#dont know if it made much of a difference

[theorahsart]

Incorruptible Chap 4 pt 3

Robespierre is spiralling 💔

I made a little ramble below about meltdowns/autism/etc feel free to read or not read~

So how to put this- I'm using a combination of observations from different events of how Robespierre reacted in stressful situations to inform this scene... But I want to approach with a sensitivity that Robespierre wasn't given by most friends n collegues.

Imo, since I'm writing this story deliberately through a 'what if autism' angle, my opinion is currently 'he sometimes got overwhelmed and spiralled into meltdowns' What is it Pétion calls it? Something like 'getting carried away by his darkest imaginations' I dont have the source right to hand lol

Ppl reacted strongly to this behaviour, often percieving him to be a 'coward', getting weirded out by it, in the case of people like Roland or Petion, using it against him in later arguments as to why his opinions and leadership shouldnt be respected.

For me, having been in situations of being misjudged over meltdowns (that are difficult to control, and in a strange way quite 'seperate' to my overall character), what I see when I read these accounts from others is the opposite of a coward. I see someone who persists through these moments -that on at least one occasion are affecting him so much he is physcally shaking- he persists anyway, and is very brave to keep going (and maybe much too headstrong) in spite of his moments of spiralling, and struggling to deal with situations other people are generally tackling calmly.

Anyway I plan to explore this as we move through the story. But first I want to address how others are percieving these moments of panic, and I hope its perceived that *my stance* is neutral and empathic. Sorry for the long ramble. Meltdowns are a strange, sensitive topic anyway, and its maybe extra sensitive to apply this concept to someone who was real, who we can't ever know everything about for sure. I always hope you enjoy my interpretation!

[arrimorr]

Hi! Can I ask you how you made your last short animation from plasticine? I am sorry if this is stupid question, I don't really know much about the animation process, but I am really curious. Thank you 🌟🌟🌟

Hi! Usually I just make a form out of clay, then attempt to photograph it with contrasting light and later cut it out from the background and play around with contrasts to make the clay texture more visible. Most of the clay I have at home is either gray or black, so it's a really important part of the process for me haha. The animation in my pinned post was made with black clay, for example.

(Sorry for this weird picture, I dont have a cleaned up file for this anymore )

Sometimes the form I get is very close to the final result I want

And sometimes it really isn't....

The point is - you can recolor and clean up and edit a lot of stuff in any drawing app you use. Copy pasting some elements of your photos or drawing on top of them with soft enough brush will be enough. Just don't forget to throw a bit of noise on top of your digitally drawn layers, photography usually has some, if you look up close, and this creates a big difference.

In case of animation - fly my scarab, you can do whatever. The animation in my pinned post was fully made with photographs, I molded and photographed and edited every frame of it. In case of this animation I just saved every body part as a separate layer and moved them in different directions in Premier pro (you can do this in any editing software that allows you to make timeline keys). You can also just cut away and move parts of your photos to create movement. This is how the devil moves his leg here, for example

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Youd never thought that being stuck in a rut would’ve been the greatest feeling in the world.

Whimpering hawks, a lot of smut!

‘So, I know Weve only been dating for a few months and Weve hardly had chance to have proper sex and everything and….look im gonna just come out and say it.im in rut, it’s a weird bird thing. Basically it means that I have this primal urge to fuck, like all the time. It overrides my brain, I can’t eat I can’t sleep, I just have to fuck. So, I just kinda wanted to warn you. If im being weird for the next week or so it’s nothing to do with how I feel about you, I just, i dont want to subject you to that, it’s, it’s kinda a lot. I’ve never actually had the opportunity to be in rut with a partner before so I don’t know how I’ll act, just please bear with me okay?”

You took his face in your hands and kissed him softly, his wings shook at your touch as this already seems to be too much contact for him. He pulled away already panting, biting his bottom lip and trying his hardest not to push his hips into you.

“Im here for all of you okay? Rut and all. And if that means you have to spend the next week fucking my IQ down a few levels then so be it, sounds kinda fun actual….” Before you can finish hes lifted you up onto his hips, pushing you forcefully against the wall and covering your neck in open mouthed kisses. You moan at the pressure of his hands holding you, the way his teeth grazing your neck.

“I can’t fucking take it. I can’t stop myself. I need to feel you, need to cum inside of you. I need you to be mine forever baby bird. Fuck, theres too many clothes between us.”

He starts ripping your shirt off your body, letting the broken fabric fall to his feet, pulling at your shorts trying to break them too. You start pulling at his top, trying to remove it from him over his head. He uses his hips to hold you up against the wall and flings his shirt off, pulling his trousers down as he lifts you back up, your ass now seated in his palm. Youve never felt him be so aggressive, so passionate, youd only had sex a handful of times since being together as work kept both extremely busy at the moment, so it was nice to see him actually want you, not that you didn’t feel that from the quickies you had, but this felt different.

He continued to bite at your neck, sucking on you as if it was oxygen he was desperately trying to ingest, his hands leaving bruises on your hips already as he squeezed you closer to him. He was pushing his cock against you hard, it felt as if he was already inside of you slightly, even with your shorts in the way. He walked you over to his bed and chucked you down onto it, tightly grabbing your shorts and ripping them off you. As soon as they had left your ankles he was making his way up your body, he wanted to eat you out first, make you cum at least once with his mouth and fingers before he entered you, but his animalistic urges were too strong, he needed to be inside you, needed to feel your walls tightly around him. He parted your legs forcefully with his knee, slotting directly between your hips, and grabbed your face, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He moaned as he tasted you, his cock already rubbing up against your clit, you reached to touch his face as he smacked your hand away, grabbing both of your wrists in one of his hands and forcing them above your head. He grabbed your ass and rubbed up against you, trying his hardest to wait to enter you until you told him to.

“Please, please, im fucking begging, please, let me fuck you, let me feel you. Tell me to do it, tell me to fuck you, tell me to destroy you and claim you and mark you. Fuck just tell me, please let me, I can’t fucking breath.” His whimpers only made you wetter,he was so desperate to fuck you, it was the complete opposite of his usual charming, teasing demeanour. Where hed usually be asking how badly you wanted him, he was now nearly crying with how badly he needed to be inside of you. You moaned and nodded frantically, giving him the green light to completely ruin your mind and body. As soon as he felt your head nod he reached down and pushed himself into you. As soon as his head entered you, his wings flushed out above him, shaking and tense at the immense pleasure. He gasped and whimpered, feeling how tight you were, how wet you were for him, he couldnt contain himself. He slowly entered you, making sure to feel every single inch of you envelop him, his whimpers became louder, higher pitched and more desperate. Tears started to form in his eyes as he looked up to the ceiling, his eyes fluttering closed as he started to thrust into you. Each thrust was long, slow and painfully deep, he wasn’t joking when he said he needed you, you could feel how hard he was, how desperately he needed to fill you, it took your breath away the deeper he got. Your fingers tried to tighten into a fist as the pressure from his hand holding your wrists tightened, he was completely lost in you already, giving in to whatever urges he felt. He started to moan louder, picking the pace up as he let go of your hands, dragging one to the base of his wings,

“Pull ‘em, please, I’ll fucking beg. Please, please baby bird please, pull them. Fuuuuuck, harder, harder, make me cry. Fuck it’s too much, im gonna cum already fuck fuck fuck fuck, yeah baby, fuck,” his whimpers became deafeningly loud, he was stuttering his hips into you as he tried to fuck as hard and as fast as his body would physically let him. As he reached his peak, you plucked one of his feathers out and that was more than enough to send him over the edge. He began forcefully shaking ontop of you, the sound of his cum flooding your pussy was loud, sloppy and desperate. His eyes squeezed shut as he moaned your name, sweat dripping down his forehead and fogging his glasses. As he rode his wave out, he gripped tightly onto your hips, forcing himself as deep as possible. As he was coming down from his high, his wings shuddered and he opened his eyes, the same lustful look still twinkling in them, he started tracing his fingers up your sides snd grabbing at your chest, it was clear he wasn’t done yet. He palmed your tits snd started licking your nipples, biting them slightly as he started thrusting into you again, slow and deliberate this time.

“I need more, i need more, fuck, please, please song bird, please let me carry on. I haven’t given you enough yet, i need to feel you shaking under me. I need you, fuck, i need you.” He begged against your skin, you moaned as you could feel him pushing his cum further into you, your legs tightening and shaking around him. He looked into your eyes and threw his glasses to the side, leaning down and kissing you deeply as he moved slowly in and out of you, savouring how his cum felt being fucked back into you. The louder you moaned the harder he fucked, biting your bottom lip and moaning into your open mouth. He then flipped you over, forcing your head into the pillow and pulling your hips up to meet his dick. He slowly teased your entrance, wiping his cum soaked tip along your clit before feeling you back into him, he forced himself back inside you and gasped at the feel of you. His hands held your hips, trembling as he thrusted into you, this position felt even deeper then the last, as it made your high almost instantly come crashing over you.

