. For the rest of the night your mind reeled with questions of what this meant for you, how your relationship was going to change, if you would have to hide it from everyone. The only thing you absolutely knew for certain was that you were definitely looking forward to your next training session.

[jortschronicles]

Dressing the Despencers, pt 2

Part 1

And so it continues. With the supportive underkirtle complete and worn at an event (under a different kirtle of mine) to make it relax the rest of the way, I got the measurements for our Edward and Thomas Despencer and started marking and cutting materials. While I originally believed I would have more than enough of the bronze patterned fabric, I was proven quite wrong and resorted to piecing together several gores and small extensions in the front of the body for Elizabeth and Edward Despencer. The planned change in the last post (bronze body with blue sleeves for Edward and green sleeves for Thomas) was shifted again, back to my ideal of particolor for the married couple and coordinating for the brother in law. I also realized halfway through marking that I was 2 gores and a sleeve shy of enough of the blue, which led to much wailing and gnashing of teeth. I found a similar-enough-at-a-distance blue satin at OKC fabric market, pictured on the right. Flash makes the differences obvious, but there will be very few flash photos taken of this. It'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'm so normal about this.

Because all 3 outfits have similarly sized pieces in similar fabrics, I've taken to organizing them in 3 individual cubes to keep everything straight. It has been a real game changer, and I would recommend it to everybody.

Having cut out and serged everybody's blue and bronze fabric, I dug through my stash of scrap linen to make the lining. I worry the bronze especially won't hang exactly right without lining. Additionally, I'm making the cotes for Edward and Thomas Despencer for a pair of high school seniors who, while I hope they wear an undertunic at the NMF, I plan and prepare for them not to do so. For reasons I cannot fathom, I chose not to serge the lining pieces for Edward Despencer's cote, seen below. Yay, hand finishing.

I usually bag line lined garments, but I also usually make garments in 2 layers of linen. I didn't want a bag lined garment to sag weirdly, so I sandwiched each seam, treating the lining and outer together as one piece of fabric each.

The picture below has two notable features: first, the blue of the body and the blue of the gore are the two different blues. This was proof of concept enough for me to accept the differences aren't terribly noticeable. Second, I did not bother pattern matching the various pieces of of any of the garments. Working from two extremely limited quantities of fabric, I found myself in the position I'd imagine many tailors in period would know well. Laying out pattern pieces over and over, I found the only way to effectively and efficiently use as much of my material as possible is to squeeze things in where I can (while still respecting the grain). I would like to find documentation on this speculation, but I would not be surprised if it is more period to not pattern match fabrics for anything less than a royal coronation garment. And the Despencers, while being played as nouveau riche landed nobility and close friends of the heir apparent, do not have pattern matching and wasting fabric money.

With Edward Despencer's cote largely assembled and waiting until I can do one more test fitting before I add button holes, I started assembling my/Elizabeth Despencer's outer gown. By this time, I decided for the remaining two Despencers to only line the 4 body panels, since that will help the drape enough in my humble opinion.

Don't worry, those gores get scooted up to a better height. I found myself working from Morgan Donner's example of a supportive kirtle, where her gores start where the flare of the bodice in the 4 body panels stops and turns into the straight lines to the floor. I still haven't quite figured out why mine looked so bad and noticeable in comparison to hers (seen below), but my best guess is the difference in drape of material, the fact that Mistress Donner is significantly smaller / less beefy in the hips than I, or that I just straight up placed them wrong.

I do love how much space the dress makes me take up though. It makes the transition from street to court feel a lot easier, I'm playing nobility and I take up space.

Tragedy struck and I realized I was short about an inch across the bust. Still not sure how I managed that, but it was time for a fix. Piecework is period, and I maybe panicked a little and overdid the width, but I added plackets to both sides of the front closure to give me more working room.

