#ask and i shall reply

[pollenallergie]

cassie my love, i need more of this in my life. getting high post-sex w older!tom just seems soooooo <3

So…. it took me an embarrassing amount of months to get back to you on this but um…. here you go… this took a turn??? and then a swift turn back in the other direction???? so um…. horny whiplash warning??? ig????

Tagging @ali-r3n bc she asked me to and also @ghosttownwherenoonegoes because Eri helped me out with a lot of the british specifics (the britifics??) so thank youuuu

Okay, okay, without further ado:

Your First Introduction to Older!Tom’s Post-Sex Ritual

(except I can’t stick to a prompt)

Word Count: 2.1 k

Warnings: Nudity, allusions to sex and also some *ehm* inappropriate touching, reader has boobies and a bajina.

18+ only!! MDNI!! Minors do not read this!!! This is not for you!!!! This is for adults only!!!

“Fuuuuuck,” Tom exhales as he lays on his back, staring up at your bedroom ceiling.

“Fuck,” you agree weakly, still slowly drifting down from cloud nine. Tom chuckles at your response as he sits up and eases out of bed. You smile at the sweet sound of his laughter, though you don’t immediately register the movement; still just a bit too far gone.

When Tom struts past your line of sight, still naked as the day he was born, on his way out of the room, that movement manages to catch your attention finally. You frown, at first, because you were already missing him, and then because you were disappointed in yourself for already missing him. Casual, this is just casual, keep it casual, you remind yourself. Tom doesn’t do the whole dating thing, you know that, so keep things platonic and casual. Don’t scare him off.

Suddenly, you’re pulled out of your internal self-lecture by the sound of a distant, but not distant enough, crash and Tom exclaiming, “shit!”

You sit up as quickly as you’re able to, your whole body still feeling pretty limp and boneless after Tom spent the better half of the evening pulling as many orgasms from you as he could. Once you’re upright, you call out, “Tom? Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah. Shit! Er, yeah, just, erm- hang on,” Tom calls back. You hear more shuffling and clattering from the other room, and then you hear the undeniable creak in the floorboards from Tom’s heavy-footed steps as he approaches the bedroom. Soon enough, he appears in the doorway, still shamelessly nude but now with a joint in hand and a sheepish expression on his face.

“Have you got a lighter or, er, matches or anything like that? I tried looking ‘round for either of ‘em, but erm… Yeah, I couldn’t find anything,” he asks, his cheeks blushing as he carries on.

“Is that what all that crashing was?” You ask amusedly, failing to stifle the grin that curls on your lips.

“Yeah… I erm, I might’ve knocked some of yer shit over,” Tom admits sheepishly.

“Tommy,” you say, your tone a perfect mix of amused, exasperated, disappointed, and scolding.

“But, but!! But I put it all back, and none of it’s broken. Swear on me granda’s grave,” he promises.

You can’t help but roll your eyes fondly at that before chastising him a bit, good-naturedly, of course, “Don’t swear on that poor man’s grave. Knowing you, you probably already put him through enough when he was alive.”

Tom chuckles, “Fair enough,” he concedes before raising up the joint to draw your attention back to it, and then simply asking, “Lighters? Matches?”

“Er, right. Lighters. Kitchen, the counter to the left of the fridge, top drawer, it’s my catch-all drawer, there should be a few lighters in there, take your pick,” you inform him.

Tom grins at your response as he makes his way over to the bed. His grin widens tenfold and becomes much more smug when he notices your gaze flit down toward his cock, which gracelessly flops around with his strides, still limp and spent from your previous activities. When he reaches your side of the bed, he places his hand down on the mattress near your thigh, using it to support his weight as he leans over and plants a kiss on the crown of your head. He holds his lips there for a few moments, softly inhaling the residual scent of your shampoo as he does so, deciding to allow you both to enjoy this moment of peace without even being truly aware that that’s what he’s doing.

When Tom finally breaks away, he leans down to whisper into your ear, “Don’t get any ideas, love,” he warns cheekily, “You and that heavenly little place between your thighs milked my cock dry; don’t think I’ll be able to get it up again anytime soon,” he finishes teasingly before kissing you again, this time pressing his lips against your cheek to punctuate his teasing.

You scoff and stifle a smile as you push him away. Cocky little bastard, you think.