“Baby im…im gonna cum fuck, keep fucking me like that. Fuuuck.” Your voice shook as he fucked harder, whimpering that you felt so good and that he wanted you to cum all over him. You started to shake as your walls tightened around him, as he felt you cum he pressed deeper inside you, his own high already filling you up again. As you felt him swell and pour his cum into you, it made your own high even stronger. You screamed his name as he shook behind you, pressing his hips hard into your ass. He slumped over you, his forehead laying on your back as you tried to catch your breath, your walls now tightening and keeping him inside of you. It was easily the most passionate and intense feeling youd ever felt, having him whimper for you would soon become your favourite sound. He pulled out of you and laid next to you, panting frantically as he pulled you onto his chest. You both lay there, panting and sweaty, immersed in a strong mutual feeling of passion and euphoria. He brushed the hair away from your face and started kissing you again, already ready to go again. You put your hand to his chest, pushing him slightly as you needed a few more minutes to catch your breath,

“I told you baby bird, I fucking need you. I can’t even control myself, I need to cum in you again. I need to break you, i need to fuck you until im unconscious, and even then I want you to keep riding me. I told you, it’s dangerous to be around me like this, it’s instinctual, i need to have you drowning in me.” The desperation in his voice only made it clearer to you, he didn’t care if you needed a breather, he was going to complete destroy you inside and out. The laugh from your voice confirmed more than enough for him as he climbed back ontop of you and began to thrust his dick back against your clit. You were in for a long night, and an even longer week.

[favefandomimagines]

Steady Hands (f.l)

Summary: y/n’s always felt like a burden because of what’s inside her head; until she met Frank

Request: “may i request anxious/neurodivergent reader with langdon or abbot (age gap) i dont mind which one, where she finds it hard to work on account of her anxiety and neurodivergence and he is understanding and is okay being the main provider in the relationship cos he knows how hard she tries.. maybe even tries helping her get volunteer positions at the hospital so he can be close in case she gets overwhelmed..? personally need the comfort rn”

AN: I’m so sorry this took SO long! I rewrote it at least four times! I hope you like it!

Frank Langdon wasn’t looking for anything the day he met Y/N. He’d just finished a brutal shift in the ED, running mostly on Red Bull and unfiltered adrenaline. All he wanted was to crash at home, maybe feed the stray cat that had started hanging around his porch. But Jake, his idiot best friend, had other plans.

“She’s cool, man. I swear. You’ll like her,” Jake had insisted, dragging Frank along to a mutual friend’s low-key birthday dinner at a quiet gastropub.

Frank didn’t expect to fall in love with the girl who wore oversized sweaters like armor and laughed with her whole chest even when no one else got the joke.

Y/N was sitting at the edge of the long booth when he arrived, sipping on a club soda, eyes wide and observant but not shy. There was something deliberate about her stillness—like she was watching the world shift and calculating where she fit into it.

He sat beside her, more by chance than design. She turned, offered a soft hello, and asked him what Jake had to offer to get him there.

“He said I was going to meet a super cute girl. And he wasn’t wrong.” Frank replied, boldly.

She smiled. “Does that line usually work?” She asked. “I don’t know. Did it work on you?” Frank replied.

She laughed—really laughed—and from that moment, something in him softened.

By year three, their lives were comfortably entangled. Not in a tangled, codependent mess—but more like ivy and brick, each growing in support of the other.

Frank lived for the mornings when she padded out of their bedroom in fuzzy socks and one of his T-shirts, her hair a riot of waves and sleep, her eyes still adjusting to the day. He’d already have the kettle going and the blinds cracked just enough to let in light without overwhelming her.

Y/N didn’t work a traditional job. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—God, did she want to. But her anxiety, coupled with her neurodivergence, made certain environments almost physically painful to endure.

Crowds, fluorescent lighting, the cacophony of multitasking and deadlines—it all pressed in on her, made her heartbeat race and her thoughts spiral.

She’d tried. She really had. Office jobs, retail, even freelance gigs. But inevitably, the pressure built until it choked her, and she had to step back again.

“I’m not broken,” she said one night, curled beside him on their worn couch. She was clutching a throw pillow like it might anchor her to the world. “I just… I need a different kind of rhythm.”

Frank didn’t say anything for a moment. He just traced circles on her back with his palm.

“No. You’re not broken,” he agreed quietly. “You’re wired different. And that’s not a flaw.”

“I want to be able to help. I really do,” she whispered.

“You already do.” He kissed the crown of her head. “In more ways than I can count.”

Frank never pressured her. That was part of what she loved most about him—his patience, his deep well of empathy. He didn’t coddle her, didn’t treat her like something fragile. But he also didn’t expect her to force herself into a world that didn’t fit.

Still, he could see how much it mattered to her. So, one Saturday morning, over waffles, he floated the idea.

“What if you volunteered at the hospital? Not anything intense—just something part-time, low-stress. I could help you find a quiet department. Maybe even geriatrics—they love visitors.”

Y/N’s fork paused midair.

“I wouldn’t have to do anything clinical, right?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Nope,” Frank assured her. “It’s more like reading with patients, helping with crafts, keeping people company. And if it ever feels too much, you can walk. No strings. No guilt.”

She was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Maybe. Yeah. I think I could try that.”

They started small. One afternoon a week. Y/N arrived with a notebook in her bag and a playlist of soothing music queued up on her phone, just in case she needed grounding. Frank walked her to the volunteer office the first day, even though she insisted he didn’t have to.

“Humor me,” he said, squeezing her hand.

She met Mrs. Langley first, a ninety-year-old woman with brittle hair and sharper wit. Y/N read to her from The Secret Garden, and when she stumbled over a line and laughed at herself, Mrs. Langley patted her hand and said, “We all get tangled up sometimes, sweetheart.

Frank checked in on her during breaks, just a quick hello in passing or a coffee left with her name scribbled in loopy handwriting. She never once asked for help, never called him to come rescue her—but he could tell she liked knowing he was close.

By the third week, she was staying longer. Helping organize books in the hospital library. Sitting with a little boy who’d been there for weeks, playing Uno and letting him win (though barely).

She wasn’t doing it to prove anything—to him, to the world, or even herself. She was doing it because she could. Because she wanted to.

It wasn’t all perfect. No story worth telling ever is.

One rainy Tuesday, everything went sideways. A fire alarm test set off the emergency system—flashing lights, loud sirens, a rush of chaos through the hallways. Y/N had just finished a reading session with a dementia patient when it started. Her hands began to shake. The world tunneled.

She tried to find a corner, somewhere safe, but every door seemed closed.

Frank got the call through a nurse.

“Your girl’s in the east wing stairwell. She’s okay, but she’s kinda freaked out.”

He found her sitting on the steps, knees tucked to her chest, headphones in but not playing anything.

He didn’t rush her. Just sat beside her and placed a hand over hers.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a long silence. “I tried. I really tried.”

“I know,” Frank said. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not to me.”

“But I wanted to show you I could handle it.”

“You did handle it,” he said. “You didn’t run. You didn’t give up. You just needed a pause.”

She blinked at him through tear-clumped lashes. “How are you so good at this?”

“I’m not,” he said honestly. “I just love you. That’s all. And loving you means being here for the hard days, not just the easy ones.”

People often mistook Y/N’s softness for weakness. But Frank knew better. Strength wasn’t loud or blinding—it was persistent. It was showing up when your whole body screamed to shut down. It was putting yourself out there again, even after you’d crumbled.

And Y/N? She was strong in a thousand quiet ways.

She still had anxiety. Still had days when even brushing her hair felt like a mountain to climb. But she also had victories: small, glittering things that didn’t make headlines but made her shine.

She made a scrapbook for the kids’ ward.

She brought in her own tea blends for patients with insomnia.

She convinced Frank to adopt the stray porch cat, who now ruled their apartment like a queen.

And Frank? He never once made her feel like less for not matching the world’s tempo. Instead, he adjusted his steps to hers.

They built a rhythm of their own.

[noturjxxay]

Almost Yours | park jongseong

paring: childhood;friend jay x fem;reader

summary: An unexpected late-night visit from Jay when he comes from a party Jake invited him to make you question every thought in your head, but soon you later ravel that it is going to lead to a night you’ll never forget.

warning: unprotected sex (girl use that damn balloon), hell of teasing, slight cursing, use of pet names (baby, princess, etc), jay is slightly mean, bit of an age gap (jay is 3 years older), squirting (fem rec.), choking, pussy slapping, fingering, jay is obsessedd girlll, hair pulling (male rec.), dominance and praising, i dont even know what more is there AJAJAJ

author note: halo here is another story but like just why not you know? i had so much fun writing this, so i hope you have fun reading it! xoxo jxxay <3

A knock at the door broke the silence, making you wonder who it could be. You glanced at the time in the corner of your phone screen “1 a.m.” Who the hell would be knocking at this hour?

You furrowed your brow in confusion, resting your hand on the counter as you set down the wine glass beside it, then walked toward the door.

Before opening the door, you glanced at your reflection in the full-size mirror by the corner. Not bad, you thought; messy hair, cute black panties, and an oversized shirt that belonged to your boyfriend, worn without a bra underneath.

The apartment felt cold, so you decided to make a quick dash to your room and grab another of your boyfriend’s shirt with a long sleeve that was thick enough to keep you warm.

“Whew, that’s better than freezing to death,” you thought wrapping yourself tighter in the shirt as you walked down the hallway. Crossing your arms, you let your feet guide you toward the door. It felt a bit risky to check it in the middle of the night, but you were grateful for the peephole you got on the door, the safeguard before opening it.

You uncrossed your arms and pressed your hands against the black wood door, peering through the peephole. “Jay?” you whispered, recognizing the tan-skinned man, your close ever friend. Unlocking all three locks, you opened the door to see him standing there, the familiar face from your childhood.

Jay has been a longtime friend, our moms became best friends when they were kids, so we practically grew up side by side. Plus, he’s three years older than you, which made things feel… different.