Then came the buttons, which I purchased from Bad Baroness buttons. I. Am. Obsessed. I wanted enough to do my front closure to the waist, both boys all the way to the hem, and sleeves for everybody. So I overdid it and bought 150. On my bodice, I spaced them about a button and a half apart to avoid gapping. Because the fabric doesn't play nice with chalk, I ran loose basting stitches to mark my button holes before I made them. Rather than using my wife's fancy new brother with an automatic buttonhole function, I learned how to use the button hole stitches on my old Janome (finally.) Overall, not a bad experience, and it means I don't need to borrow a machine to do buttonholes.

Then came what has been the most stressful point so far. Mistress Elizabeth Caton and Countess Amelot Lisette joined us for an unrelated sewing weekend extravaganza, and I took advantage of their expertise to help with fitting. Thus, the gores got moved up, and the sides taken in more. I really over did it with those front plackets RIP. But tragedy of tragedies, in moving the gores up, I left the dress 4 inches too short in places. Upon consultation with my trusted countesses and friends, we reverted to the original design with the red band and lions at the bottom. I was hesitant to do this because of the cast's restriction of true crimson to the royal family for readability reasons, and because it's not something I see much of in period depictions. However, the rest of the costuming committee reminded me of my own "10 foot squint rule", where if the costume isn't overwhelmingly crimson at 10 feet and squinting, it's fine. And this contemporary depiction of Mary of Waltham (Princess Mary) has a surcoat that appears to have a contrasting band at the bottom which may match gores going up the sides. The decision was made to cut myself some slack and get this workable ASAP.

Much appreciation to Halldora for loaning me her machine and helping me embroider these godforsaken Burghersh lions.

What comes next?

I need to finish the lions on Elizabeth's dress and hem the excess.

I need to add buttons and buttonholes to Elizabeth's sleeves

If the sleeves are too short, I may add contrast red cuffs of the same fabric as the hem, or gold cuffs and embroider them with the Glamorgan chevronelly in the Despencer arms

Buttons down the front of Edward Despencer, and close his sleeves. It's been fitted, and I had to add the button placket of despair to his garb as well.

Seam finishing for Edward :) since I didn't serge the lining for some reason :) I hate myself :) i've at least already started this.

Assemble and line Thomas's cote. I will definitely need a button placket on his too, I girlbossed too close to the sun and made the chests just a wee bit too tight for their comfort. For Thomas's, I'm going to embrace the pieced look and use some dark brown linen for the center closure.

Dye and attach the false sleeves for Thomas, they're going to be a lovely green :)

Hems and necklines for everyone!!

If i have time and spoons, I would LOVE to put some mammen scrollwork embroidery on at least one of the boys' cotes.

I am attending Ansteorra's Laurel's Prize Tournament this coming weekend and hope to have enough done on the Despencers' clothes to present them, so fingers crossed!

[pigeonwhumps]

Contract 2

Bug and Company masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch @whumplr-reader

Introducing Bug's primary handler.

696 words

CWs: BBU, pet whump, whumper pov, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper (sadism only mentioned), dehumanisation, institutional pet whump, mentions of breaking people, mentions of torture

Bill jerks awake when the papers slap him in the chest.

"I wasn't asleep, and they're secure anyway," he murmurs. Then he sees who's standing over him and scrambles backwards. "Shaniqua. You're 134U's primary?"

"The one and only." She smirks down at him. "You're lucky it is me. Sleeping on the job? What would people think?"

Bill shrugs. "The paperwork's finished, this sofa's comfortable, and the new pet isn't doing anything interesting."

"I didn't think you'd have finished staring at their tits yet. Apparently, I was wrong."

"You were. I mean they're cute, and their tits are gorgeous, but there's not enough fear there yet. There's only so long you can watch a pet stay in one place when you're unable to do anything to them."

"You should become a handler. We'd love to have you."

"But then I wouldn't get to watch the intake. That's the fun part, especially with defiant ones. Getting to watch their fear and resignation."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me." She whistles sharply. "726E, heel."

A young man trots into the room carrying two plates of food and a jug of water. Bill raises an eyebrow. Shaniqua doesn't usually eat while she works.

