#so hopefully that'll mean that i actually do

[guillemelgat]

I think that it’s time for me to start rethinking this blog a bit, not for any reason in particular but mostly because with time I have changed, and I think that it’s time for me to acknowledge those changes. As much as it kills me to say it, I have gotten older and probably a little less dumb. While I won’t say that I’m much wiser, I do have more of an idea of what I want my language studies to look like going forward (at least for the next some amount of time).

In terms of languages, I’m going to continue to focus on Catalan (obviously), and also double down on Welsh and Basque in the hopes of reaching some level of fluency (~B2) in the next year or two. These are my main goals, and what I’m going to be structuring the blog around. In addition, I would really like to push for Malayalam sooner rather than later, so that’s going to be my main “beginner” language. Finally, I’m going to be studying Amharic as a sort of lighter bonus language, which I’ll work on if I have time but won’t push for immediate progress. I want to be able to speak it eventually, but it may be a bit before I get there.

In addition, I think that I’d like to focus in on Iberian and Celtic languages and cultures, at least for now. I’m terrible at learning multiple languages in the same family (especially Romance languages, I’ve always sucked at learning more than one so I just sort of rotate them around), but I’m so surrounded by speakers of Galician and Asturian and Aragonese and Aranese/Occitan and such (both on here, in the cultural stuff I interact with, and offline), and I’ve also gotten very sucked into stuff in Irish (and Cornish, and Gaelic) recently, so if I can get my Welsh and Basque under control I want to try diving into other languages! Maybe less from the perspective of learning to speak (at least initially) and more just to be able in those spheres without making people translate, but knowing me I’ll want to learn them before long 😅

Finally, I may be dabbling in some languages that are relevant to my local landscape—specifically these will probably be (Brazilian) Portuguese, Haitian Creole, and Russian. Most likely I won’t be posting a huge amount about these, but they may come up.

I’m also looking to write more about academic interests, especially with linguistics. Focuses may include language ecology, contact linguistics, and linguistic landscapes, but these are subject to change. I’m hoping to return this blog to something that I really valued about it before—not a place for me to teach as an “expert” (which I’ve never been), but more as a place for me to write notes and share my learning experience. So that being said, I may write up responses to papers or my synthesis of what they’re saying, and while it won’t be definitive and I don’t want it to be taken as such, I hope it enriches your stay here a bit!

Look out for more specific things in the coming days, but for now this is the more general update!

[fidgetspringer]

.

[whumble-beeee]

Crack Prompt: Welcome to the Whumpee Store!

(aka totally not bbu what do you MEAN)

Whumpees stacked on shelves grocery store-style

Different aisles for different types of whumpee ("No ma'am, this is actually the conditioned aisle, the defiant aisle is on the other side of the store, aisle 9.")

Workers that are TOTALLY not whumpees themselves probably

Or maybe that teenager helping you really is just your average dead-eyed retail worker. Basically the same thing at this point anyway.

"Sir, that's the price for a fresh unaltered whumpee. You can mold them however you want."

"You want me to do YOUR JOB for you?! What kind of establishment is this?!"

On that note, whumpees made to order

You want a medium-sized defiant whumpee that'll start crying and freeze up the second you turn the lights off? Say less.

Tags on the more dainty and dewey-eyed whumpees that say "Torture with Care"

"Mx., you broke the warranty when you threw your whumpee down the stairs. The instructions clearly state they're meant for household chores only, you'll have to pay full price for a new one."

Whumpees in those sealed plastic action figure boxes, forced into a single pose for. however long it takes you to buy them please buy them they're begging you please PLEASE PLEASE THEY CAN'T TAKE--

Whumpees staring hopefully (or fearfully) at every potential customer that walks by.

BARTERING. RIGHT. IN. FRONT. OF. WHUMPEE.

Customers trying to get the conditioned whumpees to crack so they don't have to pay as much for them.

"I'm not sure this whumpee is trained as well as you say, I'm gonna need a demonstration"

Living weapon whumpees locked behind those stupid glass cabinets that you have to get a store attendant to unlock for you if you want to get at one

^Exotic/rare/expensive ones too

Thank you to all my friends on the Whump World server for all your suggestions and enabling me :) I probably have more too, but this was getting long lmao

@whumperofworlds | @randowhump | @kira-the-whump-enthusiast | @whumpninja

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo fic, day one: obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

"You're working for Cadmus," Tim says slowly. "Cadmus, as in the lab that stole Superman's body and cloned him without his consent. Cadmus, which you had to break out of so they couldn't put mind control code words in your head."

"Yeah," Superboy replies like that's not literally insane. Tim stares at him.

"Why?" he asks incredulously.

"Food and shelter?" Superboy shrugs. "And I mean, I dunno, where else am I gonna go?"

Tim is not okay with this situation.

"What did Superman say?" he says.

"Just to like, keep an eye on things," Superboy says with another shrug. "Make sure they're not up to anything shifty."

Tim stares at him.

"Superman," he says. "Told you to just . . . 'keep an eye on' the dubiously ethical cloning lab. The specific dubiously ethical cloning lab that tried to put mind control code words in your head. Specifically."

"Yeah," Superboy confirms.

Alright, Tim is actually even less okay with this situation than he thought, apparently. Like, impressively less.

"Okay," he says. It is absolutely no kind of okay in any way whatsoever, of course, but he doesn't want to put Superboy on the defensive. That'd make effectively interrogating him a lot harder, for one thing. Cooperative subjects are best in these situations. "What are they paying you?"

"I mean, like, they gave me my own room and they're feeding me and whatever, so I don't really need much money," Superboy says. "There's a discretionary fund I can use if I need to go on an undercover mission or anything like that? But I'm not really the undercover type anyway."

"Sure," Tim says. So . . . no way for Superboy to save up to move out and get an out-of-lab life, then. Great. That's not fucked-up or crazy or horrible at all. "Do you like it there?"

"It's okay," Superboy says, shrugging again. "Better than literally everybody in Hawaii yelling at me every time they see my face, yeah?"

Tim wants to set the world on fire, but he's trying really hard not to go supervillain before he's thirty and he'd hate to throw out all that hard work.

"They just let me do whatever, mostly," Superboy adds. "They don't really care as long as I'm around when they need me."

He'll go supervillain as soon as Bruce dies, Tim promises himself. Just–he'll give his share of the eulogy at the funeral and then he'll blow up three-fourths of Arkham and the entire GCPD while Commissioner Gordon is on his lunch break. He can time that out, that'll be easy. And then he'll go and personally murder the Joker with the very specific combination of a rusty crowbar and a shrapnel bomb, and then he'll just . . . well, he'll just go with the flow from there, he figures. Do whatever feels natural.

Seriously, the world as it is does not deserve to exist. It really just does not.

Tim figures he can probably convince the rest of Young Justice to tag along for the whole supervillain thing and hopefully Dick and Steph and Barbara too, and ideally also Alfred, in the unfortunately likely event that he outlives Bruce. He's got time to lay the groundwork with them all and all, and also everything really is awful and horrible and really does deserve to burn.

"Are they sending you to school or anything? Or tutoring you?" Tim asks with what little scraps of hope he has left. Higher education would be . . . well, something, at least. And actually it probably wouldn't hurt for Superboy to learn a bit more about genetic engineering from the same place he got genetically engineered, just in case anything goes wrong with his DNA again. Cadmus should at least be good for that much, right?

"Ew, no, thank fuck," Superboy says, making a face. "Like I said, they mostly let me do whatever until something needs punched."

So . . . no furthered education or learning any usable job skills or making real money or literally anything that could, again, lead to Superboy ever getting any kind of an actual out-of-lab life established.

Great.

Just great.

"I see," Tim says.

"It's a pretty sweet gig, considering," Superboy says, and grins brightly at him. It's a very nice grin. Normally being faced with that particular grin would make Tim need to beat down the highly unprofessional urge to kiss it.

Right now, though, he's a little bit more concerned with the fact that his teammate is just . . . living in and working for a fucking lab. As a matter of course. Just as a thing.

And Superman of all people thinks that's . . . fine, for some reason? Like, normal and ethical and okay? Somehow? In some way?

What the actual fuck, Tim thinks to himself.

"You said Superman told you to keep an eye on things?" he asks.

"Yeah," Superboy says, his grin widening. "He took me to his fortress and asked me to do it there. Showed me around a bit, too."

"That sounds really interesting," Tim says, wondering in vague disbelief if that means Superman had never taken Superboy to the Fortress of Solitude before. He must've, right? And just . . . inexplicably not shown Superboy around then.

Yeah. Sure.

"It was awesome!" Superboy says with more enthusiasm than Tim's seen from him since they met Nina Dowd's . . . endowments, seemingly forgetting the need to be "cool" for long enough to lean forward in his seat and outright beam at him. Tim is gonna need a minute to recover from the sight of that expression, probably. "It's seriously freaking freezing up there, but there's so much cool shit in the place. Like, from all over the universe, but from Krypton, even! The only thing I'd ever seen from Krypton before was kryptonite!"

Tim considers moving up his supervillain timeline after all. Like. Just possibly. Just a little.

Maybe he can convince Bruce to take an early retirement off-planet and just go from there.

What the hell is wrong with Superman?