“y/n” his voice was low as he whispered your name, eyes lingering on you before you stepped aside to let him in. “Jay.. its 1 am, what the hell are you doing here?!” you half-shouted, closing the door behind him. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm up. “fuck, you’re freezing,” you muttered, grabbing a blanket from the couch and draping it over his shoulders.

“Feeling better?” you asked, glancing up to find him watching you quietly, not really answering the question about being cold. “Yeah, I am.” His tone rough but you didn’t care. You gently took his shoulders and guided him toward the couch.

“Want anything to eat? or drink?” you asked, standing beside him, fingers lightly fluttering as you looked his way. “um… water?” he muttered, nodding slowly, still trying to piece together why he’d show up here so late.

The silence stretched between you, thick and unspoken, until you finally broke it. Handing him the water you got for him, you sat down beside him, "So… why are you here this late? In the cold?” You questioned, checking jay out.

He was wearing an all-black outfit, glasses low on his nose, hair messy—casual as ever but made him look so good. You kept staring at him, hoping he doesn't noticed—but he does.

With the water in his hand, he drank it in one motion, his adam-apple shifting with each swallow, jawline sharp and catching the light, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

He set the cup down on the coffee table, the silence stretching between you. He then clicked his tongue. “Well, long story short” he sighed “I didn’t want to go home after that party Jake dragged me too, and when I realized it was near your place, I figured… why not stop by?” he rasped, shrugging as he reached for his phone to check the stream of notifications lighting up the screen.

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment before drifting to the cup on the coffee table. You picked it up and headed to the kitchen, the need to rinse it off would probably just ignore the fact that he is there.

Your mind buzzed with questions about why he was still here, but you pushed them aside. You glanced up to see him settled on the couch, one arm resting lazily across the back, focused on his phone with his other hand.

You breathed out, “fuck” the pull he had on you hitting harder than you expected. It was wrong—so fucking wrong. You had a boyfriend, the man you want to build your future with, but Jay… something about him gripped you like a vice, and the guilt clawed at your gut, twisted every damn thought.

You stared down at the cup you’d been washing for god knows what. With a sigh, you shut off the faucet and turned away. You set the cup with the clean dishes and grabbed some paper towels to dry your hands, trying, but failing, to stop your mind from drifting back to him.

You spun around and suddenly found yourself pressed against his chest; your breath hitched in surprise as your eyes met his. He leaned down, face to face with you as you stood still in place, not knowing what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing?” you stammered, brow furrowing as his arms closed in, trapping you. His gaze locked onto yours, intense, making your cheeks burn and your eyes look away. A slow, smirk curved his lips; he knew he was fully aware of the effect he had on you, loving how you looked like a lost puppy between his hold.

He brought a hand to your chin, tilting your face toward his. “I heard your boyfriend, right?” he murmured, “what’s his name again?” his tone dripped with sarcasm, “oh, right” he snapped his fingers with a smirk. “Zayn” he looked straight at you, “that guy been seeing other girls.”

The way he said it—calm, almost satisfied to make it clear he been watching, perhaps stalking, waiting for the moment to say it out loud. You look up to him in disbelief, “He wouldn’t do that to me.” You shook your head, denying what you were hearing.

Your voice was steady, but jay’s eyes didn’t leave your gaze. He stepped a little closer, crowding your space, his presence pulling something unsteady out of you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, mixed feelings as you crossed your arms. “Do you even have proof or what?” your voice sharp and disbelief burning through every word.

He smirked as he slid his phone across to you without a word. You looked down to the screen; Zayn’s face was clear, oh super clear to see his lips pressed hard against another woman at some crowded party, hands tangled in her hair.

Your chest tightened, a rush of heat and hurt flooding through you. For a moment, you wanted to look away to deny it, but then your gaze sharpened, not wanting to watch anymore.

You met his gaze after, the proof heavy in your hands but your expression unreadable. Silence stretched between you until he smirked, knowing he’d won without saying a word. In that moment, everything shifted, the heavy tension becomes deeper than ever.

He caught the phone as you passed it back, a slow grin curling his lips. “So?” he said, his voice low and steady, “what now?” He leaned closer, his eyes dark, locking onto yours like he already knew exactly what he wanted. The silence between you thickened, charged with something raw and dangerous.

It was like that until you felt him move in closer, the air between you felt like cloud 9. His hand slipped onto your thigh, slow and deliberate, fingers gliding beneath the edge of the shirt that still clung to you like a pathetic lose of fabric. “I don’t think you need this anymore, yeah?” he murmured, his voice rough with want.

his hand slid higher, confident, like he already knew how your body would respond to him. The fabric followed his touch, and your breath caught, heat flooding your skin as he pressed against you, hard, certain, leaving no room for doubt; he’d been holding back, and now, he wasn’t.

Your fingers gripped the counter behind you, knuckles paling, but you didn’t stop him. His touch burned through every inch of doubt, every reason you told yourself this was wrong.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your jaw, “You feel that?” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. “You don’t look like someone who still wants him after seeing that.” He followed through, looking down at you with eyes of dominance.

Your chest rose with every shaky inhale, the way your body arched toward him betrayed you, silent permission. He kissed just beneath your ear, slow, his hand teasing at the edge of something you hadn’t let anyone near in a long time—not like this.

You whispered, “Jay…” a soft moan escaping as his lips found your neck. “we shouldn’t be doing this…” you breathed, but your voice faltered when his tongue traced a slow line up to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“But oh, sweetheart… you’re enjoying this just as much as I am, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and sinful. His cold fingers slid up your bare back, sending a trail of goosebumps. He then leaned in, his breath brushing your lips as he pulled you against his chest—until finally, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

He then placed his free hand behind your neck, bringing you in deeper. You leaned in, fingers messing with his shirt, needing him, like you’d been waiting for this far longer than you ever dared admit.

He made you forget about the whole boyfriend situation—ex now. The night itself, everything disappeared. All that existed now was him.

The kiss deepened, turning hungrier, rougher—as if neither of you could get close enough. His grip tightened, your body arched into his, and between the ragged breaths and wandering hands. It was dearly clear that whatever was going to happen is going to consume you both.

Next thing you notice, he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter, his touch firm but reverent, not breaking the kiss. His hands slid under your shirt, taking it off, not caring how he sees you, you just wanted him.

It was until then you felt the warmth of his lips pressing against your skin with a hunger that made your head spin. He brought his hand to your womanhood, touching the fabric as he feels the wetness soak through the clothe. “Your so wet, and I’m barely touching you” He rasped, smirking, loving the way how he had you under his control with every move.

A sharp gasp escaped you as he suddenly put his mouth on your nipple, circling it while his other hand gently massaged the other. Your hands tangled in his hair, caught between surprise and the undeniable way your body melted into every touch.

He glanced up, catching the way your head tilted back, eyes closed, lost in the feeling, fingers clenched in his hair like you couldn’t get enough. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, hating how much he gets under your skin.

He trailed lower, his lips grazing a path down to your black panties. “You’re so beautiful, darling” he murmured, his eyes darkening as he took in the dampness soaking the delicate fabric.

He pressed against the warmth between your legs, sliding his finger slowly along your folds, teasing. Watching how soak the fabric is, his head spun with a desperate need he couldn’t hold back.

“I can’t get enough of how damn obsessed I am with you.” He peeled the panties to the side slowly, hungry eyes drinking in every inch of you. For a moment, he just stared; like you were the only fucking thing that mattered in the world.

Without hesitation, he plunged his tongue tracing slow, wet circles between your folds. A sharp gasp escaped you as your head jerked back, hitting the cabinet, breaths coming harder and heavier with every stroke as you felt the warmness hit your cunt.

He held your waist with both hands, keeping you steady as he started devouring you like a first fine meal. His grip was firm but possessive, holding you while waves of pleasure crashed over you—every flick of his tongue sending shivers straight to your core.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, lips bitten hard to prevent any sound. The silence stretched too long, he pulled back, frustration in his eyes. “Why’d you stop?” you cried out, eyes locking with his. He growled low, “Why aren’t you making noises for me?” His hands squeezed your waist, the pressure firm enough to leave a mark.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, cheeks flushing as you hid your face. “I’ll try…” and with that, Jay wasted no time diving back in with renewed hunger. His mouth went back with more intent now, and your body answered without hesitation, a soft whimper escaping before you could stop it. He smirked, satisfied. “That’s more like it, baby.”

He loved it. Every sound you made him desire you at most. He could drown in you for hours and still crave more. And as wrong as it should’ve felt, all he could think was how lucky he was your ex messed up… because now, every moan, every inch of you, belonged to him and he wasn't planning on letting go.

Continuing lost in pleasure; he pulled back just enough to watch you tremble. The sudden shift paced as he slapped your cunt, making you sent a jolt through your body, “I didn’t know you’re into that doll,” He teased out, his fingers traced slowly circles over your clit.

His eyes met yours, dark, fully aware of the effect he had on you. “Didn't know you could fall apart like this, love” he murmured, voice low, teasing when he unintentionally slipped two fingers in.

A breathless moan slipped from your lips, your body overwhelmed by the sheer closeness of him as he filled you up with his fingers. The air was thick with heat, your skin damp, flushed, every nerve buzzing. He watched you intently, eyes dark and hungry, taking in the way your mouth parted, your head falling back in surrender. Not to mention, his hard-on being seen thorough the tightness of his pants.

His hand slid up to your throat, firm but claiming you're under his control. The rhythm of his fingers grew relentless, the speed making you choke out. You were unraveling, completely at his mercy. His eyes never left yours, feeding off the way your body trembled for him, how your moans gave everything away you couldn’t say.