Tom holds his hands up in surrender as he backs away from the bed, joint still clutched between his index and middle finger and a smug grin still on his face.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, baby. It’s yer fault for bein’ greedy,” he teases as he walks off into the other room, still refusing to put on clothes.

God, how are you supposed to keep your feelings in check when he treats you like that? He’s just one of your mates, and yet he treats you better than many of the dickheads you’ve dated in the past ever had, better than some of your mates’ current partners treat them, even.

As if he can sense that you’ve begun to spiral from the other room, Tom calls out to you, effectively pulling you out of your fretting, “Ay, me lover, think I’m gonna light up and make meesen a bacon butty. You want anything while I’m out ‘ere? Water? Bacon butty? Some wine? This Crunchie you’ve got hidden in your cupboard? Actually, wait, nevermind, I call dibs on the Crunchie.”

“Maybe some wa- Hey, wait, Tom, no! Leave that Crunchie alone! I’ve been saving that!”

Of course, you frantically try to get up to rescue your precious candy bar from Tom’s thieving grasp. However, your legs are still a little unsteady, which forces you to walk to the kitchen looking like a newborn giraffe, all while Tom’s grating (read: annoyingly sexy) chuckle fills the space of your flat.

You find him cock out, lit joint pursed between his lips, standing in front of your stove, hands on his hips, heating up a frying pan for his bacon, and, annoyingly, nowhere near your candy stash.

“I haven’t got any bacon, so, it’ll just be a butty, I’m afraid. No use heating up a pan for that,” you grumble as you walk over to the cupboard where you stash your candy. Might as well snag that Crunchie before he can.

At the sound of your voice, Tom turns around and looks at you, bemused, albeit amused as well, and says, “the fuck are you doing out ‘ere on those wobbly li’l legs, Bambi?”

His words come out a bit muffled, thanks to the joint perched between his lips.

“Thought you were gonna steal my Crunchie,” you shrug and admit sheepishly through a mouthful of chocolate and honeycomb. At that, Tom barks out a laugh, which quickly morphs into a cough from accidentally inhaling during said laugh. He promptly removes the joint from between his lips, ashes it in the makeshift ashtray he’s made out of foil, clears his throat, and goes back to smoking.

“Jesus, you’re a strange one, aren’t you,” he remarks fondly, his voice slightly hoarse from coughing, as he begins to gather the ingredients for his sandwich.

“I’m very serious about my Crunchies,” you reply, half-jokingly.

Tom chuckles as he rifles through your fridge.

“Yeah, I’m well aware of that now,” he replies, pausing to inhale before continuing to speak on his exhale, “Sit down at the table then, yeah? I’ll get you some water and make us some toasties if that sounds alright?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay,” you agree awkwardly as you sit down nearby at your kitchen table, watching him as he works on preparing the food.

Soon enough, he comes over to you with a glass of water and that same cheeky smile.

God, that smile will get you in so much trouble someday, won’t it?

“What’s that grin for?” You ask as he sets down the water, though you can’t help but reciprocate it with a smile of your own.

He shrugs before leaning over to press his lips against yours, moaning into the kiss when you needily take the initiative to deepen it, parting your lips eagerly for him. Far too soon for your liking, though, he’s breaking the kiss, pulling away just slightly to look into your eyes with his lovely brown ones.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really, really great tits?” Tom asks, his voice low, sultry, and serious, but you can see the mischief swimming in his gaze.

You roll your eyes and scoff at his question, leaning back in your seat, though anyone could see the amused smile you fail to keep from tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah, you have like a million times since we started hooking up,” you reply with a chuckle.

“What can I say? I’m a man of honesty,” Tom teases, making you huff out a laugh; he smiles at the sound of it before holding up the joint in your line of sight and asking, “Do you want to take a few tokes ‘a this while I finish up our sandwiches?”

You nod and purse your lips, and, as if it were already second nature to him, Tom slots the joint between your lips.

Instead of immediately going off to work on the food, he sticks around to watch you take your first few puffs, still leaning down so he’s just about at eye level with you, his hands boxing you in on either side, one palm pressed onto the tabletop and the other holding onto the back of your chair. Meanwhile, you sit diagonally in your seat, facing him and maintaining eye contact as you smoke. The haze of your high slowly but surely begins to set in, lowering your eyelids to a relaxed level and easing your posture. Between your new relaxed state, the sex hair you’re sporting, the fact that you smell like you’ve just got done having sex, the fact that you’re completely naked right now, and the fact that you’re, well, you, Tom thinks you might be one of the prettiest things he’s ever fucking seen in his whole life.