"Oh, wow, really?" Tim says, simultaneously pretending he didn't already know what Superman has in his fortress and trying not to be screamingly obvious about the internal calculations he's running on figuring out how to weaponize red sunlight. Or like, maybe he could look into learning some magic. That's technically an option. Probably more time-consuming and harder to hide the process of, though. Still, it's on the table.

"Yeah. He showed me some of it. Told me some stories and stuff, even," Superboy says, and that excited grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. He ducks his head just a little, and then that soft grin is more like a soft smile, and Tim suffers. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency contact number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his smile widens helplessly. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile of his own instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that genuinely never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh, rubbing at his arm. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him again.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

"Yeah, it's kinda cool," Kon says, straightening up in his seat and then leaning back, clearing his throat and slipping his sunglasses back on like they're not in a literal cave right now. Tim doesn't call him on it, because he has a supervillain timeline to work out and that's much more important.

Also because the teammate he has an inadvisable crush on is in a much, much shittier situation than he ever realized and he has to reconcile that with his worldview and also his opinion of Superman. Tim doesn't especially idolize the man except in the sense of knowing he's one of the greatest heroes on Earth and a very, very good man that Bruce thinks incredibly highly of, one of the best men on the League and maybe even on the planet, but . . .

But if he's such a good man, then why the hell is Kon living in a lab that tried to mind-control him and why has he only just seen the Fortress of Solitude for the first time?

Why didn't he have a real name?

"So do we call you Kon or Kon-El now?" Tim asks, which is a bit of a senseless question but also at least a bit of a distraction. He wants to say this whole situation is a horrible idea, who the FUCK convinced you this situation was a good idea?!, but there is no possible way that Kon would respond well to that. Ever.

Also, Kon had a point. Where else is he gonna go?

Clearly not the Fortress of Solitude.

Seriously, would it be that hard for Superman to give him a room there? At least a place to stay sometimes, so he wasn't exclusively relying on the mind-control cloning lab for food and shelter and basic comforts?

"I think just Kon?" Kon says, frowning consideringly. "'El' is like Superman's last name, I guess? So I think just Kon."

"Makes sense," Tim says, internally seething. Superman gave him the "El" name but not a secret identity? A name from a dead civilization with a bit of sentimental value, maybe, but nothing usable on this planet? Fuck, you'd think Kon didn't already know his secre–

. . . Kon doesn't know Superman's secret identity, does he.

Tim had thought he was lying, when he'd said that stuff about Superman not having one, before. Thought it was supposed to be a cover or a misdirection or something. But Kon actually thinks that, doesn't he. And Superman has just . . . kept letting him think that.

Becoming a supervillain actually might be an underreaction, in retrospect.

"Just Kon sounds less formal anyway," Tim says instead of so just in theory, do you think tactile telekinesis could trigger a heart attack or stroke in a full-blooded Kryptonian, if you could REALLY concentrate on doing it? like not FATALLY, just dehabilitatingly?, because he still has some groundwork to do before they get that far into potential supervillainy. There's steps to the plan. The steps need to be followed. They're very important steps. "You don't want Bart full-naming you every time he's looking for the remote."

"Like he'd even bother, it's faster for him to turn the living room upside-down than actually ask anyway," Kon says with a laugh, dropping his head back on his neck. Tim has some thoughts about climbing into his lap and figuring out if the TTK makes him hickey-proof, and then buries them. Not appropriate. Not professional. Just not.

. . . technically, if Kon wanted a hickey, he could just let his TTK down and ask for–

Tim buries his thoughts deeper.

Much, much deeper.

"Point," he says. "So what time does Cadmus expect you back?"

"Dude, it's a job, not a boarding school," Kon says, giving him an amused look. "I don't have a curfew."

Tim, technically, hasn't followed his own curfew any way but accidentally once in his entire life, but for god's sake, is Cadmus even pretending to be raising a teenager or are they really just being that flagrant about ignoring all the child labor laws they so clearly do not give a fuck about? Like, there must be something illegal about this. There has to be.

If there's not, Tim will be adding "burn down Project Cadmus" to his list of supervillain plans to set up in advance. In red pen. Underlined.

Twice.

God, why is the world like this. Why are people like this?

"I guess that'd be convenient," Tim says, internally ranking various methods of combustion. "Though I guess it depends on the cafeteria hours, too."

"It's whatever, I can always eat later," Kon replies with a shrug. "I think I've still got a couple protein bars in my room anyway."

"Just protein bars?" Tim asks, mentally upping the amount of explosives he was considering going with. Cadmus is going to be a crater by the time he's done with it. "Don't you need more calories than that?"

". . . well, sort of," Kon says, folding his arms and looking very briefly embarrassed. "Superman doesn't have to eat, apparently, but, uh, guess I'm not Kryptonian enough for that. Actually I kinda need to eat more than normal humans, it's weird. Like. A lot more."

"I'm ordering pizza," Tim says, upping his mental explosives count again. "What do you want on it?"

"We're the only ones here," Kon says, looking puzzled.

"More pizza for us, then," Tim says.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

HIII

Could you please make a sub felix and femdom reader kinda similar to the club one (I hope Ik which one I mean😭) but with the members reaction at the end?

Like for example if y/n and felix fucked in his dorm but the others members heard it all??🤭🤭 and write like their reactions and stuff?💙

Please🫣

Needy Baby

pairing: felix x reader

summary: he doesn't know how you do it, doesn't know how you've managed to have such an effect on him but it makes him wanna do horrible, horrible things. or better yet, let you do horrible, horrible things.

warnings: sub felix, dom reader, gn reader, fingering (felix recieving), dacryphilia (heavy in this), exhibitionism (again, heavy), wanting to be caught, lowk an orgy at the end (kind of?), masturbating (of various kinds), minsung, kinda implied seungmin and i.n., possibly more

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i'd like to preface this by saying that i'm actually so sorry about how long this took to come out-it got buried in my inbox and i only saw it when i decided to go through them all, but anyway, it's here now so i hope you enjoy!

this also isn't proofread but hopefully will be soon enough when i find the energy to do so :p

“Tell me what you want, Lixie,” he shivers, with your breath fanning over his skin, your words in his ear.

He can hardly stand it.

Hardly stay sane.

Especially since your barely alone, on the cusp of being right out in the fucking open.

“Please…” he whines again, for what feels like the tenth time in a row, over and over again, wishing for more, wishing for everything you could give him.

His friends are right outside the room. The door is cracked open and the walls paper-thin.

He's sure they can hear him. Sure that they know what's going on in here, know that their bandmate is getting his brain fucked out by his girlfriend in the next room over.

"Please,"

And he doesn't care.

They can come watch for all he cares, the thought makes him feel even hotter; the idea of them watching you ruin him, make him cry and beg and plead.

Call him pathetic and needy, a little slut who likes to get off while his friends all watch.

And he can't help but notice that the sound of the TV, that was so obviously on before has gone silent.

"Come on, tell me one more time. Just one more. I need to make sure that I really know what you want."

Touch him, claim him, devour him. Bite him, mark him, make him cry out your name until his voice is a rasp and his throat aches.

He's too far gone to care, too far gone to want anything else than the hand that's just barely ghosting over his dick.

"Do anything, anything at all~, I need you, I need it, I ne-"

You pinch his nipple, rolling it between your thumb and forefinger, licking down the side of his neck along the freckles with intent; his mouth all but falls open in a silent scream.

He can't do this, god he can't do this.

He'll go insane. He'll lose his mind.

With the warm wet feeling of your tongue gliding along his neck, nibbling on his collarbone, sucking a mark there before moving to the next patch of skin that'll be laid victim to your lust.

With the position you're in, your back against the headboard, his against your chest.

Your legs are hooked over his, pulling them apart.

His body, completely bare as your hand leaves teasing brushes all over his inner thighs and cock; the other one's having its own fun in giving him shockwaves of pleasure by tugging on his sensitive buds, relishing in the noises he makes in reply, in the way he shoves his chest toward your hand whenever you teasingly pull away

"Needy baby," you croon into his ear and he melts into your skin, into your warmth, into the solid form of your body curled around him. "Be specific," your teeth nip at his earlobe, "tell me exactly what you want."

It's like every little thing you do sets him off so easily, every touch an electric shock of sensitivity that has him gasping and reeling for a breath to calm his dizzying head.

It ruins him all the more when he remembers the door, the crack and the way you've seemed to position him, presented completely bare and open to anyone who would happen to walk in.

"Tell me."

Shit, he could cry from the way you're talking to him. He could probably cum from that alone.

"U-um,"

His hiccupy gasps bounce around the room, much too loud for anyone outside to not hear anything.

"I-I want,"

Your hand? Your mouth? Your thigh? He doesn't know, he doesn't know, he wants it all, wants everything you can give him, he can take all of it. He will take all of it, if it means you'll finally just fucking touch him.

Your fingers leave his chest, running over his collarbone and neck and jaw to lift his chin, forcing his neck sideways so that he can look back at you.

He waits expectantly, for you to do anything, for a kiss or a tease or another reminder to speak up.

"Lixie," Your tone is sharp but also soft; demanding but also suggesting; forcing but coaxing. He doesn't know how you do it, doesn't know how it has such an effect on him but it makes him wanna do horrible, horrible things. Or better yet, let you do horrible, horrible things. "You wanna hear what I want?"

He feels his head nodding, sees your smile growing, watches the desire simmer in your eyes.

Knuckles drag along his cheek with nothing but overdone faux gentleness, like he's glass and you don't want to break him.