“You like that?” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. He smirks knowing you can’t say anything by the way he’s making you feel— but he’ll take that as a yes. His eyes roamed over the trembling masterpiece he’d got from you—every gasp, every shiver, under all his control. The grip on your neck tightened just enough to steal your breath, sending heat flooding through your skin. Your vision blurred, pulse pounding loud in your ears, every nerve on fire beneath his touch.

Your breath hitched, voice trembling as you choked out, “J-Jay…” he met your gaze, dark and steady. “Yeah, babygirl?” — “I-I’m close..” you whispered, barely audible for him to hear. Without hesitation, he pulled his fingers away, his smirk lingering as he watched you tear on the edge.

He took off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, letting himself free, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. He was thick, precum dripping from his tip down to his length, the length looking dangerous for you. “It might sting a little,” he murmured, and entered without warning. The both of you gasping, adjusting to the new closeness—finding rhythm in each other’s presence.

Dare to say, he is bigger than your ex…

He slammed his hands down on your waist, gripping tight enough to leave marks. “Fuck, you’re so t-tight,” he growled, barely finishing before he started pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, his every movement fierce and relentless. “Does Zayn ever fuck you like this?” he groaned, disbelief heavy in his voice. “I can’t imagine him giving you what you’re feeling right now.” He growled at the thought, making himself go harder and rougher on you.

His hand slid between you, rubbing slow and firm against your clit as your eyes fluttered shut, head falling back, trying to match his thrusts. “Making such a mess for me, isn’t that what you like doll?” His voice was rough, his thrusts growing deeper and messier, pushing you over the edge as your cries filled the room.

You didn’t even feel the need to reply at all; your body did all the talking for you. Your cunt creaming all over his cock, creating a ring around his base, your walls tightening up around him, the pit on your stomach grew uncomfortable as minutes passed. You looked up to Jay, who was sweating and drenched being so lost in you.

You felt a wave coming. “Jay, I-I think I need to pee” you gasped out, your hands trying to push him off you. He smirked and looked down on you, “You’re not going to pee doll” he began to go faster, making you arch into him in surrender, because in that moment, there was no room for hesitation.

With all strength you have, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your lips softly against the curve of his skin. The warmth of your touch made him shiver, craving more. You pressed closer to him, the slick heat of your bodies tangled together in sweat, igniting a deeper sensation between you.

“C’mon baby— you can do it” He babbles, his breath hot as he brought his face down to your neck. His lips found your skin, sloppy and urgent, covering you in his saliva and hickies that made your whole-body tremble beneath him. His groans and moans become louder as his orgasm crept closer, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling hard as waves of pleasure crashed through you. “That’s it, good girl.” He grinned seeing you in complete wreck by him.

Within that, he pulls out on time, liquid squirting all over the counter and floor, making a mess between you both—Jay jerking himself off, cumming all over your stomach as you caught your breath, leaving your legs trembling beneath him as more kept coming out.

It was silent for a few moments, the two of you simply against each other, breaths synced as you rested your head on his shoulder. It was just the two of you. No words were needed; in this silence, everything was understood.

“So, did I just mess up your perfect little world?” He smirked, breaking the silence. You lifted your head from his shoulder and rolled your eyes, “more than it should have.” His fingers brush your jaw, tilting your face to his, grinning at you, “You gonna act like that just didn't ruin you?” he scoffed.

“Who would've thought the same boy I used to share juice boxes with would be the one to ruin me like this, far more than Zayn does.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to keep cool. He rolled his eyes when your now-ex was mentioned. "Can we not ruin the moment with that loser’s name?” His jaw clenched, not bothering to show his hatred to him.

You whispered, teasing him “Zayn—” His grip slammed tighter on your waist, voice low, “Say that again and I swear, you’ll forget he ever existed. You’re mine.”

You stayed silent, watching him as he towers above you. “Good girl, that's what I like to see,” he murmured, voice thick against your presence, “because I’m nowhere near finished with you.”

[fictionfanatic-wren]

The robin games, part 1.

chapter 1/7.

“Who’s the best Robin? Me, obviously,” Dick declared with a grin, arms crossed over his chest. His Nightwing suit gleamed faintly under the Batcave lights. Jason snorted from where he leaned on a couch in the cave, polishing one of his guns. “You’ve been riding that ‘firstborn’ privilege for too long, Grayson.” “Yeah, well, the best Robin doesn’t turn into a walking midlife crisis in red leather, nor does he die by a crowbar,” Tim chimed in, earning a growl from Jason. “Silence,” Damian cut in smoothly. “You’re all delusional. I was bred to be superior. The best Robin is the current Robin. Obviously.” Batman had barely looked up from the Batcomputer. In fact, Bruce had endured this same argument every day for the past month. But today, he’d reached his limit. So, Batman did what any rational man with four hyper-competitive vigilante children would do: he weaponized their nonsense into a peacekeeping strategy. He turned in his chair, cape swishing dramatically behind him and like the diva he was, asked. “You want to know who the best Robin is?” All four stared at him. “Prove it,” Bruce said. “You get one challenge. Break into the Watchtower. Stay hidden. Longest undetected wins.” “Wins what?” Dick asked suspiciously. “Bragging rights,” Bruce answered. Then, after a beat: “And Alfred’s triple-chocolate cookies. The whole batch.” The room went silent. Jason immediately straightened. “I’m in.” “Me too,” said Tim. “Tt. Prepare to be humiliated,” Damian said, already reaching for his sword. Bruce tapped a few keys and turned back to the screen. “You’ll be given a 30 minute window to begin. All at once. Entry clearance for five minutes. After that, the Watchtower security system goes live.” “And you won’t help us?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Absolutely not,” Bruce replied. “I’ll act like i dont know you’re there, unless the other Leaguers have discovered you.”

And so the game was on. The rules? Winner is whoever stays hidden the longest. sabotaging others is allowed as long as you havent been found. you may mess with the league to your heart's desires. Bruce wont take action or even acknowledge them unless other leaguers do.

Dick POV. The zeta tube opened silently beside the Justice League’s Watchtower, and the robins dropped in, all running off in different directions. The massive space station hummed with quiet power, sensors and monitors blinking in blue and green. They’ve only gotten thirty minutes before the alarms would reactivate. Enough time, Dick thought with a smirk. First order of business: find a secure spot. With years of experience as Nightwing, and a history of infiltrating high-security facilities, Dick moved swiftly, scanning for blind spots in camera feeds and sensor fields. The Watchtower’s security protocols were sophisticated, designed to detect even a single unauthorized microchip, Tim made sure of that. But he wasn’t just any intruder. Batman’s override meant he had limited access and a short window to disable as much as he could before systems rebooted. In a quiet hallway near the Justice League’s common area, Dick found the security hub, a wall of consoles and displays constantly flickering with data streams. Using his wrist computer, he quickly interfaced with the terminal, fingers flying over the virtual keyboard. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” he muttered. The Watchtower’s AI security system was impressive, with multi-layered firewalls and encrypted protocols that even Batman respected. But Dick had his own tricks, an amalgam of hacking skills learned from Oracle and Tim. Within minutes, he was rerouting some camera feeds to loop previous footage and injecting false sensor data to mask his movement. “Should keep them guessing for a while,” he said with a grin. Next came the tricky part: setting up camp. The Watchtower wasn’t designed for stealth camping, but Dick was adaptable. He slipped into the ventilation ducts, finding a tight crawlspace above the main observation deck. It was cramped but perfect for hiding and monitoring the activity below. He set up his comms receiver on a low power mode, just enough to listen but not give away his position. Time to wait and watch the chaos unfold. He chuckled quietly. “Let the games begin.”

Jason POV.

Jason Todd’s lips curled into a crooked grin the moment he materialized through the zeta tube. The Watchtower was a fortress of order and high-tech sophistication, but Jason saw it as a playground ripe for chaos. Thirty minutes before the alarms kick back on. Plenty of time to make things interesting. He flexed his fingers, itching to leave his mark. Jason moved like a shadow, his footsteps silent on the sleek floors. The Justice League was out on a mission, leaving the Watchtower eerily empty. Perfect. First order of business? Set some minor traps. He darted to the kitchen, grinning as he eyed the pristine food prep area. With a flick of his wrist, he swapped the labels on some juice containers and scattered a handful of salt where the sugar normally sat. A couple of coffee mugs he rearranged, one just slightly off balance, ready to fall off the counter if nudged, and so much more. Nothing that would cause real damage, but definitely enough to raise eyebrows. Next, he snuck into the common area. He moved some of the furniture just a few inches, chairs slightly askew, cushions flipped upside down, and rigged a small trip wire with a piece of spare cable from the maintenance closet. Nothing lethal, just a mild surprise for whoever wandered through next. Jason smirked. A little chaos goes a long way. But Jason’s favorite bit was saved for last. Wonder Woman’s quarters. He approached the door, heart beating a little faster than usual, not from nerves, but from a strange mix of admiration and excitement. Diana was his favorite hero. Her strength, honor, and no-nonsense attitude always fascinated him. Careful to avoid the pressure sensors, Jason cracked the door open just a sliver and peeked inside. The room was exactly how he imagined, a blend of ancient warrior’s simplicity and modern sophistication. A polished spear rested against the wall, the iconic tiara and bracelets glinting under the soft light. The smell of sandalwood lingered faintly in the air. Jason lingered for a moment, taking it all in. Then, he slipped away without a trace. Now, to find a hiding spot. Jason scouted the upper decks and found a storage bay filled with old League gear and unused supplies. Dark, cluttered, and with multiple exit points, perfect for a quick escape or setting traps if needed. He ducked inside, settling in behind a stack of crates. “Let them come find me,” he whispered, already plotting how to mess with the league andd his brother.