"The nachos are for you. And you'll see what I'm doing with the rest of it. 726E, place everything on the coffee table."

726E obeys, then kneels gracefully at Shaniqua's feet. She ruffles his hair.

"Good boy."

Bill remembers this one, he thinks. One of his most defiant intakes initially, but so quick to snap like a twig at the first hint of pain.

"Entertainment class, huh? What tricks can he do?"

Shaniqua grins. "Roll over. Play dead. Freeze."

The pet freezes like a statue, one arm and a leg in the air.

"Okay, back to default."

He moves back to a knelt position at Shaniqua's feet.

"You've done wonders on him," says Bill admiringly. "Final test today?" Shaniqua nods. "How do I help? Surprisingly, my shift has never actually ended up coinciding with one before."

She chucks a mostly-full notebook onto his lap. "Stay with him while he watches the new intake, and write down whenever he has any sort of reaction to it. I need to make sure they're in line with what his prospective wants."

"Gotcha. Can I play with him?"

"Later. If you promise to be extra good in bed tonight."

Bill grins, already relishing the thought of both. "Now that's a deal I can get behind."

"Excellent." She pats the carpet at Bill's feet, and 726E crawls over, kneeling there instead. Then she wanders over to the intake room (plate and jug in hand) and peers through the floor-to-ceiling window at the new pet. "Certainly cute. Good call on the hair, by the way. I'm surprised though. That's a lot of restraints, even for you. Your manipulation skills going?"

"The information their foster parents gave was sparse, and they don't have a lot that I can guess they care about. Brute force was the best way to go."

Shaniqua whistles lowly. "Okay, yeah, I get it. Not so easy to use that. Wow. I feel like I'm gonna have a lot of fun with them."

Bill chuckles. He knows she enjoys using the more advanced methods to break and rebuild pets, that's why she did extra training, but she doesn't always get much of a chance.

"Just... I don't know, be a little careful? We spent a lot of money on them. You remember how long you had to spend training on X-designated pets before you learned where to stop."

Shaniqua flips him off without looking, and he smiles. She gets irritated by him constantly bringing that up, but it's true. She probably has the highest track record of Xs entirely destroyed. It's a good thing that's why they keep them.

Shaniqua squares her shoulders, grins, and saunters into the intake room. The door locks automatically with a quiet snick, a sound all pets learn to be afraid of.

He picks up a cheese-covered nacho and pops it in his mouth, nudging the pet at his feet to make sure he's in his peripheral vision. Now to sit back and enjoy the show.

[samijey]

Based on your last answer, do you think even after everything Sami kind of doesn't Associate Jey with the bloodline? Like separate almost, like he knows Jey doesn't want to be there? He legit felt safe enough to approach him alone in a dark corner not even entertaining the fact Jey could attack him.

It's like Roman and Sami both know Jey has one foot out the door, his heart isn't in it, he just needs the right push, hear the right thing. Sami is trying to talk to him, Roman lies, manipulates and apparently now trying to murder him. Jey is torn, I love they didn't drop this. It's still so clear, who knows what would have happened if Solo came down and got his ass back in gear. It's only a matter of time and everyone but Jey knows this.

As a reader and writer Jey is so compelling.

God anon I have so many thoughts about everything you just said... for me, the moment Jey stood up for Sami at the trial, he became... okay this is going to sound corny but bear with me, he became the shining light in Sami's life - Sami had already betrayed Kevin and likely felt so bad about it that he'd temporarily given up hope of ever making amends with his best friend.

After months and months of puting himself through constant physical pain and even worse emotional pain, always walking on eggshells because Roman would constantly test him over and over, and he was never quite sure whether a beat down was just around the corner or not, Sami had visibly had enough at that point.

I believe Paul burying him at the trial and no one saying a word to dispute his claims was the final drop for Sami and he was just about done - this is my interpretation given the fact that he did not present a defense and that when Solo went to spike him, Sami did not struggle and instead looked resigned, as if he was thinking "it was good while it lasted but deep down I knew I'd never find a place to belong." We know that's what Sami's always wanted - either as a heel or as a face, Sami's character always works the angle of wanting respect - the Bloodline provided that for him and it came with the added bonus of companionship and essentially a family that he loved.