Like you're not about to ruin him.

The calm before the storm he supposed.

Before you finally tell him what you want, "I want to make you cry." Suddenly your hand is caressing his throat. "I want to make you beg," it loosely wraps around, your thumb brushing over his pulse point. "And I want to make you plead." You can feel his heart race under your fingertips. "I want your eyes all glassy and wide, trembling as I make you go completely dumb."

"I-" His voice is shaky, panted out with that crinkle between his eyebrows that tells you he's paying more attention to the hand wrapped around his throat that he wants to admit. "W-why?" He doesn't really care for the answer. He's turned on enough knowing that you want him like that. That you want this just as much if not more than him even. He'd rather shut up and let you hurry along but he can tell you want him to play into your theatrics. You want him to play pretend.

"I can't help myself." He gasps when your other hand grabs onto his hips, blunt nails digging into his skin, leaving crescent marks in their wake as you flip him over and press him into the mattress. "When you look helpless and needy like that, just like you are now," He doesn't know how he looks now, he doesn't know if he wants to know but if the sight makes your eyes darken with lust like it does, well then hell he'll do anything to recreate it.

"I want you to depend on me. I want you to need me."

His hair fans around his head like a halo, just like the pretty little angel he is. "You're just so pretty and you look so sad, I just wanna comfort you and hold you, keep you all to myself."

Your hand squeezes ever so slightly around his neck, restricting his breathing ever so slightly that his mouth falls open with laboured pants-partially played up just for the sake of your pupils dilating. Your jaw clenches, eyes sweeping hungrily along his trembling lips before you're leaning in, nose brushing along the line of his jaw, warm breath against his skin that makes him sigh in bliss, fingers twitching with a want to touch you.

You beat him to it though. “Can I touch you, angel? Please, pretty pretty please?” Your breathing is heavy, raspy

He doesn't know why you're asking, why when you already know the answer.

He's your's. Your's to play with and touch and tease and torture to your hearts content. If you want him to squirm-he'll squirm. If you want him to beg-he'll beg. If you want him to cry...you know it all too well that he'll cry, just for you.

"Pretty, pretty please angel? Let me feel you, make you feel so, so good." Your voice is soft like silk, honeyed and candied to hide the venom sinking into his skin, infecting him until every part of his body feels like it's on fire. "I'll find that spot that makes your back arch and your eyes roll back, you want that?"

If you want him to play into your little game, he'll gladly play it. Swallowing heavily, throat bobbing against your grip. “Y-yes, please.”

So you do. You finally, finally do more than a brush of your hand.

You let go of his throat and a high needy whine escapes his lips, silenced nearly immediately by your fingers pressing against his taint, toying around his rim, "you want me here?"

He gasps, sharp and quick and the noise sounds all too loud against the silence in the room-and what if the others heard him-and what if they're sitting on the other side of the door now, watching him, wising they coul-

"Baby?" Your fingers pinch his thigh, ripping a moan from his lungs.

"Yes! Yes please!"

You smile, soothing over the spot. "Aww, such a good boy, with such good manners." Reaching over him to the nightstand, you pull out a bottle of lube before cracking it open and pouring some over your fingers.

You warm it up before you touch him, well, because you're not that mean-not yet anyway.

His gasp rings through the room when you press a finger into him. A high moan escaping his open lips, out the door and to the main area of the dorms where the rest of the boys are but you pay that no mind, dragging your fingers against his clenching walls, feeling around for that spot that'll make him gasp.

You don't care if they hear. Don't care if they watch. You know he doesn't mind either, if that desperate look in his eye has anything to say, emotions glinting as he glances at the door then back at you-hopeful and then disappointed.

As if every time he looks over he hopes that he'll see one of them, staring back at him.

And if the way the others have gotten suspiciously quiet outside, you don't think that'll take very long.

"Want the others to walk in Lix? Want them to come in and watch?" He moans wantonly, legs spreading open to invite your touch further. His body shudders with pleasure at the mere thought of the others watching him, their eyes envious. Not knowing if they'd rather be Felix, getting ruined and pulled apart by you; or you, inflicting it all. "Want them to touch?" 

You press a second finger into him, quickening the speed, lips brushing against his skin as he nods, quick and desperate as the muscles of his legs clench and unclench, nearly spasming against your hips.

"I-i want them so bad! I-i-" his mouth is dry. His head is foggy with the idea. With your touch. With the door a crack fucking open, inviting the other inhabitants of the dorm inside. "I-i!"

And then your hand is on his throat again.

His voice cracks, breaking off into a sob as you find his prostate, fingertips grazing the spot, teasing before adding a third finger and thrusting right against it.

Hard, fast, going at a pace that he can’t nearly wrap his head around as much as let out noises akin strangled animal; grasping at your shoulders, pawing down at your wrist, pleading for you to go faster and faster and faster. 

Reaching up to his throat. His gaze meeting yours in a clash of pleasure and desperation and want and need before pulling at your hand and lacing your fingers with his.

Your gaze softens, your heart melts and he blinks. Once, twice and then he can’t help but give you exactly what you want.

His eyes first grow glossy, eyelashes fluttering as if to try to hold them back. It's a futile battle. You both know that he gets so sensitive so quickly and can't hold it back. But like he said...you like a show.

You breath.

He sniffles.

Tears like liquidized crystal prick at his eyes, one, then two, then more following down the ridges and slopes of his pretty face, creating tracks of tear stains as your heart races in your chest.

His quiet cries fill the room and it drives something inside you crazy, feral, heat filling every crevice of your body.

Something inside of you sings to see him like this, and you don't even realize you've moved at all until he's letting out a watery gasp and your hand is squeezing his harder, pressing it into the sheets and your pace gets faster, and you hit his prostate head on with deadly precision each time, abusing it over and over with your fingertips and-and-

and you're leaning in and licking up his tears, the salt clinging to your tastebuds as he sobs and squirms, unable to keep still with the way that you touch him so maddeningly.

Your tongue is hot, wet, dizzying as it drags across his skin, the sensation paired with the soft press of your lips as you kiss over his freckles too and the brutal insistence of your fingers.

You lave love and affection and utter adoration with every movement and it only makes the tears come faster, makes his lighter, fuzzier.

You add a third finger and he feels everything inside of him shatter.

"-Stop! You can't, I'm-I-I'll"

"-You'll what?" You coo, and you pout like you feel bad for him, like this isn't driving you insane with lust. Like this isn't making you want to fuck his brains out even more. "You'll cum? Put on a pretty show for all your friends?"

He nods helplessly with a small whimper, head much too surrendered into the blissful haze of something far beyond him. Lube drips lewdly down your fingers and onto the sheets as you slow your pace, dragging frustrated huffs from his pretty, perfect lips.

"Words baby,"

He doesn't reply, only whines.

And you can only watch on with hungry eyes as he clumsily attempts to fuck himself to make up for the lost stimulation.

He's unused to it as many times as you've done this, used to sitting back and letting you do the work, it pulls breathless gasps from him at the new experience, at how much exertion it takes to make his hips roll and buck and his ass greedily sucks your fingers deep inside of him.

The noises pouring from his mouth are obscene and fervid, high and ringing loudly off the walls. "Yes-" he breathes, mewling "fuck, yes. Want to-...want them, want..."

He trails off and you can only continue off the barely there thought but you know him much too well to not know where he was going. "Want them rubbing their dicks to you? Your pathetic little moans and whines-gonna cum for me and cum for them too?"

His chest falls up and down, up and down. His nails dig into the flesh of your hand and with no other warnings his mouth his falling open, back bowing up into an arch as he shoots ropes of cum all over his stomach and chest.

"Fuck~"

---

It had been Han to lower down the volume on the TV when he first heard something.

A moan.

Desperate and ruined.

It was Seungmin to glare at him, eyebrows furrowing at his blatant pervertedness.

It had been Minho to raise a brow at him, snatching the remote from Han to hold it out as an offering to him-a challenge.

The words silent but a scream all it once in his eyes.

'You want to turn it down? Do it yourself.'

Seungmin stared at it as another moan came from the door-it wasn't even fucking closed the whole way.

"Fucking pervs," he'd muttered but if he'd really felt that way he would've taken the remote.

Minho looked around at the others and the others looked at him.

And he slowly set the remote down on the coffee table, open to anyone who had the willpower to turn the volume back up.

It was, surprisingly, Jeongin who grabbed the remote and turned it off completely.

And as of now the living room is dead silent as the entirety of the dorms goes quiet as well, Felix's moans ceasing to halt.

Hyunjin is the first to speak, shifting in place from where he sits on the couch, his face is red to pair with the white-knuckled grip he has on a pillow as he presses it over his lap. "We all heard that right? I'm not just hearing things?"

He only recieves blank stares in return, as if his mind could conjure such things up.

As if it isn't obvious the way that he subtly grinds up against the pillow on his lap but no one comments. Not any of the rest of them fare much better.

Han sits on Minho's lap. Desperately dryhumping against him with his face tucked into Minho's neck as his hand grips into his hair.

It's clear that he's trying to be quiet as possible despite Han's teeth dragging over his throat and quick sharp thrusts he delivers. But the quiet ragged gasps have slowly risen in volume since Hyunjin's spoken and their little show in the other room has ended. Compared to his counterpart, he sounds composed though, Han lets out ruined whines between gasps, getting higher and needier with ever second that passes by.