Tim POV. Tim Drake slipped through the zeta tube with barely a sound, landing softly on the metallic floor of the Watchtower’s lower level. A compact bag hung over one shoulder, meticulously packed with everything he’d need: energy drinks, snacks, his trusty toolkit, and, of course, a sleek laptop. “Thirty minutes before security kicks back in. Should be plenty of time,” Tim thought, already running through his plan. Unlike his brothers, Tim wasn’t just relying on stealth or sabotage. He knew the Watchtower’s security system inside and out, after all, he had been the one who helped code many of its protocols. The system was a masterpiece of layered encryption, but no system was perfect. He made his way quickly but cautiously to the maintenance room, tucked deep in a rarely accessed corner of the station. The room was filled with cables, panels, and emergency controls, the perfect hidden spot and a strategic advantage point. As he settled in, Tim pulled out his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard. Screens popped up as he accessed the Watchtower’s security matrix. “Let’s see... disable the motion sensors in my vicinity, loop camera feeds in adjacent corridors, and set a few false positives to keep them chasing ghosts,” he muttered, systematically dismantling the surveillance around him. The hacking felt like second nature. The familiar rhythms of code and commands were a comforting contrast to the chaos his brothers would be causing elsewhere. Snacking on a protein bar and sipping an energy drink, Tim settled in to monitor the system, ready to respond if anyone got close. “Precision and patience,” he reminded himself. “The best Robin doesn’t just fight, he outthinks.” And with that, Tim vanished into the digital shadows of the Watchtower.

Damian POV.

Damian Wayne didn’t waste time. The zeta tube shimmered around him for only a moment before he was moving, sleek, silent, and purposeful. Unlike his brothers, who probably wasted precious minutes indulging in petty games or nostalgia, Damian had a clear objective. Victory. He slipped into the shadows, immediately identifying the overhead vent grating near the hallway junction. It took him less than six seconds to reach it, unscrew the bolts with a compact tool, and vanish into the ductwork like a phantom. “Only fools camp on the ground,” he thought with disdain. The Watchtower’s ventilation system was extensive, a labyrinthine network that wove above and between every major area of the station. Most importantly, it was outside the range of most biometric sensors and offered clear vantage points for observation and, when needed, sabotage. As he crawled deeper into the vents, Damian passed over the common area and glimpsed a flicker of movement below. Probably Todd, doing something immature. No doubt he'd leave evidence. “Amateur,” Damian muttered, unimpressed. Deeper still, he found what he was looking for: a wide junction above the Watchtower’s central data core. The duct opened up into a cross-section of airways, allowing easy escape in any direction. He unfolded a compact mat, securing it with suction clips inside the metal walls, and arranged his gear in orderly fashion. Smoke pellets, flash bombs, sleeping darts, a wristpad to monitor security feeds, and, more importantly, a small, encrypted communicator linked to the Watchtower’s maintenance channels. He activated a localized white-noise emitter, just strong enough to confuse nearby audio sensors. With everything in place, Damian sat cross-legged in the duct and exhaled slowly. “Let them play their little games. I will simply outlast them all.”

[darcyolsson]

https://www.tumblr.com/darcyolsson/784985295714238464?source=share

Please, I don't know jack about tswift or tswift's music... what's the tea 👀👀👀

she got the rights to her masters back! basically a few years ago, the rights to the master recordings of her first 6 albums were sold by the person who owns the record label she was originally signed to (scott borchetta) and she was never given an option at any point to buy them herself, even though she'd been wanting to for years. what made matters worse is that the person who he sold them to was someone who she's privately and professionally had a lot of trouble with in the past and overall does not like (scott borchetta, who used to be the manager of many big names including ariana grande, demi lovato, and idina menzel, all of which left his management in quick succession a few years later. make of that what you will). she also made it clear that borchetta was very much aware of her feelings towards braun, so it was just a massive betrayal to her all around. she knew the rights would get sold eventually, but it being braun who they were sold specifically is what made it awful.

I assume you know about the taylors versions, but if you dont: basically taylor hated the idea of 1. not owning her work and 2. someone who she hates profiting off it (she was still making some money from her og recordings, just not as much as she would have and every time she did he got money too). because of this she decided to rerecord her entire back catalog, and 4 out of 6 of those albums have been released (all the albums she made under her new label have been fully owned by her from the start). the rights to those original 6 albums eventually got sold by borchetta to a different company and taylor announced today they allowed her to buy them back, making her own everything again.

the post refers to the endless (well, until now!) swiftie debate about the ethics of listening to the og recordings. ofc the general consensus was that you "should" listen to the taylors versions, but a lot of people are attached to the og recordings/thought the rerecording didn't always capture the song in the same way/etc.

people LOVED arguing about this of course. it was a lot of "if you support that evil man by streaming 20 seconds of shake it off stolen version taylor hates you and you need to die" (it's truly not that deep) countered by "well they're both evil billionaires so it doesnt even matter!!!!" (it's more about owning your lifes work than money) I think most people were quite normal about it and a lot of the discourse around it was quite nuanced but ofc the most radical opinions got the most attention and it got exhausting quite fast. fortunately it went on for 4 years after that

anyway it's all over now bc she got them back <3 i'm genuinely very happy for her, the fact that one of the biggest artists in the world had this much trouble just getting to own her music is actually diabolical and I'm really glad she took the opportunity her to turn this into a bigger discussion on how artists are treated in the industry. now excuse me while I go stream style (not taylors version)

[moonbiscuitsims]

🦴Cyberpunk 2077 Phantom Liberty - Voodoo Boys Skeleton Cyberware Tattoos (Sims 4 cc) 🦴

🦴These are conversions of CDPR's textures for the Voodoo Boys Cyberware from Phantom Liberty. I really love the design :D All items come in neutral, bright, pastel and darker colours, and can be further modified with colour and brightness wheels! I made the colours before knowing this but still it's good to get the closest colour to what you want, otherwise pixelation or changing of unwanted areas can occur. This set includes: 🦴Face Cyberware 3 variations: found in Head category

🦴Arm Cyberware: found in Upper Left Arm category

🦴Ribs Cyberware: found in chest category

🦴All are available for male and female frame. 🦴All have specular map to make it slightly shiny like metal.

🦴Textures are HQ but in images taken in my game with no hq mod. 🦴Merged and separate files, don't download both. Inform me of any issues please! Minor issues: 🦴Ribs and arms are ever so slightly brighter. Even after darkening their textures way more than the face ones they still look this way, my guess is the light hits that body part differently making it appear lighter, simply darken them with the colour wheel if you wish. 🦴The collarbone is a bit in the wrong direction compared to the bone shape on some sim skins oops, I realised this too late and didn't care about it too much so I left it. 🦴The index finger bone texture stretches a bit, no matter how I placed it this was hard to stop because of the hand geometry. The textures were baked from CP meshes so don't perfectly align.

These cyberwares took me ages to make, if you would like to show me some support, you can do so by donating on my PATREON, any help would be greatly appreciated. Please read and respect my CC TERMS OF USE: - DO NOT REUPLOAD - DO NOT PUT BEHIND PAYWALL OF ANY KIND - DO NOT INCLUDE CC IN ANY DOWNLOADS (link to my download) - DONT CLAIM YOU MADE IT

DOWNLOAD PATREON DOWNLOAD GOOGLE DRIVE Voodoo Boys Lookbook cc list

[marriedtosuku]

Headfirst

Collage made by me, but I dont own any pictures. Middle photo was made by @heybiji on Twitter.

an: This is a non-jjk drabble. A quick little drabble about Caleb of Love and Deepspace since I can not pull for Xavier's event card because I pulled a 5 star Caleb. Which in theory is insane because I literally do not want to pay extra for a possibility (do I still sound bitter at not getting my omega). Anyway, enjoy this fluffy piece and I cant wait to hear from you all.

Pairing: Caleb x reader

genre:fluffy, kinda self-depricating, pregancy, chapped lip Caleb, baby apple

word count: 600ish

Hmph, stop pipsqueak.”

I ignore his pleas, a tube of my favorite lip balm in hand on a mission to moisturize my boyfriend’s lips. He has a habit of biting his lips when he’s nervous, chapped skin prickling against my neck while we wait for the timer. 

“ no Caleb, your lips are scratching me.” 

“ let me just lick em.”

“No,” I counter. “ that makes it worst. This is going to make your lips smooth and buttery.” 

“ do I need smooth lips to wait for a pregnancy test?” 

I stand against him, his exposed arm wrap securely around my neck. The test tempts me with each grueling second pass by in steady ticks. This is our first pregancy scare since our wedding and the tension of it all has me reeling on Caleb’s broad chest. Idealistically, a child would be the missing piece in our family dynamic. A girl or boy, favoring mostly me with a few feature of my staggering husband sounds blissful, but our trauma combine could make Dr.Phill plan an early retirement. To put it bluntly, we’re damaged goods. 

Caleb, an ex Colonel commander, still wake up in cold sweats. His hard body quivers, hands tightly bounded around the fitted sheets, heaving in utter distress at whatever memory tormenting him that night. Some nightmares were worst than others which is why he prefer I fall asleep before him. 

But I’m not any better. 