But he mustn’t forget about the toasties!

So, he plants one last kiss on your cheek because, hey, he fucking feels like it. Then, he surprises you by kneeling in front of you to say goodbye to ‘his girls’ (your tits).

“I’ll see you ladies in a minute, yeah? Be good while I’m gone, try not to miss me too much,” he whispers to them, making you giggle.

“Tom, you’re so fucking wei-” That (affectionate) jab immediately dies on your tongue the moment he leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples, engulfing it in the warm, wet heat of his mouth and applying just enough pressure to make a heated, buzzing sensation spread beneath your skin as he sucks on it. Then, just as you feel that pleasant sensation spread down through your core, Tom’s pulling away, but only so he can give your other, neglected nipple the same attention.

Small mewls and moans spill out from between your parted lips as the long forgotten joint, still clutched between your fingers, hovers over your table, where the ashes fall from it carelessly, sure to leave a mark. Once Tom’s had his fill, he places a final kiss to the center of your chest before pulling away completely and leaving to go finish preparing your sandwiches, waltzing back over to the stove as if he hadn’t just done, well, that.

“Tom… what the fuck was that?” You ask breathlessly. Still too bewildered to notice the damage the neglected joint is doing to the surface of your table.

Tom has to stifle a cheeky, mischievous grin as he feigns nonchalance, shrugs, and simply replies, “Just giving the ladies a proper goodbye, love. They get nervy when I leave ‘em just out of the blue. You know, separation anxiety, and all that?” Tom tuts, “Poor girls. Think maybe you should start keeping a couple pictures of me in your bra, one in each cup, so they can still see me when I’m not around.”

“Tommy, you’re ridiculous,” you laugh as he dishes up the toasties onto plates and turns off the stovetop.

“Ridiculous…ly fit? I know, baby, but why don’t you finish that glass of water and eat some of that sandwich before you go jumpin’ me bones again, yeah? Gotta stay fed and hydrated,” He teases you as he brings the plates over to the table.

“Oh, and, you’re ashing on yer table, love,” Tom informs you with a kiss on the head as he sets the plates down and goes to grab a wet rag to wipe the table off with, along with the makeshift ashtray.

“Shit!” you exclaim as you lift the joint away from the table. You hand it to him when he gets back, trading it off for the rag so you can wipe up the mess you’ve made whilst he gets everything else sorted.

Tom tuts and shakes his head, feigning disapproval, “that’s the devil’s lettuce, it’ll do that to you.”

“Shut up, Tommifer,” you reply, feigning annoyance all while sporting an amused smile. He chuckles at that, though he also appreciates the fact that you neglected to call him ‘Thomas,’ his full first name, when you very easily could’ve.

“Eat yer toastie, me birdie,” He says as he nudges you teasingly, “sooner you finish it, sooner I can get back between those thighs, yeah?”

[praublem-child]

I would ask if ur good but once you cross 300k minutes on Spotify wrapped you should just, have a therapist and 20,000 dollars materialize on your bed tbh.

Lmao. I wish that were the case so badly. All my problems would be solved /hj

[chloesimaginationthings]

I want to eat your art

It's beautiful

Michael is also what first caught my eye but im staying for the entire style

I understand why Michael caught your eye first,,

[mochiwei]

Yo Whit. I got a new sketchbook and am so paralyzed on what to draw. How do? What do?

Yo anon I go through sketchbook paralysis too!! I try to break in sketchbooks by drawing my favorite memes, no lie.

That way whenever I open it up I see my favorite pics first ☺️ also it’s a great drawing exercise!

Some of my favorite memes on one page ⬆️

I also like drawing my sister’s cats. ⬇️

Also it helps to know if your sketchbook is going to be one for showing other people (like for art classes, or compiling traditional art) or just for you.

If the sketchbook is for a class or portfolio, you can use mixed media in it and post-it notes to keep things organized and readable!

If it’s just for you, get as messy as you like and have fun! Some of my personal sketchbook pages are just me doing the same drawing over and over again for practice lol

I hope this helps, and happy drawing!