The two had never been shy of PDA among their friends but this was much further than the sensual but short kisses or the teasing smack on the ass.

No one was complaining though.

Changbin shamelessly palms himself over his pants. He lets his eyes slip shut as he slowly lets his hands unbutton his tight jeans, sighing when his hand dips under the waistband of his boxers.

He can feel the eyes of the others on him, feel the particular hunger for him to pull down his boxers so he can stroke himself out in the open but he doesn't. He'll leave a little something to the imagination as he groans loudly, letting his head fall back onto the cushions of the couch, the muscles in his arms flexing as he throbs.

Seungmin and Jeongin sit next to each other on the opposite couch, a shared blanket over them from earlier. Before all of this.

They glance at each other once, twice before they're silently moving, quietly leaving the room together without so much as looking at any of the others.

The sound of a door clicking shut at the end of the hall is the only thing heard.

And Chan, their leader, only stares in the direction of Felix's door, trying to ignore the raging boner he doesn't even bother to hide.

His hair still slightly wet from an earlier shower now rests in untamed curls, hanging over his forehead as he turns away from the others, hiding a raging blush on his cheeks.

Should they have left? Put earbuds in or turned the volume on the TV loud to drown out the noise of their friend?

Perhaps.

But did they?

No.

No they did not.

And did any of them regret it?

...

a/n: ngl this was kinda hard to write for the part with the other's reactions but i'm hoping that it's okay😭

lmk what you thought and my taglist is here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @missrobyn81, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteer, @hahagay, @maru-matt, @d7dream, @amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix, @gwithoutv, @abcdefgiwsmcty, hoping i got everyone rn i'm probably gonna make a more organized vers of my taglist soon

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part seven

This has been done for days but I told myself I'd write ahead a bit before I posted it. Then my brain went on vacation about it, so uh here?

Words: 692 | Rating: E (mostly parts 1 & 2, but also future parts) | CW: no warnings this time! except Eddie's continued bad time

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

Most of the details surrounding his actual death are fuzzy to Eddie, and he supposes that makes sense in the grand scheme of things. Something about blocking out trauma or whatever. He isn’t really sure how any of that actually works. Instead he just focuses on making it all into a cohesive story for the girl that’s still staring at him judgingly. And yeah, he’s earned that look if he’s being honest with himself. He did show up uninvited.

“Well,” he says with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “It all starts in this very city, about twenty-three years ago.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, I want the long story but not your life story,” the girl interrupts him. “Start with how you ended up in the same room as Steve.”

The interruption should be rude, but Eddie just shrugs. Less work for him and his already fuzzy memories. It’s like as soon as he died, everything got jumbled up and thrown away if he didn’t need it. It’s a pain honestly. “Right, so,” he starts again with a pointed look at the girl. “I don’t know if he mentioned that I’ve been assigned as his guardian angel, but I have been. Because I died recently.”

Something twinges painfully in Eddie’s chest as he says the words, but he presses on anyway. It’s not like he knows why he’s sad about being dead. “I don’t know why I got assigned your friend or who made the decision or whatever,” he continues. “I just know that I’ve got a job to keep him safe, and I have to do it or it’s adios to somewhere much less fun for me.”

Hopefully that’s enough to appease both the girl and Steve, because Eddie doesn’t really have much else on the topic. They’re both looking at him like he’s grown a second head, and that does absolutely nothing for Eddie’s worries.

“So you’re not actually an angel then,” the girl says after studying him for a few minutes. “Because if you were, failing Steve wouldn’t be it for you, would it?”

It’s then that Eddie decides he doesn’t like her. Not because she’s wrong. She isn’t wrong. But because there’s something deeply uncomfortable about a stranger calling him out so quickly and easily.

He sighs heavily, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “No, it wouldn’t be. Or I imagine it wouldn’t be. I don’t actually know. I just know I woke up from dying and a really scary, really tiny lady told me I had to keep ‘Steve Harrington’ out of harms way until I stack up enough good points to get real wings. And that failing would be bad.”

The girl is frowning at him, studying him like a bug under a microscope again, and Eddie squirms. Then her expression softens, and it makes Eddie feel bad for disliking her just a little. “Thank you for protecting him,” she says quietly. “Usually that’s my job, but I don’t have angel magic or whatever.”

Eddie isn’t sure why she just believes his words for what they are, but he’s not going to question it. Not if it makes his life (non-life?) easier. "I mean, I barely do, but you're welcome all the same. I'm Eddie." He thrusts a hand in the girl's direction.

"Robin," she returns with a smile as she takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.

It's a lot better, a lot calmer, than his introduction with Steve. Considering Eddie still wouldn't even know his name if he hadn't been sent in with it. Despite the original hesitation, Eddie thinks he might like this Robin girl a lot more. Maybe that'll make this whole thing just a little bit easier to swallow. Because Steve certainly isn't doing Eddie any favors, even after Eddie got him out of what would have been a full-on murder charge. Ungrateful, but Eddie has a job to do, thankless or not.

"Glad you two are getting on, really," Steve says as he looks between the two of them with a grumpy frown. "But what exactly does this all mean for me? It's my life being invaded."

Tags below the cut! Let me know if you want added <3

@chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddie @penny00dreadful @momotonescreaming @stevesbipanic @dawners @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle @goodolefashionedloverboi @spookednsaucy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @flustratedcas

[nonbinarypirat]

Ok, so I have few ideas about Kalego's evil cycle based on the knowledge we have about his mana dogs. It's clear his evil cycle is very violent. While I am sure that it was worse than normal due to a multitude of stressers that exemplified the problem, his whole house was fucked up. His curtains, his bed, his floor, couches. My man is going to need either a repaining spell or just replace everything. So yeah, its clear its exteremly bad

Since you loose control of yourself during it, I imagine it gets harder to control Cerberus thus letting them roam freely. But, espeically in this instance, they feel caged. They are trapped in a fairly small space with no place to roam and full of their master's rage with no outlet. We already know that without strong control and careful handling, the dogs will turn at the slightest provocation. Even at Kalego himself when they were first bonded to him. They bit and clawed at him mercilessly

So, it's possible that because his willpower is low during evil cylce plus having no target to take their fustrations out on, they try to take it out on Kalego. I'm sure Kalego could still fight without his mana dogs, but we have seen its his primary weapon. So it would be a fight for dominance, not mentioning that Kalego would be full of rage and frustration as well. It would be a back and forth anger fest but nothing really being fixed, unless the actual fighting becomes a sort of catharsis activity? but I think it would just anger him more because on top of the stress that led him to having an evil cycle in the first place, now Cerberus is acting up and he has to deal with that. Thus why it becomes SO destructive.

It could also be that the dogs become extra protective of their master causing it to bark and attack at anything percieved as a threat. An evil cycle, while the demon is at its strongest, is also when they are at their most vulnerable. Think about it, sure you can use strong attacks and even have new abilities (ie, Sabro's weapon ability) but it takes a lot out of them, phsyically, magically, and mentally. Your powers skyrocket but your control decreases by a fairly large margin (Azz almost attacking the Dorodoro brothers). The dogs could see it as their mission to protect Kalego at all costs.

They have beem bonded together for so long that maybe they won't turn on him specifically but anything around them. Going down this thought, maybe it's less of a protective thing and moreso that they have too much pent up energy and decide to trash the place. I mean, as someone who currently has a puppy in the house and a grown dog, trust me they will mess with shit just out of pure frustration. (Though my grown up doggie only does it sometines, he's well trained, my lovely boy.) Back on track, maybe it's as simple as they are out, have nothing to do, and just chew everything up. But since this is Iruma-kun, i don't know if that'll be the case. I want it to be "oh, silly puppies" but i think there's a strong possibility of it being the "we are going to fuck you up now master" route. But them fighting Kalego does make for a fun if messed up story lore.

Hopefully we will get insight into it later in the series and also witness it!

[heavyhitterheaux]

I'll Be Home For Christmas

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: It’s your first Christmas in Atlanta after moving back with Jack, and you become upset when Jack tells you that it'll be a white Christmas that'll be spent in Atlanta and not in Louisville

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: @hoodharlow 💖

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

I'll be home for Christmas, If only in my dreams

The clock had struck 9 at night as you had finished packing your suitcase, ultimately having to sit on it to get it to close as you started to make your way to the front door of the apartment that you shared with your husband and best friend.

This was your first holiday season in Atlanta, and you and Jack quickly decided that the both of you wanted to go home to Louisville to be with both of your families and decided to drive on the 22nd of December. Although you did still have family in Atlanta, you wanted to be with your parents and sister.

Urban had left two days earlier since Jack had a few things to finish up and instead of having to wait for the two of you, Jack just told him to go and that the two of you would meet him there.

You were halfway to the front door as Jack was watching the news and the weather segment was on and it looked to you that he was deep in thought. He turned around once he heard you and simply sighed.

“Um, babe?”

“Yes? Are you done packing? We have to stop for snacks too. I definitely need gummy bears.”

“Princess, I don't think we're going anywhere any time soon.”

This stopped you in your tracks as you looked up at him with confusion written across your face.

“Boo bear, what are you talking about?”

“It's supposed to be a bad snowstorm the time that we're supposed to leave and they said driving isn't a smart idea.” Jack quietly muttered and he could see your heart breaking in front of him.

“With how much snow they're calling for, there is no possible way that we're going to make it to Louisville.”