No wonder Sami was so happy in the Bloodline for that brief period when things were good - he had respect, he had a place to belong and he had a family??? What an amazing deal!

So when it looked like all of that had crumpled to dust at the trial, that's the moment Jey stops Solo's arm and that's when everything changes and suddenly Sami has another chance and holy shit this guy he worked so hard to befriend loves him to the point of sticking out his neck for him??? For Sami Zayn, the eternal underdog? The conspiracy victim? The guy who got mocked constantly backstage by his peers? The person who had marred Roman's win/loss record with that ugly defeat on Smackdown against KO and Cena? And after he'd promised a victory too? Damn.

Like, anyone in Sami's position would have been absolutely taken with Jey in that moment, that act likely meant everything to Sami and that's a big reason why he can't stop trying to save this man who saved him at a time when he probably felt unwanted and unloved. Jey stepped up and told everyone that Sami was not only loved but also wanted in this family - the fans all putting their ones up was such a beautiful cherry on top of all this 😭😭

So yes, I'd say Sami sees Jey as "separate" from the Bloodline in some way - he very much knows Jey wants out (he can see it all over Jey's face just like we at home do!) and he keeps hoping that talking to Jey will give him the push he needs but clearly it's not working so we know something substantial is going to happen to finally make Jey snap out of it and it will be PAINFUL.

And finally, to your last point about how, as a reader and writer, Jey is so compelling? YES, I FEEL YOU! I mean, just look at the lenghts and lenghts of text I've been writing in these replies, clearly I'm not okay 😭🤧🤧

[azuresins]

I enjoy your theory and I see the connections you've made. To R!Ciel it would be more about power and control, over his brother. He doesn't fancy the idea of him becoming a man of his own right someday at all, he wants complete access at all times and to know exactly where he is. Ironic, but almost like to R!Ciel, his brother is his favorite toy. I still have a question, that's bothering me though? You don't need to answer this because I have a feeling what you'll suggest but. Who do you think might have began to "help him" achieve his goals only to betray him in such a violent way?

Power and control, yes. You get it. This is a long reply... I believe the Queen / John Brown were the ones who were looking for any excuses at all, to launch an attack on the Phantomhives because for one, they like to do it to test them, the ones that do test them seem to enjoy it. The Queen and her servants just came full-throttle the moment they thought, oh wait! This is actually a deep betrayal worth taking them all out in fell swoop, actually! Let us not forget what we learned, in the Book of Murder Arc. Even when the Queen was allegedly, on good terms with O!Ciel... Just for being mildly displeased with him, and how he handled the Circus Arc. That apparently warranted... Grey (and Phipps, but mostly Grey) introducing themselves by violently breaking into the Manor, and immediately engaged Mey and Bard into a fight. A fight that was serious enough to draw blood, involved lethal weapons, and was able to do serious damage to both Bard and Mey, before Sebastian had to intervene and stop it (with a CREAM puff? No less). They did this, just to test the security of the Manor.

Grey, eventually as we all remember, tried full-on murder Sebastian. So, why ... wouldn't any of the Queen's servants subject Vincent, to the same kind of treatments, when he became the Watchdog? If I recall correctly, he was also pretty young when he took on responsibility? I'm sure they did. I'm sure he was constantly being tested. Vincent was confident about his own security, I don't doubt that part. While he knew it was possible, that he wouldn't live a long life and something could happen to him (He said as much to Dietrich, and it's also not-out-of-the-question considering his Mothers life ended earlier than most) ... I don't think he saw "that day" coming, not in the way that it did, obviously.

Therefore I don't put it outside the realm of possibilities that Vincent couldn't have possibly predicted, something like that happening at all. That perhaps love, clouded any hope or prayer of Real Ciel's motivations being noticed, that it was dismissed as nothing but mischief. If someone hated Vincent enough to manipulate his own son, to get his child involved in such a dark and terrifying matters. Who. Well... I imagine a lot of people hate Vincent for his position and he had a lot of enemies. But it had to be someone close, and someone who could make direct correspondence to the Queen.