A cluster of misguidance, mistrust, and misfortune all wrapped up in a short tempered body. I had my fair share of death and misery to make even Heartbreaker weep. Some things I haven’t even told Caleb about and never will. 

Because a hunter has to be strong, especially in the face of an adversary. 

“do you think we’re ready for a child?” I asked. 

He purse his lips. “I think we could try. We know how rough we had it growing up and know not to put our child through it. Therapy has been working, so I’m not experiencing nightmares as much.” A hand caressed my shoulder blade. “You’re just in your pretty little head again.” 

I hate when he does that. 

“ m’not in my head.”

“Hey, “ he turns me around, his bright indigo eyes stared at me so tenderly, hands firmly on my arms to keep me steady, and a kiss from his chapped lips on my forehead. “We are ready for this. Our child will be loved, nourished, and cared for. They will not a go a day without hear an ‘I love you’, and I know we both would go hell and high waters to protect them. I can promise you with my heart that I’ll do whatever it takes to make you and them happy and safe.” 

“Caleb,” 

My heart skips a beat when the timer echoed in our bathroom. It felt like a hot cast iron skillet on my hand. 

“Are you ready to look?” 

I nod.

Our strides differed. Caleb practically glide over towards the white, plastic stick while I strayed behind like a skittish cat. Caleb reassurance made my heart a little lighter but that pestering voice lingered. 

“Am I good enough ?” 

“Can I be a naturing mother?” 

“There’s no rules to parenting, pipsqueak.” 

“Stop reading my mind!” 

He chuckles. “Come here,” 

I zoned in at the test and Caleb’s glimmering face. 

Positive.  

“We’re going to be parents.” He practically lifts me up. 

“Heh, I can’t believe it. I’m still doubting my parental abilities, but I know that we have each other and we’re going to give our all so baby Apple will never be without.” I finally say. “It’s just one more thing.” 

“Yeah?”

“Their daddy shouldn’t have chapped lips.” 

an: I love this man, but I know he doesn't own chapstick.

[goldfades]

31. "you're such a softie. why do you hide it?" / "i don't really try to hide it, it's just that nobody has ever cared enough to see it."

20. "i don't think i've laughed this hard in forever. you're really something, you know?"

with luka and more reserved reader if you dont mind ! congrats on 6k girl im obsessed with your works ! 🩵

hi baby!! thank you so much<3 i hope you enjoy this, i looove soft luka

warnings: softie luka!! not an established relationship but some banter, umm... fluff?

You don’t expect Luka to stay this long.

It’s been hours since the last of the small group left. Some people from his team, one of your coworkers you don’t know that well, a couple of their girlfriends, all politely cheerful in the way you’ve never been good at returning.

You’d helped clean up as soon as you could, just to have something to do. And when they said their goodbyes and the door finally shut, you figured Luka would follow right behind.

But instead, he stayed. Quiet at first. Just lingering in the kitchen with a beer in his hand, eyes flicking to you now and then like he was still deciding whether to speak.

You weren’t sure what to do with that.

Luka Dončić — the Luka Dončić, staying behind at your place, in your little apartment, with its thrift-store lamp and stack of unread books and dusty plant that you keep forgetting to water. You’re not used to that kind of attention. Not from people like him.

But it’s not the fame or the headlines that unsettle you. It’s how easily he looks at you, like he’s seeing something you’ve spent years keeping quiet.

He’s been doing that a lot lately.

You first met through mutual friends at some pre-season event you didn’t really want to go to. You were quiet, polite, barely speaking unless someone asked you something directly. Luka noticed anyway. Not in a loud, flirtatious way but like you were a book he’d found in someone else’s shelf and he kept going back to reread the same lines.

Now here he is, leaning against your counter, smiling like he belongs here.

“I didn’t know you were funny,” he says, grinning into the rim of his bottle.

You blink at him, startled.

He chuckles. “You kept that one to yourself.”

“I didn't,” you say automatically, brushing a hand through your hair. “I just... tonight was different.”

“Different how?”

You shrug. “I don’t usually talk that much. I guess I felt comfortable.”

He watches you. Not the kind of watching that makes you shrink. The opposite, actually. Like he’s trying to find the part of you that just made the whole room laugh when you finally told that story about your childhood dog and the ruined birthday cake.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he says.

You look down at your hands. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it.”

There’s a silence that fills the kitchen — not awkward, not strained. Just a quiet understanding that settles between you.

You reach for a glass and turn the faucet on. Something to do. A pause, a breath.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in forever,” he adds, softer now. “You made it easy.”

That makes your chest warm in a way you’re not used to.

Most people think you’re cold. Or shy. Or just hard to talk to. You’ve heard it all in whispers, in strained smiles. You’ve learned not to expect much. You’ve become a master at retreating just enough to avoid being disappointed.

But Luka doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, he keeps inching closer. Not physically, though he’s still just a few feet away. But emotionally. Deliberately, like he’s not afraid to wait.

You glance at him. “You’re such a softie.”

His brows lift in mock offense. “Am not.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He laughs, low and genuine. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You take a slow sip of water, heart suddenly too loud in your chest.

“Why do you hide it?” you ask, the words out before you can second-guess them.

Luka tilts his head, considering. Then he shrugs, gaze dropping to the floor for the first time all night.

“I don’t really try to hide it,” he says, quiet now. “It’s just that nobody’s ever cared enough to see it.”

You freeze.

Something about the way he says it, so casual, so unguarded, it punches straight through your ribs. You know that feeling too well. That invisible ache of being overlooked, misunderstood. The way you learn to hold the soft parts of yourself in because they’ve never been safe anywhere else.

You meet his eyes. “That’s not true. People care.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He gives you a lopsided smile. “But not like this. Not the quiet stuff. Most people like the noise.”

You look down again. “I’ve never liked the noise.”

“I know,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You don’t know what to say to that. So you just sit with it. Let it wrap around you like something warm and heavy and impossible to name.

Then, as if reading your thoughts, Luka pushes off the counter and comes to stand beside you. He doesn’t touch you. Just leans his hip against the sink and nudges your shoulder gently with his.

“You’re not hard to figure out, you know,” he says.

You scoff. “That’s a first.”

“No, really. You think you’re hiding all this stuff but you’re not. You light up when you talk about books. You hate small talk but you’ll talk for hours if it’s about something real. And you laugh like it surprises you every time.”

You stare at him, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

“And,” he adds, voice softening, “you care more than you let on.”

“I don’t…” you start, then falter. “I’m not good at showing it.”

“You don’t have to be,” he says, looking right at you. “Not with me.”

The silence after that isn’t empty. It’s full, brimming with something unspoken but understood. A promise, maybe. Or the beginning of one.

You take a deep breath. Luka’s still watching you, not with expectation, but with the quiet patience of someone who’s willing to wait for your pace.

And for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to hide.

You just stand there, side by side in the dim kitchen light, and think, maybe being seen like this doesn’t have to feel so terrifying after all.

Maybe with him, it could even feel like coming home.

my 6k celly!

[stolaz-the-artist]

Alright so.... here's my first NK request.

MORE PRINCE CLAY!!!!!! PUFFY SLEEVES AND PANTS AND A FANCY VEST PLEASE!!!! And a talking robot hawk because royals used to hunt with birds of prey and also its his symbol :3

‼️YEAH NEXO KNIGHTS, FINALLY‼️

This is the first fully finished piece i've made in weeks! i know that doesnt make sense since i've kept up my consistant posting every friday, but thats only because of ✨scheduled posts✨

Exams have been kicking my ass. So getting to put my baby boy in a pretty little outfit after weeks was such a reward. I had so much fun working on this. Figuring out the colour palette wasn't easy, but i liked what i came up with in the end. And i also messed around with a few variants on the gems. It was a hard pick, but here are the other ones i really liked.

Now i had a lot of fun with this AU once more, so obv i came up with my own ideas, so a bit of text is coming up along with some sketches. But if not, at least check out the original version of this AU made by @localcryptid3. Super cool people, both the asker and AU creator. Support them!

Want to make a request? Heres info, and a deeper dive into the rules.

Alright here we go!

In the orginal version it seems like Merlok is somewhat the king, but i personally woulndt go with that. In this specific version i made Wanda is the queen but she's sort of crazy. Like cursed. I recently got back into Ever After high so i'd imagine something like the Queen of hearts maybe. But if Merlok would be the king i'd put her in more of a spot like The evil queen iykyk. If you don't, watch it!

This is not his prefered style at all. This is Wandas style, which she forces him to wear. So dont come after me. He def doesn't like the corset, and crystals, yada yada. So bulky and gets so much in the way for him.

He definetly has this formal persona that is meant to make social situations less awkward, but it really doesn't. Big words, strict mannerisms. People mistake him for trying to act like he's better than everyone else, but he truly doesn't think that at all, not even remotely. Cough Cough autism Cough Cough

He'd be in a very similar place as Macy, where he has to beg his mother to let him be a knight. His mother only caved in because he promised to prioritises his magically studies (He's still overworked, he cant and wont escape that fate.). But he is still very well taught in fighting, just not in a knightly way.

I always like that Clay seems to have a minor fear to public speaking (according to his VA) and i would definelty wanna play more on that. Like him dangling over a mental breakdown before every royal speech, only for him to bottle it all up and just push through it (something that totally wont have sever consequences)

The castle isn't as open as it is in canon. Very closed off, scary gothic castle vibes. The spying birds is to both keep track of staff and Clay and Fletch.