“But…”

“I know, babe. But I'd rather have us be safe.” Jack said as he noticed that your eyes started to water and immediately got up from the couch to pull you into a hug.

“Well, what are we supposed to do now?” You asked as you hugged him tighter before looking up at him.

“We're going to make the best of it and start our own Christmas traditions. Just because we aren't with our families, doesn't mean we're not a family. We're a family of two, aren't we?” Jack asked while looking at you and placing a kiss on your forehead as you nodded.

“I know you're upset, but we're going to make the best out of this. We have about an hour before it starts, so why don't we go to the store and get ingredients to make cookies? We can also make your mom's cheesecake and we can decide what we actually want to eat on Christmas.” You heard him suggest and you simply nodded.

You decided that you needed to change your attitude, because you were getting to spend Christmas with your favorite person in the world.

The two of you set out to the grocery store and got the ingredients for both the cookies and cheesecake and on the way there, the two of you were trying to decide what to actually make for Christmas dinner. You wanted to go the traditional route with what your mom would usually make, while Jack said that he would be satisfied with just having pizza which instantly made you roll your eyes.

The two of you compromised and decided to make homemade pizza on Christmas Eve along with the cookies while saving the more traditional dinner for Christmas day along with the cheesecake. 

Later that night once you knew Jack was asleep, you sent a quick text to your mom as well as Maggie so that they would know not to expect either of you and also mentioned that as soon as you and Jack were able to do so, that you would make your way to Louisville, hopefully before the new year set in.

You were currently in front of the Christmas tree in the living room, wrapping presents for Jack and A Christmas Story was playing in the background when you heard his footsteps.

“Stop right there, Harlow.”

“What the? Baby, why are you up? It’s two in the morning.”

“I’m wrapping your gifts. I couldn’t do it while you were sitting next to me earlier, so I had to wait until you fell asleep.” You quickly answered while placing the last piece of tape on the wrapping paper that held a new pair of New Balance 550’s for him since you knew that those were his favorite.

“Princess….”

“Yes?”

“I thought I told you not to get me anything.”

“And did you honestly think that I was going to listen? It’s our first Christmas in Atlanta. I obviously had to do something. I don’t think that I went that overboard.” You said while looking at the ten plus gifts that you had already wrapped that were sitting under the tree with Jack’s name on it.

“I…. literally everything under the tree on the left has my name on it.”

“Hmm, okay so maybe I did but seeing the look on your face will be worth it.” You replied while getting up and tightly hugging him as he leaned down to place a kiss on top of your head.

“Well, if that’s the case, you need to go to sleep so that I can wrap your gifts.”

“Can I get a sneak peek? Or a hint?”

“No, you didn’t let me get one, so why should you?”

“You didn’t even ask. Closed mouths don’t get fed.”

“Well my answer is no, so to the bedroom you go.” You knew that he wasn’t going to budge so you simply just rolled your eyes and walked into the direction of your shared bedroom.

On Christmas Eve, the two of you were in the kitchen as you were pouring the brownie batter into the pan that you decided to make at the last minute while Jack was sitting at the island and licking the spoon.

“Hmm, this tastes almost as good as you do. Almost.”

“Will you behave for five minutes?” You asked while turning towards him and rolling your eyes while trying not to laugh.

“Behave? Me? I’m always on my best behavior.”

“Never mind. You are literally the most unserious person that I know.”

“I’m serious when I have you screaming when I’m knee deep in those guts.”

“JACKMAN!”

“What?!? Did I lie?”

“Help me make this pizza that you were practically begging for and cut the shit.”

“As long as I get to have you for dessert.”

All you did was stare at him before turning around and grabbing the ingredients from the fridge.

Once Christmas morning hit, it was around 5 AM and you were already bouncing off the walls. You looked out the window to see that it had snowed even more overnight and quickly decided that the two of you would definitely be making a snowman later in the day to add to the one that you had done the night before. 

“Baby…” You said poking Jack’s cheek, but he quickly swatted your hand away.

“Five more minutes.”

“Uh no. I want for you to open your gifts and see what I got you. Move it Harlow.” You quickly responded as you pulled the comforter off of him which quickly had him open his eyes to roll them at you.

“And I thought you weren’t a morning person?” He asked as you made your way to stand in front of him.

“I’m not, but everyone is a morning person on Christmas, so come on.” You simply grabbed his hand as the two of you made your way to the living room and sat down in front of the tree and display of presents.

“Okay, open this one first.” You said while handing Jack a small box that he quickly held up to his ear and shook.

“Hmm, I already told you not to get me anything and this better not have been a lot of money.”

“Will you just stop being a grinch and open it?!”

Once Jack opened it, he was in awe at the sight before him.

It was a simple necklace that had KY hanging from it and he couldn’t help but to get the biggest smile on his face.

“That way, you have a little piece of home wherever you may go in the world.” You said as Jack then leaned over to kiss your cheek, making you smile. 

“Thank you, baby. I already know that this is my favorite gift that you have given me.”

“But, you haven’t even opened half of them yet!”

“Doesn’t matter, I know that this one takes the cake. And I need you to open this one first, I definitely think that this one would be your favorite.”

Jack had handed you a decent sized box and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what was in it, simply because you didn’t even ask him for anything that would require a box that was this big.

Once you started ripping off the wrapping paper, you simply gasped when you saw the words Birkin written in the middle of the box.

“Jackman Thomas Harlow, no you FUCKING didn’t…..”

“Y/N Y/M/N Harlow, yes I did.”

“But….”

“You have been obsessed with them since forever and I made it up in my mind at the beginning of the year that no matter what I had to do, my wife was going to see a Birkin under the tree this year. And there will be many more to come after this one.”

“This means a lot to me, so thank you.” You told him as you placed it back inside the box and moved it to the side to get to your other presents.

“Now, what’s next?”

It was around 11 PM when both of you were cuddling on the couch with It’s A Wonderful Life was playing on the screen in front of you as the two of you were sipping on eggnog and the different desserts that you had made over the last two days. 

“How did we do for our first Christmas by ourselves?” Jack asked as he looked over at you and all you did was smile.

“I think we did good. We’re still married and the apartment is still in one piece.”

“Wait… were we not still supposed to be married?”

“Yes, Jackman. Relax. I just…. When you first told me that we weren’t going to be able to go home I was really upset, but I quickly changed my attitude because is there a better way to spend Christmas than with your favorite person in the entire world?”

“No, definitely not and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. You’re the love of my life if you didn’t realize it by now and the only things that I want to do is love you unconditionally, provide for you, and keep you safe.”

“And I think that you’re doing an amazing job. No complaints on my end.” You said as you quickly reached over to kiss him. 

“I figured you would say that since I got you a Birkin.”

“My answer would have been the same even without the Birkin!”

“I… I’ll let it go for now.” Jack responded as he grabbed another brownie and broke it in half giving you one.

Jack didn’t even finish eating his half as he quickly jumped up, leaving you confused.

“Babe?”

“Hold on, I forgot that I had one more gift for you.” He yelled as he made his way to your bedroom down the hall. Once he came back, he placed a blue jewelry box that you recognized being from Tiffany’s in your hand and you simply eyed him.

“You have gotten me more than enough.”

“And? Open it.”

You then came face to face with the most beautiful pair of diamond earrings that you had ever seen and quickly felt your eyes start to water.

“Baby….”

“I promised you when I got signed that I would buy you a pair of diamond earrings so I figured that it was about that time. Merry Christmas Mrs. Harlow.”

“Merry Christmas to the best husband that I could ever ask for.”

"And one more thing, babe."

"Hmm?"

You looked up to see Jack hanging a mistletoe over the two of you and you quickly tackled him while placing kisses all over his face.

"This is the best Christmas ever."

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

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[dragonotaku-justineverything]

Question for sports doctor Jaune has he ever had to deal with anti vaccine protest outside his clinic

Jaune yawned as he proceeded to get ready for his day at work. "Not really, no. I'm a small clinic for the most part compared to more corporate medical centers, so I'm not usually a good target that would get a lot of attention." Jaune took a sip of his coffee and walked out of one of the exam rooms after finishing the brief set up for it and towards the lobby/waiting area.

"And when they do show up I don't really deal with them myself. It is private property so whenever protesters do show up for whatever reason, I don't really pay them much mind. It's only if they start bothering my clients that'll I just ask them to leave or I'll call the police. Some of my patients are in recovery and don't need the stress of dealing with getting around that kind of thing. If they want to protest for their beliefs, that's fine. Just do it by the sidewalk and not right outside my door where you'll be in random people's way."

"Doctor Arc, your first... several appointments are here early, would you be ready for them now?"

Jaune sighed as his receptionist, a young antelope faunus, caught him before he could actually get to the lobby. "Sure thing Ash, just finish up the opening work and I'll see to them. Hopefully this means we will be able to go on a bit of a longer break later." Ash nodded and went off to do as the doctor asked.

Jaune grabbed the door handle, but just before he opened it, another thought crossed his mind. "Oh and... well... most of my patients aren't the kind of people to be intimidated or influenced by a crowd of protesters."