[mewvore]

Seeing the asks where people are like “Woah, you’re a fetish artist?!!!????” Is funny cause what I have gleaned nearly half of all popular artists and shitposters online aren’t trying to hard to hide what they’re into. Zari Wari and Alexisraine comes to mind for me cause I see my friends steal their shitposts or text dumps and I think “Damn I saw that person liking art of the bartender from Va11 Ha11a getting off to being obese”

it takes a special kind of horny person to make really funny and relatable popular posts online

[desceros]

I feel like Donnie would be mush for his teeny, itty bitty little baby girl.

someone has been peeking in my google drive again i see....

yeah i think he (rise donnie specifically since that's the papatello i'm working on) would be one of those dads who has a big talk about how he's so strict, about the intense regiment he has his kid on to maximize their development, and he's always the most annoying piece of shit at the PTA meeting. flex brag flex brag

but then his little toddler comes up to him on wobbly legs and puts her hands on his calf, tapping at him for his attention and looks up at him with paint all over her face from where she got into the art supplies at the back of the classroom and made a huge ass mess, and he just melts at her crooked little grin (bc dad is the favorite) and is completely incapable of chastising her in any shape or form

that changes when she grows up and starts to act so much like him that he HAS to be firmer with her. the first time he has to put her in time out they both ugly cry a lot

[fragmentedblade]

Also, Velite/Argenti actual OTP. What's that post about the hero walking into the story and the friend aware of the tropes walking alongside them right into danger because even if they know, because they know, they can't let the hero go alone?

[satans-knitwear]

I told you we should celebrate, and i meant it 😎✨

Treat me ~ Tip me

[mari-lair]

some of you are too comfortable on Anon so I am disabling it from my asks for now, chill.

[theflyindutchwoman]

I read your reply to an ask about Tim and Isabel laughing together about the meditation and I think there are quite a few strange things in that episode. I do not really understand what the writers were trying to do, because to me Tim and Lucy’s communication is all off this episode. And communication is what they are so good at and really their strong point. It starts with Tim inviting Isabel to Lucy’s place and forgetting to tell her (I can forgive him on that, he had a good reason to forget..). But Lucy thinks it is weird, but says it only to Tamara. Isabel’s presence affects both Tim and Lucy’s behavior in a space (Lucy’s apartment) they are usually so comfortable. It is such a contrast to how close and cosy they were just before she arrived. 

Later Tim expresses to Isabel that Lucy is different, but does he communicate this to Lucy really? When Lucy and Isabel are in the car waiting, Isabel suggests they should turn off their mic, so Tim cannot hear and they talk about what being undercover entails. When Tim asks later what that was about and Lucy makes a joke instead of being honest, it gave me an iffy feeling. Cause no wonder he is already a bit defensive when Lucy wants to be vulnerable and says she is worried he won’t be able to handle her being undercover. I think he might suspect that the conversation he was cut out from was about discussing undercover experiences. On the one hand I think it is great that Lucy brought up her worries about how going undercover will affect their relationship and that she cares how it affects him (which is kind of how I read what she said). On the other hand she is not involving him in how she feels about it and what worries she was for herself. 

Also a bit sad that an episode that involved a lot of them not communicating well with each other ends on that note too :(

Sorry, this was a a lot of thoughts  and I do not if it makes sense. I am very curious what your take on it is :)

The way I see it, Isabel was used as a catalyst to propel this part of the UC storyline : how this is going to impact their relationship. Up until this point, Lucy and Tim had avoided that topic like the plague. Even after Noah's remark that UC was a relationship killer or his question as to why she hadn't done any op since finishing UC school… Isabel's return is what forced them to finally start this conversation. So I get why their communication was a bit off : this is only the beginning, where they themselves are trying to figure out how they feel and are unsure on how to proceed.

In some ways, it is a parallel with 1.01, when Isabel crashed back into Tim's life, pushing him to open up to Lucy. This is how their bond started… And this is the same here : Isabel showed up (almost) unannounced and soon after, Lucy and Tim started to be more open about their feelings. You can see the progression between 5.20 where he shuts down and try to pretend that everything is alright and 5.21 where they actually start to hash this out.