Vincent dealt with a lot of shady people, some rich and powerful, much like Our!Ciel does... and I imagine, he tried to keep them away from his family as much as possible... but that's a lot easier said, than done. Especially if there's an ally in your mist that you trust enough to let in that close, but is actually out to betray you. Look at Madam Red. Our!Ciel didn't see it coming until all other possibilities were eliminated. I'm sure he didn't want it to be her, someone so close and dear to him, but it was. It was.

I'm sincerely sorry that I keep saying this because I understand people don't like it, but it needs to be said that. Alexis Midford is someone who also works for the Queen and outranks the Phantomhive Family in social status. Alexis was Dietrich's fag, at Weston. Alexis then married Vincent's sister, and had two children with her. I imagine Vincent felt he knew everything he possibly could about this man, and could trust him no matter what. He became family. That ... does give me pause. "But Alexis loves our!Ciel!" So it would seem. I've said it once and I'll say it again, I don't take anyone in this manga, at face value. Even a seemingly happy and upbeat character like Elizabeth, was harboring a huge secret about herself. Did anyone actually predict Grelle's twist? ... I doubt it. There's always been more to key players in this story, than meets the eye, it's a common running theme. There's also two other prefects, from Vincent's Weston College days we don't know much about at all and whether or not they had much to do with what happened. (Who the HELL, is Lord Polaris? I'm sure a lot of people want to know.) There's one prefect shown for Violet House, with concealed eyes ... and the other, from the snooty-upperclass-I'm-rich-and-everyone-loves-me Red House. I'm not sure I enjoy, the way this nameless Red House Prefect was shown, holding onto Vincent's chair like that, almost with more familiarity than Dietrich in the photograph. Who the hell is he? A relative of Druitt, maybe? If so. I don't trust Druitt, or anyone in that family. The entire Red House, gives me pause. Druitt gets dismissed a lot now as comic relief, but let us not be so quick to forget his black market auctions and that he was willing to drug people at his parties... that he was willing to sell a what he thought was a little girl on the black market, and he managed to get away with it ... because he has money. Come to think of it (this was pointed out by a non-fandom blog, but they don't want to be tagged and I will respect it) What the fuck, WAS Lizzie doing, unoccupied at Viscount Druitt's party? Madame Red didn't seem to know she was there. Paula was no where to be seen. Edward was no where to be seen. Our Ciel didn't know she was there. Sebastian didn't expect her to be there. She was a JUMP scare. Francis likely wouldn't have allowed her to come by herself, to a party like that, thrown by a man with such a reputation -- Madam Red suspected Druitt was sleazy, so clearly, she would have too. WHO, then, pray tell, did she come to that party with and was happy to take her there? Someone let her ride in a carriage all the way to Druitt's nasty house of horrors... and seemed confident, she'd be safe. It's not helping Alexis out. He's not beating my suspicion, alright? It could be any number of people, there's a lot of options, but I am staring at him and I don't trust him because at the end of the day... the shoe fits. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced he had something to do with it.

(As a side note: I also don't know why people give UT so much crap, for not being able to stop the slaughter, or find the twins... his mental state is shot to hell and his moral compass is a little out of wack with his dolls and how he sees them. But he's strong, and he's motivated by love and we know that, but clearly, the Queen has someone stronger around her, at all times. Our!Ciel can not be, the only person who wants/wanted her dead. If it was suspected that Undertaker might have tried to intervene, someone would have stopped him before he even got within miles of the Estate. Perhaps, even John Brown himself. This was a well calculated attack, they even tied the DOG up and muzzled it -- someone did that from inside the manor, knowing what would happen. I am extremely suspicious, that we have yet to see John Brown's eyes... and the way he coddles Victoria with that stupid little puppet. I also find it interesting that Grey, Phipps, and Brown all have this white hair and pristine white clothing... and the Undertaker also has this same white hair, but in contrast, he seems to have strong distaste for the queen, dresses...like that, and lives like a damn raccoon. Yana said when she draws his hair she tried to make it clear that it's a little unkept and dirty. It may mean nothing... but it is an interesting design choice, and it was also interesting narratively that up until the Campania Arc, we didn't see Undertaker's eyes. I think Yana did that on purpose, to make us realize, heyyyy, eyes are important! There's another character who's eyes we haven't seen yet! . . . why is that?)