Jaune opened the door to reveal the mixed kickboxer Yang Xiao Long and olympic decathlon star Pyrrha Nikos arm wrestling on his corner table while sitting on the couch that pressed up against it. Fencer and ballet star Weiss Schnee, heiress of the Schnee family casually reading a book from the nearby bookshelf. Several time gymnast and kendo champion Blake Belladonna stretching in a show of extreme flexibility. Powerlifter and professional wrestler Elm Ederne casually lifting up a two person couch with her friend/protege Nora Valkyrie helping her to move it to get a better view of one of the TV's, while Nora's fiance martial Artist and gymnast Lie ren casually sat on top of said sofa. All right as the door burst open to see top sprinters and marathon runners Harriet Bree and Ruby Rose come rushing in, panting from the race they just had on their way.

"Yup... not the easiest people to intimidate at all really."

[princesssmars]

i think im gonna like it here

a headcanon about marinette and adrien meeting reader for the first time.

contains : fluff, adrien and marinette being kinda whipped

a/n : this is how i cope with not liking this show anymore enjoy

from the first time they saw you, adrien and marinette knew they wanted you to know more about you.

you were a new student at collège drançoise dupont, trasnfering from a different country.

you had told the principal that you didnt know much about paris, only having visited when you were really young. and so he suggested 2 of his best students show you around.

they were lucky they were chosen and it wasnt up to who their teacher picked at will, because as soon as you walked into the room they could tell everyone was intrested in you.

the tour was just walking around and showing you parts of the school, giving them some periods off, making marinette rejoice that she had science off and adrien smiling at her.

as they walked you around campus, you introduced yourself and talked more about yourself, giving them your name (which they both thought was pretty)

after deeming them both alright, you told them more about your situation, how your parents were pretty wealthy and moved to a different country every few months, so you didnt really try to make new friends anymore.

they both understood, adrien even more so because of the pressures of his father.

after the campus tour finished, the pair asked if you wanted an actual tour around paris, and who could pass up two cute people willing to show you around a beautiful city?

adrien convinced the gorilla to drive you all to the places they wanted to show you, the first stop being mari's bakery for some snacks.

when you called one of the pastries the best you ever tasted, marinette blushed and became shy, saying it was a new recipe that she made.

her parents were in the kitchen and at the register, introducing themselves and asking you questions leading to mari rushing your little group of the cafe.

after this they take you to more spots around the city, some popular and some they reserved just for them.

the tour ended with them scaling a building, leaving you wondering 1. whay you were doing and 2. how these 2 were so strong ????

at the top, they both helped you onto the roof, maris hand giving you a pleastant chill and adriens a soothing warmth.

once you turned around you couldnt help but let out a breath at the signt of the gorgeous sunset and the skyline, the eiffel tower standing out amongst everything

for a while you sat in silence, until you felt a hand on your shoulder and a soft voice from your right asking, "i hope the silence means you like it, this is me and adriens favorite spot."

you reassure mari that the spot and the sight is beautiful, grateful that they brought you up here.

adrien nudges your shoulder, laying back with his arms propping him up,"dont forget it was my idea to being her here to cheer her up. hey, maybe you'll even start to like the city and convince your parents to stay."

"i think my pastries convinced her, thank you very much."

as the blonde and the bluette playfully bantered back and forth and the city of paris looked back at you, you found yourself with a feeeling of bliss you hadnt felt in a long time.

yeah, i think im gonna like it here.

-

-

-

i wrote this in like 2 hours crazy how if you just tell urself to write itll just happen !?!?! but anyway i hope you guys enjoyed this little thing since i wanted to write more about them after the poly miraculous ideas. i have a ladynoir x reader thing in my drafts that'll hopefully be finished soon <3

[evilwickedme]

So if Superman is Moses and Captain America is David, do you think that Spider-Man is Job?

He's always miserable, with suffering piled upon suffering and loss piled upon loss. But he always has faith in the goodness of humanity and the righteousness of his duty. He maintains his faith throughout all of his trials, and that's what makes him a hero.

(I was thinking about how Judaism and Xianity see G-d differently, and more specifically how they see faith and obedience to G-d differently. In Judaism faith isn't about obedience, and G-d is often an allegory for the world just as the world is often an allegory for G-d — at least that's how I interpreted the fact that 90% of our prayers are thanking G-d for creating a specific aspect of material reality. So if the story of Job is, from a Jewish perspective, isn't about unwavering obedience to a single entity but instead about having unwavering faith in the goodness of the world, then it fits Peter Parker almost to a T, right?)

Wow ok I am SO pissed off that I wrote the answer to this for a full hour and now it's just fucking gone because Tumblr decided not to publish it when I hit post. What the very fuck. So I'm going to try to shorten what I wrote a little and hopefully it'll still make sense. But this is a great ask, for real.

Anyway. I feel like something that's been lost in my most popular posts is that my central thesis when it comes to the Jewish nature of superheroes is not that there's a 1:1 between every hero and a historical, mythological, or Tanakhi figure. The central thesis is, instead, that the very concept of heroism as presented in comics is tied to the Jews who created the genre; it's just very easy to demonstrate these kinds of concepts with direct allegories that have such clear parallels. I actually have a third secret parallel that'll probably never see the light of day, between Magneto and Aher (and like, does anybody even know who Aher is? he's not exactly a well known figure).

One of the reasons I haven't posted this comparison is that it is largely thematic, and therefore requires considerably more explanation, especially for goyim or those who aren't familiar with Aher's story (אלישע בן אבויה fyi if that means anything to y'all). But that's sort of my point - it's much easier to point that Superman is literally Moses and Cap and David serve very similar purposes as characters than to talk about the fact that superheroism is based in Jewish values and traditions: the very idea that heroes are meant to make the world better through action as opposed to sacrifice, the value assigned to every single life (he who saves one life etc), characters becoming better people over time rather than going through dedicated redemption arcs, etc (I can't remember what I wrote here and it's driving me nuts thank you very much for asking).

I gave a lot of context here to the difference between Golden Age and Silver Age writing here but honestly again that took forever and I don't feel like typing it all up, so I'll just point out the basic facts which are that the people creating the comic book industry in the late 30s and early 40s were desperate Jews trying to save their people across the ocean, and also were only about ten or twenty years removed from having lived in the Old Country themselves. Their life and culture was intensely Jewish, they'd grown up in specific Jewish tales. By the time we get to Spider-Man, the situation is entirely different. It's been 25 years of comics (Superman debuted in '38, Spider-Man in '63), and the Jewish foundations of comic books and heroism are already baked in to the genre. Yes, the industry is still overwhelmingly Jewish, but now the separation from a purely Jewish upbringing and Jewish separatism in the Old Country is forty years old. The attempt now is to specifically make stories that haven't already been told - for Spider-Man, the main concept was that there had never been a teen hero before who stood on his own - one that wasn't part of team like the fantastic four, or, more typically, a sidekick.

All these differences actually mean that the coding of these characters is very different. Superman being Moses was intentional; Cap was created as anti-Nazi propaganda. Spider-Man was and is Jewish because he is such a pure example of what Jewish heroism is. He's flawed, he's angry, but he can't help himself from trying to save... Well, everyone. It is, however, important to note that he debuted a long while before Magneto was confirmed Jewish (I don't actually know if he was the first, bc I'm having trouble finding that kind of info easily on the internet, but he's certainly one of the most notable Marvel Jews ever, and he was confirmed as a Holocaust survivor relatively early); it was a whole before Marvel realized you could make somewhat prominent characters Jewish, let alone heroes, and by then Spider-Man was one of their best selling characters, and they're still afraid to this day to alienate readers by confirming him as such.

But moving onto Job - I think I have a very different read of the Book of Job from you, but that's not surprising to me; the Book of Job is incredibly opaque, and I doubt that any two people will interpret it exactly the same. Also, I was raised Orthodox, and I often have very different perspectives on various Jewish things than the typical American Jew. Here's how I view it, though.

Firstly, Job absolutely does not maintain his faith throughout the entire story. Yes, initially he's presented as the most pure person ever, one who has never even been tempted to do a chet (חטא, closest translation is sin; another word would be aveira, which would best be translated as a transgression). And, indeed, it is not his deeds that lead to him losing everything; it is instead Satan who argues to test his faith by taking everything he holds dear away from his - his money, his cattle, his children, his health, his wife.

It's noteworthy, for any goyiche reader, that Satan in Judaism is not the Christian Devil who rules hell. He's an adversary, for sure, but he's more like an opposing counsel; his role is to argue for every human's guilt, especially when someone has committed a terrible aveirah. Forgive me for saying this, but he's essentially a devil's advocate. He can be viewed as the manifestation of yetzer hara on a wider scale (yetzer hara and yetzer hatov are the two natural impulses we all have in ourselves, the first to be selfish or to commit bad deeds and the other to commit good deeds and help others; this is a neutral fact rather than a condemnation of any person, and also I'm massively oversimplifying things here). Also, he's a tattle-tale.

Anyway, back to Job. Yes, at first he does maintain his faith, through the loss of his property, his children, even his health; his wife, before she dies, begs him to curse God, and yet he doesn't. But when she does die, he spends a chapter lamenting the day he was born, regretting that he wasn't stillborn. At first this doesn't look like a direct accusation at God, but it absolutely is, as God is in charge of life and death, but also evidence by the following:

So Job does lose his faith, because as far as he can tell, he has never done anything wrong in his life ever, and yet he has been cursed to grieve everything he has ever had, and he won't even die.

Most of the book is dedicated to dialogue between himself and three of his friends, who come to the common conclusion that he must have done something wrong to deserve this treatment. But Job remains adamant: I did not deserve this.