But yes, like you said, there were a few strange things… And I'm not sure if that was on purpose or if something got lost in the execution. Let's start with Tim inviting his ex-wife to Lucy's apartment… I get the idea behind this. By having Isabel coming over, it sent a clear message : Tim is basically living with her and he didn't want to hide anything from her. 'A place of honesty'. Plus, it made the transition in the scene easier. Just like I can understand why he didn't tell her… It's not like there isn't a precedent of his brain going blank when he sees Lucy in the shower. Don't get me wrong, it would have been preferable to ask her if she was OK with this beforehand… But as it was a last minute thing, I can get over it. The problem is that all these points were negated right away. If this was supposed to show them as a united front, then having Lucy being weirded out a bit changes the narrative. Especially since, like you said, it goes unaddressed. And that's really where the scene goes downhill for me. She is not only relegated to prepare the coffee while Isabel and Tim go to the living-room to talk (they could have stayed in the kitchen), she also has to sit on the floor, practically at their feet… Let's just say that this image made me very uncomfortable. I doubt it was intentional but still. And even without all the implications behind this, having Tim and Isabel sitting together with Lucy on the side contradicted this idea of united front. It completely threw off their dynamic and as it directly followed that lovely scene at the very beginning, it made the contrast even more jarring.

And it didn't end there… I feel like the writers suffered from a tunnel vision problem. They were so focused on making Isabel friendly that it sometimes came at the detriment of Lucy and Tim, as individuals and as a couple. The thing is, I really appreciate that they wanted her to be friendly with the both of them. She wasn't used as a device to come between them (not in a love triangle way) and that is so refreshing. But the execution didn't fully come through. Her scene with Tim at the station, where she laughs with him about the meditation, felt too much like a joke at Lucy's expense. And her scene with Lucy in the car, when they turn off the mic just to mess with Tim, came across as almost callous in light of his insecurities regarding secrets. And I don't think that was the intention at all in both cases. The scene between Lucy and Isabel was great on paper : Lucy has always looked up to the other female agents (Capt. Andersen, Nyla, even Angela though we don't have as many scenes). And she was already curious of Isabel when she met her in 1.03. So it made sense that she would want her opinion. And I liked that she felt comfortable enough to joke with her or that there was no jealousy/rivalry. But the camaraderie went a little too far when Tim or Lucy became the butt of the joke - at least, for me. Although the 'keeping secrets' part was addressed a bit in 5.21… So there's that. And it was clear during the episode that Isabel was overcompensating : I can't imagine how hard it must have been for her to go back to her old life, facing the people who saw her at her worst. It just needed a few tweaks here and there to make it more seamless.

As for that final scene in 5.20, I actually get where Lucy is coming from. She does open up first by sharing how much she loves undercover. She is being vulnerable here. She is aware that this is a sore subject with him and I believe a part of her might be afraid of his reaction as well. And that's why she wants to know how he feels. She knows his baggage here. Besides, that's her MO. They always focus on the other. Had she touched on how she felt, Tim would have jumped on that, instead of his own fears. There's also the fact that it is her choice to pursue UC, so she might consider her own worries to be her burdens, if you know what I mean. They are both learning how to be in this relationship, so they are bound to make some mistakes. Since 5.20 served as an introduction for the undercover mission in 5.21 and for that whole UC arc, I didn't mind that their communication was still off by the end of that episode (though I get it). I think the hesitation and the fear that were palpable helped a lot as well. So is the fact that they took a step in the right direction in 5.21 : they kept maintaining a line of communication and they both shared some of their fears. It's a work in progress in so many ways and there should be more to come. Maybe once we get to the bottom of this arc, everything will fall into places. I hope this helps a bit :)

[pollenallergie]

Happy Spring! How 'booout something short and fluffy about Billiam Knight picking wildflowers for you? 🥰🌼

ahahsbdbsbsndj this is the dream come true!! also umm so he’s not picking flowers for you???or well, he doesn’t start out picking them for you… i hope that’s ok!!! 💖💖 also i know you said something short… but i love this man too much to get him anything less than 1k words. enjoy!!!

He Loves Me

CW: Just fluff. Billy mentions making love to you (uses those exact words) once, but it doesn’t get any more suggestive than that.

Word Count: 1.9k

18+ only!!

“He loves me,” you pluck off a small petal from the delicate flower in your hands, a tiny little sweet violet that you’d plucked from the forest floor, “he loves me not.”