[bunny-hoodlum]

Saw you mention ADHD inattentive? And I had not heard the specific kind of adhd but what you described sounds true to me (also can’t do a diagnosis right now). But I’d consider myself a very creative person. I want to create freely like I did as a child, improve, and excel but I struggle with the motivation. I end up scrolling on my phone or watching tv. How do you manage that or deal with it without being hard on yourself? Thank you for your time!

So I've been looking into ADHD more seriously in the past three years. I've had bouts of anhedonia and the most recent one last for two years and it got to the point where I couldn't even watch or read two-seconds of anything without it feeling utterly painful and I had no idea what the hell that was about. But I at least had the awareness after it happened often enough that my attention span was fucked and I genuinely didn't seen to latch onto or enjoy anything anymore and I thought 'Wow, guess this is adulthood for me, sheesh'.

I also thought back to myself as kid growing up, some things I knew I did and some things I did that had been told me. Apparently my dad thought I might be autistic when I was 4, but never followed up on that. Nobody cared that I was a good test taker but rarely ever turned in homework. Oh, ooh, she must just not care, wah. My mom told me stories as an infant that align with me being an HSP baby, and I def have Rejection Dysphoria which is kinda getting better but sometimes still results in petty Splitting spirals. 😅

Sorry, none of this has to do with your question but maybe it'll useful to someone else. 😅

So the funny thing is, I am not addicted to social media. 😭 I barely use it. So I don't have anything personal I provide about that, but you could try going minimal on your phone. Just dummy the hell out of it. Remove apps, etc. I know companies be breaking how their shit works on mobile browser, at least for me, the site gets app-blocked basically. "Open in App", "Get our App", ugh. 🙄😮‍💨 But when you make distractions harder to get to, you can readjust your reliance on it. Backtracking slightly, I used this method to cut off my 'addiction' to Reddit. I still rly don't get hooked on socmed otherwise. 🤔 I always bookmark stuff or keep the tabs open, and say I'll get to it later. 😅 I'm always accruing things for myself or some creative endeavor. I kinda relate to Markiplier in that way, that the only time he hangs with his friends or makes friends is if it's during a project. His whole life rotates around the next idea and the next idea. 😅 Forgive me, I'm rambling quite a bit.

Tldr; make distractions more inconvenient, lol.

If you feel like your symptoms are unmanageable, their could be other disorders that you need to take care of. Some ADHD-havers need stimulants and others need anti-depressants.

I'm a stimulant-type. I started taking a $30 B-complex supplement when I noticed that Monster energy made me feel better. I get high caffeine blend plus 2 shots of espresso from my preferred gas station. As a female, I had to pay attention to my PMS symptoms making me sleepier than ever. Some shit got out of balance and I was a goner for the following two weeks.

Your next question about not beating yourself up. My suggestion is trying meditation, maybe getting an ONO roller or something like it, something to make your hands busy when you're trying to devote your attention to something. Just focus on clearing away the background processes of anxiety in your internal task manager and try to visualize how you'll feel when you get that thing done.

Like, I still procrastinate on folding the laundry. It'll literally take me 20 mins or less and I can watch videos while I do it, but I just don't for rly no good reason. 😅 But it's better to feel guilty while doing the thing you've been avoiding, then feeling better after becuz it's done. And then maybe the guilt lessens becuz you've created this routine and positive association, 'Hey, I can do this thing. Hey, this actually takes no time at all.' You know?