Alright enough rambling, time for doodles

(Cursed/put under a spell to be crazy/crazy)

(Misses how she used to be but plays along for the kingdoms sake)

Fletch appreciation

Was forced to wear this if he was to work at the castle (endures it so he can ensure his nephews safeties)

Crazy lady appreciation

Pre-curse (Yeah physically you cant really tell a difference)

Fletch fit

Fletch ❤️

Anyway, do give me more NK requests, i enjoy doing them so much! i had a lot of fun and would love to have an excuse to keep drawing my babies!

[kuroochako]

singers + lovers to exes to lovers jaith au 🔥🔥🔥 made in collaboration with @im-an-emotea

okay so i got the idea for this au listening to Leonard & Marianne by Bastille on repeat so give that a listen maybe 😇

the song is important for a scene that happens kinda late in the story (also there’s not really a story. i’m not good at this help) AND i also have a playlist for this au 🔥song suggestions are welcome

THIS GOT VERY LONG I DIDNT MEAN FOR IT TO BE SO LONG IM SORRY I UNDERSTAND IF U DONT WANT TO READ ALL THAT 😭🙏

also i’m getting so self conscious now that i’ve written it all out sorry if this sucks :/ this is what’s in my brain i guess…

Keith and James are around 17-18ish, they’re both just starting out their career in music and recently released their first projects with two kinda famous recording companies. As it happens, the media is immediately putting them against each other, comparing their sales, sound, image (idk you get it.) because they both have a young audience, so without even knowing each other there’s this kind of “rivalry” already established between the two for that short period.

James has been studying music for his whole life (singing and piano+guitar), and i think his parents probably are famous musicians (not singers tho) that pushed for him to study music when they noticed he was good. They didn’t really expect him to end up persuing a “pop star” career but they had the connections, they could make it happen. I think his label initially wanted to stick him in a boyband (1D style) but he ended up solo, so they sorted out a Justin Bieber kinda thing for him (sorry Jamie you have a pretty face the pre-teen girls will go crazy for you) [also sorry i was never into boybands or justin bieber and the like so idk if it makes sense i’m working with what i saw online 💀]

Keith of course has his signature raw talent (his voice is insane) that carries him with the minimal training that his agency made him go through while recording and before releasing. His sound is very different from James’ but is still marketed towards a young audience, think more punk/emo [i also don’t know anything about this.]

His parents situation? I think both dad and mom are alive and well (for my sanity) but they have nothing to do with music. They’ve always supported Keith’s passion and got him a guitar and lessons when he was little, he’s been playing and writing on his own since he was a kid, probably put some of his songs on soundcloud as a teen and tiktok too probably, which is how he blew up and got noticed (by shiro of course).

So, when they both release music with their agencies they get interested in the other because of the media pressure and end up thinking “damn, this guy is good.” while their initial assessment was more like “who does he even think he is”, and of course keep in mind they’re both the primary writer and composer for the majority of their songs, which is why they got interested in the first place.

They meet at an award show and basically spend all night talking because, after a rather awkward introduction, they both felt instantly captivated by the other. There’s some teasing but mostly they talk about their connection to music, process, visions, ideas and the like. Not sure if they win anything that night but at some point Keith proposes to ditch and go “have fun” somewhere else and James (reluctantly) agrees, because yk he’s a stickler for the rules and doesn’t want to get yelled at but Keith was much too fascinating to him to end their conversation so soon (and didn’t want Keith to think he was a loser).

So they spend all night together (until dawn) walking around and talking and even end up making out a little… (horny teenagers)

They end up getting together at around 18-19, they write together, release songs together, their fanbases go Crazy for them, they’re an It couple to anyone 20 and under

But their relationship is a little rocky, they’re in love but aren’t the best at communicating, they get jealous, they both have explosive personalities, they argue a lot (but still stay together for years) and don’t really talk about it after, just “forgive” each other and move on.

I know this isn’t the best but yk. When they’re not arguing they’re amazing. That’s what keeps them together. And their music.

They have So Many songs together, and even for their own original projects they help each other out and are credited on a lot of them.

The good parts overshadow the bad ones and so they stay together until they’re 22. Codependency goes brrr.

That’s when worse comes to worst. They have a Big Fight at their apartment one night and go to bed without resolving. Keith decides that night that he’s done and packs up his things while James is asleep. He gets in his car and literally drives away to the other side of the country. No notes, no texts, nothing. Just packs and leaves. Not the ideal way to break up with your boyfriend of 4 years but you know. It was an impulsive decision, and when he really got to think about it with a clear mind he was already hours away, so he decides to stick with it and “move on”. Except he doesn’t, he can’t.

[also. i’m very sorry. idk what the fight is about 💀 worst writer in the world i know. suggestions are welcome from someone with relationship experience (or not)]

James notices Keith’s gone the next morning but doesn’t think too much of it because Keith’s done that before, until he notices that all of his stuff is gone too. So he calls Keith. Over and over again. But he doesn’t pick up. He sends a thousand texts, keeps calling, calls Shiro (he answers, but he has no idea where Keith is either). He gives up that night when Keith finally blocks him.

Cue the bad coping mechanisms. They both disappear from the public scene for a while. They’re both miserable. James smokes way too many cigarettes and Keith ghosts all his friends and spends his days drinking and angrily playing guitar.

The break lasts 3 years, during which they do try to move on but really can’t. They “date” other people - Keith goes out with a lot of guys that resemble James (both physically and personality wise, yes he has a type) but it never works out because they’re either assholes or boring or try to talk shit about James (he can’t stand that, he still loves him), while James doesn’t really stick to the Keith theme and dates just about anyone, but keeps thinking of him and can’t even find anyone who looks/acts like him enough to pretend. Pretty often pics of their dates appear and cause uproar, plus both of them see them and sulk for days (they want to get back together so bad but as time passes they think the other hates them now). Their friends can’t stand them anymore because that’s all they talk about. All their songs are still about each other. The break-up albums go so fucking hard and sell so well. So at least they’re still successful.

(I think James tries therapy to move on, unsure if it helps with moving on but at least he learns that he needs to communicate)(Keith uses song-writing as therapy)

Also, imagine trying to move on from someone who’s constantly trending and charting, on billboards anywhere, on the radio, social media. They never see each other during those years except when they’re at the same events, but they always keep their distance.

This is where the song comes into play!! It’s the scene that inspired the entire au (also maybe it’s really stupid now i’m getting self conscious 😞)

They’re both on tour at this point in time, they have a stop in the same city the same night, which also happens to be the date of their breakup anniversary (really fun)

They both sing a cover of Leonard&Marianne of course thinking of each other, but it wasn’t planned, it was a spontaneous decision to add the song to the set list to “celebrate” their anniversary, which of course only they knew about.

The crowd lowk loses their mind, imagine live-tweeting at a Keith concert that he’s singing that and finding out James is doing the same song in that moment 😭

So yeah the whole thing goes viral, but keith and james have no idea until the show ends, their managers don’t even know if it’s a good idea to tell them, but they find out.

The moment Keith hears he gets in his car to go see James (he finds out what hotel he’s staying at after begging Shiro to ask Adam (i hc he was lowk a mentor to James and they regularly keep in contact)) without even thinking about it, he only realizes he doesn’t know what to say when James opens the door.

All Keith manages to spit out is something along the lines of “what the hell was that shit you just pulled” and James doesn’t know what to say, he just stares at him before realizing that they probably shouldn’t stand in the hallway and pulls him in his room.

So they’re in there just staring at each other, Keith is waiting for an answer, James can’t believe he’s there right before his eyes, but eventually he says “i’ve missed you” with his stupid sad puppy face and keith just wants to kiss him

this is the part i thought less abt so it’s gonna be short, i think they end up hooking up that night, they try not to talk about the elephant in the room, the next morning keith leaves but they promise to talk about it and eventually they do start dating again from the start, going on dates again, getting to know what they did during those 3 years apart etc etc

not very set on the “ending” at all tbh, i’d like to hear some outside perspective on the whole thing

thanks for reading if u did!

here’s the playlist, song suggestions welcome

[phantomquill]

this was a really fun read - at the end of the day, some of things highlighted here read to me as things that were meant as subtle nudges to the phantom later on (like jumping straight to explosives! it feels similar to the other kind of jokesy foreshadowing littered throughout aa5) - and overall i dont know if i agree monstrous turnabout is the best representation of bobby as an out-of-universe thing (getting back to that in a sec), but all that aside theyre interesting points and overall is fun to consider.

i didnt do my research on this, so i cant say this with certainty, but i doubt the aa5 cases were written strictly chronologically, or if case 2 preserves a different intended reading better than other cases. bobby does act quite differently between case 2, 3, and 4, but not necessarily because case 2 was first written with an earlier version of him in mind, or the only case written that way, if that makes sense. but whether or not an out-of-universe explanation holds up, an in-universe interpretation works regardless: the first time you meet "bobby", he is acting out his best impression of bobby fulbright, i.e. the closest they get to impersonating him truthfully. all that stuff that comes later? the phantom isn't getting that from the real fulbright - they can't very well update his character with new information gleaned from a dead guy. its a bit of a different angle and more headcanon territory than text or intention, but all that is to say i'm not sure i subscribe to the same reasoning, but agree with the conclusion. the further into the game you get, the more the phantom becomes the phantom, and the less they become bobby fulbright.