From just a few metres away, where he’s camped out near a small brook, crouching down by the flowing water as his eyes attentively scan the small patch of land in front of him in search of his beloved Forget-Me-Nots, the tips of Billy’s ears flush a bright cherry red as he catches wind of the words you utter to yourself. He temporarily halts his flower search as he straightens up, rising from his stooped position by the flowing water, now looking around the wooded area in search of you.

Once his eyes finally land on you, Billy’s breath hitches as he takes in the lovely sight of you, bathed in the rays of sunlight that leak through the forest’s overstory, looking positively radiant as you deftly meander around the forest floor, careful not to crush any of the flourishing fauna beneath your feet as you walk. He knew you’d look beautiful here, otherworldly even. Granted, Billy thinks you look beautiful anywhere you go, but there’s something about seeing you like this, at home in nature, that seems to highlight your elegance more so than the gloomy city ever could.

That’s one of the main reasons he brought you here, to this serene timberland, a stunning nature trail near Woolstone that his late mother used to bring him to when he was a young boy. One of the other reasons, of course, was that Billy wanted to collect some freshly bloomed wildflowers that he could press and add to the multimedia piece he’s been working on in his spare time. The final reason was that the doom and gloom of the fading winter season had been getting to you two, and he knew that heralding in the first weekend of spring with a picnic in the peaceful English countryside would be the perfect thing to liven both your spirits again.

The picnic portion of your day trip ended long ago, the two of you making quick work of the cucumber sandwiches, sea salt crisps, and orange slices you’d packed to eat. Then, you both began simply wandering along the trail, looking for the perfect flowers to complete Billy’s artwork. The two of you had started your meanderings with hands clasped together as you walked side-by-side, relishing the continued closeness. However, you’d soon split up, wandering off a little ways away from each other to search for different kinds of flowers; he’d wandered over to the babbling brook to look for his beloved Forget-Me-Nots and pileworts, while you’d kept more towards the greenery, searching for windflowers and sweet violets, as well as any stray snowdrops leftover from the harsh winter months. And now, well… Now, you’re both a bit distracted, halting your initial flower searching; you’re distracted by the innocent little game you’ve begun playing, and Billy’s distracted by you. Your beauty, your grace, your soft, sweet happiness, it captivates Billy, it enchants him, beguiles him to the point where he finds it difficult to focus on anything but you. Although, that’s not necessarily a unique occurrence, Billy often finds himself distracted by you and, adorably, even merely by the thought of you.

This time, though, he’s pulled out of his enchantment by the sound of you uttering the horrible words, “He loves me not,” as you pluck the final petal from your flower, dropping it and letting it fall to the ground as you breathe out a wistful sigh.

Oh, no, that simply won’t do, Billy decides as he reluctantly refocuses his energy on searching for flowers, crouching back down near the bank of the stream to get a better look. Billy makes quick work of gently snatching up a divine little pilewort before rising to stand once again and jogging over to you so that he can hand it to you.

“Here,” he murmurs, capturing your attention as he holds the dainty little yellow flower out to you.

You sport an adorably delighted expression as you huff out a surprised chuckle.

“What’s this for? You’re not going to make me carry all the flowers, are you?” You ask bemusedly as you accept the flower from Billy.

He grins bashfully, his cheeks going rosy with blush, as he shakes his head and replies, “No, no. I just- You should keep going.”

You crinkle your nose as you flash him a confused expression, “Keep going?”

“Erm, you- you should- you know- erm- the thing with the petals,” Billy stutters bashfully before abandoning his attempt at a verbal explanation and, instead, simply miming plucking the petals off of a flower. You catch on pretty quickly and giggle at the implication.

“Well, alright,” you respond softly, bemusedly, before plucking off a delicate little yellow petal from the flower he’d given you and following it up by murmuring, “He loves me.”

Billy watches intently as you gradually rid the flower of its pretty petals until, finally, you end up with another green stalk and petal-less peduncle. Unfortunately, you again end on the words, “He loves me not,” so Billy immediately springs into action. He rushes back over to the brook to grab a cluster of Forget-Me-Nots, opting for grabbing multiple flowers this time with the hopes that it will increase the odds of you getting a happier ending. He then rushes back over to you and thrusts the bundle of flowers towards you, practically forcing them into your hands as he silently urges you to continue. You chuckle at his adorably peculiar behaviour but oblige him nonetheless, resuming your petal-plucking.