I'm no expert and everyone's experience is different. But I recommend looking into it more for yourself. The HowToADHD channel is a pretty good one to start with. They are like the definitive channel for sure. I know that Dr. K put out smthn a couple years ago as well, but all in all, you can only do your best and try to retrain how you do things. There's stuff too like the Pomodoro Effect... 🤔 Just try to find what works for you! Even rn I'm so distracted with writing that I haven't been drawing at all, so I'm just managing myself, pretty much just scraping by. 😅

Oh yeah, I started opening all the cabinets to make putting dishes away easier. Idk if that's useful to you, lol. ADHD requires quirky solutions, haha.

Sorry this turned out so long! I'm wishing you all the luck! 🙏🤗

[mamamittens]

I was super wiped today, had a headache, had to take out my ponytail and cosplay a Witch of the Wastes with my bushy ass hair free (coworker legit thought I was a whole different person and I can't blame her. My thick ass hair was actively trying to eat my face), and got minimal work done at home.

As far as the Oh Shit Sale is going, I've got down one sponsorship, I'm tinkering mentally on the second (not confident how I'm going to transition to the next parts ngl), and a pending commission so honestly, not doing too bad. Things are looking up financially outside of the sale so I'm hoping once the slots are filled (or even before!) I can retire it. We'd be pretty clear if we didn't all have debts outside of the house itself but it is what it is I suppose.

Anyway! Sleepy ramble time! Back at it with Nikia and the Bois!

So, yesterday I had some fun thoughts about how things would fall into place and it's into slightly hindered by my relative lack of knowledge for Izou. I do feel my vibe check of "can be in charge, would rather not unless shenanigans" is accurate. He just wants to vibe to his own thing.

And I've considered Thatch pretty well by this point. Strikes me as a bit of a poon hound tbh, which is an interesting thought if I'm going with Thatch/Izou ship. At the very least Thatch is fully capable of being a perv if his idea of a 'perfect devil fruit' is the clear clear fruit for exactly the reason most middle school boys want invisibility... And the current holder for that matter.

Considering who Izou was a retainer for, IE a man who whored around so hard a literal war started apparently, then he likely isn't that upright about strict monogamy. There are definitely boundaries he'll have (if my understanding of harems are clear, he'd likely have a rule about protection/no babies, cause that's main baddy privileges and Izou isn't a side hoe) but I haven't decided how far that goes. At the very least he probably entertains side lovers and Thatch testing the waters for a more included lover.

But between the two of them, Izou is probably the more sensible one. He's the one to draw lines and pull Thatch back into reality when he goes swooning on a tangent. That's not to say he's immune to flights of fancy or bad decisions, he's just less likely have issues like Thatch does.

So he's not surprised when Thatch sees a pretty woman for all of five seconds and starts to pursue her. He IS entertained by how basically feral she is, only barely holding onto her hosting duties while Thatch flits about. Only to wind up in nearly the same position as she accommodates him awkwardly but sincerely.

She's not good with people, borderline burnt out from Thatch being ridiculous, and would clearly rather curl up and sleep for a week. But she still goes out of her way to ensure Izou is comfortable and gives them privacy with plenty of warning about free time. Casually mentioning where the laundry room is so they can clean up after themselves.

Okay, so he thinks it's fucking hilarious Thatch's would-be-lover is doing her best to wingman, but the gestures are still quite sweet for someone Izou just knows wants them gone already. Also a bit of a pushover, so he worries a little about her managing the cabin with so many possible creeps out there. (Izou is far from a hero but what man doesn't like showing how capable he is? Thatch is definitely worse about it though).

Izou falls after countless conversations and many sweet, loving gestures. Thatch is enchanted at first sight and just keeps finding reasons he was right to trust his gut.

Nikia, though not showing it very well, loves having amicable company. Envying their relationship together but ultimately happy they're happy. She realizes she's in love when she notices how happy their calls make her. Proof they still think of her. And then she quietly tucks it away, refusing to ruin their dynamic because she doesn't know what else to do with a crush--having not really bothered with that before. (Her 'ignorance' is only mostly genuine. the rest is a concerted effort to not read into their interactions with her, even though Thatch is barely a step away from serenading her if it means getting his point across. Thankfully he's stabbed before that happens or she would have died from embarrassment).