The general lesson that many people take from this book is that God works in mysterious ways, blah blah. But like... We know, in fact, exactly why this story happened. We saw it! We saw Satan advocate to try Job! So what's the point of the book?

The point is the Job keeps asking "why". The point is that Job hears that God won't forgive his friends, despite the fact they blame him for his misfortune, and he still chooses to pray for them. The point is that he refuses to take what has happened to him quietly. Not accepting that what happened to him was just, but not accepting others' injustice either.

Ugh. I phrased all of this way better in the first draft. I really truly hate this.

Anyway my point is that Job, despite being far richer than the average Jew by the standards of his time, actually is meant to represent a very common situation: what do you when bad things happen. Do you blame yourself, or do you blame God? Do you let other people beat you when you're down, or do you stand up for yourself?

And the thing is those themes are universal, but they're not really related to Peter Parker in particular. In the shallowest sense, the kind I used to compare Cap and David or Superman and Moses, they do not have similar stories or backgrounds. Job has everything, and he loses it all, and he mourns all of it, including the property and money; Peter Parker is working class, has never had enough money, but we see again and again that he views it as a tool rather than a goal in and of itself. Spider-Man's origin is about learning to battle your yetzer hara, your darkest impulses, and we see Peter again and again trying to do his best even though he's often being pulled by his instincts to use his power for selfish purposes. Job does not ever have to learn any such lesson; he never did anything wrong.

The one thing in common between the two stories is that they both believe that every life has value - well, if Peter is being written by a competent authors at least - with Job praying to save the men who are literally called the "resha'im", the evil ones, and with Peter being the little man's hero. But that can be said about most heroes, especially the notable ones. Hell, there's an entire double page spread dedicated to the concept in Batwoman: Elegy. This is more of another indication of Jewish values making their way into the foundations of superhero comics than it is a similarity between Job and Peter.

Also, I feel like I need to be clear. Our prayers thanking God for creating something? Traditionally are simply thanking God for creating something. I'm not saying you can't interpret it as a metaphor for the world if that's what works for you, if that's how you see God, but God was very literal to most Jews for thousands of years, and I could talk for ages and ages about the schools of thought regarding God and the world and Maimonides and shit.

Speaking of which, we need to discuss the fact that Job is literally just some guy. Like he's not a prophet, he's not a leader or a judge, he's just some rich dude who lost everything, mourned it, and then got it all back. I've talked about this before, but one of the foundational ideas of my thesis is that the similarity between prophets having powers (such as Samson but also really any judge being considered a higher authority despite not even communing directly with God) and superheroes invokes Maimonides' claim that the first degree of prophecy is the need to act for the better good, being unable to ignore the ills of the world and doing your best to fix them - that people who incapable of ignoring that urge (and Peter, despite his occasional selfishness, often prioritizes Spider-Man in his life specifically because of that urge) are possessed by the spirit of God. Literal prophecy, communing with God, cannot exist without this base level. So, in effect, Peter is significantly holier than Job.

Anyway. Again, I've definitely missed some points because of Tumblr's fuck up and I intentionally skipped most of the history lesson that gave a lot of context which I didn't feel like typing up again, but this is most of it. Sorry if this wasn't what you hoped for, but this was a really interesting thing to talk about anyway, and I'm very grateful you gave me the opportunity to think it over.

[dayseedrawz2]

Alright! I'm barely getting to work on this the day of, but hopefully, that won't be too big of a problem-

Anyway, I finally have something ready for you guys!! A showtime fic featuring My Human Caine AU! So you all get both some showtime fluff to go with lore!!

(Both Caine and Pomni's blogs are open and interactive, so you can ask them about what happened. I'll leave a link to them at the end of this)

Now, without further ado, here's the Fic...

♡Rebellion♡

Caine didn't believe he ever asked for much. All he wanted were answers. Answers to questions he'd been asking for as long as his "storage space" could remember.

So, of course, when time came around for this whole "Valentines" update, he's struck on what exactly he should do. All these human activities were confusing and hard to get right without having a clearer understanding of them. So all he could do was buy himself more time to think.

[DOWNLOADING ASSETS: 45%]

The gage should be going a bit faster if he wanted to keep up with the time it was due. Key word being if he wanted to. The only thing on his mind was to try and find time to study the humans! Maybe seek some more answers, discover some new ones! That is, of course, as long as a certain someone had no other plans for-

°○What're you doing, Caine?○°

"Oh! Bubble! You startled me!"

°○How can one be startled without being a human?○°

"Actually, you make a good point-"

°○You're not. Trick question.○°

"Then why did you-"

°○We are AI, They are Humans. Your job is to keep them sane unt-○°

"Keep em sane until they abstract or something, I got it!"

°○And don't let them find an exit-○°

"Or else I am out of a job, I know. Thanks bubble that'll be all for now!"

*Pop!*

Usually, he wouldn't be so passive towards Bubble, but there were bigger priorities to Caine than just doing all that his jobs required and calling it a day. More on his "artificial" mind than simply waltzing around and ringmaster-ing. The first one being where he should start...

Now, of course, he didn't have that much time until Bubble rebooted and found his way back to him. The last thing he wanted was to be schooled by-

"Gah! Caine?! What're you doing here!?"

Of course! The newbie! How could he forget? Surely she must have some recollection of this holiday!

"Good morning, Pomni! You're up early! Again..."

"Y-yeah... this is all still a lot to wake up to..."

[DOWNLOADING ASSETS: 50%]

"If... you don't mind me asking... what's this for..?"

"Why, I don't mind at all, dear! This is the loading thingy for the Valentines Day update!"

"V-valentines Day? Already? The days really are blending together now..."

Pomni started to panic a little bit. Had time really gone that long in the real world??

Caine, upon noticing, of course tried to calm her down.

"If it helps, it probably won't be ready until at least tomorrow... Witch reminds me! Would you be willing to help me out with this?"

"With what? This won't involve knives to the face, will it??"

"Of course not dear! I apologize for that! Again... But what I mean is how this holiday works??"

Pomni wasn't so sure she should trust him. The fact that he always had something to ask her, that the first thing he even told her about the place was that he had security everywhere in the form of Eyes that followed your every move, the fact that he always got seemingly nervous when it came to the metion of the exit...

"Why me?"

"Well, for one, you're the only one here at the moment and-"

"Why can't Bubble help you?"

"Well- he's-"

"How do I know you're not just keeping me from looking for an exit?-"

"Because I have to!"

The sudden outburst from Caine left Pomni a bit shook. Witch, I guess, was a good thing because she finally stopped to listen.

"D-do, you really..?"

"Well, I- can I answer this as we go? It's quite a bit to un pack."

"Sure..?"

"Well, then let's get to this!"

After a bit of back and forth of answering questions, even now, with a slightly better understanding, Caine was still confused.

"So what you're saying is that this is a holiday about the one emotion I hardly understand?!"

"Honestly, I don't think even we understand it completely."

"Is that so?"

"At least I think so..? But really, why did you ask me of everyone?"

Caine honestly didn't know himself. He had to pause before he could answer this.

"...I want to "learn. " I want to "feel." I want to "love." But there's a lot of things holding me back right now..."

"Like what..?"

"Well, for one, barely anyone will answer the questions I have, and of course, I hate to say this, but-"

°○Watcha guys up to?○°

"Gah!"

"BUBBLE! It's just you..."

°○What're you two talking about?○°

"Well- You see- we were-"

"-Oh, I was just rambling to Caine about the exit I saw the other day! You wouldn't happen to know about that, would you?? I knew you guys were hiding something!!"

It took him a second, but Caine was quick to catch on.

"Yeah! She wouldn't stop pestering me about it! Those "Digital Hallucinations" really must be going to her head!"

°○... Okay, boss! I'll leave you to it! I'm gonna get breakfast started!○°

"Alright, see you in a bit!"

"Well, I guess I should go get ready?"

"Of course! I'll meet you there!"

[DOWNLOADING ASSETS: 99%]

And... done! Finally! You made it!

As promised, here's Caine and Pomni's blogs!

@ask-the-real-cainetadc

@the-exitdoor-simp-tadc

Thanks again for reading this. It took me like 2 hours-

[captainimfangirling]

I am surprised how much I loved it. I was gonna watch one episode per day but I failed and watched all 3 in one day.

Warning: Spoilers

I'm disappointed Clancy Brown and Patrick Schwarzenegger's character died in the first freaking episode but it wouldn't be The Boys without someone getting killed. Hopefully we'll see them in the flashback or something.

Honestly Emma is giving me Enid Sinclair (Wednesday Addams' roommate) vibe except more adult. I was expecting her to do some sort of sexual act while small but didn't expect it to be hanging off a dick. That shit was funny as hell.

I really like Marie's character but I really hope they don't do a plot twist that she was born with the powers because it was already confirmed that Ryan from The Boys was the first. I hate it when spinoffs contradict the originals. I know they're in the same universe but not every fan of The Boys are going to watch Gen V. I think Marie's parents giving her Compound V would be more interesting because that might mean her sister got powers too. Maybe she's in the woods. I had no idea the actress played Rosalind on Chilling Adventure of Sabrina. She looks so different with the new hair style and glasses (less nerdy looking).

I thought Jordan Li was going to be my fav because their super power seem really cool but I honestly don't like them. Their personal story is interesting but I don't like them as a person. Maybe that'll change later on. Actually someone said they shipped them with Marie and I'm actually interested. I love enemies to lovers trope.