Once again, Billy watches intently as you continue with your childish game, gnawing anxiously on his lower lip as if the sanctity of his future relies on this silly little game, and, to him, it sort of does. So, imagine his disappointment when you once again end on, “He loves me not.”

Of course, Billy can’t have that, won’t have that, so he rushes back to the brook to collect even more flowers, grabbing as many as he can possibly carry before hastily bringing them back to you.

“Billy,” you exclaim humorously, “you’re gonna pick all the new pretty flowers at this rate! All the plants’ patience this past winter, as they waited and waited for the weather to warm up so they could finally prosper, will have been for naught!”

“It’ll be alright, dove, just keep going,” he urges you, flashing you as encouraging of a smile as he can muster, though the feeling of his heart dreadfully sinking to the pit of his stomach hampers his ability to maintain the happy expression.

This is incredibly important to Billy; that much has become evident by now thanks to his odd behaviour, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why that is. Rather than questioning, you simply decide to indulge him as you once again begin plucking the delicate little petals off of all the flowers. Meanwhile, Billy waits with bated breath, nervously picking at the skin around his nails and shifting from foot to foot as he watches you.

As you begin to pluck the petals of the last in-tact flower in your grasp, Billy feels his heart lurch up into his throat, acting as a lump that he struggles to swallow around. This time around, your utterance of the words, “He loves me not,” aligned with you plucking the first petal of the flower. However, in your past attempts, you’d always had to start with, “He loves me.” Perhaps this change is not all that significant, but it gives Billy a bit of hope that maybe this time, you’ll finally end on the right note. Although, that thought in and of itself fills him with even more anxiety because, if his hopes do come to fruition, that means he’ll have to confess something to you, something that he’s not sure you’ll react favourably to.

Suddenly, the moment Billy’s been waiting anxiously for finally comes to pass. In your grasp, you’ve got a tiny little Forget-Me-Not with only two petals left on it. As you go to pluck one of those petals off, Billy feels as if he may vomit, or pass out, or both, or worse.

“He loves me not,” you breathe out quickly as you pluck the second to last petal. You both know what comes next, but only one of you seems to recognise the significance behind it.

“He loves me,” you murmur as you pluck the final petal, releasing it from your hold almost as soon as you’ve removed it from the flower, making it slowly fall to the forest floor, the tiny blue floral tissue fluttering in the wind as it sinks down, down, down. Before you can comment on this novel ending to your little game, Billy surges forward, capturing your lips in a warm embrace with his own. You let out a surprised squeak at the suddenness of the kiss before swiftly melting into it, dropping all the stems once clutched in your hands as you wrap your arms round Billy, tangling your fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

All too soon, he’s breaking the kiss, offering one last peck to satiate you before pulling away just slightly. He rests his forehead against yours with his eyes still closed as he tentatively whispers, “He does love you, you know?”

You had no memory of closing your eyes, too wrapped up in his sweet kiss to notice, but soon you find yourself opening them again to fix him with a curious look.

He can’t possibly mean…

Your thoughts are swiftly interrupted by the sound of Billy exhaling a shaky breath. He suddenly opens his eyes, his gaze meeting your own, filling your line of sight with the image of his lovely brown eyes.

“I love you,” he confesses softly, nervously.

The most radiant smile Billy’s ever seen soon takes shape on your features, seemingly lighting up the whole world around you, though that joy is only meant for him. You can feel the raw emotion clawing up through your throat and stinging your eyes, making tears well up as you softly, genuinely reply, “I love you too, Billy.”

The breath of relief he sighs is genuine, as is the beaming smile he flashes you just before he leans in to kiss you again. This kiss is much deeper and more passionate than the last, though it’s just as sweet.

When you finally part, Billy giggles and says, “Give me a few minutes to grab some more flowers, and then we can leave.”

You look at him with an expression that is both quizzical and fond as you reply, “Why would we leave?”

“Love, why would we stay? ‘S not like I can make love to you here; people come ‘ere with their kids,” Billy replies as though it’s obvious. The chuff you let out in response to that is equal parts shocked and amused.

“Just give me five minutes, petal,” he calls out to you as he begins to jog back to the brook nearby, “and maybe grab me a couple of sweet violets while you wait! Oh, and some snowdrops if you can find any!”