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e14 trial and error (w. andrew dabb)

is this when the trials happen? i haven't read much stuff with specifics around those. nonsense but 5am and it's that bright out and it's january?? where??? lol (not on a boat in missouri)

the sentimental music while dean is setting up his room again reminds me of princess bride. think i've made that comment before (yes: speaking of manufactured conflict, this thing with garth and dean over bobby. dean snapping at him, garth getting upset. mushy music that reminds me of the princess bride)

s8e14 dean and mushy music / the princess bride once upon a time...storybook love c. mark knopfler

strings with that plucked acoustic guitar apparently is the princess bride sound to me

and oh have i heard about the memory foam mattress lol

that they stopped a pretty blurry shaky pan across the room to focus on the bed is making me laugh way too hard

sweet moment, letting us see sam is happy with dean settling in

.... okay.

LOL he picked him up like a toddler, that was adorable

SAM So, what – God wants us to take the SATs? KEVIN I-I guess. Uh, he works in mysterious ways. DEAN Yeah, mysterious, douche-y ways. All right. Where do we start?

SAM I know. I do. But trust me on this – this whole "saving the world" thing – it's a marathon, not a sprint. You got to take better care of yourself.

really nice (dad) moment there with sam and kevin

meanwhile dean swooping in to be the irresponsible drug supplying dad and give him groceries

ma'am

you sent dean on a face journey

CINDY Really? Keep it coming, Ken doll.

oh now sam gets called ken doll, dean was too back at biggerson's s7e9 from the reaver side effect of the turducken leviathan ooze

SAM Right. [SAM leans into DEAN's phone.] Hey, Kevin, uh, you did great, man. Get some sleep.

dad sam with the positive reinforcement, love to see it

DEAN Crowley. Poncy guy, about yea big, mountain of dicks.

--

SAM Uh, they're on lockdown, and you need backup. DEAN No, I don't. SAM Yes, you do. DEAN No, I need you to be safe, Sam, okay? That's what I need. SAM What? What am I – when are WE ever safe? DEAN This is different. SAM How? DEAN Because of the three trials crap – God's little obstacle course. We've been down roads like this before, man – with Yellow-Eyes, Lucifer, Dick friggin' Roman. We both know where this ends – one of us dies... Or worse. SAM So, what – you just up and decided it's gonna be you? DEAN I'm a grunt, Sam. You're not. You've always been the brains of this operation. SAM Dean— DEAN And you told me yourself that you see a way out. You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't. But I tell you what I do know – it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and – and – and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get. So I'm gonna do these trials. I'm gonna do them alone – end of story. You're staying here. I'm going out there. If landshark comes knocking, you call me. If you try to follow me, I'm gonna put a bullet in your damn leg.

intermission for me to sob for a while. i hate when he's like this. i hate how little he values himself at times because it slams into suicidal so fast. and of course because they're settling into a home, they're both happy, the show had to do it. and then how they ended the series.. maybe someday i'll come to be okay with dean dying at 42, but today isn't that day. i need to just finish watching this

glad we get to see the hellhounds finally and that they went a route that we can't see much and worked to the strengths of the cgi

DEAN Sam, I didn't pass the test. SAM But I did... And I'm doing the rest of them. DEAN My ass you are! SAM I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. DEAN Sam... SAM I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it. DEAN Sam, be smart. SAM I AM smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.

that's what dean and i needed to hear too. thank you, sam. and thank you dean for not fighting him on it.

i know how this plotline wraps up, more or less, but none of the details. thinking about my fuckup vs righteous man feelings, how sam is regularly put in that role of having to apologize for messing up. but has made these two big sacrifices. the pit for ruby, the trials for amelia. but i've also been in my sam feelings more lately so my read on anything might be skewed. gotta take turns getting tortured by some deity/deity-adjacent-thing