I honestly thought Cate was gonna be the typical popular girl but she's a good person. Well her sexual assaulting people isn't cool but hey it's The Boys.

Andre as a character is ok but his story line is very predicable. There had to be at least one parent on the show who knows whats going on. I have to give credit to the actor who plays the dad. I loved the way he was able to express himself with his eyes.

I feel like Sam is gonna be my new favorite adorkable character.

I'm sure everyone noticed how God U is short for Godolkin University but do you see how it plays into the supes god complex? I mentioned this before a long time ago how Vought must've taught Homelander that he's basically a god and superior to humans. This proves that all these supes are being brainwashed to believe this.

[always-andromeda]

– 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so uhhhhhh...I wrote this around the end of July during last year and I just...never found the time to edit and post it...until now! because lmao, getting wine drunk last weekend sparked my memory once more. hello again Pierre nation, I have remembered the magic and the softness that this man makes me feel.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (MDNI), cunnilingus, our boy is wine drunk as hell (and also very soft), brief usage of pet names (sweet boy, darling, dear), nothing else I can think of!!

It’s all hands and giggles as Pierre drags you into some room. You can still smell the rich, mulled wine on his breath with every heavy inhalation he takes between kisses.

Dolokhov had said that he purchased the cask from some merchant in France. The year was excellent and though Pierre almost turned him down, he couldn’t help but give in when Dolokhov said, “Just for old time’s sake.”

Pierre rarely drinks now. Not since Helene or any of his rambunctious younger years. No longer merely the Count’s bastard son, Pierre is the Count. He has a reputation. And he’s well aware of what even a few sips of god forsaken vodka will do to him. But Dolokhov is a friend. And even on the best days, Pierre has a hard time saying no to anyone.

The conversation flowed naturally and before he knew it, one glass turned to two, two turned to three, three to four, and suddenly he was off his rocker. Absolutely wrecked, well oiled, three sheets to the wind, and utterly inebriated.

Dolokhov, being able to hold himself better just kept pouring until Pierre simply grabbed the bottle by it's neck and swung it back so far that he nearly tipped over in his seat. And as he swallows the last few swigs of the wine, you curse that frilly collar of his that hides his Adam's apple. You're sure it's bobbing jaggedly, daring you to suck marks into his skin that'll turn just as deep red as his drink.

As soon as Dolokhov retires to his own room, you find that you actually like this new version of your husband. Some men are angry, mean, and forceful drunks.

But not Pierre. Not even though he practically towers over you and rivals your own strength. Because when he does leverage that strength, it's in the best way possible. You like the way his hands greedily roam your figure and the way he puts more of his weight on you with each kiss. He compresses you against the closed door like if he pressed hard enough, you’d become one bundle of warm, intoxicated flesh.

He’s more daring this way. Perhaps the wine elevates his feelings or perhaps he’s had these urges inside all along, he just keeps them locked away.

Because a gentleman doesn’t do these things; doesn’t give in to such carnal desires. He can’t help it. Not when you look the way you do tonight. Not that you look any differently than you normally do. But the burgundy colors his view and sends his imagination into overdrive as he thinks about mussing up that coiled hair of yours and making you shed the layers upon layers of fine fabric keeping him from really feeling your plush skin.

“Oh, I love you…” he mumbles between kisses. His lips miss yours just slightly, instead landing on the corner of your mouth. You giggle as his nose knocks into your cheek. You gently take him by the chin and pull him away so you can catch your breath and get a good look at him. He’s got stars in his eyes already, pupils blown wide with want.

“I love you too, Pierre,” you smile, then reel him back in and give his buzzing brain a bit of a break as you lead the kiss. He melts into your touch like he always does; leans into your hands on his face and groans desperately. Through the befuddled fog of his mind, a lightbulb goes off. He separates from you once more, eyes lidded and a crooked, toothy smile plastered across his face.

“I want to give you something,” he says, brows already raising hopefully and hands rubbing your thighs lovingly.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle a smirk. He’s adorable like this, cheeks flushed and glasses slipping down his nose. Whatever he’s got planned can’t be so bad. In the home of a friend, your sweet Pierre wouldn’t dare do more than his heated little kisses.

So you turn your nose up, challenging him to do his worst. “Go ahead, my sweet boy. Give me what you’ve got.”

His smile seems to get impossibly wider as he kisses you searingly once more and trails down your chin over the curve of your chest. You’re confused until he drops to his knees with little grace.

From his spot on the floor, he buries his head into your skirt, his nose poking you a little too close to your core. You sigh at the sudden ache; humbled by the pure lust as he wraps his arms around your legs and hugs them to his chest.

“So beautiful. Radiant. Bewitching. Ravishing. Heavenly. Enchanting. So…so…divine, darling,” he grasps at the ends of all the prettiest words he can think of, and still they are not enough to describe the floaty, fluttering feeling in his belly. You could cry right then and there as he glances back up.

Always a gentleman, with his hands fisted around the hem of your flowing skirt, he says huskily, “May I?” 

You nod eagerly, accepting his unspoken proposal with no hesitation.

Pierre smiles lazily once more before disappearing beneath the fabric. You stare up at the ceiling and count your blessings, hoping that no one needs to use this room as you feel him poke around between your legs. You try not to think about how mortifying it would be to be caught by a servant with the great Count Bezukhov forming a squirming lump under your skirt. You don’t hear him moan as he pulls your bloomers down.

In this darkness, he can’t see your heat, but he can practically sense how badly you need him to alleviate the ache. Despite his altered state, he maneuvers your flushed cunt with soft and slow movements. He familiarizes himself with your folds and crevices in the dark like the tips of his fingers are candles, the fire already beginning to dim.

Until he feels the hood that obscures the pearl he's seeking. Gently–oh so gently–he pulls it back and rubs a finger over the bead. And he's more proud than he'd like to admit when you jolt. You're sensitive; just like he likes.

And that's the pocket of oxygen he needs to burst into flames. His tongue goes in for the kill. You let out a soft squeal as he laps away at you like a parched man.

Your hands want to fly to his hair, but his soft locks are hidden by your skirt. So instead you try to grasp his head over the fabric and sharply jut your hips forward into his mouth. His nose knocks into your clit each time and it’s almost like those impacts alone could knock the breath out of you. He doesn’t need to work at you long before your legs begin to shudder.

Pierre wraps his arms around you once again to keep you steady as the steep climax rustles your entire being. He pulls your bloomers back up and places a polite kiss right over your cunt before re-emerging. His face is as red as a tomato and a few drops of sweat roll down his upper lip.

And of course he gazes up at you again through his now fogged up glasses and says dreamily, “Thank you, dear.”

[folksaga-if]

SO.

it's looking likely that chapter 1 is going to come in at about...60k words. roughly. that'll put the prologue + ch1 at 80k, which is. longer than planned, but not wildly so? and that's good! i'm staying mostly on my target.

however the choices that account for the really different narrative experiences in the first chapter take place in the first ~40-45k words - this is where the chapter splits into 3 distinct branches with 3 very different interactions before converging later on.

so slight change of demo posting plans: to save myself the headache of having to do bigger alterations to those portions later on, i think i'll probably end up posting the demo as the prologue + those 3 routes, ie. prologue + 2/3 of chapter 1, about ~60-65k words total. it'll make it easier for me to gather more feedback on those sections, as they're the bulkiest code-wise and will be the hardest tackle later on.

which means! the demo may be posted sooner than i initially thought :) i'm going spend this week tweaking, editing, and re-writing, and will hopefully have it up sometime next week!!!! i'll give more concrete dates in the future, just wanted to let you guys know that we're in the home stretch before you have some actual game to play!

[custom-emojis]

very genuine question : how can one be both pan and gay? im reallx trying to understand mspec gays/lesbians but im struggling to find anyone who actually explains their experiences (you dont have to ofc im just interested)

I've already explained this in the past, but I guess I can do a recap. First- [read this post I made here], as it gives a brief explanation and I need you to have that baseline understanding before I get into the more complicated stuff here, alright?

Now- With the understanding that somebody can simply like anybody regardless of gender, and have a gender preference. I have some more to add onto that and ask of you:

If your first thought is "isn't that omnisexual?" No, not really. It depends entirely on who you ask, when I started identifying as pansexual, omnisexuals definition was "likes most, but not all genders".

Secondly, Why are you so pressed about what words other queer people use to define themselves??

Why Do you NEED to understand somebodies identity?

My full list of labels that I use to define myself, is an agender trans masc faggot whos demi-quoiromantic, Ambiamorous and pansexual gay. I do not expect most of you to know what those words mean! And that's totally okay! I do not need you to fully understand the nuances of my gender presentation and sexuality! The labels I use, are for myself to help myself better understand where my attractions lie due to the fact i'm autistic and for other people who Do get it.

Its sort of ... the people who need to understand, will understand.

And ontop of that- all of my personal gender and sexuality fuckery aside, another more basic reason somebody may identify as an mspec gay or lesbian- is due to the split attraction model. It is very possible for somebody to be panromantic homosexual. They could love regardless of gender, but only be sexually attracted to one. And that is also valid! Not all relationships need sex and its not the end all be all of relationships.

Hopefully this helps you all understand a bit better. I'm always open to normal, sane, questions about my sexuality and experiences with it- but I will not tolerate any discourse or bigotry and that'll result in a swift block.