Your heart warms at the sound of the new pet name he’s given you whilst you chuckle at his antics, shaking your head with a sickeningly fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you look down and resume your search for flowers. That’s your man, your bashful Billygoat, and he loves you.

[teabutmakeitazure]

girl in my common core shares all my unhinged interests i feel seen

[blindmagdalena]

Hiiii it's me again!

I just wrapped up a full-on binge of your series with Homelander and Layla, and honestly, I've got to get a few things off my chest about these two. I'll try to keep this short, but there's a lot to unpack, and if you're not up for the essay I'm about to write here, feel free to skip it. Starting with Layla's profession — genius. It just clicks, right? With a job like hers, it's totally believable that she'd cross paths with a guy like Homelander. That guy's desperate for any scrap of affection he can get, doesn't really matter if it's genuine or not. And in your story, it feels like we get a dash of both. It's refreshing because usually, OCs just snap their fingers and suddenly, Homelander's all about them, which feels a tad forced.

But Layla? She's different. Their first serious meet-up perfectly demonstrates her patience. And her smarts? She's ten steps ahead, seeing right through Homelander's act — you know the one where he pretends he's too cool for the room. Her ability to play him like a fiddle from the get-go, just by stroking his ego, is just so spot on. It's not just her cunning that stands out, though. Layla knows exactly when to use emotional leverage, she's insightful about Homelander's neediness, hence the booked meeting. She's not your typical 'strong woman' character — thank goodness we're not talking about those overdone, one-dimensional types that come off as watered-down male heroes. Love that she's profoundly intelligent, perceptive, and strategic in her emotional connections. She's an exemplary character not wedged into the role of being “strong” but one who utilizes her understanding and empathy as powerful tools.

I'm sold on her character (if you can't tell.) And I'm really going all out here because as I revisit the first chapters to talk about this, I keep finding new reasons to appreciate her more. I want to dive deeper into my thoughts, but I'm probably just rambling now, so I'll cut myself off. You've single handedly got me working on my personal oc again lmfao. Just a last note, it's cool to see an original character who isn't some superpowered being for a change. It adds layers to the world you've built that I'm just here for. I'm gonna read a few other fics you have linked about your ocs — I came for the x reader fics and stayed for the ocs LOL.

— 💌

you genuinely took my breath away with this! my heart is so full and warm, i could cry. i can't tell you how many times i reread this this morning! i'm very tender-hearted when it comes to my original characters, and i was quite nervous starting an oc fic, but this makes me SO happy that i did!

please don't ever apologize for writing essays like this, i honestly want to print this out and hang it on my wall. thank you SO MUCH for not only reading my fic but taking the time to send me such an incredibly thoughtful message about my girl Layla. it really does mean the world to me!!! and i really can't wait to get back to writing Eat Your Ego.

i'm really happy that she's coming across so well! i knew that i would have to be careful in how i wrote her for the fact that she IS human, and there's a very delicate balance to be had in interacting with Homelander. there's a tension there that yeah, one wrong move and she really and truly has no defense against him aside from her wits, so i needed her empathy and intellect to be sort of a super power of their own.

i was worried she would come across as omniscient or meta, so i tried to lean into the fact that Homelander's ego and power trips really do just have him behaving like the type of men she would regularly encounter in her line of work.

aaahhh, gosh, even responding to this i reread it a whole bunch. thank you so much, darling. i'm going to treasure this message! 🖤

[mochiwei]

I don't really go here, but if you're still doing the Palette thing, what about BOTW Link using Citric Acid?

BOTW Link in Citric Acid for you, anon! Also I love the sketch of this one so much so here it is as a lil’ treat 🥰💕

[swallowtail-ageha]

Almost... finished... watching... the og ff7 letsplay... on... youtube..m

[speedofsoundsketches]

I don’t share your skepticism. I feel that considering how secretive some gov’ts can be irl that it’s not completely out of the question that they could have built something like Space Colony ARK or that Gerald had knowledge of beings like Sonic to create Shadow or whatever and no one else knew. Honestly I blame CinemaSins for this way of thinking. I feel like just because the story takes place on Earth in the United States rather than on Sonic’s world and the United Federation or whatever the heck it was doesn’t mean it has to be 100% grounded in reality.

Agree to disagree then.