and i think overall their writing was poorly thought out in context of the Mystery - youre not given the clues or proper foreshadowing (beyond odd jokes about ghosts) that makes you go "oh shit! in retrospect this explains so much and makes so much sense" when you find out they are the big bad of the game, which is important to me in a mystery game. the game instead just sort of drops it onto you and you just have to accept it without really any elaboration or explanation. and that *is* something that makes me think you might well be onto something wrt bobbys death not being written in until later on in development - i feel like if they had gone into this with the express intention of bobby fulbright being a victim, his body would at least have come up relevant and been shown, rather than just kind of being a thing that gets mentioned along the way, if that makes sense? but then again, aa5 is kind of a mess in a lot of ways, so who knows, haha. maybe it would have been just as confusing regardless of when that decision was made.

either way, its interesting to me what people generally ascribe to the original bobby based on the phantoms impersonation - i think a lot of fans really just want him to be a more "wholesome" version of the phantom, and end up separating the overall character's flaws from him, or brush aside any parts of him they might not like, since strictly canonically, that wasn't *him* anyway. which like, is fine! it's fair! it's all interpretation from this point anyway. no one is technically right or wrong. but fanon bobby fulbright is some sort of manic pixie dream girl invented to ship simon blackquill with and i sincerely doubt simon would have liked the original all that much based on what the phantom thinks he was like. and conversely, a lot of the "just" things the phantom does, like making sure people take shelter before setting off bombs, or trying to prevent solomon starbuck from falsely being convicted (to the point of inadvertedly incriminating themself) - those are choices they made as themself much more than they were part of roleplaying bobby. as the game goes on, they spiral more and more about what justice really is, and how to uphold it - which makes it seem like the obsession with doing the right thing is something that stems from their own beliefs at least as much, if not more, than it is a character trait of bobby.

in a very meta sense, the phantom needed to fuck up and have flaws, and they could never have committed the perfect crime and gotten away with it in a crime-solving mystery game, but in an in-text way they would have benefited much more from being the kind of cop you cant argue with and who doesnt let you investigate - i.e. closer towards the bobby they tried to be in case 2. you could theorize that their biggest weakness, in a way, was that they lacked some of the original bobbys negative character traits.

The Real Bobby Fulbright and Morality

Hey hey! I am back with yet another analysis post, this time focusing on Fulbright's morality! I often see fanon interpretations of him - that are super fun! - but I also feel like they focus on the positive aspects of his personality and avoid the darker ones, so I will be rambling about that under the cut! Enjoy B)

Before we get into specific examples, it is worth pointing out that this analysis is based off of:

The theory that Dual Destinies didn't originally have the phantom as the main villain.

That the phantom was included later in the story after several chapters were already finished.

The theory that Dual Destinies was going to deal with darker themes before it got altered.

Now, although I have more detailed arguments on why I believe in these points, this post is not about that (Though if anyone wants to hear my thoughts about it, I'd love to yap about that in another post ^^). In a nutshell, Fulbright's behaviour changes in between cases, in a way that suggests that his character was revamped. I believe that Fulbright was originally written without the phantom in mind.

Thus! While his character might've had his purpose shifted, if my belief is correct, then The Monstrous Turnabout - the first case with Fulbright - is the most accurate glimpse into what the real Bobby Fulbright was like. Yes, we are meta analysing it up in this house!

Via the assumption that The Monstrous Turnabout has the original idea for the real Fulbright, we can make some interpretations of what he's like, despite the canon saying it was the phantom impersonating him! ^^

So, onto actual examples (lovingly chosen from my transcript) and analysis!

Starting off strong, we first meet Fulbright with him wanting to arrest Apollo and Athena. Yes, there is the potential reasoning of "disturbing a crime scene", but the lawyers had only just gotten there. They had done nothing wrong. That is unlawful arrest! Them coming to the crime scene had several explanations, and yet Fulbright won't even hear them out:

[???] “Hey, who are you and what are you doing here? This is a crime scene!”

[AJ] “And who are YOU? Are you with the police?”

[???] “I asked first! Who are YOU and what are you doing here?! On second thought... I’m placing you under arrest for disturbing a crime scene!”

He prioritizes lunch over actual, genuine justice here, not even bothering to hear them out. He only changes his tune after finding out that they're lawyers. Even then, he doesn't allow them to investigate. Though that is what all Ace Attorney detectives do, I think the subtle threat that comes afterwards is important.

[AJ] “Ack! Under arrest?! B-B-But...”

[???] “Save it for the boys back at HQ! Now, come quietly or else! I don’t want to be late for lunch!”

Yes, he never pulls out a gun in the series (besides attempting to do so in Turnabout for Tomorrow as the phantom), but I believe that the inherent threat and power that Fulbright holds in this situation is worth mentioning. Apollo's assumption that Fulbright could pull out a gun is also quite telling in my opinion. Fulbright is a cop at the end of the day.

[BF] “Cease and desist at once, or you’ll have to deal with my little friend here!” { Hand goes to his holster }

[AJ] “Ack!” (Yikes! Is he reaching for his...?!)

[BF] “In justice we trust!” { Shows badge }

[AJ] “...!” (Phew, it’s just his badge.)

[BF] “This door simply will not open! We’ve tried and tried, but it won’t budge! It’s an essential part of the culture found in this manor, so we can’t blow it up either!”

The next concerning aspect I've found, is the seemingly normalized use of excessive force. The only reason they're not blowing up the door is because of its cultural significance. That is insane! It can be argued that it's not Fulbright's decision, however, the lack of reaction from everyone involved signifies to me that this is the norm.

With this moment, I wish to point out Fulbright's black & white thinking. I acknowledge that this is consistent for all detectives in the series, but it is a piece of characterization that is very important - Fulbright is very quick to call Tenma a villain, evil, a fiend. Thinking that someone is guilty and thinking that someone is evil are quite different imo.

[AJ] “So you still think Mayor Tenma is responsible?”

[BF] “That’s right! Damian Tenma is an evil fiend who must be banished from this world! Now, take my hand and together we will defeat this evil!”

[BF] “I won’t fall for that, you shameless rascal! I only help good little boys and girls!”

In general, Fulbright tends to think in an us vs them mentality - the people he likes are good, while the ones he dislikes are bad. He helps good people and puts away bad people. In a sense, yes, that's what a cop is supposed to do.

[BF] “Ha ha! My investigations are as thorough as they are foolproof, or my name isn’t Fulbright! I vow to resign immediately if I ever make a false arrest!”

However, this line paints a grim picture. Fulbright implies that he has never made a false arrest. That is statistically impossible, and implies that he has not only made false arrests before, he has also managed to get them convicted! The fact that the first time we meet him, he tries to arrest us only amplifies this point!

[BF] “What?! Are you questioning my sense of justice?!”

When he is confronted with an argument against his beliefs, he hides behind justice. In a way, he hides behind his badge, the very item that allows him to make the decisions on who is being painted as guilty, and who is not. In fact, he doesn't even question his beliefs.

[BF] “Prosecutor Blackquill! We’ve had enough of your hijinks! The foundation of justice is fair play, and you are in serious violation of that!”

And finally, the so-called 'jolts of justice'. I've seen arguments in the past claiming that the real Bobby Fulbright would never use electrical shocks on Blackquill. I politely disagree. Considering all the previous examples, I think it aligns with his behavioural patterns and is the epitome of his morality.

And thus, I would like to briefly propose my personally crafted theory about Dual Destinies: The game was originally going to delve into darker themes, and Fulbright's corruption was at the center of that.

Yes, Fulbright believes in justice, in good and bad. He has good intentions. But at the end of the day, he is a cop that holds power over others and justifies his wrongdoings with... well, justice. So long as he believes that he is doing the right thing, he is willing to reach for extremes.

I think this is often missed due to Fulbright's comical mess ups and overall cheery and charming demeanour. The characters don't really react to his more... extreme decisions either.

Consider a world where the phantom was not the main twist of the series, but some aspects remained. Such as... The tampering with evidence... Abusing police position to cover up a crime... Framing innocent suspects... It fits into the previously showcased negative traits of his.

Ergo, the real Bobby Fulbright might not be as justice-driven as many may believe. There are many details that tend to get overlooked when it comes to him, especially in fanon. Which is fine and good! It is comforting to think of a policeman that does his job properly. However, I also find this darker side absolutely fascinating and worthy of discussion.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this silly analysis post! Do feel free to argue or ask questions, I love a good debate and I love yapping <3

[dailytomlinson]

© Kimberly Levin

[starry-bi-sky]

bruce and danny being fuckign nerds together,,,, they are being the BIGGEST nerds. geeks. if you will

these losers are color-coding the most inane bullshit. they are making diagrams for things you've never even thought of. they are having the time of their lives

"what are you two doing?"

Danny, sitting criss-cross on a table, hunched over a spread of papers and a bunch of different jello cups, his back is gonna hurt SO much: color-coding jello

Bruce, sitting in a nearby chair, also criss-cross, scribbling on a graph paper: hm [agreeing]

Alfred, already exasperated and SO fond: may i ask why? and on what parameters?

Danny: we're basing it off which flavors are the most mentally stimulating and for which subjects :}

Alfred, SO fond: ah. i see.

Danny, snapping his head over to Bruce and leaning over: wh- no-- no. Buzz, I told you: lemon-flavored jello stays strictly in the 'smelling salts' category--

Bruce, still writing on the graph paper: mn. no.

Danny, nearly sprawled across his back, faux-outraged: strawberry is NOT good for math-- you fucken HEATHEN--! Give me that pen!

Bruce, did that solely to rile up Danny, now trying not to smile: hnm.

[meamiki]

silly comic based on a time i struggled to read live on stream :thumbsup:

context clip compilation below ASDASDFASA

(cw for brief mention of hospitals/strokes)